Chapter IX

He opens his eyes, wiping away the sleep with his arms, stands up out of his sleeping bag, and glances to assure himself of Akuma's welfare. Sao leans over to check if Akuma was waking; he wasn't. He is still asleep but makes more noise than anyone awake; birds scatter, and people evacuate as he snores. Their safety is assured.

Surrounding them is a dense forest and an abnormally sized rock; on its surface markings present themselves in all their mystery and abstract; a lost language, or an abandoned speech, even a suppressed language. It is, in truth, finite in meaning, but not to Sao. For all Sao's knowledge, the rock is the secret to life as it is a recipe book, the end of the world as well as the beginning. It contains both genesis and rapture; ignorance and assurance, Sao reads the intelligible writing, nods, and packs up his sleeping bag, 'Akuma, get up early for once.'

'Hmph'

'What was that?'

'I'm up.'

A minute passes until Akuma is up. His tent put away around him, Akuma left lying on the ground, a map and a set of new clothes by his side. The plan is of the forest around them; the clothes contain a dull red shirt, beige tracksuit bottoms, plain black socks, pants, and hoodie.

'Go into the woods, get changed, and come back here so we can leave,' Sao instructs.

'Fine.'

Akuma does as told, with a roll of the eyes. He makes a point to travel a reasonable distance into the woods; not only does he not want to be seen by Sao, but he also does not want to be noticed. He treads on a thin tightrope with his dialogue; he knows this, he knows Sao, 'If only Yuda were here, he doesn't give this much lip.'

He ventures further into the ocean of wood and leaves until a glimpse of blue shines through the gaps. Curious like a cat, Akuma moves in closer. He discovers a hot spring, empty and lively, the steam formed fog over it, cushions of air enticing Akuma further. He peeks over his shoulder where he remembers Sao's location being. Knowing Sao couldn't know he proceeds to undress and dive into the water. He rests on the side, basking in its warmth that battles the cold. Akuma feels secure, Akuma feels safe. He sleeps foolishly.

A whistle wakens Akuma. Assuming its owner to be Sao, he springs out of the pool and puts on the new set of clothes. He looks forward, seeing no one, just an ocean of wood and leaves. He goes to pick up his map, but he hesitates. The plan hasn't left, it couldn't; even if assisted, it could not move; an arrow bolts it in place. His sweat of dread masked under scalding steam and wining water; Akuma tries to turn, but he resists unknowingly; a second arrow whistle by his cheek, carving its edge into his skin as it rockets through. The water and sweat mix with the drops of blood evacuating the wound, he braves the source behind him. On the other side of the springs, atop an elevated cliff of land, people equipping little past a raw leather cloak and bows with arrows stocked on their backs. They have olive skin and long black hair, rugged and split. Akuma is fixated on them, but not their weapons, clothes, or head; Akuma pays attention to the petal each had marked on the back of their right hand.

A third arrow pierces Akuma's foot, rooting him to the ground; enough time for a fourth arrow to plant itself into the right side of his intestines. Akuma releases a shriek of mind crumbling terror which claws at his windpipe. Tears and snot, snot and tears erupt from his orifices. The sweet scent of purified fear permeates. Shivers and tremors escort their way through his body, his dying body. A fifth's trajectory affirms a dead child, a dead child without the warmth of another human to mourn. His frozen body will be lost, hidden beneath a mountain of endless snow, a constant renewal of lost memories for the few who may have held him dear. But who is that? Sao is always annoyed with him, Hannah still fights with him, Yuda always preferred Hannah. He doesn't know his parents, are they dead? Does that matter?

Instincts take over. Akuma raises his left hand to shield his eyes; the sparks return to his palm, his tormenting protector. The fire dissipates, merely burning the arrow at its tip. Akuma looks forward, the arrow meeting him through his hand, the flame on the tip singeing the forward most strands of hair. The shock throws him to the floor, head facing the air, arms covering his chest in self-condolence. Yet another arrow is fired, the time each takes seems to be longer than the previous; the rustling of the feathers as they push the air out of the way; the wind is egging it on.

'Someone?'

Like a knife scratching on a fork, chalk scraping from one side of a chalkboard to the other; a metal scream, a cry, maybe a roar, 'Get up for once, Akuma.'

Sao. Sao returns. He facades a smile for Akuma, maybe; it could be for Akuma's attackers. With a downward swing of his sword, the spring splits, making way for this world's protector. Sao sprints between the parted water, closing in on the offenders of the crime. To them, it has only been seconds; the spring has begun to become one again, and Sao is obscuring their view; his blade dividing the springs in two for them again. They all fall, rooted to the ground. One swing would do it; they would be dead. What are the consequences? He has seen their petals; he knows their status. They do not deserve mercy. The treacherous creatures, attacking one of their own, let alone their successors. What good is a life trying to end it? What is its value?

High, according to Sao, because he does not kill them; he lets them getaway. Do they getaway? That depends. With the crime? Yes. Physically? No. One grabs an arrow and thrusts it into Sao's spleen. The blood is immense. The arrow did not leave to the other side, leaving the blood to spray in a circle around the arrow's base, glazing it red. Whether out of blood loss or shock, Sao is now the one grounded. His body leans backwards, tumbling over the drop to the springs; he floats, sharing his blood with the water.

By now, Akuma is fully aware. He saw what happened. He has removed the arrow from his hand and foot, but walking is still a hopeful wish. He pushes that hope aside. The fire that shot from his left palm is present in his eyes; a sniper equipped with a scope and laser; he operates as if run by a supercomputer; he has become an animal, a bull; all he sees is red; he reaches out his left hand, not in front of him in fear, but to his left, clasping onto a tree; looking at it from Akuma's point of view, bone is visible, drowning in crimson; that crimson would be erased with a crimson orange, closing the wound, stopping the bleeding; while his injuries disappeared, God demanded something else to take them on; placing the burden on the tree he held; it didn't take long for the flames to sprawl, the green sea succumbing to the red tsunami; circling the spring, it cooks the criminals alive; lost in the fire; within the first few moments, the hair on their body turned to ash; next, their skin burned and cooked, a liable meal for any wild beasts; once crisp their eyes boiled, not given a chance to view their judge; no one does when they die; once dead, the fire stops its waves, retreating to the tree it was birthed from, returning to Akuma's body; revitalising him; his body coursed with energy; his legs felt healthy, warm.

He snaps back to the truth: Sao. He was untouched, guarded by the heroic water. Diving in, he holds onto Sao and heaves him back to the land. