Post by Kohara Hi-to on Dec 20, 2014 1:34:59 GMT -5
Torn in silence, there was no doubt Takua was both disappointed and even angry with his actions, yet he seemed at loss as to whether Hi-to should stay or leave. His sarcasm was warranted, but Hi-to had very little care to listen to it. One look from Sekai and the blind Arrancar stopped, his lack of sight doing little to disable him from gauging Sekai’s distressed looks. It was a good thing Takua was a reasonable and observant man.
But Takua was right about one thing. Sekai needed help, as much of it as she could handle. But not tonight. Not until she was mentally able to process what she was capable of. Until then she was nothing but a hazard unto herself.
The woman in question was still in somewhat of a mess, movements tainted with an awkwardness that didn’t become her. And Hi-to didn’t want to see it. The charred ground crunched and cracked under his sandals as he walked away, aware of her bare feet stumbling after him but unable to turn and face her. His thoughts alone were a heavy enough burden to bear; having Sekai attempt to fill the void that had grown between them with conversation just wasn’t working. Not when he had nothing to say, nothing that could be said to calm her worries.
The internal turmoil Sekai's situation had instigated was immediate and disturbing. It was enough to keep his mind momentarily occupied- he almost missed her deft fingers trailing the ends of his haori, her nails smoothing out the fabric as she knitted it back together with a display of flickering, pure light. He watched, mind in overdrive as the cloth stitched itself back together until not a hole remained, dirt and ash flaking away as it they had never tainted it. There was so much she could do if only she wished it so; she could be so great if only she didn't hold herself back with her naïve views on the world.
But she didn't try and talk to him again. She was as deep in thought as him and Takua were, the kegs in her head grinding together as they turned in ways they weren't designed to. Her home looked incredibly peaceful against a backdrop of mountains in the distance, nothing at all like the charred clearing that spoiled her forest, broken and disjointed in nature. And this was the distraction he needed, the image of that home and the insistence of keeping that way for many years to come.
Hi-to stretched across the perimeter, feeling around for any previous influence of the demon arts, and once satisfied set to work with his hands outstretched, mind blank in concentration. "You who is crowned with the name of man, mask of blood and flesh...”
It was odd to think that Kido was the one subject he'd barely passed in the academy, with Kaido refusing to make his grades at all. He had once assumed that people of Tokyo and Miki's calibre had always been gifted in their ways, naturally drawn to what they were designed to be good at. Life wasn't always so simple, he'd come to realize. The barriers pressed against his finger tips rose high, higher than any he'd care use in combat. Bakudo wasn't his strongest of Kido classes, but with enough time and concentration he'd make this as hardy as any other could. She'd be safe at least, unless Nazomi decided to come knocking. And that was enough for now.
"Bakudo number 26: Kyakko." Struck by light, the barriers warped and bended, unable to be seen, heard, and touched. It was enough.
“These have been modified. I should warn you, they are much easier to break from the inside, however nobody will ill intentions should be able to get through them easily.” Explaining, Hi-to was grateful for the moment he had to siphon his thoughts into the appropriate places for later research, mind somewhat clearer than it had been only moments ago. A small, fragile hand found his elbow through the dark, tugging with small insistence and he turned to face her at last, brows knit as once again she apologized.
“The only person you need to get better for is yourself. Don’t apologies to us.”
He sighed, but didn’t remove her hand. “I’m not mad at you.” He wasn’t. He had a lot to think about after tonight, and her safety shouldn’t have had to be one of them. But he trusted Takua would take care of her. It was the only thing he found himself able to trust the other man with.
There was nothing to say and yet so much, stifling in that if he indulged himself he’d never be able to leave this place before dawn. He couldn’t tell if Sekai wanted him to stay or go, and it was this time that his duties saved him from the inner turmoil. Hyperion slid through the air swifter than cutting through butter, clicking into place in the air as if suspended in an invisible keyhole. It was time to go home. The Senkaimon filled the alluded space shortly after, shoji screens and pine wood lighting up the depressed darkness that had flooded her garden. A lone, black butterfly escaped through the gap in those seemingly fragile doors as they opened, his guide back home where the thoughts and feelings of mortals couldn’t hurt him anymore.
The last look he had for her was the hardest. Takua was silent and watching, Sekai sad and eyes wide. It was the way he hated her to look at him, and even more so when he deserved it. He’d see her again, when everything was alright again there was nothing out there that could hurt her. It was an unspoken promise of sorts, and one he communicated as best as he could as he gave her fingers one last squeeze of reassurance, not trusting his words should he speak them.
And then he stepped through the gate and they were gone from him, hidden behind in a world he never truly belonged in.
******
1017 words: 20 GP
Total GP: 446 GP
.::THREAD EXIT::.