The Frog

Chapter 2 – The Frog That Swims In Lakes

"Wow! So you had this whole thing built in just for your land?" The baby-green eyes brimmed with a childish excitement, and the short French boy had to bring himself to a jog to keep up with how fast the Arcobaleno was floating in front of him, when he didn't reply, Fran knew the conversations were going to be hard to keep up.

"Hey...Mammon was it?" He screwed his nose up when he got lost in thought, and when he returned to reality, his eyes sparked again, "You're close with Bel-senpai, right?"

"Bel? You can assume what you want, but I don't really care." And just like that, the subject was dismissed, and Fran let out a soft sigh as his shoulders slumped. Okay, so it is going to be a long day, then. He wasn't really fond of all of this serious-ness, and he didn't really care much for what the Arcobaleno had to say. But of course, he had no choice in what he did throughout the days, and that is how it would be from then on out. He was a slave to these 'Varia' people. And that was the last to be said about it.

His half lidded gaze took in the full length of the lake when they stopped walking, as they stood by its side, at the end of a thin wooden pier.

"Not that I care what you do, I think you should take your role seriously, Fran, or what will soon be your role," The sun was barely breaking over the horizon, never did he remember waking up so early, rubbing at his eyes with the back of his hands warily, he tried his best to listen. "Our boss has placed a lot on the line to obtain you to come here. And in the near future, there will be risks far from what you could imagine." A small twitch, the smallest of any that could be fathomed, was most definitely tugging at the Arcobaleno's lips, as his head was tilted upwards, only allowing Fran to assume that the cursed one was also watching the canvas that was currently being born, only for the early morning wranglers. His heart tightened as he wondered if his beloved Grandma would be looking through the same early morning sun, through the old dusty square windows in the small, rickety cottage.

"Maybe you could imagine it like one of your comic books. Though not for one second am I going to tell you that you are the hero." Mammon was blunt, and Fran had to suck in a sharp breath to stop from losing his composure. A thing he continuously forgot was completely formed from a child's innocence. The realization of doing wrong.

He hadn't realized his new position, squatting at the edge of the wooden pier, dipping his fingers into the cool lake and removing them, repeating the gesture slowly, his eyes blank as he watched the ripples form and disperse, like ordering out the troops, the suffocating realization of another gesture that could only be accumulated in his mind as leadership made him snap his hand back, and wipe it swiftly on his jacket.

"Why am I doing this?" He questioned, his voice sure of itself, unbeknownst to him, it did not yet continue to be entirely formed in a monotone sound, and his words were rather more formal than sarcastic. That was the way he had been raised, and this Fran, as of yet, had not soon forgotten those ways.

"You have a gift." The answer was spiteful, and had Mammon hissed the words, it would have sounded the same. He remembered his other name now...'Viper.' And he could picture the sight. For some reason the water seemed far more comforting to him than the tall grassland around them, and he knew the only reason why he was not in fact, gasping for breath in a pool of his own rouge red blood, was that he had this 'gift.'

"No matter how many times I hear that, no-one ever cares to explain." He replied, gnawing at his lower lip to stop himself from snapping. He knew even if he did so, that the assassin would not concern himself with the art of over-exaggeration, and give him the cold shoulder or anything. And he wasn't doing it out of fear either. Mammon is the only member that truly treats him like he's, well...him.

Which just brought more questions, more questions and more confusion to date.

"Actually," He hears the faintest of a whoosh in the still air, and knows even without looking that the Arcobaleno is just behind him, "That is why I brought you here. Of course, I don't do any special treatment without a price that you most certainly cannot pay right now, kid. So I will tell you, that the water, and anything associated...be it; ice, condensation, evaporation, mist, rain, rivers, lakes, sea water, and farther more. It is all yours...Because this gift is far more powerful than any other mist guardian. And you must learn to play its sound on your own. Look deep into yourself, find out what makes you tick, and flow." No more questions could be asked, because the crackle in the air indicated he was now alone.

'Find out what makes you tick...' He stood now, walking back along the pier and down one of the banks, reaching over just to pick up a perfectly smoothed pebble.

"I don't know, a clock?" He shouted in frustration, throwing the pebble with all of his strength into the water, and even the plop sound wasn't as audible as any of his masculine cousins could make. He had always been the weak one, and he knew that in this situation, they would be far more equipped. Who could possibly be a captain when they can't even cause a splash?

xXxX

Hours went past without any form of result, and now he was wading through the lake, feeling far more comforted by the ripples being around him, being him, rather than the responsibility of them being something he is not. Someone he is not.

The water is cool, and it soothes, seeping through the tiniest of holes in the sewing of the Varia's uniforms. But he does not complain, he simply enjoys and he simply basks. It's about midday now, and even with the faintest of kafuffle from afar, namely voices, he has been very much alone since Mammon's departure.

Fran doesn't mind though, he prefers the isolation. It's something he's used to, and something he would much rather have.

But this is when the first realization hits him, just like the waves of thought about the blonde haired psycho who had cut into him the previous night. But the thoughts were mainly the wounds themselves. He found himself picturing the lines of the cut, how deep and how thick it was, the length of it and where it was. And just like that, he felt the cold embed itself onto his skin. At first it's frightening, like it's crawling into the slits of his wounds like some kind of parasite, and he pulls at his shirt that perhaps he should have removed earlier, though he did not want anyone else to have to see the wounds, and find out what they were from. Lussuria was enough.

