Derek and Zack continued with there nonsense bickering, their internal and external insults ranging from harmless to meteor shower. They sprinkled ineffective mockery over one another, loudly filling the room, the halls, the dimension with their, on some level mutual, ridicule. They spat in each others face, sneered and snapped, filled the late night with words that just put you into the blue. Outside, the moon began to shatter in its glassy, fragile light. Uproar, uproar and more uproar unorganized itself into invisible folder in folder, the delirium making of reality of untidy distortion, mountains of yellow file bore. A whack on the head did Zack some good.
But this time, it wasn't Derek who did it. It was someone else. A new presence that entered the room, who, just by being there, but an end to the non-stop violence of words, syllable abuse. It expulsed the intrusive chaos, and replaced it with a tranquil harmony, a melody of soft, whispering tone. The only thing that could be heard now was oxygen, as well as the low, innocent beeping of the zigzag heart monitor. "Zack, you're too loud!" Raikettei demanded loudly. The Lightning Council scowled, ears throbbing, pounding with fleshy pink and red.
"What!" Zack cried out, as if claiming it were not his fault. Beside him, Derek took a deep breath for comfort, exhaled sharply. Many in the room gave their applause as Zack rubbed the back of his head, easing the pain and throbbing skull.
"Raikettei-sama!" Teresa cried out. "You're here!" she spoke with great pleasure. She smiled, her clean set of teeth shy and unnoticed, coy and coiled in its sandwiched position of two, graceful lips.
"Yeah," the council cleared his throat. Someone followed him in. A dark figure suspended in the silhouettes of walled shadow. Out came the shadow. In came Kumoyama Rick. He blinked, and looked to each Minor. Marissa seemed to take notice of him first.
"Rick!" she called out to him, as if surprised to see him. They smiled at each other nervously. Then they wondered why the other one was where they were.
"I need you guys to come with me," Raikettei began to inform. All eyes went to him, all ears twitching, opening up with their peachy distortions. "There's something I need to tell you guys," the council continued to explain. The few Minors in the room traded confused, pondering looks, as if waiting for each other, asking each other what the council meant. Only Raikettei knew, no eyes they looked into bared the answer in their projected innocence.
"What is it?" Marissa asked, curious, much too curious for her own comfort. She took a step closer, and a step farther from the nightstand that held the Isis flowers in the starry vase.
"Not here!" Raikettei denied. He talked with certain anxiety, certain panic. "I'll tell you when the other Minors are present. Let's go," he declared, stepping out the room for a second, taking one click of a shoe. Many seemed to hesitate, not follow.
"Wait," Marissa begged. "What about Eric-san?" she piqued. Raikettei stopped, right in the middle of his exit. He sighed, turning to the boy who lay in the bed, weak from his last battle, his last amazing battle. Raikettei smiled at him as he caught Eric's glance, making him nervous with tension. Inside his mind, he seemed to comprehend on what the decision would be for the case of Eric, even though he all ready knew the answer. He didn't know why, but it was like Raikettei didn't want to accept the truth. No one ever did, really.
Sighing once more, Raikettei told himself that he couldn't stall any longer. The Minors were waiting for a reply, and he was sure that the Council was getting rather impatient by now. Shintenmaru especially. He was the worst. "Sorry, Eric," Raikettei said, staying in his place, not bothering to come closer to the boy. He seemed in such a hurry, it was amazing. "You've played too much today," he joked. "You need to sleep."
"Don't worry, Eric," Teresa walked up to him. The brown-haired boy looked up to her with boyish eyes that made her ever so lifted; not quite happy, but she definitely wasn't sad when she saw them. "We'll be fine; you contributed enough today." The darkness of the room seemed to lighten up, lift upward away from them as if a web silently, sneakily being pulled away from the presence of others, unnoticed and slippery.
"Let's go," Raikettei repeated himself, turning back around to face the dark halls before him. He cleared his throat, his hands still nervously stuffed into his pockets, still warm and comforting themselves, for they would feel incomplete if they hadn't been – they'd be left alone, isolated. Raikettei walked out the door, followed by Rick. Zack obediently followed. Derek soon came with a sigh, surrounded in his own blanket of complete indifference, huddling his arms together in an x formation, as if holding himself for warmth, for it was a numbing temperature that filled the interior cold. Marissa and Teresa seemed to hesitate, taking slow steps toward the door, now and then looking to Eric just to check up on him.
