Dawn waited for its cue of regulation, holding its eternal job that the higher powers had given it, higher than the Council, higher than anyone alive. It would keep its promise of paradise, for it was there for one purpose and one purpose only – to be itself, and so were the other things of the world. However, this passionate dawn continued to wait, somewhat impatiently with a silent grace, somewhat sad for the nonexistent storm that had failed to visit once more. It was rather peculiar, this time of day. None of the Minors could quite put their fingers on it, touching the perfect, enigma surface of the untouched, undisturbed body of water. The ripples would drain it of their secrets. And so, the world continued on with no emotion, keeping to its job, doing it rather perfectly; it was a benefit of no emotion. They could not love, they could not fear. But either way, they just moved on. The grass of dusk continued to sway, the leaves of night continued to crunch into a heaven's crisp. The fire of day cast upon sun-drenched land, and all would remain all right – for them and them only.

However, in this particular area, the ripples of disruption grew on surfaced waters. The rocks were crunched on, crisped upon. The air was moved, shoved, and the ground continued to get bullied, stepped on. Grass of dusk hid their places of work; the sun-drenched land became barren of heat in cold. The leaves stalked behind their parent trees, hiding secretly, rendering themselves in a fragile misrecognition, drenched in their own paranoia. Something had upset the perfectionism of nature's balance. Someone had disrupted their harmony, their nonexistence of no emotion, no love, and no fear. However, Marissa loved. Marissa feared. In fact, she could do both. And she did both now. She continued to watch Rick, pat and disappear and pat and disappear in the quick cycle of return. She gulped, her eyes careful, as if the scene were fragile itself, a perfect crystal vase with the perfect curve of stars and constellation sewn into it. She whispered something to herself, a light gasp of thrill, a disciplined thrill.

Minoshi remained solitary, unable to find a new position for Rick had trapped him, concealed him in a never-ending surrounding of speed and touch, speed and touch. It had become somewhat tedious, annoying. Minoshi laid a scowl cold on his face, his teeth yearning for its omitted cigarette of white smoke purity, the jester of cloud. He had missed the cool, dashing and somewhat erotic feeling it gave him when he felt that toxic breathe into him, as he breathed into it, as well as that low gray stream of relief and unstressed feeling that came to him with that lure of lit white and brown. However, the truth stayed the truth. He no longer had the cigarette to support him. He had nothing left to breathe for. And he felt empty now, useless, and so he stayed, barely trying since the beginning. He had just played around with Rick, seeing if he would be any fun or worth a replacement. Now, he just wished he could spit Rick out and step on him so he would come back to haunt him with flames upon the ground. But he should've listened to him first. It was over, and deep down, he knew it.

Yet, his main consciousness still defied it, still called plays on it. Every time he touches me, I fell like I'm getting stronger, Minoshi thought to himself in a suspicion, wondering if he should use this newfound energy to attack, or if it was a trick sent to make him plunge deep into the holes of nonexistence. "Just what're you trying to pull?" he muttered in grave, surprisingly whitened teeth. His hands graved another strike; another miss, another disappearance and reappearance, another pat of electricity that held no pain, no syringe of despair, injection of fluster.

"You'll see," Rick answered blatantly, typically. His games were not amusing Minoshi at all. And so the slicing went on. The patting went on. And finally, bursting with energy so much that he could barely encase it anymore, he sent a wave of dust, quickly, swiftly, the long tail of gray periwinkle hissing at the air, threatening to the clouds. Rick was pulled away from the whip of grayed tail, and positioned on top of a distant rock on the tranquil waters. Minoshi scowled at the miss. Rick was compliant, and smirked at his small, miniscule act of success. "Marissa," he called out to behind him, as if directing his voice to do so. Marissa cocked her head up. He had realized all along that she was there? She stared deep into space, as if ripping the air with her eyes, tearing the dimension into a wormhole. Only in her fantasies did they succeed.

She began to wonder what he could possibly have to say in such a tense time of battle. What did he mean? "I know you're there," he called out to her. So it had been. "Listen carefully," he instructed loudly. Minoshi seemed impatient; Rick kept a meticulous watch over him, as if he were a treasure, an urn of perfection that was worth more than one's life, worth more than time's eternity. Marissa did as she was told, as if his words had commanded her so strongly, so demandingly. "You know back then…" he began to reminisce, at a rather unusual time, too. "When we were kids? I always kept a secret from you about my family, you know that?" he said with a nostalgic smirk, remembering Marissa as a small, tiny little girl. When had they grown up so fast? Where did everything go?

