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Kawahira was a lonely man. For years, he lived, watching the dawn and destruction of civilizations, and not once had he deemed them worthy of his presence. His head was high in the clouds, unseeing all that he had let slip from his grasp as dangers he could have forewarned came crashing onto the innocents.
However, to an immortal like him, no one was innocent. Men and women, young and old, all share the same thoughts and feelings as the other: the greed to bite off more than they can chew. Kawahira had seen many, those with intelligence—enough to raise a city—crumble from the weight of it all, inciting violence upon those who chose not to follow.
Kindness. Chivalry. Love. It was not as if Kawahira had ignored the outliers, mostly children scampering to show off their plucked gifts to family and friends. He watched their youthful appearance, still chubby from baby fat, with sudden thoughts of changing the world fade into obscurity.
To make any change is to accept responsibility.
To accept responsibility is to gain power.
To gain power, one must be greedy.
Only then will there be change.
Who are children in the face of power but a mere inkling of compassion for the adults? It is to remind them who they are fighting for and be used as an excuse to forgive wrongdoings. Thus, as much as he had endeared himself to the presence of the young, Kawahira remained distant, dazed eyes watching them suffer under the hands of the strong.
"Kawahira, you have to be more open-minded," his friend would say, her words light as a feather’s touch. “I hope you will come to love them just as I love you all."
She was not the only one to share the sentiment, for Kawahira’s many friends used to echo the same thought. Unfortunately, their names were lost to him over time, forcing him to face the world's reality without them. Kawahira remembered them by the colors of the rainbow, a symbol of light they had shed upon the world at its darkest hour. It had been the idea of Orange, her gentle words calming even the harshest of them.
However, her kindness was repaid with betrayal. The people rose against them, with pitchforks pointed at Orange. They called her a witch, and the rest of them demons and heathens. The sole human who started it all shivered in fear, arms around his son—a child who looked at his legs in awe. Bloody stumps had completed their growth into fully functional limbs. The process had been long and arduous, taking a lot out of Orange and leaving her vulnerable, panting behind the protection of her friends.
There was none of the promised gratitude. Instead of money, food, or even the slightest of thanks, he repaid them with an utterance of danger, spreading rumors amongst the common folk to rise against the unknown. This had angered Red and Purple, who brandished their weapons at the feeble humans, snarling at their foolishness.
"We should have let them rot in their cesspool of greed," Red complained, brushing away the dirt thrown at him. "I told you this was a fruitless endeavor!"
Accusatory eyes aimed at their uncrowned leader, her petite frame hidden behind Yellow. Ocean blue eyes reflected her friends' faces of disgust, anger, and disappointment, wishing they had never experienced humanity firsthand. Her head bowed, and dark green hair hid her expression from them as she lowered herself to the floor, legs tucked below her body.
"I do not ask for forgiveness," Orange said amidst her friends' gasps. "But I wish for your rage for humans to quell. They know nothing of us but fear, for we have never approached them."
Her head rose from the floor, eyes watery with hope. "Please, I implore us to give them a second chance! Let us be the ones who make the first move for the betterment of both our worlds!"
Kawahira was shocked at her exclamation and amazed by her shamelessness, unable to comprehend her judgment despite the reality. He had never been on the side of humans, merely entertaining his dear friend's dream, and thus, for what reason should they listen to her further?
Putting it to a vote, Orange wept at a devastating three to four, following her friends into the dungeon where they would waste away. One by one, Kawahira watched as the ones he called friends disappeared, their bodies erased by the very world they were trying to protect. Voices diminished, and the weight of the world sagged their shoulders lower.
First to go was little Green, the youngest and weakest of them all. He faded away without any notice, just a smile of regret and words of appreciation. "I hope you all will have more time."
Next was Blue, the oldest one. Her voice had been their only entertainment, a song sung so sweetly despite their looming deaths. She whispered her last lyrics, "Don't give up, my little doves, for at the end of the line, we will see each other again."
Then went Red, Purple, and Yellow. They went without fanfare, merely a nod of acknowledgment to all those who lost and all that remained. Whether they had pitied the final two remained a mystery, but their strong stance gave them strength.
