Chapter 14

I'm back!

Thanks everyone for being so supportive and understanding. I've been having some difficulty in keeping up with school, especially since teachers have to do report cards and are already giving us a bunch of summatives.

It's already starting to snow where I live. Anybody else currently running into winter weather...unless you live in the Southern Hemisphere...?

Responses to Reviews:

Kawaiino Tenshi Kiki: Good to see, in a way, that I'm no the only one! I was starting to feel super-unreliable...which at times I kinda am. And yes! This time you only had to wait one month instead of...um, three.

BlueButterflyRose: Thank you, thank you as always...you have been so encouraging. And WOW! That's amazing! Wherever you're going, I hope you have a great time!

On to the good stuff...

Another ear splitting crack rang off the bay, and the audience cheered and clapped as the coloured sparks disappeared into thin air. Julian was in agreement with his companions–truly, this light display was excellent, for a public one, anyways.

But the fireworks were increasingly difficult to pay attention to with the enchanting creature next to him that was Sophie.

Every time another one of the fireworks would sound off and rise, like a rocket making its first ascension, her lips would part ever so slightly and her eyes would sparkle with an unimaginable beauty. Then the explosion of colour would illuminate her face in all these different shades, and Julian couldn't help but watch as her face worked itself into an expression of wonder and captivation.

As the applause died down, Sophie turned to Klaus, elbows resting comfortably on the blanket. Julian had been reluctant to let sand catch in the cloth, but some persuasion from the others forced him to give in, just as it had when they first dragged him to the fireworks.

"What happens next? Is the show finished?"

Klaus squinted at the tiny lettering on the brochure, eyes straining in the dark. "There's a fifteen minute break. Then they start up the fireworks again."

"Oh, excellent." Sophie immediately sat up, swerving her head in Julian's direction. "Shall we go buy some cotton candy?"

Julian's mouth dried up so fast, he almost couldn't speak. Thankfully, he managed to put on a pleased, but carefully measured face and nodded. "Certainly."

Nothing could have pleased him more in that instant, Julian thought happily as Sophie looped her arm through his, but for his dignity's sake he at least tried to compose himself.

The beach was chaotic and crowded–two things, as a businessman, that Julian had come to hate. Somewhat disgruntled, he pushed through the crowd, but made sure to keep his grip on Sophie's arm firm, but light.

In a crowd horrendous as this, Julian couldn't find a single possibility of them being able to locate the cotton candy stall. Sophie, however, spared him the trouble.

"Oh, look!" She gasped admiringly, pointing over his head. "Julian, a Ferris wheel!"

Julian turned his head to gaze at the massive structure. After but a moment of hesitation, he turned back to Sophie, whose face was uncharacteristically beaming with delight. "You...would like a ride there, I presume?"

Sophie nodded–he gave an allowing sigh and nodded.

The line was almost as bad as the crowd–but at the very least, it was getting smaller. Every once in a while Julian would look down to his watch and sigh upon realizing only one or two minutes had passed.

After this had recurred several times, Sophie gave an amused chuckle. "Is my company so unpleasant?"

Julian felt heat rise to his cheeks in contrast to the rising cold. "What? No, not at all, I–"

A flood of embarrassment washed over him at Sophie's laughter. "I was simply teasing, Julian. You don't have to get flustered." Even then, there was a mocking tone to her words, light and playful.

Feeling quite battered from his unprofessional display, he turned away and let silence claim them once more. It didn't last long, however, as it was their turn to board and sit.

They both reached for the bar at the same time and their fingers brushed, causing them both to flinch and blush. Once it had been secured and the man overseeing the Ferris wheel's maintenance was satisfied, they began to rise into the crisp night air.

Heights didn't bother Julian, to an extent, of course. After all, he took an elevator and sat in an office forty stories off the ground all day. However, much unlike his office, the Ferris wheel didn't feel at all secure, and every time they stopped to let someone else board, the chair would creak and swing precariously, causing Julian's heart to jump with fear.

