The dark remained still, blackish layers among layers surrounding them, suffocating them. Kumoyama Rick stood, as if isolated, fingers winding and unwinding themselves in an everlasting infinity of bind, needless gulps immobile upon his throat. He watched the figure of his Council Half, slowly fade away into the darkness, dive deep into the unknown, who felt no fear – no anxiety from the unknown; he barely knew he was venturing to the darkest depths of the world. It sure seemed like it. The clicks of his footsteps muted in the darkness, vibrations eaten, eroded and abraded by the immobile stones of black. They shot away with a die of rocks, played with, gambled with, taken away.
"Where are you going?" Rick asked, curious; he didn't want to be alone. He didn't want to be the only one there, as if waiting, waiting in the darkness for something even he didn't know about – something he dreaded, something he didn't want to see, hear of again. Raikettei stopped. The boy forced more words from his hot, tense lips. "Everything seems out of balance lately…" he let himself trail away. Raikettei coughed, as if hiding laughter, hiding his own personal humor that no one else could just get.
"Maybe…" Raikettei said without turning. He stuffed his hands nervously, coolly into his pockets so they wouldn't be exposed, so they wouldn't be vulnerable, but instead, warm, soft, protected. "Or is it just you, I wonder?" the council piqued. Rick blinked; once, twice. "Rick," Raikettei cleared his throat once more. Hearing his name, it seemed meaningless, that one syllable thoughtless, having no relevance, no importance to the world. The blonde stared into space, as if caught in an insomniac hypnotism, vermillion yellow eyes deeply fried into a baked, innocent perfection. "What's wrong?" Raikettei asked. Neither moved; silence was alive at the moment, a long moment it was.
Rick managed to slowly, difficultly, blink. Once, twice, three times. He seemed all right now. His voice was returned and his consciousness sunk back in from the lingering, absent clouds. He cleared his throat, quickly, swiftly, trying to make a save. "I-uh…" he stalled for a moment. His eyes wandered to their frail corners. He swallowed, swallowed for thought, a deposit, a bribe. Soon his answer came. "What do you mean?" he managed to say, seconds off from the perfect save. Still, relief washed over him and liberated him from his pressured encasement.
"I mean," Raikettei began to speak, eagerly, gently. His voice was strong, manly, like always. How did these two personalities seem to pair up with the Lightning Element, one could wonder for hours and not find the answer. Maybe their personalities weren't the same; maybe… just maybe, it wasn't their personalities, their features that made them alike. Maybe it was a connection. Maybe. "There's obviously something wrong with you," he clearly stated. Rick seemed surprised. How would he know, so fast? "Tell me what," Raikettei almost demanded. Rick looked down in uncertainty, frowning crookedly, dementedly in distortion, eyes glinting like worrisome beads of a coy necklace, unsure, unknowing. "Oh, come on," Raikettei scoffed, amusingly. "You can trust me," he spoke friendlily. "Tell me what's going on with you."
"It's nothing," Rick quickly answered, blatant disbelief in his voice. "I'm all right." Even he didn't believe his own words. Once again, his stare returned to the ground. Cragged smile made a comeback.
"Is that so?" Raikettei said, not giving up on him just yet. He began to threaten the boy's patience, for his had all ready been threatened far too long, and such a level could not be tolerated any longer. Otherwise, you'd be the most tolerant person in the world, a lucky one at that, too. However, people would claim you as a pushover. In any case, Raikettei began to take a very noticeable step forward, as if on purpose. His shoe clicked the ground, clanked against it, so Rick could hear, so that he picked up his head, stared with unsure eyes, indecisive. A hard swallow came from the teenager. Raikettei took another step away, and another, until the step became a steady pace. He could feel Rick's muscles tense and contract from feet away. He could feel his golden eyes on him, that vermillion gaze never-ending, just waiting to be pried off, for it was the only way it could release.