Finally came Orange. Her hope still shines brightly, having left after their first causality and returning a happier woman. She had found love, her joyous retelling lightening their moods yet dragging them down all the same. It was a sign that she, indeed, had not changed. In the end, Orange died in the arms of another.
At the end of their plight, Kawahira was left. His name was never spoken, drowned by the memories of loss and Duty. He despised his longevity, for even amongst the family of seven, Kawahira alone lived past the expiry date.
No one answered, no matter how hard he prayed, wished, or dreamt.
Kawahira was alone.
Kawahira wanted to die.
"Mama gave this to me."
Kawahira met the damning words with disgust. Face scrunched up, he tossed the glass pacifier back to the little girl. He hated what he saw before him: a young girl–no older than three, with dark green hair and blue eyes, a splitting image of the one he called a friend.
This was the reason he was left alone for so long. The conductors—something Red had made before his passing—had been given out without the notice of either him or his friends. Too busy wallowing in his grief, Kawahira had not searched deeper and allowed Orange to sustain his soul with brute force.
A pain shared amongst seven was now spread to twenty-one. All innocent bystanders were given an object of great power, and through the years, the Flames of Life have become the norm. Each had their own capabilities and should have been restricted as such, but the young girl had been colored in two.
Blue and Orange; Tranquility and Leadership.
Kawahira hated how similar she was to his friend –her mother.
"How many others had the same gift as you?" He asked, bending to her eye level.
Kawahira's heart sped up at the sight of the young girl's thoughtful expression—the fact that she needed to think about her answer terrified him. He had never wanted to find out in such a way; it was just a joke Orange wanted to play on him. She would have never kept something so big from them—from him. Orange was a gentle woman; she loved them, right?
The young girl raised her open hand and a peace sign, both hands raised towards Kawahira, his face going as pale as paper. It was not as if Kawahira had believed his friends were good people, as they were all-knowing, but learning of it in such a way broke his heart.
She had seven fingers up.
Orange had betrayed him; such an undeniable fact had dealt a devastating blow to Kawahira and made him wish he had never met the woman. Orange, who had represented everything good about them, was now tainted. She had given out creations of another's to pass off as her own, for the dying wish to do what?
Let her friends live?
Support her feeble child's growth?
No. Not at all.
Orange –his dearest friend, wanted to give humanity a chance.
Another one, even after they had condemned her.
And Kawahira hated it.
"Mister, are you okay?" The young girl had Kawahira's cheeks in her hands, wiping away the falling tears. "Did Mama not give one to you?"
"No," Kawahira said with a watery smile. "Your mother left nothing for me."
The young girl soon wept after Kawahira's admission, her heart already too big for her lithe body. She continued her fruitless efforts in rubbing at Kawahira's tears, and the world shone in her familiar blue eyes. Face red and lips bitten; the younger raised her arms to Kawahira.
"Do you want a hug?" She asked.
Kawahira wanted to reject it and avoid the young girl's undeserving warmth; she was too much like her mother. The uncanny resemblance fueled his dislike for the girl who had done nothing to him, and Kawahira knew it was wrong. His eyes closed in unspoken acceptance, for as much as he hated Orange, she was still dear to him.
Short arms hooked around Kawahira's neck as his body involuntarily relaxed. The young girl whispered comforting words and patted his back while doing so. Her actions were all too similar –too familiar. She indeed had Orange's blood running in her veins.
"It's alright now, Mister," she said. “Mama said she loves everyone; she must have left something for Mister, too."
Orange had left something for Kawahira, the unwanted gift of immortality.
For even if Kawahira festered hate, Duty reigned supreme. He would continue to do as the world required of him till the end of time, no matter the pain and torture he experienced.
And Orange had just damned twenty-one others along with him.
Arcobaleno, a group of seven talented adults –Kawahira would not accept any younger- gathered to receive the color pacifiers according to their alignment. The story unfolded as Kawahira had predicted, with humans attaining the powers of Flames, enough to be judged as an owner of the relics Red made.
Until now, all candidates have been accepted and have perished just the same. Kawahira had held a funeral rite for them all till the numbers reached hundreds; by then, he only wanted for it to end. The only blessing he could find from such acts of murder –because what else could it be, was how none of their hands were clean. It was still a minor crime compared to their price, but Kawahira had no choice.