It seemed like ages before the Ferris wheel actually started moving–and even then, Julian wasn't fully comfortable. The music was grew louder as they swooped closer to the ground and grew more distant as they then backed away. The wind whistled in Julian's ears, only adding to his increasing discomfort.

It took him a minute or two to decide to finally distract himself by gazing at Sophie.

It was a relief to see she was as anxious as he felt–otherwise it would be completely and utterly humiliating. Her curls were slightly ruffled by the sharp upturns of the breeze, and whenever they descended her hair would rise slightly with a soft whoosh. As they approached the very top of the Ferris wheel they came to a very sudden and abrupt stop, causing the chair to once again sway and creak, and giving them both a start. Sophie gasped and clenched her fists around Julian's sleeve, hanging on for dear life as the chair continued to rock back and forth.

Some commotion was taking place far below them–some misbehaving child, arguing with his mother as he stubbornly cried in order to stay on the Ferris wheel. But none of it came bidden to Julian's mind as found himself staring into a pair of wide ocean depths, mingled with surprise.

As he recovered from his shock, slowly, very slowly did Julian lift his hand and place it on top of hers. Perhaps the motion was too hasty, far too assuming–but he wanted nothing more than to stay in this moment as it was, staring and feeling.

After a while, Sophie's cheeks took on a rosy shade, but she didn't remove her hand. The chair's unsettling movements had slowed to a minimum but neither of them noticed, sitting as they were.

Then at last, at long last, Julian took his greatest gamble. Leaning forward, he tipped his head so as to brush Sophie's lips. She returned the gesture, but with more lock and firm grip.

Julian's lips felt as if they were blazing with fire–he couldn't simply disregard the notion that Sophie had just kissed him. Neither could she, it seemed–they had resumed their earlier positions, hands pressed tightly on top of one another and staring deep into each other's eyes, no matter how awkward it may have seemed, at least to a stranger.

A loud pop from the distance made their heads turn. Colours were bursting through the air, sparks showering beautifully through the night. The lights broke through the inky black sky and traced out the silhouettes of low-hanging clouds, casting greens and purples and reds across the sky. As another one of the explosives pitched through the air with a shrill whistle, Sophie lay her head against Julian's shoulder, a gesture not entirely unwelcome to him.

"Oh, look, Julian," Sophie commented dreamily. "We've missed the fireworks."

"So we have," he murmured, though he knew that it didn't really matter.

Where was the goddamn cotton candy?

Kyoya gave a frustrated growl as he pushed through the crowd, hands stuffed in his pocket. His bad mood must have been warding people away somehow, because the crowd seemed to part a little more considerably for him than before.

Miju had gotten temporary relieve–well, more like she just snuck out from the hospital. No one had questioned her leave, since dressed in regular clothes she looked like any other random visitor for the riffraff in that place.

Kyoya disapproved, personally–he wanted to ensure his sister's full recovery–but Nile had been all in for it as well, meaning that he was once again outvoted on the situation.

Sure, having his sister and his best friend as an item was awkward at first, but at the very least there wouldn't be this uncomfortable in-law talk, and he trusted Nile to handle the relationship properly. He would only have to dread if they were to have a nasty break up–though they seemed quite compatible, their personalities were easily combustible, and that worried Kyoya.

But back to the question of the goddamn cotton candy.

He couldn't remember whose idea it was to come watch fireworks at the beach, but Nile had never had cotton candy, Mijuki was craving sweets, and Kyoya wanted to do anything that would get him further away from all the popping and sounds of explosions. He knew the other two had his best interests at heart, and took him into consideration for a lot of things–but, war wasn't an easy thing to relate to. There were certain entertainments that he just couldn't suffer through.

