AN: Been ages since I updated this one, huh? Anyone still around? xD

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9. now, let's go (no time to stand around waiting)

Titus and Cross stumble upon a prisoner of war. Takara comes face to face with the revolution, and learns of the battle that has gone on for decades. 

The war starts with them between this entire chaos, and inevitably, they get involved.

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Titus decided to give up on his travelogue for now, and they escaped into the woods. The priority now was to regroup with Takara and Captain, then figure out how to leave with as little problems as possible.

"Hey, Titus," Cross spoke up, and Titus looked over, his body still tense from trying to avoid patrol forces.

The rain was helping them blend in with the forest, thankfully.

"What is it?" Titus asked.

Cross snickered. "I like you!"

Titus looked over his shoulder, and hid when the flashlight shone his way. "Yeah, yeah," he dismissed, "I like you too. What brought this on?"

They dashed forward at the next lick of darkness, and scurried in a trench for drainage.

"But but, you could've left us behind during the storm, but you didn't," Cross beamed, unnecessarily sparkly for the situation. "Now you can just go and run by yourself, but you're helping me find Takara! You're a nice guy!"

Titus blushed a little, "what's with you and saying cheesy shit all the time?" he chopped the kid on the head. "I'd leave you all behind if I could, but if I left you behind like this when I'm the one that brought you here, I wouldn't be able to sleep at night."

Cross snickered, like he knew better.

He spotted something flowing in the water, and picked it up. "Oh hey, Titus! Found your hat."

Titus blinked at it. How convenient.

Cross was sitting on the side, legs not touching the rain-river under him, while Titus stood in it, wondering where the water led.... where did it come from?

"My hat came from uphill, so the town is probably up. Then where does the water go?" Titus mumbled, shaking the water out of his hat and holding it to his chest, "the sea. Cross, we're following the river."

"Okay!"

"Keep it down."

"Okay!"

They're too close to the town right now. They ought to head toward the opposite shore. If Takara and Captain washed up, that's where they would be.

-

"Titus, there's a hut!"

When they made it through the jungle, they found themselves at the edge of the island. Their boats are in the Hurricane Hole in the centre of the island, but here, there was a beach.

And through the drizzle and gray skies, there's a little house made of wood.

Titus couldn't stop the boy before he ran in, opening the door with a loud call to ask if anyone was home. Thankfully, no one responded.

"Cross, we're trying to hide here," Titus hissed at him, "be a little quieter."

"Look, Titus! Towels!" Cross cheered, starting to dry himself off, kicking off his shoes and entering the house without permission.

"Uh, sorry for intruding," Titus muttered to be polite. The house looked lived in-- that meant someone was going to come back and find their house ransacked and damp. "Start the fireplace, Cross. We might as well change out of these clothes."

"There should be clothes your size in that drawer to your left."

Titus turned to the drawer, "oh, thanks."

When he opened it, there were dress shirts and normal button-ups, unlike the usual Kiku tribe clothing that was commonplace on Shikke Island. That's strange.

Then he froze. Who did he just speak to?

They all whirled on the new figure that had been lounging on the bed.

With a head of pure white hair, it was the boy that had first received them-- Nozomu. He was no longer wearing his hood, and in the dim lighting Titus could see an array of strange, fire-like tattoos on his face, leading from his shoulder.

"Welcome to my humble abode," he said sarcastically. "In case you forgot my name, I am Nozomu." Then he turned to Cross, "you can wear a blanket or something, I have nothing in your size."

Immediately, Titus grabbed a wooden plank from the side, holding it as if it was a reasonable projectile.

"Forget it, forget it," Nozomu waved him off, straightening so he sat on the bed. "I'd rather save my energy for something else," he picked up a kettle, "you guys up for some tea or whatever?"

"Is this another trap?" Titus asked.

Nozomu put the kettle on to boil, turning on the lights of his house and brewing up some tea.

In the light, Titus could see more of his body-- he was covered in those bright red tattoos, swirling ominously across way too much of his body. It's a strange contrast against his pale skin and his much paler hair.

"Kind of," Nozomu shrugged. "My house is always under watch, so they already know you're here. They just have better things to worry about now."

Titus tensed, and swore under his breath. "So you're the watchdog?"

"Nah," Nozomu put down a cup of tea on the table. He gestured at the red tattoo crawling up his face. "See this? It's something Old man Yuzen puts on criminals. I'm just a very well-behaved prisoner, and you two walked right into my jail cell."