The semantics for the Arcobaleno were trial and error, and Kawahira had made many errors along the way. He completed the process after the first few failures, the second-best Flame users of their generation before he moved on to the first. Luring them to the meeting point was easy—greed works like that—but watching as the first batch turned into children indeed sent him for a loop.
At first, Kawahira wondered whether his views on children had affected the results, but as he observed the seven further, it turned out to be a Will. The world rested on the new seven's shoulders, and the Will of the pacifiers had deemed these appearances suitable. No matter how despicable someone was, this reincarnation into a child absolves them of it all.
They have been purified, for the world does not accept sinners.
The newly born children were left to their own devices as Kawahira turned away from their cries and outrage. With the success of the first batch, he had to prepare a second. On and on, the cycle went on until regret and reluctance changed into indifference and programmed work.
It should be an easy task for Kawahira.
Pick out the ones with potential. Check for their lineage. Entice them with riches beyond their imagination. Toss them into the cabin on the fateful day: Poof, new Arcobaleno. Rinse and repeat.
At least, it should have been as such.
But all it had taken was a child's cry.
Skull sat in the middle of a pile of blankets. Heavy layers pushed down his body, soaking up the sweat streaming past his forehead and neck. It was humid and hot underneath, but Skull could not find it in himself to move from the overbearing warmth around him.
Rolling to his side, Skull snuggled into the covering and giggled. Everything seemed to melt away: his thoughts, worries, and fears. Skull could only embrace the odd situation he had been thrust into, allowing his exhausted eyelids to close gently. He slept peacefully with a smile.
Just as hazy purple eyes slid shut, dull hazel ones revealed themselves. Kawahira entered the room serenely, wooden clogs clicking against the floor as his green kimono fluttered with the wind. Round glasses hid his eyes behind their shine, but his gaze burned through the blankets.
That was the appearance Kawahira had cultivated, one so human that even he occasionally fell for the lie, believing himself to be a simple antique store owner—oh, how he wished it to be true. He had crafted an intricate life filled with origins, relationships, and the like. Everything worked as a reprieve for Kawahira to forget his transgressions towards humanity.
Kawahira chose to live a quiet life, as after years of excitement, his storytelling creativity ran out, leaving his experience lacking in certain areas. Thus, having an additional mouth to feed was a plot point he found himself out of depth from, and he was starting to regret doing so.
Within a few hours of Skull's unconsciousness, Kawahira had already prepared a room, excuse, and food for the stray. He already knew that he was going to get attached.
His pale hand stretched toward the bundle of blankets, landing upon shaggy black hair. Kawahira's eyes narrowed in amusement when Skull wriggled closer to his touch, and a small smile slipped from his hardened face. Not after her death, he had never been close to another human, yet the tiny one before him –unwanted by society- had attracted him.
Before being picked up by Kawahira, Skull scavenged around to arm himself with a cardboard box and a broken umbrella. He was shivering under the heavy downpour, lips purple and skin paler than paper. However, through sheer willpower, he held out.
Despite his pitiful appearance, Kawahira lacked the empathy to care. He had planned to stroll past the small one without sparing a second glance, footsteps unfaltering. However, something caught him off guard. It was just a flicker that lasted only a blink of an eye, yet it remained glaringly bright in the heart of the storm. Nothing could hide from Kawahira's eyes, especially not that flash of purple.
Then, Kawahira felt his heart start to beat again.
The years he had spent alone led up to this moment. From the solitude of his work that left him more dead than alive, Kawahira would finally be allowed to approach someone without honeyed lies—just a lonely man and a child, nothing more, nothing less, exactly like with the young girl from years before today.
Kawahira gently pulled his hand back and switched on the air conditioning, taking care not to disturb the sleepy child. He heard Skull muttering and struggled to contain his laughter. With a desire to help Skull expand his vocabulary, Kawahira left the room quietly.
"Good night, young one."
Skull was a replacement; Kawahira knew he thought of the young boy as such. He was not as aggressive as Purple had been or as empathetic as the young girl. Skull was just a young child desperate to survive even after experiencing betrayal of the lowest form: child abandonment. That was enough for Kawahira to keep trying.
