Grow the Sunrise (Sumi, Itsuki, Grandmei)
Itsuki had an annoying and pouting flare that followed behind him. Sumi insisted on joining him. She was not happy he was going to see the person who ”messed up her work,” in her words, but she had no say in the matter.
Their steps echoed in the traditional district as they made their way to the store of the old hag. His steps were noticeably heavier than Sumi's; they dug deeper into the ground as they advanced.
It was not something lost on Sumi.
She saw his anxiety, fear. His shoulders contracted inwards, chest puffed up forward, tense. She had never seen that man tense like that; it was a first for her.
Whoever they were going to meet was someone who could go to an extreme to push a cold-hearted zombie into the shoes of a person.
In another circumstance, she would love to meet that someone, if only she had not ruined her art piece, but alas.
Sumi looked around, bored. The traditional district seldom had anything to show her; even trips to this place were things the school kind of demanded, given the Bohemian Club status as an Arts Club, something about spreading your knowledge and boundaries.
For someone who was already better than most of those mediocre and past-bound artists, she had nothing to do there but pay lip service to a dumb school decision.
Yet, the day was reshaped to be interesting. In seeing him, so open, changed, and allowing her to tag along, that boring day had already paid for itself.
She was there to eat the cherry on top.
As they walked, Itsuki took a sharp turn to enter a Chinese paraphernalia shop. Sumi didn’t waste a single glance on the shop, as most of the things inside were fake or scams.
Itsuki looked around. He immediately scowled as he saw her and cracked his neck. “Yo, Monkey Mummy. I have something to ask you.”
He moved to the side as a staff swung right past his head. Sumi got on her tiptoes to see to whom he was talking, and there she saw.
A woman who was more like a mummified small ape than a person. “Wow. She really is a monkey mumm-” Sumi had no time to finish her swords, as the staff fell on the top of her head.
She crouched up and held the top of her head, feeling the burning pain there, as a huff came from Mei’s Grandma.
“To stroll into my shop and demand, youngster.” She looked at Itsuki’s face. While he had an aura of calmness around him and a refreshing smile, she saw the strain at the seams.
The threads threatening to be undone, but he still held himself together. He took his left fist to his chest and aligned it with his solar plexus.
“You damaged me quite a bit, you old crone. I need help fixing myself, and I doubt there is anyone better than you to help me.” Mei’s Grandma half-lidded her eyes with suspicion as she pointed her staff towards Sumi, who still held the top of her head in pain.
“And the girl?”
“A stalker I couldn’t manage to shake out. She wants to see how this will “build her art piece” or something, she got worked up because you messed me up rather than her messing me up herself.”
A huff came from the old hag again, her eyes narrowed on them. She studied Itsuki from top to bottom. “Alright. Deal. However, you will owe me a favor.”
Itsuki gritted his teeth. It was a tough deal to owe the crone a favor, but a glance at her eyes told him she knew why he was asking for her help.
Somewhere in his heart, he knew she knew about his Idolon situation. He had no proof of it, but he felt she knew exactly what he needed.
He swallowed his pride and concerns and nodded silently, accepting her conditions. Were it anyone but Itsuki, she would demand confirmation with their voice, but she knew the boy abided by a code, and his pride.
She used her staff to hop into the back of the shop. “Boy, follow me. Girl, turn up the open sign. We will be quite busy.”
Sumi opened her mouth to complain, but something in the tone of Mei’s Grandma made her hesitate. Silently complaining under her breath, Sumi walked up to the door and turned over the sign.
The Crone took them to a small room within the building. It was dark and vacant, like it was meant to be decorated to suit a purpose needed, rather than the room having a purpose by itself.
She quickly took things out of her ropes, as they fell in place on the floor. Incense, candles, all aligned into a circle, as a type of dream catcher hung from the ceiling.
Itsuki was taken aback. “Aren’t you a Chinese person? What are you doing with an Indian object?” Itsuki felt the tonal whiplash like a tidal wave. The crone grunted.