"It's just…" Rick began to speak. Raikettei stopped. In the shadows, he smiled, knowing his trick had worked. Success, he reigned in his mind. A small grin couldn't help but leak out from the containment. "After watching Eric's fight, I realized just how strong he is; I wonder why, but I can't find out. What's the meaning behind his power?" Rick piqued. Raikettei gently sighed, smoothly exhaled, yet at the same time, sharply. "Just what is the meaning of it? Or even power in general? What?" Now that Rick had begun talking, it seemed as if he couldn't stop, like he was afraid to start, but when he got that motor running, it ran for hours, as if on a miracle, that if he wouldn't be stopped by someone else, he would go on like Hanukah.
"Idiot," Raikettei muttered, loudly. Rick seemed shocked, hurt. His facial expression became dazzled once again. Raikettei was just playing, yet Rick didn't know that. "Didn't Eric explain that all ready? Think about it." Long, deep silence. It was thorough, like a sleuth search, an intervention that would take no chances, not even the slightest, thinnest sliver of risk. Rick looked down, deep in thought, mind processing upon thousands and thousands of syllables of the anagram conveyor belt that spewed out thoughts every millisecond, none of them the correct one. "Don't stress too much about it, now. Life is not meant for stalling," Raikettei informed. Rick stopped, obeyed like a dog. He looked up, and stared at Raikettei's never-to-turn back. He exhaled sharply, said nothing. "Let's go," Raikettei insisted. Once again, his footsteps began, downward towards the not yet ventured land of darkness, undiscovered seas of mystery, strongest enigmas in every current. One could wonder if Rick could handle it.
"Go? Go where?" Rick asked, voice full with innocence, mature, yet childlike innocence. One more mindless, subconscious blink. Two more. Three more.
Raikettei took another step, stopped, once again. "To Eric. I have a job to get to," he explained, resuming his footsteps down the hall. He was soon distant away; Rick forced himself to follow, so that once again he would not become isolated and alone. He would not let himself become confined into the labyrinth of dimension.
"A job?" Rick piqued. One eyebrow rose with its nervous perspiration as the four sets of clicks on the ground beat at each other in a soundless tune, a music of no words, only syllables.
"It's… complicated," the council answered. "You'll understand later. For now, just come," he spoke rather quickly, tensely. His voice tightened up, cracked a bit, noticeably, too. Rick noticed immediately, smiled at his own gambit now. However, at the same time, he stopped, as if he couldn't think and walk at the same time. Raikettei began to get farther and farther away from him, without him noticing. "What's wrong?" Raikettei asked, rather tensely, clearer this time. "Didn't I tell you, life is not meant for stalling?"
Once again came Rick's set of blinks. "Yes!" he choked out, having just plunged out of his trance. Quickly, Rick gathered his thoughts and himself, as well, and ran to Raikettei until he was just behind his back, inches away.
PoVS
The low, mechanical beeping went on. "Oh, I guess I should put these down," Marissa said, holding that glimmering vase of glass in her hand. She walked over with scraping steps next to Eric's bed, placed the thin, curvy tube down. It seemed perfect, beautiful, carrying these bountiful flowers of spring blue and autumn white, and both the glass and the thin plants complimented each other respectively, mutually. The glass sparkled with its thin, distorted to perfection panes while the thin, sparse stems seemed to tickle the water, nick at its bottom and drink it with green lips as small and long as a straw. Softly, her hands lifted from them, as if it was hard to let them go, to release them from her fingertips.
"Isis flowers?" Teresa asked, blinking her violet perfect eyes. She held herself in her own arms, the coldness of the late night beginning to seep into her as well as the whole room. It was a threat to all.
"Yeah," Marissa validated. "They say it's the flower of hope. I got them on behalf of all the Minors. A lot of them suggest I get them; I'm lucky to find them in a place like this. It's almost nothing but grass trees, sun, moon and wind."
"I see," Teresa replied, halfheartedly. She seemed amazed, and Marissa's act of kindness made her smile, made her realize that her relation with this girl was important – it was one of the few female ones, after all. You had to savor those especially, if it came down to it. "You're amazing, Marissa-chan," she whispered, almost mindlessly, yet usefully. Marissa turned her head, looked at Teresa. She blinked in thought, as what Teresa had just said were a bunch of crazy, mutated words. Both sides seemed in a dazzle right now, confused beyond belief, with a touch of awkwardness.
