Tsukansu unsheathed at his waist. A certain metallic, manual click told him that this was real. The whorled golden light reality couldn't stop swirling – couldn't stop ending for it went in a loop, a loop that lasted centuries, ages hence; a nothing but pure goodness swirling and churning inside with their mobile curves of white-hot streaks. The twister hurricane of sparkling lights continued to dance themselves in their ritual of life, fulfilling their only purpose as they circled this invisible monster again and again and again in a tight prison of luster. Their glittered cries sprinkled the thick, breathless air as their four edges tickled the whorls in the background, somehow the only thing that was able to reach this rich surreality, for if a human figure could try and touch it, try and feel it for his own wealth and joy, it would seem to get farther away. Farther away from him would it tick, further away it would remain, constantly, uselessly was rendered his efforts.
The roaring of a magnificent beast had no place to echo from as it was emitted by pure demon lips – or was it better to say… teeth? Its angered shouts of protest swirled in the rotating stars of multicolor, the high tornado of the aftermath of rain and sunlight. Another roar blasted outward like a trumpet instrument, a discord of a despaired scowl. "Now, Hyoumaru!" Tsukansu leaned forward in preparation, uttering a low, unnoticed scowl on his face as he vanished from his own agility. A puff of dust was what he left behind as he began his demanding run through the delusional area of constant mixed dream, a cocktail of strong, powerful and intense ingredients of imagination, born from the millions of creativity that the world has given birth to. Hyoumaru shifted, reacting to Tsukansu's command.
With that, Hyoumaru disappeared in his own agile speed. The rest of the Council watched waited, and daydreamed on their own until their use of duty fell upon them; but for now, they fantasized, their hidden fantasies drawn out from the swirls of psychosis that surrounded them. Before the sea of lights, Hyoumaru reappeared before the invisible figure, and knowing that it was definitely where he thought it was, he drew in a punch. A hard punch. Tightly gripping his fists, he sucked in a short intake of breath, resulting a sharp exhale of air. In preparation while still in midair, Hyoumaru dodged his fist into the swirling festival of lights and then –
Out it came. The fabric of the magical, twisting concert was ripped apart by an unsuspecting body that fell heavy to the floor. A cold, frothy chill began to fill the air from Hyoumaru's fist. A titanic set of icy pikes stuck to a giant skull's face. Its presence had been revealed. Its teeth chattered grudgingly, hatefully, as if it were to eat someone alive, the bare gray bone of their miniscule shape too nauseating to see, too distorted from its regular norm to glimpse at. The widened, empty sockets of the skull desired new eyes; they had once held a frozen, accusing stare, but now, with their dark ebony of detestation and idea of vengeance in their mind, they seemed alone, a hateful solitaire that the two, emptied holes shared. They dully stood, stared with no vision out into the happy-sad dream that jumped before their sockets. Its nose was nothing but an empty, narrowed hole, a cut or scar of some sort, and not a nose at all. Its cheeks were horridly skinny, horribly sleek with its anorexia clenching.
The jaws were most horrible. They missed the bloodlust they had once shared. They remembered the dripping look from the chin and the stains of red over everything it ate. A million souls combined into one, this demon head roared unknowingly, roared unpleasantly. The forehead was deviously cracked, a thin fault of blackness seeping through, a heavy artery of darkened souls creeping out with crooked fingers of the crack. The gray bone was eerie, empty, dead. The swirling of light seemed scared of it, seemed to fear it, and wanted to back away from it with its innocent vibrations of diverging motion. After so many years of following command, it had finally figured out that it did not know how to act on its own. A curtain of purple and dark violet wrapped around the bottom of it like a death scarf, a burial item. The teeth continued to chatter, and scream out inhuman roars.
The side of its face hissed as the large mound of ice from Hyoumaru's punch began to melt. A combination of a creepy smile and crooked frown remained pasted on the skull's head. The swirling specks of light stopped their merry-go-round of happiness and died away into their own fainted dreams. The real trouble began now. The blackish scarf of the skull seemed to unravel itself as the blackened kanji symbol of "judge" glowed with a lava hot shine, eerily hissing in its own danger. The symbol roared along with it, and the scarf began to unwire and untie. Then, the scarf became a curtain, a shroud of death about to take one to their respective pyre. The curtain of sinful purple let out a million of purple tentacles, a trillion of them at least. The ice now became water, and now sizzled to its own vapor. The water never had a chance to live, to thrive. The writhing tentacles now shot out at the Councils, but searched for them first, as if they were blind, and constantly wavered in the air in their own wriggling dance.