Kawahira had researched Skull's past and noticed he came from a long line of "zombies," if not for their mortality rate, Kawahira would have thought they were the same. These zombies took odd jobs on the surface, such as helping rescue people from dangerous heights and cleaning up toxic sewage after a nuclear fallout. However, internally, they ran an experimentation ring.
Everyone may seem immortal, but Skull's family dared not allow their bloodline to die out and only chose the defective ones to send to 'therapy' –as they like to word it. That meant the old, disabled, and young were all targets, and Kawahira had yet to hear of anyone returning sane after a session. It was practical, where you watch family members destroy you from the inside out, and all that remains as proof is your memories.
This was where Skull came in, with his potent flames –that his family has yet to understand; immortality was a word well suited to his existence. He exceeded the expectations of everyone who watched the first session and did not need to be healed like the rest. Skull would smile right after, asking for more information about the sessions.
It did not take long before his direct blood relations abandoned him. While everyone scrambled to figure out what to do with the monster they had birthed, they shipped him off to the other side of the world. Such an action could have been motivated by concerned love or despicable jealousy, and even Kawahira was unclear about It.
Unfortunately, unlike Kawahira's indifference, Skull yearned for an answer. He questioned Kawahira many times about the whereabouts of his family and whether he knew the way back. The young boy's sudden bouts of sobbing made a mess of Kawahira's tea time, and he wondered if he should knock Skull back into unconsciousness.
Kawahira truly missed Skull's clingy silence.
"Does Mama hate me?" Skull asked for the umpteenth time, pulling at Kawahira's sleeves. "Skull didn't do anything bad."
Watching Skull blabber was not on Kawahira's bucket list, yet he mentally crossed it off with a sigh. "Your mother must have loved you enough to keep you for the first nine months. Whatever happens after is not your fault."
"I just want Mama to smile!"
There it was, Skull's worst trait –in Kawahira's honest opinion, how he never listens to others. Kawahira rubbed the bridge of his nose, feeling the migraine pulsing in his head. Try as he might, Kawahira could not understand why the boy would want to return to the very family that abandoned him. Was reality too much for the boy to accept?
Despite his inner complaints, Kawahira took a page from the young girl's book, forcing his voice to soften. "Skull, I need you to calm down, alright?" He wiped away Skull's tears. "There is a storm brewing outside, so you have to be patient with me and stop crying. It solves nothing."
He winced after finishing, realizing how harsh he had sounded. His words were logical, just an explanation of the situation, but for Skull –a literal two-year-old, it was just too many words to digest. Kawahira looked out the window, and the loud clap of thunder replied to his unasked question.
Guilt would finally kill him if he tossed Skull out into that.
While Kawahira braced himself for the eventual breakdown, Skull's cries quietened. His wide eyes were trained on the older man, his thoughts hidden from Kawahira's view. Squirming around, Skull moved closer and plopped himself across his lap. He raised his arms to force his reddish cheeks into a smile as he faced Kawahira.
"Don't cry, Mister," Skull sniffled. "Look, Skull is happy."
Putting aside Skull's odd need to apologize for doing nothing wrong –Kawahira would have a word with his parents- the sight was precious. Skull was like a newborn kitten on his lap, acting cute to earn back favor from its owner. Kawahira would not say he melted at the sight, but a lack of exposure to such sights did leave him vulnerable.
"I'm not going to cry, Skull," Kawahira muttered.
Skull nodded at Kawahira as if he was the adult between them. "Good! Everyone likes me smiling, and the scary goop goes away when I smile!"
"It is 'everyone likes to see,'" Kawahira rubbed the boy's head. He would not pay any more attention to the scary things Skull shares. "What do you like to see then?"
"I like octopus!" The offputting expressions became more genuine. Skull's face brightened, and his eyes narrowed as the wide smile stretched from cheek to cheek. "I really like octopus!"
"I can tell." Kawahira raised an eyebrow at his sudden enthusiasm.
He remembered reading about Skull and his family's odd obsession with octopi. Most were born and bred by Skull's family solely to become mothers, raising their human children among creatures who embodied regeneration. Kawahira had mocked their stupidity upon finding out. He could not believe that the Flames of Life –the very thing his friends died to share with humans- were misinterpreted as animal genetics.
As Kawahira thought to himself, he was unable to control his mouth. "Your caretakers must have raised you well. Why didn't you take her and run?"