The filth of gray dust and silt withdrew themselves, sensing the longevity of the speech, resting themselves for the moment. Minoshi waited most reluctantly, a hard scorn restless on his face, sending waves of his own intolerance throughout the area, hoping that Rick would sense it, despite the blonde's vermillion stare cast upon him. Marissa continued to listen, preparing herself for more shocked, unable to imagine the type of thing he would tell her next. Why? She thought. Why was he telling her this now, of all times? Couldn't he just wait? Or did it have something important, too? She would just have to wait, and find out. "Now, if you watch, Marissa," Rick allowed himself of continuation. "I'll show you what it is."

Minoshi had to interrupt, had to sneer. "You're absolutely pathetic," he said in his own growing hype. It had been an overdose of energy that had induced his words, induced that tricky old smile that would fail to wipe off, fail to dwindle itself back to norm.

"I'll explain it to you, too," Rick said scoldingly. Minoshi found himself full of scorn; Marissa found herself fully attentive. Watchfully, he began speaking. "A long time ago, my family was known for a family of fighters, but at one time or another, a Scholar began to use us for experiments of power. My family was rendered useless. Why my family? Simple. Because we had a special ability like none other." It was a moment of silence. Birds continued to chirp unnoticeably, twittering so soundlessly, so mindlessly that the humans did not notice, did not pay attention. The world was moving on, all of them failed to follow.

Special…power? Marissa thought to herself in awe. Was he being serious about this? Could the Rick she knew since childhood have such a secret to hide, so important that he was forced to keep it from her, his best friend? Or was he just kidding around, like he did in the past? She didn't know which one to believe, or which one she wanted to believe. "But when those experiments ended, my family was rendered weak and poor," Rick explained. Marissa gave an exasperated sigh of somewhat liberation, a small scale of relief. So that's why… she calmed. Her hair of brazen gold fell to her side and drenched half her face in it, engulfing her, suffocating her in its unknown selfishness of affection, conceit, a conceit that she hadn't quite gotten over yet, nor did her hair. Her characteristics exposed her personality. The strands of golden hay were just so perfect, too perfect for understanding of her soul, too concealing of her being. It was too much of a lure.

Rick's voice droned on in the one-side conversation, the explanation that everyone just seemed to be either uninterested about, or completely ground-broken about. "But we slowly rebuilt ourselves, and slowly became who we are today," he said with exception. "Our power…" he began to spill the most important part. Marissa listened closely, her ears twitching ever so slightly, ever so gracefully that they were unmentioned, unnoticed, the way she wanted it. "We were able to use our nerve cells instead of muscles to fight. We were faster yet had no attack. However, we could dispose of useless nerves and replace them with new ones. When we dispose, we can shoot them into opponent's bodies to keep track of where they are," he explained. Simply amazing, and even more words beyond that rushed through Marissa's mind. She had never known they managed to attain such a skill. The Kumoyama family really was respected in the past. But… as a side note… in the past... The mere thought of it put her at unease. She strained not to think about it, not to let the helpless recollections dominate her mind with the blackish clouds of cumulus and sunless daylight of brisk.

"But, with my electricity, I can bound the cells on an electrical string and keep them in one's nervous system as long as I'd like, ready to pull them out at any time," Rick continued to explain. He smiled, knowing that he was just a breath away from the good part, the part that made him know, without a doubt, that he was going to win this battle. "Meaning I can also send positive and negative charges through my cells, and most importantly, through yours." Marissa was left speechless before, her language, her vocabulary lost among the rain and cloud and rising dawn accompanied with the dying night. Now, she was breathless, without a doubt, unable to breathe, unable to take a rising of chest and a beating of heart. She could practically feel herself outside of her body, like she had fallen to the floor and thudded unsightly.

"Wait," Minoshi said with lowering suspicion as the answer revealed itself. His voice became somewhat raspy with sickness; he didn't want to believe what he thought. "So every time you tapped me with that damned hand of yours…" he let himself trail off, not even wanting to speak the thought that he had in mind, not even wanting to think of it, or to even have the slightest clue of it.

"Yes," Rick answered his question, happily knowing that it would make the opponent feel uncomfortable. "I was sending nerve cells through your body," he answered confidently. "But my body seems to be short on nerve cells; it must be an effect of experimentation. So I had to improvise," he said as he brought up his arms, showing traces of thin, almost invisible strings of electric blue neon, glowering with luminous light of star. The threads were like a whole army of them, a whole parade; just like a puppet show, with the strings crowded together as if they would entangle themselves at any moment. "I purposely sent out old ones and bound them by my strings connected to my arms," he explained. "But that was only the first part of the technique," he spoke with exception. Rick smiled again, knowing that the next part would be even greater than the last. "Here comes the next!" he turned his face to a quick scowl and blurred into agility once again. Marissa brought herself into attention as she felt the presence of Rick disappear. She would want to watch; she turned her head to the side of the tree to keep herself watching again. Her eyes were full of curiosity, an awe that was preparing itself to release, for it knew that it would soon be liberated.