Tsukansu appeared before this demonic monstrosity, looking all calm and cut and ready. A cold hard stare gleamed from underneath the brown bamboo hat. "Sorry, Judgment," he muttered quickly and eagerly, as if the demon could hear him from their just distance. He had apologized early, and now, everyone was eager to see what he would apologize for. It had been to long since they had seen the performance of Tsukansu's twins; they'd love to see it now. Entertainment became a necessity, otherwise rants would start. One could swear upon it. Tsukansu unsheathed once more. There was a solemn, stern click of blade, and a long, drawn out metal screeching against case. Quickly was the sword drawn out, swiftly did it release a cold cloud of white blue smoke, a thick mist of periwinkle blizzard. The sword's container spewed out a stretching cloud of writhing blue smoke, a haze of mist and permafrost numbing. Its mouth constantly breathed it out non-stop, as if some kind of machine. The whole dream world of fantasy became one of cold eeriness.
The Judgment's ironic presence in the area seemed to infect the innocent dreams of others, turning them inside out and upside down from good and innocent to bad and juvenile, foolish and violent. An unsatisfied growl uttered from a low throat of voice. The tentacles continued to dance. With a final cry, the Judgment commanded its tentacles to crash down onto Tsukansu. The Council, entrenched in his own growing mist, disappeared to thin air as if it was the easiest thing to do in the world, missing the frantic tentacles by a long shot. The mist that he left behind imploded as it ate at the purple, slimy fingers. Periwinkle dusted towards the air above.
In second's notice, Tsukansu appeared behind the Judgment, facing the other way coolly, as if this were the old, wild west. He sliced the air diagonally before him, and with a line of silver cut, so was the Judgment. A sickening shriek of pain shouted from cragged, ancient teeth. Ice began to grow from its wound. Thick ice, like a rooted glacier from deep inside finally deciding to come out, and finally deciding to infect the outer shell, instead of the inner began to grow and come out, spread like a greedy hand ready to possess this demon for the many sins it had commit after its many deaths in the fabric of life. It had lived too long beyond its years. Now it was the time for its final death of sins, so it could live on with a more innocent start – and with a new second chance, it would just commit more sins. Half the skull was now frozen. Now two-thirds. And, with a last complicated roar, soon was all of it gone.
The Judgment, before suspended in midair, fell to the ground heavily with a loud, echoing thud. An echoing that defied the laws of physics. An echoing that it would stay in the Council's minds forever, and they wouldn't know why. Ever. Skillfully, Tsukansu drew back in the sword and unsheathed it expertly, coolly, victoriously. Behind him, Hyoumaru sneered, happily, sharing the victorious feeling.
He looked to his cold, slowly heating fist, watching the last wisps of cold air emit from between his fingers, clenching and unclenching his hand to muster up whatever heat he had in him to warm him up. He breathed in a sharp gasp of cool air, easing his nerves. "You know, after all those years, I still feel like you stole my power with those things," Hyoumaru commented, smiling somewhat nostalgically, somewhat seriously.
Tsukansu laughed back, amused. He let go of the cool handle of the sword and brought his hand back to his side. The weight of it went back to him, bringing him back to his journeyed norm. "Well, then," he began to say. "That's just too bad, now, isn't it?" Hyoumaru scoffed and the rest of the team behind Tsukansu began to walk up to him, approach him with certain indifference of what happened just before. They completely disregarded the presence of their own captured demon beside them as they walked, not even caring to take a glimpse at its crystallized fountain. Then, after waiting for them long enough, Tsukansu began to lead the way again, and the team followed, and walked, powerfully.
PoVS
The late night was cold. The moon howled above, hiding behind an arsenal of periwinkle clouds that slowly trailed past, slowly strolled along the jet black sidewalks of the paralleled sky, waiting for morning to arise so they would be done with their desperation jogs. The stars twinkled, blinked with their blinded paths in the sky, in the world and the whole fabric of the universe. Darkness crept around them and surrounded them like a blanket, a blanket in which they punctured through with their powerful, luminary prowess of distance. They seemed to try and hide as well, getting as far as possible from the land and trying to hide between their own periwinkle clouds. Too bad. Their great forces of light and prowess pierced through their hideouts, too. What a proof that good things could too, be bad, and vice-versa, of course. The trees reached out with their greedless hands full of innocence towards the sky, wanting to reach their dreams with their confused, indecisive fingers. They failed to move at all, failed to do anything on its own. It relied on the wind, and of course, its own, slow, tedious growth. Staying in one place. It was rather annoying, and of course, tedious. Some just weren't patient enough. And some were just unable to reach their dreams that way.