"Don't be the first one to wither away, either, Eric," Marissa said, walking back to the flower vase. She pricked one of the petals with her soft, delicate finger. She brushed the soft, silkiness against her, and picked it off, easily, gently, as if an angels holy touch. She brought it to Eric's hand, lightly placed it like a feather, fragile, as if his hand would break off. She smiled, and closed his hand around it, making sure he wouldn't let go for him. He said nothing, as by now, he was half-conscious, ready to fall back into sleep. Marissa ran out, suddenly as if in a hurry.
Teresa was alone left. She couldn't stop staring at him, couldn't stop. "Eric, I just wanted to say…" she let herself trail off, as if she were unsure of whether or not he was listening. It was true, and while she waited, the darkness eroded the walls, the corners for her, as if telling her that time was running out; she could not stall for much longer. There was something about her, though, something about her that told her she didn't want to go. She didn't want to find out what Raikettei had to tell the Minors because for some reason, she'd thought she'd be better off not knowing- happier. A light blink came from Eric, told her she wasn't alone. She was relieved.
"What is it, Teresa?" Eric said, knowing that she had been so unsure, uncertain. He spoke as if he were amused, and couldn't help but force a tiny, small grin in his half-consciousness. His body did not move, for it seemed that it couldn't, it seemed that it was too damaged to do so. Only his face, his eyes and mouth and nose twitched, moved for him. He exhaled sharply, his chest falling. "Are you still sopping over your relations just like before… when we talked?"
Teresa seemed shocked, not quite hurt, but shocked. "No," she answered quickly, loudly, a change of tone. Eric realized this, and smiled, chuckled to himself lightly, coolly. "I've gotten over it a long time ago. I just wanted to tell you… thank you," she nodded, gulped from anxiety. How would he react? What would he say? "Goodbye," she headed for the door, quickly, swiftly with long, striding steps. Now she couldn't wait to exit, couldn't wait to release herself from her panic.
"No problem," Eric whispered back just in time to catch her ear as the door shut behind Teresa, who closed it with a soft touch of delicacy. Outside, Teresa listened, listened for the last traces before she shut the door and exited the threshold of the entrance. The door was now shut. She waited, stalled, as if there were something to be there for, something to rendezvous with. Nothing came, yet she didn't expect anything, or anyone. She just stood there, closely placing her side of her head towards the door, listening to soft breathing of Eric – of his life. Then, smiling, as if it were for reassurance, she rushed off, into the dark and unknown, something she was no longer afraid of, too, thanks to Eric.
Minutes later, after many syllables sounded out and many sentences released, a rush of emotion came over the Minors and into the widely large room. "What!?" Derek cried out, pounding his hand against the table with no one seated in it. The table shook with certain fear, as if feeling pain for the first time in its life, and shuddering extra hard to indicate that it no longer wanted to feel it, no longer wanted to experience it. Experience was bad for this surface of wood. Derek strained his face, difficultly. His teeth began to grind against each other without noticing, his eyes twitching in certain anger. "White Cloak came back!?" he shouted with anguish in his voice, trying to keep himself from going hysterical, for this was not his personality.
"Calm down, Derek," Hanabikai demanded. "There's no use in getting angry," he informed telling the truth .Derek knew that all ready. But he couldn't help but be mad. Not after what he saw – not after what he went through with White Cloak that day. The simple thought of it still gave him the shivers, still sent shocks down his spine like electrical wires constantly flowing, nonstop hurting, sparking him every now and then from the back of his mind like an unexpected attack. And he hated it. He despised it! He would continue to spit it out as if he hated his own saliva again and again and it would always return, always return when he was least aware of it.
Damn it, that guy, Derek growled to himself inside his mind. He picked up his hand, deciding it was no use to take out his anger on things. He sighed for relief, for his own benefit, as if the air was calming. At some level, it was, and he meditated for seconds, making sure not to take too long. He remembered that moment once again – that moment that seemed to scar his memory for life, strike at his recollection with a bolt of anguished thoughts.