"Oh; it's nothing," she replied in tardy, taking her graceful fingers to brush her hair behind her ears. She cleared her throat, as if tensely, sharply. She kept her eyes away from her, and ended her words with a few nervous syllables, a blunt ending. Teresa had to wonder if she had done something wrong – was there something weird in that sentence she had said?
Inside, she sneered. Getting used to actually trying to be friendly for once was hard. After such a long time practicing not making any relations, it was like Teresa had forgotten how to. No matter, she thought to herself. They'd just come along to her even if she didn't try. This was true, and she knew that. Then, something caught the group of teens' eyes. A stirring of some sort, that's what it was, from something they didn't expect to move.
Eric. It was Eric who moved, stirred in his bead, somehow moving despite the pain he had to deal with from the battle, the wounds and pounding of his body. His head shook, his arms moved, moved to his chest to feel for his body, feel if he was alive. His eyes blinked themselves open as consciousness began to sink back into his mind. The mechanism around him beeped, beeped as if it wanted him to return to sleep, to rest, to act dead. "Eric-kun!" people said, surprised, being careful to not become too loud, too uproarious, for that wound disturb his rest, his stable balance of mind right now that was extra-fragile. All eyes on him now, people could feel his steady inhales and exhales of breath, feel his warmth of skin even from a distance away. They smiled, happy, glad.
"Don't try to move around too much," Teresa warned, calmly. Eric's attention was all on her. "You're still healing." He tried to sit up, but decided he couldn't, and slipped back down. He breathed sharply, loudly, as if he hadn't taken a breath in months, years, or ever in his life. He blinked. He glared, once at Derek, once at Marissa, then once at Teresa.
"I'm alive…?" He looked around him, heard the beeping of life, the beeping that proved his worth, his existence. Inside he smiled. He looked around him, his surroundings, as if searching for something with friendly, innocent eyes, ones of gratitude and tranquility. His bandanna was ruffled, messy; people had been too worrisome to disturb him to fix it.
"Yeah," Derek answered, quickly, friendlily. He smiled coolly. Eric's eyes brought themselves upon him, and Derek respected him, talked to him with grace. "You're lucky too, big guy," he fooled around with him, amused. Derek smiled, gratefully. "You should be fine by morning. Don't try anything that's too hard for you to do. Troubling your body will just make it worse," he instructed. Marissa laughed, feeling as if she had to, showing signs that she was of relief liberated. But Teresa was worried. She was worried about the lengths Eric would go to just to prove his purpose – his worth. For god's sake, he almost died out there! Would she have to believe in him? Or no? Would she just not be able to do it?
"Good luck making him follow that," Teresa stepped up. She decided she couldn't let herself sop. Eric would know, and he would ask why, if not all ready. She smiled, knowing the fact that he would've asked if he had seen her troubled. He really cared that much, huh? It was amazing – to her, at least. Amazing beyond belief.
"You guys…" Eric began to speak softly, voice raspy, fixing itself as the lips formed more words, and as the tongue rolled on continuously, endlessly. "What're you doing here?" he said. Some would have taken that last statement the wrong way. However, these three Minors who watched over him knew what exactly he meant. He meant the innocent one – not the ungrateful one. It was amazing – how much they knew about him in a short time. As if things about him weren't amazing enough, such a thing like this had to come along. Derek cleared his throat, as if nervous, or just wanting to break the growing silence.
"Oh, now do you really believe we wouldn't give a bother about you after what you put yourself through?" Teresa said, half lying. She couldn't help but be worried about him, but she was sure that her feelings would change later on. As soon as possible, too.
"I see," Eric said, smiling, ever so slightly. "Well, then… I'm glad." So were the others.
As if on cue, a loud screaming came from the halls. A disruptive distortion of sound echoed from the halls, beyond the door, sounding like some juvenile child not wanting to go to prison, but forced to under many conditions, many unforgivable conditions. "All right!" a teenager's voice sounded uproariously through the dimension beyond the door. All eyes looked to the closed threshold, watching it, as if it were the one speaking, shouting, talking. Many gulped.
