After a long hiatus, Scarlet Warhawk has finally helped me finish the seventeenth chapter. It took a lot of elbow but I'm glad we finished it.
"Okay," Ian sighed. "I'm not strictly... normal." He bit his lip and shifted nervously. "What you've seen of me? This is the same amount of power I've had since I was a little kid. It's why I'm so weak." The meister looked away, trying to decide how much to reveal to Ali. "I have these... blocks... on my full power that hold it back and make it so that I don't get stronger as fast as the others." He held his hand up in front of him, staring at it as he flexed and curled his fingers into a fist. "I HAVE power," he affirmed before adding on with a note of frustration. "I just... can't use it."
Having heard this revelation, Ali's mind raced. Ian's power was locked away? And from what she had seen of his 'released' state–not to mention the defeated werewolf–it was no small amount, either.
"Wait, hold on a second," she cut in, realizing something. "When you transformed before, you were acting like a perverted lunatic until I whacked you in the head. What was that about?" Ian rubbed the back of his neck, pausing hesitantly.
"Uh... W-when my power got sealed away... it might have sealed away some aspects of my personality that then started developing on their own?" The dark-skinned boy let out a nervous laugh. "It should fade away as I get used to it." Those parts were pure fabrication; the first part being half a blatant falsehood and the second baseless speculation. He had no way of knowing what effect Raz's power would have on him, or how his behaviour would be affected by it long-term. He had also omitted anything about the other two souls and their shares of his strength, but then it hurt just as bad as if he'd outright lied to the girl. He just... he wasn't ready to tell her the truth about his old mistakes. Maybe he would be lucky and he'd never need to. The meister almost laughed dryly. All of that bible-thumping and he didn't even practice what he preached. Oh sure, he believed in God. Maybe not everything in the books, but he'd seen too much of the other side to doubt the Creator's existence. The whole 'zealous believer' routine, though, was really just an excuse. He hid behind it same reason he wanted to be a meister: to kill demons so that nobody saw what he really was. Just another sinner. He was jolted from his moody thoughts when Ali interrupted them.
The weapon in question placed her hand on her hips and made a vague gesture to the werewolf's fallen body. "And what's this, then?" Ian actually grinned.
"I found out how to open one of the locks." His shorter partner blinked, then narrowed her eyes.
"Show me."
The dark-skinned boy closed his eyes and focussed on the feeling of the ring on his finger. The sensation became real as a rush of power surged through him. Reaching down, he picked up a pebble that was lying on the ground and tested it's weight. Ali watched on with interest, noting the faint purple glow that the boy's eyes took on. Grunting, Ian chucked the rock at hard as he could at a nearby tree, cracking the bark and leaving a dent that was roughly an inch deep. With that, he turned back to face his partner with a cocky smirk on his face. "Not bad, eh, Al- woah!" The meister dropped down just in time to avoid a scything kick that slashed through the air above him. Ali hopped back, watching him carefully as Ian picked himself up and raised an eyebrow. "What's up?" he asked cheekily, somewhat surprised by his own smart-ass reaction.
Ali just sank into a fighting stance and held out an arm, cocking back her outstretched fingers in the universal sign for 'bring it on.'
"I said," she told him. "show me." Ian saw that, despite the intense stare on her face, her eyes were gleaming with interest. Not wanting to disappoint, he grabbed hold of the confidence he'd felt and let it charge through him.
