Title: Tales of Monokuro (Sol's story mode)

Rating: M

Written by: Tempest

Summary: When his friend Luma goes hunting in the woods and doesn't return, it's up to ninteen-year-old Sol El Idnus to find her. But when a week-long search party gives way to an eternal war, will the blind warrior sink, or swim?

"What do you mean, 'Luma hasn't come back yet'?"

"Exactly that, sir." Sol groaned from the doorway. "She left me in charge of the shop and took Leif hunting hours ago. I haven't seen her since..."

"Hunting in these woods is illegal, Sol." the man on the other side of the room scolded harshly, pacing the length of the kitchen wall. "You shouldn't have let her do it."

Sol wanted to scream That's what I told her, but he bit his tongue. His eyes narrowed behind the heavy fabric of his bandanna, and he hooked his left thumb gingerly under the makeshift blindfold and lifted it up, so that he could look at the man as he spoke. Light from the setting sun glared in through the open window. Sol's eyes burned, and he blinked back tears, lowering the bandanna, relieved to be blind again.

"I...I'll find her, sir." Sol managed, as calmly as he could pretend to be. He could feel the older man's gaze searing into his sightless, vulnerable being, and he squirmed in discomfort as discreetly as possible.

"Be back in a week." the man whispered. His voice was so soft that Sol doubted a normal person would have heard it. Even his own sensitive ears strained to hear, so that he wasn't sure if the man had realized he was speaking out loud. "Bring Luma home...please."

"Yes, sir." Sol replied, swallowing. The air was so thick with tension, he swore that he would suffocate if he stayed in the kitchen any longer. His socks slid on the floor as he shuffled down the hall to the guest room, his room, and closed the door behind himself.

It was dark in his room, enough so that he could take off his blindfold without hurting his eyes too badly. The room was pretty empty, too. There was a mirror next to his bed that he always got dressed in front of, the bed itself, and a shelf with a few pairs of carefully matched socks. He grabbed one at random, and, after peeling off the pair he was already wearing, yanked them on. They reached halfway up his thighs, disappearing under the legs of his shorts, which barely covered six inches of skin. Thinking better of the outfit, he grabbed his only pair of jeans off of the floor and stepped into them. He had been mistaken for a girl before, even after he cut his hair and stopped braiding it, and it wasn't something he cared to repeat.

He pulled on his jacket for a similar reason—to conceal his black tanktop and vermilion, silk gloves. He slid his shoes on last of all, pausing to toy with the little emerald flowers on either toe.

His weapons were under his pillow. His fighting style wasn't out of the ordinary; he used slim, metal bracers that fit under his jacket and curved over his wrists like forked claws. Aside from that, he always carried a yo-yo in the breast pocket of his jacket or tucked into the loop on his belt. Somehow, he found it easier to concentrate while casting artes if he focused on the rhythmic twirling of the object.

He slipped it into his pocket, then gathered his satchel from behind the door. It was lightweight and nearly empty; it had only a week's allowance, an orange gel, and two apple gels. The boy made a mental note to restock once he reached the next town. The last thing he needed was to die at the hands of a weak monster because he didn't have the resources to heal himself.

He didn't have time to dwell on it, though. Luma was in trouble, and it was his job to save her ass. It had been for the past ten years. He carefully pulled his bandanna over his eyes, then turned towards the window. There was no point in confronting the girl's father on the way out, he decided grimly, sliding out into the rapidly cooling night air.

It wasn't particularly difficult to find Luma's trail.

Once he was far enough from the village lights, Sol untied the fabric from over his eyes and tied it around his neck. Almost right away, he spotted a golden blur in the grass. He didn't need to pick it up to know what it was.

Luma's choker.

He crouched down and grabbed the object, turning it over in his hands. The warmth had long since faded from it; she had been without it for at least a couple of hours. Sighing, he shoved it into his bag and stood up, scanning the forest for signs of his comrade's whereabouts.

The Shining Capital of Panamko was was dangerously close. If anyone caught him too close to the border, it would mean trouble. He was more than ready to take that chance, of course, but getting caught wasn't on his agenda. Still, with his luck, he would be in jail by the end of the night. It always happened—when he wished hard enough for something to not happen, it always did, and he had given up trying not to wish. Humans weren't that simple.

Besides, Panamko would be the best place to start looking for her. He had gone there once before, when Leif had gone missing a few months ago, and everyone was gossiping about spotting a notch-eared beast west of the city. Panamko was undoubtedly the place to go for information. As long as he stayed hidden, he and Luma would be home long before a week had passed.

The bushes rustled, and Sol groaned.

Just my luck...he thought. This is such a clichéd situation.

"Come out!" he called, trying to sound threatening. "I know you're there, so stop trying to be stealthy and come fight me, man-to-man."

The bushes rustled again, behind him and to the side, then again, directly in front of him. That's what the first noise had been, he concluded: a decoy.

"So there's two of you, then." he corrected, spinning around, trying to pinpoint their exact location. "I don't care; fight me!"

"Do you even know who you're talking to?" a young voice asked suddenly from his right. He turned to face the speaker, but she had already moved.

"The Fujibayashi sisters, that's who." another female voice whispered from the shadows. Sol felt his blood run cold, and he clutched his satchel closer to his side, biting his lip, threading it between his teeth, sucking out the blood when the skin finally tore.

His own labored breathing knocked him out.