Rick reappeared at a nearby boulder, surprising Minoshi with his presence. He made a pull of his arms, and brought the cells out from the opponent's body. It was a horrid crack of body and bone that released from the body that seemed to cry out from the sudden ripping feeling of skin. Minoshi cried out, swinging his head backward and his body forward. His legs trembled themselves weak. His limbs suddenly hung at their sides; his hype of energy was now brought to an end, a draining of energy instead of hype. "I drained all your nerve cells' energy with negative sucking charges," Rick informed. "You shouldn't be able to move now."

Minoshi winced, brow twitching, body trembling ever so weakly, so coldly with the absence of heat, the absence of warmth and power. He could no longer feel his arms, or his legs. He's right… Minoshi thought to himself, for he could barely speak. I can barely even move my mouth… or close an eyelid. "Now… for the next part," Rick jumped to the next step. Confidently, he brought his arms to his side, as if he were about to soar to victory. A smile couldn't help but spread on his face with those vermillion eyes of perfection gold, the electric blue strings following them, for they had been sewed in, locked with them for eternity. They were like stringing webs that traced his presence, a curtain of strung blue, wings of hot thread sizzling silently, soundlessly with the feathers of the body's nervous system, tingling as they touched each other in spark, invisible with their molecular presence, their microscopic beings.

Rick… Marissa thought as she watched the blonde boy she had seen grown up, from the tiniest, shiest little boy to one of the most confident, right after Eric, teenager, however she considered her a man, she had ever seen. Amazing… absolutely… she couldn't very well manage to finish the thought. Her eyes were locked in sympathy for herself and only for herself, for his power, although she was happy for him, made her realize even more that she was useless, weak. She was withering away, and Eric, Eric couldn't change that, because he knew that it was up to her. So as she found herself thoughtless, her own soul meaningless, useless to anyone she loved, she cared for, that tiny bead of translucency managed to leak from her glassing eyes. A trembling bottom lip made way to erupt her emotions to depression as she watched, unable to experience that wondrous awe she had gotten so ready to release. That single tear of blue eye came down to her cheeks and remained there, as if hesitating to move on, to go forward, just like Marissa believed she had done all throughout her Minor life. If she continued like this, she figured, her life really would become not only Minor… but indeed, truly minor. She was the lone flower. And she didn't know how to make others grow. So she began to wither; rose petal by rose petal, there soon became nothing left. Was there any hope for her left? She just watched now, watched the fight without realizing she was doing so, for her thoughts had laid out before her vision invisibly, inducing obstacles in her course of life. She felt like breaking down – it wasn't the time for that. She'd just get Rick distracted and once again, be in the way, be of no use.

"By draining your energy, I got faster, so don't worry. This won't take long," Rick jokingly assured. Minoshi scowled at his foolishness. Rick stood behind Minoshi's resting body, soulless limbs as he prepared himself with those same glowing hands. Minoshi wondered what he would possibly do now. He ground his teeth rather barely, not qualifying to have enough energy to do it angrily, to do it with a facial gesture. He was surprised he could even stand. It was the only part of the muscles in his body that worked now. Rick was relatively shorter than Minoshi, signs that he was younger. It'd be amazing if he really were to win. "By adding some of your energy back and taking them back out almost immediately after you feel the energy given back, I'll give you mental fatigue in the process," Rick explained as he began. Minoshi seemed rather fearful, rather reluctant to do so.

And Rick did it anyway. He patted his back, and Minoshi grunted, weakly, the grunt worth a million screams of pain. Now this is where all the hurt had gone to. He reappeared before him, and patted his front; he reappeared at the side of him, and patted his useless arm. He reappeared everywhere and pat him everywhere, until the pain became so severe that he was indeed, mentally fatigued. The feeling of getting something and then having it immediately taken away from you when your body thought it would get to keep it forever until death was a feeling of tediousness, and mental toil. Basically, the attack was inducing anger; it was pissing Minoshi off on purpose. "Now, I'll do the last part," Rick began to conclude. He knew Marissa's eyes were on him. And he was glad; if only he had known what she was feeling. That feeling of hopefully induced pride would not be turned down, because he didn't know it was.

"Hibana Ru-retto! -Spark Roulette!-" Rick declared as he appeared before Minoshi's weakened state of mind and body. He closed his eyes, as if wishing rest, wishing sleep and then waking up later. But Rick would not give him the chance. He had to attack while he was stable; or else the flaw of the technique would be exposed. Rick brought his hands to formed claws; his left one brought itself to Minoshi's mid-ribcage while the right hand pulled back, charging in potential. A readied smile of immense sound and power showed on his face, and Marissa, she watched, trying hard not to cry as the wind softly whistled past a song of the sad, for her and her only, whisking her hair to scarf away her face, and brightening the tear into notice. This was it. And they waited. Rick's front hands began to glow brightly with yellow, sparking ever so slightly, humming with that electric hum of ceiling lights that reminded him of his new home. Then, the charging became wild, frenzied, as if out of control. It seemed no longer friendly or sterile; now it became insane, a wild growling of hell and death, dissipating sparks and scattering light blustering into feral, impish blue and electric, crushing sparks. The tamed color became untamed, and the sound of solemn humming became the bursting of lightning. It emitted noise like neon lights of the pizzeria; and smoked lightly in a lush, yet dangerous destruction. Its appearance was full of deceit; it was much more hellish and a much more devious attack than it seemed.