He was about to reluctantly turn back–maybe get a cab, so he could escape this goddamn carnival crowd, go home and sleep–that was pretty much all he did these days. He was broke, though, and didn't want to use the money he was supposed to spend on the stupid pink and blue fluff–and just as he was contemplating his other options, he heard someone call his name over the hustle and bustle of the crowd.

"Kyoya!"

He whirled around, surprised, and trying to locate the source in all the confusion, but the sound was drowned out by all the background noise. He was about to give up when a hand touched his shoulder.

"Kyoya?"

The next call came in his ear and he had to force himself not to jump. He turned around and came face-to-face with–

"Hikaru?"

She hadn't changed much, in appearance, but the difference in age was enough to shock him. Though it was apparent that she'd grown since they last met, she was almost two heads shorter than him now, making her look smaller than ever, almost petite. Her eyes had grown lighter, from a wine-purple colour to a light amethyst shade. Her blue hair was shorter, neater and curled elegantly behind her ears, caving into the nape of her neck.

She looked–that was it–girlier.

"Hikaru," he repeated, looking stunned.

Hikaru's eyes were clouded over with amazement and confusion. "You...how... When did you come to New York?"

"New York?" Kyoya frowned, absentmindedly brushing a hand through his hair. "I've been living here for two years." In all honesty, he couldn't quite recall how long it had been.

"Oh...oh." Hikaru seemed shocked, which surprised him–it took a moment to register why.

"...Ah. I suppose Ginga didn't tell you he'd seen me, did he?"

Hikaru shook her head slowly, eyes wide in surprise.

Slightly irritated, Kyoya shrugged. "So, anyways. How's work? How's the president Hagane doing?"

Hikaru frowned for a moment, thoughts swirling in her eyes like swimming fish. Just like the finicky little sea creatures, they followed Kyoya with every shift and movement he made. "President Hagane...oh! You mean Ryo."

Kyoya snorted to himself. She clearly hadn't slowed down one bit.

"Well...he's, uh, retired."

Now that came to Kyoya as a surprise. "Well. Ginga neglected to mention this to me."

A smile flitted over Hikaru's lips. "He seems to forget a lot of things."

To be fair, Kyoya thought to himself, he hadn't really given Ginga much of a chance to say anything, really–but he placed that thought in a very dark and deep corner of his mind, simply blaming the redhead for not asking the right questions. Had Ginga spouted something actually worthwhile and interesting, he told himself, he wouldn't have brushed him off as he had.

"So...what are you doing here?"

"In New York?" Hikaru gasped hurriedly. "Oh, um... Tsubasa took the position as the new president, and I'm relocating with the new WBBA headquarters! Just helping him settle down and stuff is all..." She paused. "A bunch of us, well, I mean the old blading generation, came here with him to help him move, but almost all of that's done...so..." She scuffed the ground with the toe of her boots. "I guess the others are just hanging here now as a vacation, kinda, is all."

Kyoya nodded and arched a thin green eyebrow. "Well... I was meaning what you were doing at a carnival..." Hikaru flushed and mumbled some apologies. "... I mean, unless you've really changed even more than I already see, and carnivals are now just kinda–you know, your thing."

"Oh no, no." Hikaru jerked her head towards the distance. "I have a new apartment a couple blocks in, and... I just thought I would see the fireworks on my way." She ducked her head shyly, in embarrassment. "How about you?"

Well, she certainly become a hell of a lot more bashful since he'd last seen her–perhaps it came as a natural trait from being a secretary, just blending into the background along with everyone else.

Kyoya decided to conveniently leave out his sister and Nile from the picture. "Oh," he said dubiously. "Well... I was trying to get out."

A familiar smile flitted over Hikaru's lips, but she seemed to force it down. "Well...like I said I have my apartment not too far off...you want to come along, maybe grab some wine?"