Skull seemed to falter at Kawahira's question and tilted his head. "Odako is a boy! Odako's Mama is scary, she doesn't like Skull."
Kawahira vowed to revisit his research later; he had not seen any mentions of Skull's apparent friend. It was a simple blunder he had not made for years. He pinched Skull's cheeks, smile turning strained. "I see. Then why didn't you bring Odako out?"
"Odako is in a cage."
It was Kawahira's turn to be at a loss for words. He watched as Skull's expression fell, hands clutching tightly onto Kawahira's lapels as his body shook with soft hiccups. Those were the incoming signs of tears, but instead of feeling threatened, Kawahira was concerned.
Skull was not a quiet child. His emotions may turn on a dime, but his loud cries and expressive movements would still reflect the changes. Talking about Odako's imprisonment was the first time Skull's sadness was muted as if forcibly silenced by those experienced with him.
"Do you," Kawahira hesitated, hoping his kindness would not result in more blubbering. "Do you want to talk about it?"
Skull shook his head.
Blaring alarms rang in Kawahira's mind, and his side note that he wanted to speak with Skull's family became a priority. "Alright then, do you want to share with me what else you like?"
Another shake.
Kawahira's sudden urge to raze Skull's family to the ground surprised him. To think someone as detached from the world as he was could be sympathetic. He turned Skull over, back to his chest, and raised a hand before the boy. It had been a while since Kawahira used his Flames, but he could not think of other methods to calm Skull in such a panicked state.
"Look at this," Kawahira snapped his fingers, allowing his Flames to ignite. "These are called Mist Flames; They burn a stunning indigo, don't they?"
Just as Kawahira hoped, Skull was entranced upon first sight. The boy’s eyes followed the flickering shades of indigo on Kawahira’s hand, raising a hesitant hand towards it. Kawahira took pity on the child and brought the flame closer, holding it near Skull’s chest and awaited the child’s actions.
“It’s so pretty,” Skull whispered under his breath, as if worried about blowing out the wonder at arm’s length. “What is it?”
Kawahira wondered if he should answer the question. Despite Flames being used left and right in Mafisco, their potential remains untouched and merely seen as a power amplifier. Should he share integral knowledge with Skull, it could cause an outbreak of another war for power.
The Mist Flames slowly dimmed along with Kawahira’s thoughts; his dread for such a future outweighed Skull's wide eyes. He could not guarantee Skull’s silence. Soon, the Flames extinguished entirely, and Kawahira smiled at his companion.
“Mist Flames are,” Kawahira thought of a suitable description. “They are a magical ability of sorts, one that many people own. Mine keeps people entertained by creating magic shows.”
He snapped his fingers and conjured up a miniature circus tent, equally as tall as Skull. It has red and white stripes around its tent, and laughter and applause echo from within. The doors slid open with a push, and an elephant walked out. Along with it, clowns, fire-eaters, trapeze artists, and more marched behind it.
Music played with the march, and they surrounded Skull. Lanterns floated along with them and lit up the dark room. They performed for Skull, showing off their acrobatics and companionship with the animals, and the tensions ran higher to the background noise. With a final flip, the act ended, and they all bowed to Skull.
“What do you think?”
Skull turned to face Kawahira, face bright, eyes starry, and mouth agape. “It’s amazing!”
Kawahira accepted Skull’s praise with prideful nods. Yes, he did it all by himself. Yes, he knew everything that was going on. Yes, he can do it all again for Skull if he so wishes. Skull's childish exclamations had diminished most of Kawahira’s fears of misusage.
Besides, who’s to say Kawahira could not ensure the happiness of a single child?
It did not take long for Skull to get attached to Kawahira. The storm raged on for the rest of the night, and Skull sought out his presence with every loud clap of thunder. He would even cling onto Kawahira’s leg, refusing to let go no matter the temptations Kawahira presented.
No amount of Mist Flames, stories, or food moved the young child.
“You feel safe,” Skull said, rubbing his cheek against Kawahira. “Very safe and warm.”
His descriptions almost made Kawahira burst into laughter. Even within his friends, such words had never been used for Kawahira. He was the logical one, able to pick apart any squabbles, leaving both parties glaring at him afterward. Kawahira did not have a big heart, and Skull’s safety was motivated mainly by his interests.