He remembered the brewing; the brewing of energy sent through the air and filled White Cloak to the prime brim. He remembered the cold, frosty numbness of Hanayuki, the flurries of white stars from the clouds, millions of pure wishes plummeting slowly, reluctantly to their doom in a slow zigzag path. It had been a game – yes a game. A game of lottery and chance, a gamble to see which one of the billions – trillions of wishes around the world would be left, and granted. Each tiny speck of white snow was a great, motivated wish, and just seeing it would mean that it was indeed – denied. Which wish would be the last one standing? Which one would be granted and become a miracle of life? Certainly not the most important one, for life had better plans for destiny, for fate, no matter how much we hated it, and went against it. Humans were not the best choice-makers, nothing makes them that way.
Derek remembered the cold, white feet of White Cloak tainting the floor with impure steps, a deviant thought an intention with every one and every breath. They paced themselves on the pale, hospital floors with the cold wind bristling inward like a short brush of blizzard. He remembered when the doctor got in the way, and White Cloak ended up drawing his powers – to get him out of the way. He remembered the limp body and arms and legs and hopeful dreams slowly fade and diminish into nothing but a pile of ashes, slowly blown away into people's faces before his very eyes. He watched them dwindle; dwindle with lifeless thoughts, lifeless being and words, immobile lips for the rest of time, indicating that his sands of time had run out. It had been time. But did it have to be? No, it didn't. That's what Derek believed. It was White Cloak's fault. And he hated him for that. Someone who tried to protect him- had to die so easily. So simply! It was agitating.
And Derek remembered just lying there, watching the death before him, watching White Cloak just inches away. Inches, it was! And he did nothing but watch. Nothing at all. He could do nothing – what could he do against someone like him!? What? Absolutely nothing, that's what. He just stared, wide-eyed somehow believing that the doctor really wasn't going to die, for his life wasn't meant to be like this – or so he thought. No death has ever occurred before his very eyes. No violence. Nothing out of the blue, green, mystery. But that all changed when he became a Minor. That is how it is from now on. And he had to admit, he hadn't gotten quite used to it.
Now, Derek stood, eyes upon his feet, thinking of himself, of what he could do different. Next to him, his fists clenched tightly, grudgingly. He swallowed hard, swallowed his emotions for they were of no use to him right now. No, not right now. He washed them away, just like his parents had taught him. Yes, Eric had proved just before that doing this wasn't power, but it was still useful in its own different ways. One had to admit that.
"Derek, I've never seen you so mad," Lance muttered to the black-haired boy, whose fists still trembled unsightly. Derek didn't answer. Shintenmaru cleared his throat, nervously.
"That guy…" Derek muttered under his breath, meanly, coldly, crossly. "He took the life of someone who protected me so mindlessly… so uselessly… I hate him." His upset emotions were easily to understand and comprehend. One had to agree with him. All looked solemn for this moment and this moment only, just for the Minors, just for Derek. Getting used to the change of life from normal person to Minor wasn't easy, yet all had to deal with it. They couldn't give up their job to someone else – it was impossible, and unruly.
"That's not all," Shintenmaru cleared his throat. Derek looked up, flashed a confused look. All Minors did the same, or just about the same, at least. "White Cloak's injured a backup."
"Backup?" Teresa asked without thinking before anyone else. "What's that?" she asked on behalf of the Minors, who had no idea what that was at all, either.
"The backups are the twelve engines that share our individual powers that we created to hold the dimension in place. If they are injured, the respective element goes wild – just like Tsukansu did," Shintenmaru explained. All eyes suddenly went to search for Tsukansu. They found him, tired and weak, robe sleeves ruffled and mixed up, torn off. He sat down on a wooden chair, tired and limp, with Hyoumaru watching over his shoulder, just in case so he could tend to his needs – or wants. "Naturally, Walter would be affected as well, but since it was only a small wound, Walter was most likely unaffected." Dylan looked to Walter, stared at him. A cold, cross glare shot at him back, piercingly. Dylan seemed to tense up in shock, and quickly turned back around, returning his stare. He gulped nervously. There was something about that guy that scared him to heck, being how Dylan was so easy-going and happy all the time; it was natural.