"What?"

Nozomu took one look at their flabbergasted faces, and promptly laughed at their expense.

"We're in a civil war, buddy," he said. "I'm a prisoner. My allies are in hiding, so they're keeping me alive just to make sure my pals will come and save me."

Titus' jaw is still hanging. "Why the hell did you hand us over to them, you misleading bastard?"

"For a bunch of spies, you're pretty dumb," Nozomu slumped back, ignoring Titus' irritated yell of 'we are NOT spies!' before tossing a cloak over to Cross so the boy could warm up.

Cross accepted it happily.

"What, you really don't know? Then you're probably from the Kikuchigumi, blondie. Those guys don't bother to learn about the lower clans," Nozomu scoffed.

Titus stiffened at that.

Nozomu pointed at his face tattoo, deciding to talk to Cross instead. "Think it's cool?"

Cross, swimming in the cloak now, leaned over the bed to get a closer look.

The red markings looked like flames. Nozomu raised his arm to show that the tattoo stretched out into his skin, past his elbows, further into his back.

"Did that ugly grandpa guy put this on you?" Cross asked, and Nozomu laughed.

"It's called the Five-day Curse," Nozomu explained. "Wanna guess what happens after five days?"

Cross tilted his head to the side, "you die?"

"You're a smart boy, aren't you?" Nozomu said with a cooing lilt, patting Cross on the head. "And then you guys had to come by and ruin everything."

Nozomu said it all with the smile of a saint about to personally disintegrate a mortal from existence.

"Anyways, we should stitch that shoulder wound before you bleed all over my carpet."

"What the-- for fuck's-- Don't just move on with the conversation, EXPLAIN!"

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Cross was fascinated.

Nozomu's fingers began glowing. White, translucent threads of light swirling in the air. He wraps them around his palms, and draws just one string to the side.

"Now don't move."

Titus took off his shirt, and bared his shoulder wound to the boy. Cross had been fascinated by it enough to convince Titus to let Nozomu do his work, but vulnerability really was the last thing the blonde wanted to give the white-haired kid.

And the magic began.

Threads of light weaved itself into the wound, without even a needle. Swirling into a cross-cut formation, before tightening up and drawing the wound shut.

The finishing knot, and the thread was severed, leaving a slightly gleaming white scar on Titus' shoulder where the wound once was.

"And done."

Nozomu shook his hand lazily, the threads dissipating like wisps into the air.

"...what was that?" Titus asked.

"That was so cool!" Cross exclaimed, staring at the scar left behind and running his finger over it, "it's completely healed!"

Nozomu just shrugged.

"On this island, people with white hair can heal; and only people with black hair can remove the threads," he told the boy. "So each colour had to be equal. There had to be harmony, or it wouldn't work out."

Titus set a hand on the scar for a moment longer before putting his shirt back on.

"Is that why the civil war began?"

And Nozomu looked away.

"It's on a bigger scale than you think."

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"It's already been four days since those bastards put the curse on him. We can't wait any longer-- he'll die tomorrow if we don't move!"

Takara fixed the mechanism in his ear casually, pretending he didn't put a listening device in Yuki's sleeve to listen in on their oh-so secret planning progress.

He smiled at Hiro as they talked about the pros and cons of losing an arm to save pretty girls. In conclusion, it kinda sucks, but at least you win manly points. Captain gave his untranslatable input, and they laughed.

"We have to go today. And we'll need all of us to stand a chance."

"We don't have enough people to fight a war. Sending everyone is just group suicide."

"So we're just going to let him die? He's your brother, Leader!"

"I just don't want all of us to die like this! Meaninglessly!"

Takara could gather the situation, vaguely. They were the rebellion forces, they have a member in captive, and if they don't move soon, the Yuzen will kill the hostage.

"If we go and die here, it really will be the end of the clan, Leader."

"If I wanted to live so badly, I wouldn't have come back here!!"

Takara cringed a little at the volume. Who knew the little, ladylike Visul could yell like that? It sort of hurt his ears.

"But I came back! I came back to this stupid place because there's something left here that my mother yearned for to the end of her life, and if we don't get our home back for ourselves, I'd rather we die trying!"

Takara shut off the receiver when the roaring warcry resounded across that room, unheard in the depths of the underground base.