It was just the weather that stopped him from removing Skull.
Yes, it must have been; Kawahira was cold-hearted after all. He deserved none of Skull’s admiration. The loopholes he leaped through to keep Skull happy were just lessons hidden under entertainment. Even the sparks of joy he got from seeing Skull’s progress with his Flames were just the satisfaction that he would perfectly fit into the cursed role.
How could he ignore someone so perfect for the Cloud Arcobaleno?
That was all…
Right?
This was getting ridiculous, however, to the extent that Kawahira would go for Skull. Picking up the lost child and showing off his Flames were iffy but reasonable; the fact that he stood outside a human establishment revealed how deeply he had fallen. The sound of crickets accompanied Kawahira in his self-imposed quest.
Kawahira sighed and hefted his umbrella back onto his shoulders. The establishment had familiar writings on the entrance, welcoming any lost travelers within a set time –one that Kawahira had exceeded hours ago. Moving forward, Kawahira phased through the large gates and surveyed the yard before him.
“Now, where is the stupid octopus?” He muttered to himself.
The plan was simple: go in and get Odako out. Kawahira only needed two steps to collect the slimy pet and never looked back—he was not giving Skull back to that family. A man of Kawahira’s caliber could have conjured up his assistant to take charge and spend more time with Skull instead.
He smacked his forehead with his palm and sighed. No, Kawahira should not think further about the ‘could haves’ and focus on the present. Strong as he may be, Kawahira had never tested himself against humans directly and in their own home, no less. It could prove to be a problematic plan.
Kawahira walked deeper into the yard and turned left. Rubbing his eyes, Kawahira stood frozen in place as shadows were cast onto him. Those tentacles writhed over the various lamp posts, each the size of an average adult man.
A suspiciously designed armor set covered each limb of the creature, with spikes woven onto the plates to enhance its menacing appearance. A muzzle was strapped out of the creature’s mouth, muffling its screeches and bites. Kawahira scrutinized the beast, which had eight legs, was feisty, and was a newborn.
It turns out that it was that easy.
Odako was a large creature, and height, combined with the outfit, towered over twice Kawahira’s. It was an interesting sight, for Odako had been tied to lamp posts, each limb with its chain. Kawahira had never seen anything as ridiculous as before, choosing to admire the handiwork of the octopus and its caretakers.
Unfortunately, Odako did not seem to be as thrilled to be used as entertainment and lashed out. He glared at Kawahira, untied parts of himself stretching out towards him as his beak opened to snarl harshly against the muzzle. Kawahira watched as the drool sizzled upon touching the metal and tilted his head.
“Have you been experimented on as well?” Kawahira asked himself, crossing his arms. How odd! I had been led to believe that Skull’s family worshiped your kind.”
Once Kawahira mentioned Skull's name, Odako's struggle stopped altogether, and tears fell instead. His green eyes widened as Odako began to whimper, his limbs sinking onto the floor as he wordlessly pleaded.
The message was easy enough to interpret, but Kawahira was wary. He had expected Odako to be small and easy to slip out of Skull's family without raising a fuss –Skull had left easily enough himself. However, to move something that large and well-contained out in the open would raise some eyebrows if everything seemingly disappeared the next day.
He groaned into his hands; the regret that Kawahira had long forgotten was starting to rear its head again—the headache-inducing feeling of dealing with a horde of humans. Kawahira wondered if it would be better if he were to leave the octopus behind, and the immediate flash of Skull's worried expression stopped him. Glancing back at Odako, Kawahira walked back reluctantly.
Skull better appreciate his efforts.
"Odako!"
Kawahira watched the two children hug with a smile. The journey out had been easier with the knowledge that Odako's growth was due to Cloud Flames; the lesson had been simple, and Kawahira could walk out with a thumb-sized octopus in his pockets. He made sure to clean up all traces of his appearance and staged the incident to be a runaway instead of a kidnapping.
“Thank you!” Skull leaped onto Kawahira’s stomach and, with Odako in hand, beamed. “Odako said you helped him!”
“I may have, and I may have not.” Kawahira waved a hand, and a clone of himself appeared. “It might have been my assistant; you never know.”