The cold grass seemed to whisper to their respective, nearest trees their own story of gossip, their own story of interest to keep them busy, the millions and billions of tiny, small voices murmuring into the clouds, murmuring into their dreams, and piquing the soft trees' blatant minds, for they nodded, moved their heads with their wind. Then, feeling sympathy for the great blades of grass, tried to reach downward to them, tried to help them up and support them to the sky with their tall, lean bodies, bringing their branches as far as they could downward. But they couldn't. That process took too much time, too. Life was harsh for these innocent souls. But they would have to learn to cope with it. Everyone on this planet did.
Two live, mobile souls were alive with their own perspiration, dotting through the forest with jump after jump from branch after branch. Their feet clicked against each surface, their hearts beat every second. One spectacled, one not, they rushed side by side, hoping and somewhat not hoping that they would find anything in their short minutes into the commanded search. They were of the same family, same branch. They respected on another, or at least now they did, anyways. They jumped more through the forest, feeling the whispers of cool air against their cheeks, the cool night calming them somewhat, yet giving them a dark, eerie feeling as the night clouded with its own suspicious darkness, one of disloyalty and distrust. They dashed with skillful, trained feet, their own hard work paying off for them. They were barely tired, for they had just begun, but they knew that it was going to be a tiresome night, and so they went on.
Takiato Daniel was the faster, the on just a foot ahead from his brother. Kenneth desperately tried to catch up. Being the skinner one had its benefits, Daniel knew. And he had to live all those years of people making fun of him for that. Well, they were shunned pretty much now, weren't they? Weren't they!? The night was psychotic; it had a weird, abnormal sense to it. It induced rather strange thoughts, but they were all soon ignored from their birth. Just like orphans. Just like the children being forced to adopt, and the ones that end up on the streets. "What's the plan?" Kenneth called out to him, trying hard to keep up with his younger brother, who just so happened to be the youngest Minor as well, but the smartest out of all of them.
Daniel sighed, breathing in a cool breeze of frosty air. It felt good inside his lungs, calming, in fact. He wished he could have those certain, specific breaths more often. But then, they wouldn't be special and as calming anymore once he got used to them, now would they? "Don't have one," Daniel quickly answered, almost in a snap. Kenneth seemed shocked, surprised, as if it was the first time this had ever happened. In fact, it was the first time it had ever happened! "I don't have enough information to build a plan," Daniel explained. Kenneth calmed, but to some scale, was disappointed. Disappointed that he couldn't make a plan? No, guess again. "But," Daniel included. Kenneth looked up, tiresome eyes glazed with the night, their icy cold blue glowering with their innocent stare and fiery blue hair. Opposites always worked together, at some point. Fiery and icy. Perfect. "It'd be nice if we found no one in our search at all, though," he explained. "But, since we don't know what's going to happen, it'd be best if we wait a while for the sun. I don't have to waste time blasting at nothing in the dark while blinded and vulnerable to all sorts of attacks."
"I see," Kenneth muttered solemnly, all full of mixed emotions right now, slowly organizing them back into their norm once again in his head. Slowly they were put together like tense, tedious jigsaw puzzles. Doing this was stressful. Too bad he couldn't quit.
"But, the colder it is, meaning the more nighttime we have, the faster and better you can use your ice techniques, so we'll always have a bit of an upper hand no matter what time of day it is," Daniel explained as well as his speed seemed to increase and Kenneth's seemed to decrease. Daniel… Kenneth thought. You keep getting farther and farther away lately. Is it me; am I the one slowing down without realizing it, or are you just you, getting so amazingly faster? At any rate, I'm proud. Daniel cleared his throat, wanting an answer. Kenneth gasped nervously, and nodded his head, gave a short utter of voice under his throat. "It's about two hours until morning, though," Daniel went on. "If we catch dawn, then both of us will be benefited."