The history in this land ran deep. Even the children that were born after the cause of the war know the value of their ancestors, and they have done nothing but fight for it their whole lives.

What a sad life.

They're better off setting out to sea and making themselves a new home in other islands, instead of vainly fighting for this one.

Is history really worth the death of a generation?

(That is a question Takara had asked himself after the events of Ohara, and it is a question he asked himself now.)

Hiro sighed, leaning to the side and watching the stalks in his tea. "My mom used to tell me that Shikke was beautiful. People had either black or white hair, and perfection was born when the two became one."

Takara listened with interest. He heard that too, once upon a time.

The three great clans of Kiku-- the Kikuchi, the Abeno, and the Yuzen. Among them, the Abeno were the most beautiful, the most pacifist. That's why they separated from Kiku and moved into West Blue-- becoming Shikke Island.

Hiro prodded at the side of his cup, "depending on your hair colour, you were born with a different power in your veins-- but one power cannot exist without the other. There had to be both in this world-- the power that casts, and the power that dispels."

The Abenogumi were the epitome of Ying and Yang. Perfect Harmony.

Takara remembered the way Visul's fingers glowed just a little too white, gleaming like silver wisps in the light. How she sprouted that huge spider web from just some hidden machination Takara still can't see, and how she didn't move to remove it.

He also remembered how Yuki came up then, his shadow drifting just a little too much to the left, and how the little darkness lingered strangely on the white threads. Takara had only looked away for a second, but for a moment, he wondered if there were less strings than the last time he looked.

The Kiku were a clan of monsters, passing down some power through the blood in their veins.

An oddity hiding in the West.

(Why were they fighting? Because they have nothing else.)

(Because of history.)

(Because this is what their ancestors fought for.)

"Yeah, that's fucking stupid," Takara says, standing up and going to pick up Captain from the arms of one of the ladies that were playing with him. When HIro gives him a chastised look, he smirks. "Not talking about what you were saying– I'm talking about what the people are saying in the other room. Y'know, your strategy meeting thing. Yes, I'm listening in on them."

The Abenogumi forces tense at that, straightening in alarm.

"How did it even get so bad? The war should've ended when there were only so little of you left," he says. "You guys should've spent all your energy trying to escape alive and finding a new place to live, like, ten years ago. And yet here you are hiding, and the situation's so bad there's a prisoner of war to escalate things. Are you all stupid?"

Someone snarls, "looks, you're testing your luck here, you punk–!!"

Hiro raises a hand to stop him. His face is pulled tight and calm. "You speak as if it's easy– but you are not the kind to be ungrateful and taunt us this way. So what basis do you have for your confidence?"

Takara's eyes narrow at that.

"What makes you think that this war could've ended ten years ago, if only we tried?" Hiro challenges. "None of us here were old enough to have made decisions back then. So enlighten us."

They were lost children, unable to give up on a war they didn't start, because they knew that the desperation was too important to be discarded into history.

"You people don't interact much with the outside world, so I'm sure you're not aware of the wars that happened outside this shithole," Takara says. "There's one constant in all of them– the most important thing in war is the determination to continue living when it ends."

Takara scoffs, raising a metal hand and brushing back his still-damp hair. His prosthetic eye gleamed mechanically, and the scar that lined its side was exposed as he carded his hair away from his temple.

"Tell me, Hiro... have any of you ever been able to really sit down and appreciate the sound of the rain?"

Hiro's eyes narrow. "It is always raining here in Shikke. And with the war going on, we do not have the liberty to exit the base often– it is too risky."

"That's freedom," Takara says. "The freedom of peace." 

And he clutches at his chest, cradling Captain on his lap. "It's the peace I received in exchange for everything that I used to be... my old mobility, my strength, and my identity. And I don't regret a day of running away from the war I was forced into."

(At some point after years of war, every soldier, no matter whose side they're on, always comes to think the same thing.)

(They always wish that the war would end soon.)

(That is the one thing every person, no matter their race, beliefs, and political faction, can always come to agree on.)

"Right now, what you should be trying to do is not to fight and reclaim," Takara says, "It's how to save your war prisoners and escape."

"Enough!" Hiro snaps, slamming his hands on the table, finally losing his temper. "You know nothing about us, and you're just running your mouth like you're so fucking wise!"

Takara keeps silent.

"Maybe you don't understand because you've never had a home," Hiro says. "But the Yuzen has ours. We want nothing but to finally get it back– the Home and the harmony that is our code. And outside like you will never understand why we hold it so dearly."