Kyoya contemplated the possibility. Conversation was rather tedious, but the wine sounded very enticing. It took him only a brief pause before he nodded–Nile and Miju wouldn't look too hard for him anyways (though his sister would be sore for a month that he hadn't gotten any cotton candy), and he was glad and desperate to escape the constantly screaming background noise–both the crowd and the celebratory display.

He cast one more glance back, and realized that the sounds had died down–it seemed that the fireworks show had gone on reprieve. Out of the corner of his eye the Ferris wheel started moving, colourful lights flickering up and down the decorated metal bars.

Letting a peaceful smile slide over his features, he decided to take it as a sign and followed Hikaru.

"You saw your friend. That much you have to be grateful for." Bao frowned over the lip of his glass at Masamune, as the other man tried to explain.

"Yeah, I guess...but it's Zeo that I need to patch things up with, not Toby." Masamune didn't bother keeping his voice down–the pub was crowded, and hubbub already swallowed up most of the conversation. "I don't know how to reach him now–Toby still has his phone, and Zeo hasn't come back for it–I mean, what if he's mad at both of us now? He'll never forgive me!"

Somewhat melodramatically, Masamune downed his shot and slammed the glass back onto the bar counter, his head spinning. The room felt faintly warm and seemed to whirl in his mind, though his eyes felt perfectly focused...he shook off the feeling and Bao began talking.

"You know, don't you think you might be treating this, well...a little too seriously?"

Masamune blinked, hoping he didn't look too stupid in his drunken stupor. "What do you mean?"

Bao shrugged. "To anyone else, this might seem... I don't know. Childish. Just a spat between friends, and they wouldn't really care about it. But here you are, wailing on and on about it like your life's love just died." He took another testy sip of his beer before placing it lightly on the counter.

"Maybe it did," Masamune replied, his words coming out more slurred than he'd hoped.

Bao threw his head back and laughed, maroon locks dancing as his body shook. "Aside from Aguma, you must be the best drinking partner I've had in a long while."

Masamune gave a half-hearted smile. "Good to know somebody has a nice opinion of me."

Unnoticed by the sluggish Masamune, Bao reached into his pocket, pulled out a recorder and placed it on the table next to his glass. He leaned forward, eyes narrowing curiously. "So...what else can you tell me about your friend Zeo...?"

The morning was bright and early. Madouka could practically feel Ginga's fatigue spreading from him in waves next to her, but ignored it as she bid her friend a chipper good-bye.

"I'll miss you so much."

MeiMei's eyes glowed sadly, but Madouka could also sense her contained excitement at the prospect of returning to China. "I'll miss you too... I promise to visit to visit sometime soon." MeiMei seemed to hesitate. "I...need to tell you something later, okay? I'll contact you soon... I promise to tell you, but it's...hard."

That statement left Madouka confused and buzzing with questions, but she compressed them and wished her friend a safe flight.

She elbowed Ginga hard in the ribs, telling him to do the same. "Wish MeiMei a safe flight too, Ginga?"

"Huh? What?" Why the redhead had even volunteered to drive them both to the airport so early in the morning, she couldn't tell. Well, she reflected, it was a miracle that he'd even managed to get them here in time. "Oh...yeah. Safe trip... Mei. Mei."

The Chinese girl chuckled and gave him a hug, which he sleepily tried to return it, at the threat of Madouka's elbows pressing into his sides again.

MeiMei picked up her bags and wheeled them away, the wheels clicking across the gaps between the tiles in the floor.

As they exited the airport, the roar of an airplane sounded above them and Madouka watched as it flew away into the horizon, engines rumbling. Although she knew it would be a good while yet before her friend had actually boarded the airplane, Madouka allowed herself to imagine that her friend was on that specific one, silently waving to New York City and Madouka as she left.

She couldn't help it–she started to cry a little.

Immediately, Ginga snapped into wakefulness. "What's wrong, Madouka? Are you alright?" He wrapped her into a warm hug, rubbing circles across her back. "You can tell me, it's okay."