"Alright, then," he shot back. "...let's dance!" As soon as the words left his lips, they were followed by a loud 'oof!' as Ali zipped forwards and planted her foot in his stomach. Winded, the taller partner stumbled back and blocked a wild hook, tossing his opponent back as he sucked in air. The demon weapon just flipped back, sticking her landing like a cat. Having regained his breath Ian slid into a crude approximation of a fighting stance, backpedaling out of the way of Ali as she launched a flying kick at him. This was followed instantly by a punch that glanced his upper arm and–the moment she touched the ground–a half-handstand axe kick that he sidestepped, unable to hold back a laugh of delight. They were finally fighting together! It wasn't exactly the way he'd expected, but he was still happy that he could begin showing that he wasn't useless! Ian grabbed her wrist to stop a hand-chop then winced as she backflipped, her knee and then other leg snapping up to jar his forearm and barely miss his chin respectively. Despite it, he was unable to wipe the grin off of his face. Throwing out a sloppy jab and receiving a knee to the gut and a kick to the shin for his trouble, the meister found his eyes unintentionally drifting over his partner's form as she closed back in, taking in the way her muscles coiled and extended. He saw movement and deadly grace rippling through her lithe body like a cat with a kind of fascination as they traded blows back and forth. His gaze was beginning to take in... other features when he mentally slapped himself, shaking his head rapidly to try and drive away those thoughts. As he regained focus, his attention caught Ali's leg arcing towards him. In a flash of instinct, he used the back of his hand to deflect the kick and push her leg to the side. Caught unprepared for the maneuver, the girl twisted to regain her balance and felt a rushed punch from Ian catch her in the side. Pain that she had been harshly repressing lanced from the hit across to her still-injured back–now far too much for her to ignore–and she let out a choked exclamation of pain, crashing to the dirt heavily as she lost her balance.
Ian raised an eyebrow at the sound and then saw her hard landing. Taking stock of her trembling form and the harsh gasps that came from her, his eyes widened and he practically ripped the ring off of his finger–letting it fade away without a second thought–and dashed over to Ali, kneeling down beside her.
"Ali?!" he asked, frantic. The girl let out a pained groan in response, trying force herself into a sitting position but falling back and hissing as she felt a number of the scars on her back open up again. "Ali, are you okay?" Ian tried again. The weapon's fingers scrabbled at the earth as she attempted to pull herself up, ignoring her meister. Exhaustion rushed through her like lead, and her arms shook, hands sifting through the mud until one of them felt Ian's arm. The pain was growing and her skin felt like it hand been splashed with acid, but she forced her hands to clamp onto the boy's wrist and forearm in a death grip, eyes screwed shut. For his part, Ian barely noticed, instead still panicking over her condition to the point where his mouth was running a mile a minute.
"Come on, tell me you're okay, I'm sorry if I hurt you I shouldn't have done that and oh man I hit a girl what was I thinking wait no that's sexist or is it just a friend thing I don't want to offend you but we might be friends maybe and oh my God you're bleeding oh jeez I don't know what to do..."
Ali tuned him out, forcing her sluggish hands to climb up his arm, inch by inch, until she reached his shoulder. With what little strength she could muster, she used it as leverage to pull herself towards him, head landing against his chest and her muscles relaxing. Her other hand rose to clutch a fistful of his shirt and hold herself to him a little tighter. Ian broke off with a stuttering squeak and he looked down at the injured girl who was laying against him in a manner that–for all intents and purposes–classified as 'cuddling.' The meister's brain struggled to compute this new development. Ali Ore did not 'cuddle.'
'Stab?' Yes. 'Insult?' Most certainly. But this... this didn't fit her at all. But then again how much did he really know about her? Deciding to ask, he spoke tentatively.
"A-a-Ali? Wh-what are you d-d-doing? I don't know i-if-" He was cut off when Ali's hand moved from his shoulder to clamp lightly over his mouth.
"Ian..." came a quiet voice, slightly muffled by his shirt.
"Y-yeah?"
"Shut up." And with that, Ali nestled deeper, letting the support against his body take the strain off of her aching back. That was the only reason for it, she told herself, dismissing any sense of warm security or comfortable safety as a byproduct of exhaustion. Ian dutifully closed his mouth, feeling her small chest rise and fall gently as the girl settled in, breathing softly. The two of them lay there in silence, just focusing on their breathing. After a while, Ali spoke again.
"If you tell anyone about this," she threatened sluggishly. "I'll kill you."
Ian blanched slightly, but also felt a wave of reassurance. If the girl was threatening him, that meant she was feeling better.