Then, with a thrusting and drawing of hands that seemed to take a million turns in a matter of seconds, the attack started, and the sound of spark and electrocution against body and blood and skin was heard. It was a horrid cracking, a sizzling noise of heat. Rick cried out in emancipation of confidence into attack, shouts of declaration crashing into Minoshi's body. However, these intense screams of emotion were drowned, drowned by the heated charging and thrusting of hands, the sounds of sparks flying upon body and more body. The hands were so swift, too quick to count. They seemed to strike a thousand times a second; the threads of lightning so intense that they burst out of their domain and jumped elsewhere, no longer knowing any bounds now that they were liberated. The deal was this; he held a spark ready in each hand, a tiny spark, a spark that could do lots of damage. When he struck, the spark was sent through the body, and when it pulled back for the other hand's turn, it charged with another spark, and the same again with the other arm. At such a high speed, it began to push the body's center backward, the electricity too much for intake. The sounds of crying out in despair were clouded by the mist of sparks and hissing of threat. The arms continued to flail at an inhuman blur of attack. How could someone endure such an unexpected type of attack?

The body flailed with the arms; it was helpless – Rick had obviously all ready won the fight. Seconds passed. Minutes passed. The continuous beating had grown into their ears. Then, finally, when the flailing of limb ended into a satisfied demise, Rick was left their, heavily breathing, arms smoking in white heat, body falling over and into the water with chest heavily smoking its own invisible cigarettes that he had longed for; but not this kind. Rick was the only one prevailing on the rock of victory, holding his arms up just in case, breathing in the hot, steamy white smoke of his own triumph and felt like falling over himself, too. But he wasn't foolish enough to. Imagine how much that attack could do while the opponent was stuck in the water. Then, cued, Rick fell to the cragged surface of the rock, weak; finding himself unable to move, unable to catch his breath for it had been lost too long ago.

"Rick!" Marissa cried his name as she found that it was safe to come from behind the tree and to assist the boy. She ran frantically, ran to the lake and watched him fall over the rock. It had been too unsteady. His body now floated towards the bank, and she, all she could do was wait for him to come back, just like she had done in the fight. Now she waited at the bank of the lake, watching the slow ripples of water release form his now wet body. He seemed to drift closer and closer, taking his time while she waited, guiltily as she knelt upon the ground in respect and waited for him. She tried to reach out an assisting hand, but couldn't. She just had to wait.

Seconds passed, and Marissa finally was put to her miniscule use. She brought Rick up to his feet and put his arm around her shoulders. His wet clothes soaked hers, but she no longer cared. Her eyes of worry begged his to open, hoping that he didn't exhaust himself too much from the technique. His arm was heavy, big on his shoulder. "That attack takes a lot out of you," she scolded. "Our fight's over, though…" she let herself trail off.

"We have no time to waste," Rick opened his wet face; it was hard to tell what it was wet with – water, or hard earned sweat. Marissa blinked in worry. What could they have to possibly do now? Search for White Cloak again right after he fought? Impossible! He was weak and she was… too afraid to fight. Then, Rick began to pull away from her, and began to walk, unsteadily towards the trees. He walked so slowly, so difficultly. Marissa sculpted her face into anxiety.

"Where are you going?" she asked from her own panic. Her features were worrisome, coy with scarce bravery.

"We'll go to the nearest group's route to us. Maybe they need our help," Rick suggested without turning back, for he was too wet, too tired to do so.

"But…" Marissa began to exclude. "I don't want to see you get -" She was cut off.

"Marissa," he said scoldingly. She whimpered a bit, her eyes locked on to the floor as if he had demanded her eyes pried off of him, and watch the ground in shame. She remained silent for a long while, contemplating her unsure thoughts in her mind. Then, she stumbled upon a decision only because she was thinking that she had taken too long to decide, and he seemed to yearn to move all ready.

"Okay, fine," Marissa said rather girlishly, with a high voice. She walked gradually to him, taking her time. She brought his arm around her shoulders once again and said, "I'll carry you," with insistence.

"No, it's all right," Rick suggested back. "I don't need a g-" This time, he was left interrupted.

He had been cut off with a somewhat comfortable laugh. "Stop acting tough," Marissa suggested. "The battle's over, big guy." And with that last word, they went off to the west, hoping to find someone to help; well, it was more really Rick, who wanted to find someone to help.