Madouka gave a sniffle–that last comfort was slightly unnecessary, since it wasn't as if she didn't trust Ginga already. "Oh, Ginga... I just don't know what I'll do now!" She backed away, rubbing at her eyes and praying that her makeup wouldn't bleed. "She was there so much and now..." She hesitated, trying to formulate the right words in her mind to describe how she was feeling. "I guess...without her... I just don't know what I'll do."

She let Ginga give her another hug, taking comfort in the fact that, right away, she wasn't quite yet alone. "Madouka, I'm so sorry. I wasn't really considering you at first..." Her mind drifted in and out slightly of Ginga's chatter, as she closed her eyes and simply appreciated his warm embrace.

"...do you want to stop off somewhere to eat? I saw this place that looked really nice on our way to the airport."

Madouka opened her eyes and broke off smiling. "Sure thing, Ginga," she agreed contentedly. "That'd be great."

Laughter cut in through the morbid silence of the hospital, startling several bystanders from the unexpected bout of noise.

Toby was gasping for air. His cheeks hurt from smiling and his stomach ached from laughing so hard, but in a good way–he couldn't remember having this good of a time in the hospital since–well, since Zeo.

"No way," he wheezed. "He wouldn't actually have the guts to take that dare?"

Mijuki was giggling in spite of herself. Toby had offered her the chair, but she seemed insistent on sitting at the edge of the bed, just next to Toby's feet. "My uni years were pretty crazy, yeah. But if you'd grown up with this kid, you wouldn't be so surprised, trust me. This is a guy who dressed up as a princess for Halloween in middle school and used the girl's washroom for the entire day–"

"–Excuse me?"

"–You heard me. And the guy who flashed everyone at the freshman dance and pantsed the DJ."

Toby paused from his laughing fit to breathe. "No, I suppose with that on his sleeve, it shouldn't come as a surprise, really."

"Yeah." Mijuki dismissed it with a flick of her wrist, bright blue eyes sliding closer in anticipation. "So anyway, after he's totally covered the guy with silly string, the dude starts cussing him out, and–"

A resolute knock sounded at the door–just one, a single, hollow tap–and they both turned, Mijuki cut off mid-sentence.

Toby was surprised to see a haggardly Zeo standing in the doorway. "Oh–I–Mijuki, this is..."

He trailed off when Zeo took a step closer, eyes cast downwards in what might've been shame, embarrassment, or even anger. "You...do you still have my phone?"

"Oh–yeah." Toby made the awkward scramble for the drawer. "Here you go." Snatching it from inside the shelf, he placed it carefully in Zeo's hand.

Zeo hesitated ever so noticeably, his hand staying for just a minute to rest in Toby's.

"Thanks."

There was a brief flicker of blue that met Toby's gaze, even if for just an instant–and somehow, he felt relieved, for he understood that this meant everything was okay again. He let a smile trace his lips, giving Zeo's fingers a quick, light squeeze before releasing them. "It's nothing."

Zeo paused by the doorway, sending a backwards glance in Toby's direction. For a moment, his gaze lingered curiously on Mijuki, but they trailed back up to Toby and he smiled.

Then he left, without another word.

Completely unaware of the interaction that had just gone on, Mijuki gave Toby a puzzled smile. "So...who's that?"

Toby shook his head. "It doesn't matter." That much was true in Mijuki's case–she did not need to know who Zeo was, nor, based on her tone, did she actually care. Toby was content to let Zeo's visit pass over him as their form of a resolution to the internal conflict that had passed between them like a storm.

"Anyways, carry on with your story," he offered.

Mijuki happily obliged, content to chatter on and on about fond memories from university and her crazy friends back in Japan. But Toby zoned out from the clueless girl's rambling and allowed himself to smile, knowing that Zeo was trying to repair their friendship.

Now, if he could just coax him into bringing the same forgiveness to Masamune...