The incenses started to burn, as a numbing smell rose from them, slightly sweet, slightly bitter.
“Just shut up. I have no time to explain. You have something in your head stopping you from accessing your powers, youngster. Step in the circle, so I can start my part.” Itsuki’s suspicions were confirmed, and he begrudgingly walked in the circle and looked at the dream catcher.
It was clichè, but he bet on the clichès working. Looking at the dream catcher would be an important part of whatever ritualistic thing she was doing.
The crone snorted in amusement. “Keep your eyes on the dream catcher, don’t lose sight of it. Soon you will be hypnotized, and will end in the land of your head. Be sure to fix the problem in one go, boy.”
Itsuki resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “As if I will…” Fall that easily to that sort of trick. Sadly for him, he had already inhaled the incense, and his mind started to drift as he was taken out by the strange ritual.
Sumi stared dumbfounded at the scene. Did it work out so fast? “What did you do to him?” She was curious about how easily he was taken down for the count by that ritual.
The crone didn’t seem proud about the ritual, as it wasn’t Chinese in the first place, although she had tweaked it slightly.
“That was a ritual an old friend of mine taught me a good deal of decades ago. It means to take one to their mind so they can fight off demons and inner darkness, a shamanic ritual form the west, meant to fend off actual evil spirits,” The crone said with a heavy voice.
She was well aware of the spiritual escapades the teenagers of that town were having. It was impossible for her not to know, as unnaturally long as her life was. She saw too many things.
Too many.
She knew the meridians of the boy had halted off his time due to how clogged they all were; he was stuck in time like a frozen river. The moment time flowed through him again, years of neglect and pain washed over his frame.
It was impossible for him to keep a stable spiritual presence, as his past, present, and future conflated in one point, they overlapped, but could never fuse; it caused imbalance in his meridians, but in his spirit rather than his body.
“His spirits are unbalanced, his meridians are in turmoil. By going into his mind, I hope he can ward off what is causing that unbalance and halting his power. I hope it is some type of evil spirit; it will be easier that way.” As long-lived as she was, those Idolons, the kid’s power, were still somewhat of a mystery.
She had no idea if what itsuki had was an evil spirit or something else entirely. At least one alternative was easier to fix.
If it were something in his mind, then it would be hard for even her to deal with.
“I see,” Sumi said with actual interest. She was no aficionado in spiritual or esoteric matters, but she had an interest in the approach the crone used.
Just most trades, it seemed like art, an art that Sumi herself couldn’t comprehend just yet, she was amused at the sight.
The greedier part of her told her she had more than enough skill to take over that trade, and take over it just like any other art. The rational side of her told the crone would smash her brains out with her staff if she voiced those thoughts.
Then, Itsuki started to tremble, his whole body quivered like he was hit by the cold waters of the Atlantic.
He raised his face, but his eyes were darkened. Not a single trace or light was there. Tears darker than blood and thicker than pitch streamed out of them.
His hand raised forward, as a blade of blue flame manifested there. Fire sprouted from his back, like twelve silhouettes of wings, but something was wrong about them.
The way they extended and formed, weak and fragile, was more like the nerves of a hand than wings. Like hands held over Itsuki’s body.
He opened his mouth, but no sound came, just more flames, like a flame breath.
Without warning, Itsuki(?) advanced, his blade swung at Mei’s Grandmother. She blocked his attack with her staff, but she felt the sturdy wood being crushed underneath the blow.
And then a second one came from it, it sent her against a wall, cracking it, and adding a new layer of damage to her staff.
Itsuki(?) looked over to Sumi, but before he could attack he r, he was hit by the crone’s staff. It sent him sliding on the ground, but he refused to be thrown over.
Its void-filled eyes moved to focus on the crone. He was different from the near shambling corpse she faced. That thing was feral, inhuman at heart, moved by instinct and nature alone, but it had will, the drive, the spite to fight back and refuse to be bent.
Mindless as it looked, and near demonic as it seemed, he was no easy foe for anyone to fight, prone to error, but also prideful.