He cries out and he lashes, and he falls back into the water just as he manages to unclasp and pull off his jacket, and wriggle out of the turtle neck that sticks to his skin.

His panicking hands are pushing at sea-foam-green bangs to try and see, but that's useless because he can't now anyway. And it keeps entering, seeping, crawling, and he's scratching and gasping so much that he forgets in this moment, what swimming is, and simply, he blacks out.

'Find out what makes you tick...' Everything is white, white and constantly moving. The walls, the ceiling, the floor, and he was floating in the centre, bound by chords he could not see, and being suffocated by air he was no longer permitted to breathe.

And water was flowing in from a vent that he had not noticed until the gushing sound it made as the water picked up its pace, and he thrashed once more, screaming all sorts of absurd profanities in his native tongue as well as the adopted Italian.

He had never been afraid of water though, all of his life he had swam in the lake on the mountainside, bathed in the hot springs that were not man-made whatsoever. He was fearless when it came to the aqua, and that is why he was smart enough to understand that is not what it was trying to tell him.

Though he was dumb enough to have no idea that was going on throughout this period, and he was now sobbing as the water reached his shoulders, that now familiar and unwelcomed feeling of this intrusion into his wounds had returned, and through the corner of his eyes he could have sworn that he saw purple. Purple tendrils, slicked with black, black like oil.

And it had now entered the water, soiling it, killing the purity, the purity of the land, the purity of the Earth could have been consumed by this, this unruly power that he could not comprehend. And he was just a scared, lonely little boy all over again. On the doorstep of his Grandma's small little home in the mountainside that he had trekked to on bloody and battered feet. And there he was, brown, battered cuddly rabbit toy in his arm, as he sobbed uncontrollably into the back of his wrist and waited for her to answer the door.

And as the tendrils made their way around his waist, consuming him, and consuming the room, he saw the young boy he had been, being pulled into the warm, loving arms of his sweet, innocent grandmother.

And the warm breeze buffeted the scent of freshly cut lavender.

XxX

"Stupid frog, always causing bother!" The voice was familiar, and Fran felt himself stir, but not push away from the warmth that was pressed against his body, his eyes stayed shut as his lids were far too heavy to raise right now, and his body, as limp as a corpse from how heavy it felt. And now, he felt himself desiring more explanations, great.

"...Sen...pai?" He rasped, spluttering and heaving. He felt as if he was about to be sick, but even that seemed to much effort in his current situation.

"Ohhh, you're awake now, shishishi!" It didn't matter the time of day, from the way Fran felt, it could have been a few weeks since he was last conscious, yet the 'Prince' still found him absolutely amusing.

"Senpai..." He was about to come up with a witty retort, when he beat down his pride with gritted teeth and decided to get down to business, "What... happened... to... me?" His throat was incredibly sore, but he managed the words out well enough to be understandable.

"You're making progress, froggy. That's what." The blonde continued his manic laughter, as if Fran was a complete fool, and should wear a dunce hat for asking such a silly question. But the fact still stood, he knew goddamn nothing about any of this.

"I don't know what Mammon told you to do, but it worked. Looks like you're starting to get the hang of how your mist powers work, huh?" Belphegor continued when Fran didn't reply, and he had dropped a little of the amused tone of voice.

"This is nowhere near done, is it?" He asked weak-heartedly, knowing the answer before it came.

"Of course not, don't be stupid, there's so much more you need to understand from how Mammon and the Decimo talked about you. Hell, even Boss has more to say than calling you a brat, which is something, you know."

"Are you attempting to soothe me, senpai?" He was now beginning to pick his tone back up, and found comfort in this. So at least he wasn't dying, right?

Now it was the blonde's turn to fall silent, and when Fran's eyes finally managed to open, he wished he had a new excuse to keep them closed.

He was tucked into bed, most definitely shirtless, with the blonde sat by his side, fiddling with the edge of the blanket between long, slender fingers.

And then the second wave of something entirely out of step with reality hit him.

"Let him go!" Belphegor's spiked hair was most certainly a well suited style change for him, and his body was more broad and lean then scrawny now. He fitted the new uniform much better, and was that white stripes and fur? Nicer touches, much less bland..

"GET THE FUCK OFF ME!" Now it was clearer, he was struggling against the black cloaked figures that held him back against the wall, and most of what could be seen of the 'Prince' was bloodied and battered, and he was almost completely lifeless by how helpless he seemed.

There was a cry, a familiar one, alongside a gunshot that was ear piercing, almost as murderous as the bullet itself.

It was his cry.

And that was the moment that the blonde burst into uncontrollable sobs, so mournful that he could almost feel his soul tear apart.

From everything he had read or watched of friendship, this was certainly not it.

"Can I be alone for a moment, senpai?"

...

To be continued! Sorry for the really long wait in updating, I hope you enjoy this as much as I did writing it!

Also I will be changing the name Plims0les to Pr0t0nz just as a heads up.