The mirror shattered as Zeo brought down his fist upon it. He rubbed his hand in it even further, letting the shards slice through his skin and draw blood. He felt a strange, stunning satisfaction at this pain, the closest he'd come to content since...since...

Since before Masamune came to America.

Zeo drew his lips into a snarl and sank to the floor, feeling hot tears dribble down his face shamefully. He was glad he'd smashed the mirror–he hated seeing his horrible face, his twisted expression–the result of all this resentment and hatred that he had allowed, inside, to build and fester.

Mindlessly, he began to slam his head into the wall repeatedly. But he shook his head–it wasn't working, it wasn't hard enough. He was afraid, he told himself angrily, tears burning through his eyes again–and he let them fall. Just more prove of his weakness–he couldn't suppress his tears, wasn't even capable of hurting himself. He looked back at the mirror, but it wasn't enough. There wasn't a sufficient amount of destruction, there wasn't enough pain, suffrage, blood.

He started grabbing random things in his hands–markers, textbooks, soccer trophies, anything that would smash or make some kind of noise to drown out his own scrutiny.

"Zeo!"

The door popped open, and he dropped the garbage can that was in his hand, letting it fall and roll on the ground. His mother poked her head inside and glanced around, horrified by the wreckage. "What are you doing?"

Zeo glowered at her at first, but forced himself to calm down–how dare she interrupt his rampage. "Nothing, mom." He forced his voice not to shake, then bent down and started dumping some of the trophy bits and markers in the trash can with an eerie calm. "Just cleaning up some old stuff." Inside, Zeo marvelled at his own composure after such a display of sheer, uncontrollable rage.

His mother bit her lip, although she clearly thought otherwise–wanted to add something, perhaps. She simply nodded and closed her door, seeming to to convince herself that, whatever it was that upset her son, he seemed to have calmed down. The rage was only temporary.

It is that kind of naivety, sometimes, which causes the greatest pain.

As she closed the door behind her, Zeo stared dully at the deep gouges he'd made on the floor. Fingers brushing a particularly long scar, he allowed himself to sob and cry for real, trying to release all the burdens that seemed trapped inside him. What use was causing so much damage to the floor, if he couldn't cast it on himself? Pathetic. Weak. Useless. A burden to society. Shouldn't he just leave? Would anyone save him? Would no one care if he died?

Toby, he thought. Yes, Toby would. Toby was the only one who ever gave him a shit, in the end.

But Masamune...damn Masamune Kadoya. He was interfering, blocking Zeo from his lifeline. He wouldn't care whatever happened to Zeo, no matter what he said, and this was all proved true by the seven years in which he allowed these grudges to first be planted and fester into such a deep, longing hate...

With these thoughts, Zeo opened his eyes and realized that all the sadness had melted away, to he replaced by...a searing, hot, quivering anger. He felt strong again, his body coursed with energy, and new meaning.

Standing up, Zeo regarded the mess he had made. Masamune, he thought, this is all your godamn fault. Then with a smile, he began to clean.

He crossed the bathroom to grab some bandages and began wrapping them around his knuckles. The water was refreshing as it cleaned out the blood and glass, and Zeo could feel all his upset from earlier dissolve into complete and utter satisfaction.

He glanced at the cupboard, his temptation drawing him in...but just as his hand closed over the latch, he felt a sudden, steely resolve, that said no. He withdrew his hand, and turned away. Just for today.

For now, there were greater objectives to consider. Life would go on, whether he lived or died, and he now recognized his selfishness from his earlier thoughts. Hundreds, maybe thousands of people were born and passed away every single day, but it wasn't as if the world would stop for them.

To others, maybe, their lives would change from the impact that one person had cast on their life. But nor for the world. Zeo wasn't the universe's centre, merely a small part of the uncountable things that constructed it.

That was a lesson that a certain nemesis of his could definitely use...

Masamune would pay, he assured himself. He wouldn't be stopped–Masamune would pay...