"R-right."
"Mn," was Ali's grunted reply.
XXX
A few days passed, but eventually it came time for Ian and Ali to return to Shibusen.
"Well," Melinda said to the pair as they made their way to leave. "It was nice to have you over. You should visit again sometime."
Ian smiled broadly, held back tears in his eyes because he didn't want his sister to call him some kind of baby, and he gave her a well deserved hug. Ali watched the display with crossed arms, holding back a small smile despite her air of stoic indifference.
After the two finally separated, Ian's attention was drawn to the presence of Blake and Blanc, both of whom were hefting traveling packs over their shoulders.
"Are you guys coming with us?" he asked curiously. Blanc just shook his head, crazed brown hair swaying wildly.
"'Fraid not," the more experienced Meister answered. "The two of us are heading back out to the area where we were before. We have orders-"
Just then, his pocket gave a small chirp. Brow furrowing, he withdrew a cell phone, flipping it open and tapping a button. Pale blue orbs scanned back and forth, before stiffening suddenly. The pale boy's face drained of expression, grip tightening on the device. His partner peered over his shoulder, eyes widening.
"What the hell...?" the tough-looking weapon wondered aloud, voice coloured with disbelief. Ali looked confused and annoyed at the pair.
"What?!" she snapped impatiently.
Blanc brought the phone closed with a sharp 'click', features clear of any indicators as to his emotional state as he turned to address Ian and Ali.
"I was wrong," he said, tone unreadable and blank. Blake's lip curled up slightly into a dark scowl.
"We've been recalled. Looks like we are going with you after all."
Ian wondered why the boy sounded like he had just been sentenced to death.
XXX
Melinda helpfully directed them to a cart driver who could take them to a nearby town. There, the four students found a series of buses they could take on the way back to Death City.
The bus rides were extremely uncomfortable in a way that had nothing to do with the lumpy, cramped seats and pathetically meager excuse for an air conditioning system that left them sweltering in the Nevada heat. Although both Ali and Ian felt excited to return, and the devout meister was still riding high on his newly-discovered power, it was clear that their companions did not share in their enthusiasm. Blake spent the trip in brooding silence, arms crossed as he stared out the window. Conversely, Blanc seemed to be torn between consoling his partner and making half-hearted attempts at conversation with the younger duo.
"Nice weather, huh?" the white-haired boy said a few hours in to their second bus. Ian glanced out the window, the leering face of the sun scouring the desert with rays of blazing heat from amidst the clear blue sky. It really wasn't. His shirt was damp with sweat and prickling him uncomfortably. Ali was dozing beside him, letting out disgruntled noises every so often. Blake looked like he couldn't care less, but he had removed his heavy jacket, which was folded and lying on the armrest beside him, so he must have been feeling the heat as well.
"Y-yeah..." Ian answered, forcing a smile onto his face. One of the things he had noticed about Blanc was the fact that the boy was apparently immune to heat. While the others were suffering in various states of misery, the white-garbed meister seemed utterly unaffected, sitting cross-legged on his seat across from Ian. He didn't even appear to be sweating at all, despite the long-sleeved shirt and sweatpants that seemed to be his favorite style. "Ah... aren't you hot?" he asked, curious.
Blanc tilted his head, a curious expression on his face.
"Not really. Why do you ask?"
"Ah..." Ian turned to the window, gesturing to the endless stretch of shimmering pale dust and rock. "W-well, we're in the middle of the desert, and you're not exactly... ah... dressed for it."
Truth be told, the boy looked like he was dressed for a slumber party, but Ian kept that particular observation to himself.
The white-haired boy giggled. "I grew up in the desert–I'm from Arizona," he added on, seeing the curiosity on Ian's face. "Everywhere's cold compared to that, so hot temperatures don't bother me so much." Blake snorted incredulously but said nothing, Blanc glancing over at him with an amused smile.
'Well that wasn't suspicious at all,' Ian deadpanned internally, mentally filing that into a rapidly-growing folder containing questions about the odd duo.