"What the hell?" Derek said, annoyed. He thought he recognized that voice. Please, the spiky, black haired boy thought. Please, don't let it be him… Please tell me he's not coming in here. The seventeen year old sighed, knowing that it was inevitable no matter how much he sighed, no matter how much he wished it away and no matter how much he didn't want it to happen. Others just looked confused, but that all wore off when suddenly –
The door burst open. It landed with a huge, enormous clatter of noise. Explosions of hyper parade energy and vibe flowed in from the threshold as a boy – a Minor came into the room, screaming, shouting, shouting enough to be his own thanksgiving parade. His intense face was humorous, idiotic to say the least, and Derek, expecting him, shook his head, comically, depressively. Dark blue lines and aura came down on the top of his head. His eyes squinted to a bothersome set of lines and his shoulders slouched, his back no longer straight. Zack, standing at the door continued to shout. "Okay!!" he screamed.
"Zack-kun?" Marissa cried out in shock.
"That – was – an – awesome- fight!" Zack said each word separately, as if he had been talking to, well actually, screaming to a deaf person. Zack began to slowly punch the air, eyes burning comically with a fake fire, teeth becoming square as well as lips, exaggerated features becoming more hilarious by the second. "Hell yeah!!!" he continued to shout. No one replied to him; everyone just stared, watching him as if he were a circus freak – everyone but Eric. He just listened, grunted annoyingly yet amused at Zack's idiocy. It was even funnier when Zack didn't know he was being an idiot. "First, Hibiyomi was like 'ugh! Show no emotion." Zack made a funny, distorted face feature, head growing ten times as large for norm. "Then, and then, Eric was all POW! POW! POW!" Zack punched the air continuously, boxing it with enormous face structure. His eyes burned with amusing flames.
People blinked, not knowing what to think of this sudden outburst. Once they blinked. Twice. They stared while this – this boy continued on with his rant of appreciation, like Eric and Hibiyomi' fight was a sports event and he was the whole crowd right after, constantly moving, constantly gesturing, anon-stop talking and shouting and excited screams braying from his throat like an abnormality in his voice. "Then, he was like, 'I have a purpose' and then his fire goes like, like, WHOOOOOOOOSH!" Zack gestured with jazz fingers, bursting his arms into the air like throwing his graduation cap. Who let such an idiot graduate?
Derek groaned. "Shut up!" he demanded in an annoyed groan, downing his fist into Zack's head. A comical clatter sounded through the room. "You're annoying; shut up!" His eyebrows twitched. Zack stopped moving; the noise stopped along with him.
"Ow! What'd you do that for?!" Zack demanded, picking up his head and rubbing the back of it, eyes sad like a child about to cry. He pouted, as if hoping it were to be cute. Newsflash: when seventeen year old boys pout, it's not cute.
"Shut up, idiot!" Derek snapped, angrily. He crossed his arms in front of him. "You're disturbing Eric's sleep, and our comfort!"
"That hurt, idiot!" Zack shot back. Their faces grew closer.
"It was supposed to, idiot!" Derek insulted back.
"You're screaming like hell!" Zack yelled all over Derek's face, nearing his nose. The argument created more noise, more sound through the room; and Derek didn't even realize it. Marissa and Teresa covered their ears with reflective palms, squinted their eyes as if that would help. Marissa had to worry about the glass of flowers – the hopeful vase of Isis.
"I'm not the one who started screaming, idiot!" Derek screamed with his deep, loud voice into Zack's face. Decibels began to crack, one could swear on it.
"Guys, calm down," Teresa insisted, bringing her hands back to her side. She stared at them as they continued their indistinctive yelling, their constant fighting and shaking of fists, their amusing rivalry. They're going to kill Eric's tranquility, she thought. She gulped, and looked to him, to see how he was doing. What she saw changed her belief. He was looking at them fight, looking at the scowl with his head turned on the pillow, barely catching them in his eyes, and he – he smiled. A small, respective grin it was, one of appreciated and amusement. Teresa released her stressed muscles at this, and decided, hey, if he was happy, then she was happy. She exhaled, and smiled with him.
Eric looked to the ceiling, and exhaled, as if tired. Derek and Zack continued to shout, scream at each other, ridicule each other with pointless comments and insults. Mockery was the only thing that was heard for miles. It was a long, long night. And they had absolutely no idea how much longer it would become.