And that was it.

"Please– just leave," HIro says. "Before you let any more of us hear of what we can never gain. Just go while the war is happening– and please, forget about us."

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"You are going, even though I asked you not to," Visul appears behind him just as Takara was ready to sneak out the sewers.

Captain makes a soft growl, obviously also not pleased by the bitter way they were leaving. Takara was still seething.

"You guys are going to declare war," Takara says. "It's the opportune time to leave. I believe that is what my friends are thinking as well. It works out."

Visul nods. "I agree, but..."

There was none of her prior hostility in her shoulder– just a tired, young girl– she couldn't have been any older than eighteen, and yet.

"The strings you have," Takara brings up– "do they have any combat capabilities?"

"The Chiryouito, they're called," Visul hums, "but no. They are unbreakable, but they do not have strength or the ability to pierce. They are only for healing."

"What about the shadows?" the ones the boys with black hair have.

"They have the ability to cut, but they are weak to light and fire. That is why we hide in the rain," Visul tells him. "The Yuzengumi's blue fire, however, will burn even in rainfall. That is why we will inevitably lose this war."

The Yuzengumi have a secret art, too? And by the sounds of it, it was tailored to hold a clear advantage over them.

"Then!" Takara doesn't intend to shout, but he couldn't help it. "Then why don't you just run?"

She was trying to escape too, wasn't she? She hated this war too– her exclamation back in the meeting room proved it. There was no way they could win– they were just going into their deaths here. This was a pointless fight.

Visul seems surprised by his agitation– but her eyes soften, and upsettingly, she shakes her head.

"We cannot."

Takar could've yelled. How many people have died simply because they refused to run from danger like this?

But Visul continues speaking.

"There is– was– only one rule in this country," Visul tells him. "It's to treasure your home. To live where you die, and to die where you live. It is on this land that our power is the strongest, and this land is enriched by the Chiryouito we pass down in our generations."

They live in harmony, not just among people, but with their culture and their land.

"We must hold our hearth closer to our hearts, and always come home to the ones that wait for us," she says, a hand at her chest. "To us, our land is a member of our family as well. We cannot abandon it."

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"Elder Yuzen," a girl said, fixing her robe over her arm, a smoking pipe daintily held between her fingers, "the captives have escaped toward Nozomu's hut."

The old man sighed, "leave them. Have we decoded the travelogue, Kanami?"

Kanami nods, fixing a deep purple lock of hair behind her ear. "Not the words. but the ink, the strokes-- vaguely, it is of Kikun origins."

Elder Yuzen looked up.

The travelogue belonged to the blond man, the one that pleaded innocence. He had thought the spy to be the black-haired boy that was too cheerful for his own good-- eyes certainly deceive the best of us.

"Titus, he called himself?" Elder Yuzen mused. "Just like the white-haired witch, they sure are a fan of using aliases of Western origins."

"They certainly turn away suspicions," Kanami muses. "My orders, sir?"

Elder Yuzen stood up.

"The blond man is a spy from the Kikuchigumi. Do not let him escape-- we can't let the Kikuchigumi know we're weakened in any way," he says, "take Ibuki with you, but Urushi will lead the forces to engage the Abenogumi."

War is upon them.

They can't let the third party interfere.

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The bright blue flare rose into the air, through the rain-- and lit up the darkened sky with a burst of bright turquoise.

Cross looked out the window with fascination.

Nozomu breathed out slowly, reverently glancing toward it. He closed his eyes, and turned away.

"A signal flare?" Titus asked, gazing out. "Blue... you don't see blue flares often. What does it mean?"

They looked at Nozomu, expecting an answer.

"It's a declaration of war," the albino explained, and Titus sucked back a sharp breath. He stood up, reaching for his cloak. "Guess that's the end of it, huh? We're all gonna die here today, and that's it."

Titus' jaw dropped. "Wait, what--"

"You guys should hurry and leave," Nozomu says. "If we're lucky, the Yuzen will have forgotten about you. Get as far away from the island as you can while the war is happening. Report us to your clan or something, since you're spies and all–" a sarcastic chuckle. "--well, I don't really care if you destroy this island and all of us with it. It's that kind of situation now."

Nozomu closes the door behind him, and Titus fails to get another word in edgewise.

"I'm not a spy!" he snaps.