"If you don't mind me asking," the elder meister inquired. "What kind of weapon is Ali?"
"Ah, a bow. She's a bow. I mean, not like, but- In her... ah... in her weapon form. Yeah." Ian's ears burned as he saw Blanc doing his best to stifle his laughter. "S-sorry... I'm not really good at... er... talking a lot."
"No, it's-" Blanc bit his lower lip, trying to hide a smile. "Don't worry about it. I was just the same when I first enrolled. In fact, I ended up sleeping through orientation because I couldn't deal with all of the people." He chuckled, then glanced over to his partner, smiling innocently. "But that's nothing compared to Blake's first day." Ian looked over at the aforementioned weapon, who continued staring out the window though his frown turned into a predatory grin.
"Beat down the whole class single-handed," he crowed. Ian felt a jolt of surprise at that assertion. Even for the special cases and prodigies, it was quite a feat to best an entire class. And something told him that wasn't because the students had been exceptionally weak, either.
"Um... Blake?" Ian asked. The wild boy turned to look at him. "Uh... can I ask you... what your weapon form is?" Blake raised an eyebrow, turning away from the window and resting one arm on his knee lazily.
"Thought you already saw it?" he asked. Ian shook his hand.
"Not very well. There was kind of... uh... a lot going on." The boy saw Blanc give Blake a curious look, which the brown-haired child responded to with shrug.
"A'ight, then," he said casually, before his body began to glow with a white light. Ian's eyes widened in surprise, his mouth opening as Blake's form warped and melted. Finally, he emerged, the light scattering in flecks of radiance to reveal a bizarre sword. The hilt was far longer than it had any right to be, the crossguard's arms extended a foot to either side, and the blade was wide and double-edged, tapering into a point. It looked cumbersome and impossible to use with any sort of effectiveness.
"What... is that?"
~"A bastard sword-staff."~ Blake's voice came echoing up from the blade. His face appearing in the reflection, flashing Ian a wild grin. ~"Normally, it's a moronic fusion of a spear and a sword with the downsides of both and all the usefulness of a soup fork, but in the hands of someone like this dope?"~ The weapon chuckled. ~"You won't find a weapon deadlier."~
There was something about the casual confidence in Blake's voice that led Ian to believe his assertion wholeheartedly. Even so, there was something that was bothering him. He frowned, thinking.
"What? Is something wrong?" Evidently, Blanc had noticed.
"Ah... I mean, no," Ian fumbled. "It's j-just... I didn't expect you to transform right here..." Blanc looked at him curiously, his partner voicing the question.
~"Why not? 'S not like it's weird or anything."~ The timid boy winced, scratching the back of his head.
"Ah... Ali doesn't like to use her weapon form unless-" he trailed off, trying to think of a situation in which his weapon partner would willingly transform. He couldn't think of any.
"-ever," he amended lamely. The look that the two older students shared was none too reassuring. "It's something we really need to work on..."
"Well, remember that different partnerships work differently," Blanc reassured him gently. "Some weapons transform regularly, or even when they don't need to because they enjoy it. On the other hand, some weapons like to fight alongside their meisters directly, without transforming." He gestured to his own transformed partner. "Blake and I–for instance–don't always fight as one, and when we do, it's usually only for short amounts of time."
Ian brightened up. Really? Well if that was the case, maybe they could-
Blake's response cut through his hope without mercy.
~"Don't twist the truth just so he feels better, Blanc,"~ the sword-staff weapon interjected, a burst of silver accompanying his return to human form. His arms were crossed, and he was shooting the shorter boy a severe look. Turning to Ian, Blake continued. "The reason our fighting style works is something specific to us, so it shouldn't be an excuse for the state of your guys' partnership. The two of you have made it this far through a combination of what I'm guessing is luck and charity, but if it keeps up, you're both going to end up dead." Ian flinched and glanced over to Blanc. The blue-eyed meister pursed his lips but didn't interrupt his partner. "She thinks she's too good for you, or you're not good enough for her," Blake snapped. "You're too scared of her to resist, and too passive to try and better yourself. Ego and fear in large quantities are two of the worst qualities a partnership can have, and between the two of you, you're overflowing with it. It's not even that there's something stopping the two of you from trusting each other; the problem is that you haven't even TRIED to open up." He leaned forwards, expression deadly serious.