"Okay," Kenneth replied, eager to get the job done, feeling the confidence pump into his blood constantly and take over him with a certain coyness of fragility.
"We'll go in the forest, too. It's a perfect place to hide," Daniel concluded.
"Yeah," Kenneth agreed, one more time, caught up in his own thoughts in a certain trance he called his own mind.
PoVS
Along a certain creepy mountainside, darkened by the moonlight's deceased rays, Yomi Derek rose from the ground from his bound shadows, rising from the flattened, brownish ancient grounds. He sighed, breathing in a breath of cool air, a least comforting one at that for his sweaty, tired body of constant searching and tedious rising and sinking of ground and feet. He looked around, watching the features of the cragged mounds of rock around him, around the flattened, barren area of monumental purpose. Nothing strange. The darkened night beamed upon the area, shaded over the features and made them eerie with a certain grace. It was Derek's time of night.
"Not here," he told himself, breathing softly, carefully murmuring his voice upon his team. Derek sunk back into the ground, slowly dwindling back into the shadows, into the Darkness.
"I want to find this damned white guy all ready," Zack cried out, a bit too loudly for comfort, a bit too uproarious. He whined, as always, with his words spewed out childishly from his unknowing lips. "I want to show off my new moves," he smiled proudly, thinking of the awe he would put in his teammates' faces, especially Derek. It would teach him not to underestimate him anymore. He smiled, snickered at the thought as if he were a ten year old about to receive candy, or about to do something devilish, devious. "All right!" he shouted in his own caught up pride.
"Shut up!" Derek's voice snapped at the brown haired boy from far away. Zack jerked his head, turning with a blank, juvenile stare. He blinked, once, twice. "You're too loud; you'll give away our position," Derek scolded.
Zack scoffed, stuck out his tongue childishly, deciding that there was no point in getting mad at Derek for his comments anymore. He didn't care about the rules, he didn't, he didn't, he didn't. Not one sliver of care did he have for them. He just wanted to have fun. That's all he knew. That's all that made him happy, all that kept him smiling. So why didn't they just let him be? Because once in a while, you had to bring yourself back into reality and make yourself realize that things in life aren't always happy – you had to follow the rules and you had to be serious once in a while. Zack had never woken up at all – he hadn't even stirred, blinked. "You don't even know if he's here or not. Why would he go to this place anyway? And just where are we?" Zack cried out meanly, snapping back.
"It's the monument area for the organization that saved the Council as teenagers from White Cloak," Mark quickly answered appearing from one of the human-resembling statues wrapped in a heavy-looking cloak of marble. There were twelve monuments, each representing a different person. They were carved from marble with their perfect bodies and different looks showing their varying kinds of power and prowess. Just looking at them told you that the real ones had to be powerful. Real powerful if they were capable of protecting the Council, even as children.
Zack peered to Mark, and blinked, as if asking how did he know all these things he was telling them. Zack – he was the one that always asked the many stupid questions, but once in a while, you might come across a good one that you might want to know the answer to as well, for you didn't know the solution to it. "It's the area with the most marble in the ground in this whole dimension. Kanadou took me here to train me when Hibiyomi was away," he explained. Zack nodded, and wondered if Mark knew what he had been thinking.
"I see," Zack muttered in awe. He looked around at the different lengths and different examples and poses of the marble statues, showing their power, their skill, their technique of protection, of love for the universe that they once had. Their perfect bodies and perfectly chiseled features could only be made by the talented powers of the Council Free Spirits. They never ceased to fill Zack's glazed glance with awe. "Amazing," he muttered quietly under his breath. "These things are sort of creepy, though,"
"Zack, that's a really disrespectful thing to say," Mark muttered meanly. "You should apologize – unless you want to get punished," he said in a bit of a suspicious, threatening tone. Zack scoffed and stuck his tongue out once more, immaturely.
"Ha, by who?" he sneered disrespectfully.
"By me," came his quick answer. Mark narrowed his eyes, reminded Zack of his skill in training and physical fighting, and with a cold hard stare, reminded him of how strong his body must be. Zack gulped at the thought. Then, without another word, he kneeled down in front of the statue he had last looked at, and began to squint, nervously. He gulped once more, and folded his hands in apologetic prayer. His two teammates watched and smiled, their spirits amused. And so was another spirit, far, far away from them, watching from an elevated cliff, and prepared to kill.