Titus curses out loud.

-

Cross hums. "Hey, Titus, why does he keep thinking we're spies? What's a spy?"

Titus simply clicks his tongue. "Fuck that guy," he mutters. "Cross, I've got stuff to settle with that punk and that old shitbag. You go find Takara and get out of here–"

"Ehh, don't wanna," Cross says, pulling on his clothes again, since they were a little drier and warmer after a moment by the fireplace. "I want to fight them too."

"Look, Cross, this isn't your business–" Titus stops short.

Cross' eye is blue.

"--seriously, what the fuck are you?" Titus hisses.

Cross smiles, and it's ominous. "Takara's not here, so of course I'm going to fight. I can kill whoever I want, right?"

What?

"I mean, this is war, but... hold on, Cross. You don't have to get involved, this is their island's business," Titus says, suddenly incredibly wary of what exactly he was talking to.

"Hmm, I mean yeah," Cross stretches, pulling on his shirt and forgoing the parka and the visor hat. "But I don't really care. There's people I can kill, right? And they're better off dead!" he beams, like that isn't a terrible thing to say. "So why not, let's go, let's go! Once Takara comes, he'll stop us and he's sooo annoying."

Cross always listened to orders, even when it was unreasonably specific. He would probably die if Takara told him not to breathe. But here the child was, disregarding Titus' words twice, and even making for himself some points to counter against it.

Titus might've realized this already, but this instance confirmed it.

"Hey... you're not Cross. Who are you?"

Cross pouts. "That doesn't matter! Let's go already," he approaches the drawers, finding himself a kitchen knife, even though he already had those uniquely-shaped blades.

Titus supposes this worked out. If he wanted to succeed in this war and get a personal score settled in this mess– it might be better to rely on Cross' strength.

But is this alright?

He has no idea what he is, but Titus can tell that this child isn't the safest creature to interact and try to take advantage of. He has no qualms about murder... not that Cross had much of that, either, but this was on a different level.

He was almost enthusiastic to commit murder.

(Titus had been disgruntled by Cross' unnecessarily restrictive 'promises must be fulfilled' system, but what if that was the only thing holding this child back?)

He wasn't sure anymore.

-

They're interrupted. A step out into the drizzle and a bear leaps into Titus' chest, his roar loud and excited.

"Captain!" Titus says, stepping back into the cabin to get a better look at the beaming little bear. Injuries... none. So he safely reached this island after all. "Where'd you come from?"

"Cross, Titus!"

Takara emerges from the greenery, drenched and wind-swept, fragments of the forest curled into his hair and his clothes. There were light bandages around his side, visible through his torn coat and exposed limbs.

"Takara!" Titus greets.

Behind them, Cross groans, upset. "Geez, you had to dally! Now Takara's back!"

Takara pauses mid-run. He wasn't smiling, but his eyes widened at the sight. Captain clings closely to Titus, and even when the blond tries to hand him off to Cross, neither the boy nor the bear reach out for each other.

That was strange... or maybe not?

"Great," Takara says, his voice solemn, but not at all filled with mirth. Instead– he almost sounded relieved.

Immediately– and to the surprise of both Titus and Cross– Takara dropped to his knees, in the rain and all– and planted his head firmly on the ground.

"I need your help!" he says, loud and firm, and Cross' eyes widen in surprise.

(He's asking for help. Firmly, respectfully– like he's asking for a great offer from someone he has to beg a favour out of.)

Titus knew then– that his hunch had been right. Whoever this is was not Cross– and he was not something to be trifled with. Because here was Takara, and Takara was respectfully asking for help.

"I met a girl with white hair," he says. "She healed my wounds, saved our lives. So I owe her a big favour."

A girl with white hair–

Titus balks, "you found the revolution?!"

"Yes... ah, I see, you met the prisoner guy," Takara notices the speck of white on Titus' shoulder, and sets a hand on his side, where Visul had stitched it shut as well. "I want to help the Abenogumi win this war, so please– Cross," he turns to the boy, to his mismatched eyes– "I need your help to drive the Yuzen out of this country. Please."

Titus slowly turns toward Cross– only to find his smile wide, beaming, and ecstatic.

Then, with all the innocence of a child, Cross cheers, jumping to his feet. "That means I can kill everyone I don't like, right?"

And to Titus' abject horror, Takara lifts his head and unhesitatingly declares, "yes."