"Come on, that's not-" Blanc tried, but Blake ignored him.
"I'm telling this to you, kid, because you're in the best position to start fixing the mess you're in. But that means you've got to force this. Stop backing down from arguments and relying on other people to stand up for you. I know you think that a partnership without conflict is a stable one, but sometimes you need to butt heads to make progress. So for God's sake, grow a spine." With that, the weapon huffed and sat back in his seat. His arms crossed and returned to scowling out the window, uncomfortable silence retaking the group. Then the bus's speakers crackled to life, the driver's nasally voice coming through the low-quality devices.
"Thirty minutes to Death City. Thirty minutes to Death City." Ian sighed, craning his neck to try and catch a glimpse of the jumbled, haphazardly-constructed community. He could just barely make it out–a mere speck on the west horizon. Then something else caught his eye. A cluster of dark shapes from the northwest, easily discernible on the bright blue sky, growing steadily larger. Squinting, Ian tried to make out any details.
"What are you looking at?" Blanc asked. Ian pointed out the window.
"Ah, something weird over that way."
The more experienced meister sat up, squinting at the shapes.
"Huh. If I didn't know better, I'd probably think those were..." he trailed off, then closed his eyes, brow furrowing in concentration. Ian jumped a bit when he felt a faint 'thrum' of silent power churn the air around him, a pulse of what must be the other meister's soul wavelength. Blanc remained quiet for a few moments before his eyes snapped open. His expression was one of startled confusion. "What?"
"What's wrong?" Blake had straightened up, sensing his partner's concern. All trace of his previous disgruntlement was erased.
"Haunthounds. Four–no–three of them, closing fast." Blake's eyes widened.
"That's- How long do we have?"
Blanc let out another pulse.
"Minutes. Maybe more, depending on how fast this thing can go."
Blake swore.
"Not enough time to get to the city, then. Alright, I'll try and buy time. Blanc, fill them in. Kid, get your partner. Tell her to get ready for a fight."
By this point, Ian was starting to panic. "W-what?!" he squawked in alarm. But Blake had already risen to his feet and departed, heading for the front of the bus. The dark-skinned meister turned to Blanc for answers. "What's going on? What are haunthounds?"
"Powerful monsters," Blanc explained, looking more serious than Ian had seen him. "Created to hunt down and destroy the enemies of their master." He placed a hand on Ali's shoulder, shaking her in an effort to rouse the girl.
"What master?" Ian pressed, starting to grasp the weight of the situation. He glanced out the window, the black spots clearly growing closer.
"A witch," was the chilling reply he received. Groaning, Ali began to stir, blinking her eyes open blearily.
"Wuzzpn?" she slurred, scowling up at Blanc.
"Get up," he told her firmly. "You need to get ready."
Something in his tone obviously clued the weapon girl in as to the seriousness of the situation, since Ian had never seen her go from drowsy to alert so quickly.
"What's going on?" she asked. Ian promptly filled her in on what little information he had. She looked like she was about to say something, but just then, Blake returned.
"Bad news," he said. "The driver says she's pushing this thing as fast as it can go. I told her to push it for another minute or so and then stop the bus."
"Stop?!" Ali burst out, staring at Blake as if he'd grown a second head. "Why the hell would we stop?"
"Because three of us can't fight on the roof of a moving bus, and I'd be at a stupid disadvantage if I did," the sword-staff snapped back. "No. We hold the bus. Any other questions?"
They had none.
"Then get ready."
Blanc turned to the two younger students, giving them an apologetic expression.
"I'm sorry. But at least it seems the two of you will have a chance to prove yourselves far sooner than expected."
Ian could only hope.
[End Chapter]