She didn’t know if it was the boy’s nature or a demon in his body, and for now, she didn’t care.
“Your fight is with me!” Exclaimed the crone with some excitement in her voice.
It seemed the boy would be far more interesting than she first thought.
As for Sumi, she picked up a pen from her pocket and started to sketch the “transformed” Itsuki on her hand. It would be a nice picture once she got a proper canvas and materials to paint.
(...)
Itsuki looked over the world around him. It was drowned, submerged in the depths of the abyss; no light shone through.
The only features of that dark world he could make were the vague prints of the Student Council’s room. Someone waited for him there.
White hair, blue eyes, Higan’s uniform nice and tidy. He sat on the chair that used to be his, one leg over the other, and a refreshing smile. “For a time, I thought you would never come back.”
He said softly and meekly. Despite the world being drowned around them, the faint outlines of tears on the face of his doppelganger were visible as they streamed upward.
For a time, Itsuki failed to recognize what was before him; his brain refused to process the information.
However, realization dawned like damnation, as one couldn't forget parts of himself so easily.
It took his form, but its nature was something else. A small, fetal-looking angel that stood with him in his first months as an awakened, before it was eventually replaced and forgotten… by himself.
As if awaiting his realization to dawn, wings sprouted from his black. Twelve, black wings.
“You. I thought you disappeared, after my first brawl…” Itsuki ended up so bloodied and beaten that he couldn’t tell his own blood from the people he had beaten up.
He was so tired and broken at the time, the violence, the hurt, the tears drowned up his pain and misery.
His other self licked his teeth, and a weak sigh escaped his lips. “Not exactly.” He looked conflicted and pained.
“You made a part of himself disappear, to be buried by your pain, as another one sprouted, that part of yourself became the principal, that pain, and the hurt.” He got up and walked up to where the window of the room should be.
He rested his shoulders against it and looked up to the void below, above, all around, in the dark and murky water-drowned world.
“I was no longer needed, so I took a backseat, as you never truly got rid of me, that light inside of you.” He sighed as Itsuki looked away.
The taste of shame and guilt over his past actions was all over his mouth.
His other self laughed softly. “We used to be so close, we, Koharu, the others…” The good times they all spent in that place.
His old Idolon got out of the window and walked up to him. That appearance was of his old self, far more innocent, naive, and hopeful than he was in the present.
“You want more power, right?” Words died out in Itsuki’s mouth. To see how much he has lost and changed over the years, few and short as they were, made his heart turn into a knot.
“As I stand now, I am but a deterrent to you, a chain of the past that holds you back.” Another knot formed in his heart.
Was it true? In the past, he had no time to pay mind to those intrusive thoughts, the thoughts of how guilty he was and how much violence he had wrought, and how much he had changed.
He went forward, ever uncaring.
Ever forward, relentless.
Ever chained to the past.
To the pain.
Both he and his other self looked away.
It was true that he wanted more power, power to control, to protect others, and rejoin the war against Nurarihyon.
It was all true.
But did he need to give out on him? His old Idolon. His wings were downcast.
“C’mon, don’t give me that look, you know. The past that chained you is no longer there. You have to go forward.”
His mind raced to how he used to think.
He needed to go forward, to avenge Koharu. Make sense of his pain and worth in the world.
“You no longer need me. I was weak and small, and you have grown so much stronger; you don’t need an Idolon so useless like me.”
A facade so more violent was born, born to fight. It drowned his once good nature and poisoned it, poisoned his soul and mind.
It poisoned everything it touched until there was nothing left to salt, just a dark, dark world.
Wordlessly, his old Idolon understood him and placed a hand over his chest. “Yet this new facade has been brought to the light, to heel, right?” He smiled weakly, his fangs barely in sight.
His fingers weakly clutched Itsuki’s chest. “It was born from pain and hurt, but your friends, your new ones, are showing you the light. If I relinquish myself…”
Itsuki placed his old Idoon’s hand away. “Why must I relinquish you? What would this accomplish? I did so well thus far, with you in me, why then must I suddenly get rid of you?”