Shintenmaru sighed, and continued, muscles tensing up. He picked his glasses up and brought them closer to his face from nervous habit. "In any case, White Cloak is still in this dimension," he explained. Shintenmaru seemed to be the only one explaining at the moment. Other councils just watched, making sure that what he said was indeed correct, as if they didn't trust him one bit so they needed ten people to watch over that one council – Hibiyomi was still resting. "We have to get him out of here, or just get rid of him completely."
"So now what?" Marissa asked, rather tensely, quickly, voice cracking up uneasily.
"We have to et him out ourselves," Tsukansu began to speak for Shintenmaru, taking over the explanations. "You guys have to stay here and remain safe since this is White Cloak we're dealing with. We should get going immediately." As if that were the concluding statement, all councils began to stir and move, energy rates going out of balance and harmony, everything going distorted and twisted and wrong, spiraling out of control! The Minors seemed different about this idea, faces quivering in disdain.
"No," Derek spoke first. The councils stopped. They all looked to the black-haired boy, who seemed nothing but serious, fists finally unclenched, loose.
"What?" Shintenmaru asked, strictly, directly.
"No," Derek repeated himself, a little louder this time, just the way he meant it. The Minors were tense and nervous about how he started off their argument. They seemed unsure and pouring with uncertainty. The councils, expecting something denied in the system worried, prepared themselves. His voice was calm, not too fast and not too slow. Just in the right place put in the right execution. "Let me – us go get White Cloak. I want to stop him myself – I want to get back at him."
"Derek," Raikettei interrupted. The bald-headed council stepped up and faced the boy, who stared straight into his eyes back, just as coldly, just as crossly. "I don't think you understand the situation at hand here -"
Derek cut Raikettei off just in time, just in time to catch him off guard. "No, I do!" he argued. He raised his voice, louder, more out of control. Derek tried hard to keep himself contained, scowling at the councils and growling low under his breath to calm himself, clenching his fists tightly in fume. "We proved twice all ready that we can be as powerful as you guys, didn't we?" Derek stated loud and clear. "I want to go!" he repeated.
"I want to go as well," Mark stepped up, sighing.
"Me too," Rick came forward. Then, suddenly, all Minors began wanting to go, shouting, pleading, begging, protesting for their chance, their right to help the council in the best way possible. The Council, apprehended by the powerful argument and overtaking of words, found themselves speechless.
"Enough!" Shintenmaru shouted, putting a demised end to the shouting and protesting. Everyone stopped, everyone was silenced. They all brought their eyes to the redheaded council, who soon began to speak. "Don't you guys get it!? We cannot allow you to go! We can't risk your lives!"
'Come on!" Teresa had to fight for her rights too. "This will give us a chance to put our training to use." All the Minors agreed, shouting confidently, grunting in the same ways at different times, random intervals.
"But-" Shintenmaru was cut off.
"Shintenmaru!" Shihou came up close to the redhead and began to whisper into his ear, cupping her voice silently, secretly. Slowly her words formed themselves delicately and angelically between her lips, graceful exits. "Don't be so insecure. They can take care of themselves, eh?" Shintenmaru had to agree. He gulped, nervously. Knowing nothing but the expression on Shintenmaru's face, the Minors began to cheer, and still, many leaned it, watching closely, coming in closer and closer and closer. Shihou continued to speak. "Also, if we let them go, it'd give us a perfect chance to watch over Jeremy and retrieve their help." Shintenmaru sighed.
Seconds passed. Half a minute of thinking. Shintenmaru suddenly sighed, and began to speak, an answer to the Minors' hopes. "Fine," he spoke with a blink. "I'll show you which way to go," he finally accepted, somewhat caught up in indifference and hoping that no one would mention the fact of his own incorrectness. He began to walk to the nearby table, and began to get to work. The Minors cheered. Now this was the time where the night would become longer and longer and longer. This is when it all began.