After an effortless kidnapping attempt, Kawahira was bored, and Skull’s scrunched-up nose was amusing. He smirked at the deep thought he had sent his charge into. Kawahira had taken to teaching Skull vaguely about the uses of Flames, and the child had more interest in Kawahira’s Mist than his own Cloud.
It was touching that someone wanted to know more about Kawahira. It had also been fun to watch, with Skull squinting and cautiously poking at everything before turning to Kawahira happily and declaring that it was an illusion. Kawahira would reward Skull with treats and, sometimes, turn the illusion real to mess with Skull.
When was the last time he could smile so easily?
“Odako said you helped,” Skull eventually says with a pout. “Illusion or not.”
Kawahira sighed. While he could easily play with Skull’s perception, he was constantly treated with new emotions. He wrapped his arms around Skull and hugged the clingy child. Such emotions would be treasured, and Kawahira wanted to stay with him much longer than he was allowed.
With the short glimpses –when Kawahira convinced Skull to learn Cloud Flames, the young child would be the strongest of his generation. He would be an Arcobaleno sooner or later, and despite the years of acceptance Kawahira had towards his disgusting role, he found himself reluctant to let Skull fall into such a fate.
Unfortunately, between his duty and himself, Kawahira’s choice was clear.
That was it. This would be all Kawahira could do for the young child outside of adopting the poor kid. Skull had been a joy to keep around. Their week-long interaction was one of the most fun things Kawahira had experienced. Odako was back, and the storm had long come to a halt.
This needed to end.
Before Kawahira decides to go against the world.
Placing Skull in the woven basket, Kawahira watched as the ocean pulled the boy further away. It had been a hard decision that made him contemplate and research for a whole month before he made up his mind. Kawahira had gotten Odako’s promise to keep Skull safe, working as enough of a deterrent to release him back to where he belonged –far away from him.
He saw how the ocean seemed to call on Skull, latching onto him with a gentle caress and rocking the child into a deep slumber. Kawahira did not know whether to be relieved or disappointed over Skull’s ignorance of the situation, already missing the snuffles and closing in movements. They had never been apart since their first meeting, and now Kawahira was determined to toss all of that away.
All for what?
Kawahira gritted his teeth in frustration, despising the taunting words –that sounded oddly like Orange’s, that played in his head. He had been through this and said his goodbyes long before today, yet the devil’s whispers scratched at his reluctance. It made him think of all the other possibilities that could happen.
Could Kawahira have trusted himself?
The taste of metal permeated his mouth, and blood dribbled past his lips. His heart, head, and soul hurt at the diminishing sight of Skull, the child he had built a bond with. To say his goodbyes in such a way stabs at his consciousness a little deeper, snapping him back into desperation.
He wanted to keep playing house with the child, to be the one the child looked to for comfort. He did not wish for Skull to go, but he must. Kawahira may be immortal and as close to existence as a God, but he was not one. He will never be one, and he will never be able to control fate like a God could.
“You will be safer away from me.” The harsh sea breeze hid his soft words. You will be happier with your new family without me tainting your trust.”
Kawahira remembered his final words to Odako, one of warning and regret. “Take flight and never return,” he had said. For I believe neither of us would enjoy the outcome of our reunion.”
They both knew what the other wanted, and only one favored Skull. Thus, Kawahira forced Odako to make way and leave, thinking that he deserved nothing Skull offered. Who would trust a man who had—and would continue—to kill thousands more?
Orange had truly damned them all.
Putting a pause on his monologue, Kawahira placed a hand over his heart and wondered why he hurt so much, yet no tears fell.
What would it take for him to change?
Who was Kawahira even?
The immortal had never questioned his existence before, but it had never been needed. Now, however, Kawahira wanted to know more. About his duty and purpose and why he could not cry for his losses, he shook his head off the dreadful mindset and returned to watching the sunrise.
Skull was long gone.
The young, animal-loving, joyous little boy was leaving Kawahira’s nest and, hopefully, never to be seen again. He had been a bright spot in Kawahira’s dull life, giving him the silver of a dream to see the dawn of the sunrise and experience many new emotions. Some had been horrible, and others delightful, but all of which would be treasured by Kawahira dearly.
All of… which…
Treasured…
Kawahira blinked and tilted his head. “Where did the young boy go?”