While his moments with his old idolon were short, they were brazen; the memories of happiness were still there. The look on the Idolon’s face morphed into a greater pain.
“As I said, your pain warped you; it morphed you into a new thing. At first, you couldn’t care about me, or feel me anymore, that part of you you no longer needed,” the Idolon said with sadness, the sadness of being forgotten.
“But now you know, your soul is divided, your very own mind unsure of how to cope and go forward. Remember, you, Shu, and that girl. Your struggle between the right thing… and the dark urges that would sate your heart.”
Itsuki clenched his fists tie, the lump of shame in his throat grew stronger. “But, you still did the right thing. I’m no longer the source of your power, your light as to speak. You are making a new one, and the one that hinders you is I.”
The Idolon looked down, a pained expression growing stronger on the verge of tears. “I… I wanted to be with you again, be right at your side like I was meant to be, but your new nature, naturally, overwhelmed me.”
With gritted teeth, the Idolon looked up to Itsuki with tearful eyes. “I wanted to be your Idolon again, but it seemed that your new light is brighter than mine. We were like the morning’s early light before. We used to make everyone so happy.”
“We supported everyone…” Itsuki whispered. He was not a fighter, far from it; he helped others stand tall and fight, he motivated them, always by their side, never ahead of them, but pushing his hand forward on their back so they could walk. They were not the light that guided them, but the light that shone on to keep them in the light and warm.
“You became a fighter and are chasing another light. A small, twinkling star is no longer needed for you. My greed, my wanting not to be forgotten, to be at your side, unbalanced you, made you unable to fight. I… ask for forgiveness.”
Soon, his old Idolon started to crystallize, to become a material of the Idea World. “Allow me to fuel your growth one last time, to pass on, let go, Itsuki.” Small lights started to pierce the dark of the abyss.
Weak flames, as his Idolon crystallized.
Itsuki knew the right thing was to let him go, to allow his past to rest finally.
He closed his eyes. That was for the best…
Yet.
Would he allow another innocent life, imaginary or not, human or not, to go to waste because of his inaction?
Itsuki gritted his teeth so hard his gums bled. His nails dug into his flesh. He snapped his eyes open and wrapped his arms around his old Idolon. He pulled that old version of himself into a tight hug, as his eyes widened.
“No, I refuse. I refuse to let another person suffer because of my inaction, because letting go is natural.” he had left Koharu go, gave her space, and was too late to save her from death.
Not this time.
“But you!” His old Idolon tried to argue.
There was no space for argument, as the hug got tighter. “I don’t care that I don’t need your light anymore, that I have found a new one, I don’t care about any of it!”
Without pausing, he continued his verbal onslaught. “You are a good part of the past! A good part of me! I won’t allow you to go, not without a fight! I won’t allow another me to go down in this gentle night, and refuse to put up a fight!”
“That light, the good of my past, of myself, I won’t let you go!” Itsuki was tired of letting go and staying down.
He would rise now, even if it was hard. The crystallization of his Idolon reverted as he leaned into the hug, rejoicing in the acceptance he had gotten.
His nature was accepted back into the heart of his master, his self.
“Then, accept that light, our flame, and nurture it into a new sunrise.”
With those words, a new star was born within the abyss.
(...)
The nearly broken staff swung against Itsuki, but it was grabbed by a steady hand before it could connect to his head.
A broken room, filled with strange crushes and impact damage, greeted Itsuki. He looked at the tired, slightly worked-out crone before him.
“Hey, you can cut that out. It is me.” His body was lunging forward. Itsuki straightened his posture as he stared at his hand.
The feeling he was just holding a weapon still fresh in his muscle memory.
“Oh my! And where I thought I would have to start out for real!” The crone retreated with a laugh, walking to the exit of the room.
Itsuki sighed as he felt power surging from his body. He felt better than he had ever been.
More yet.
He had the confirmation in his heart: his Idolon was back.
Sumi stopped midway through her sketching. It was up to her shoulder now. ‘Did his eyes always have that golden glint?’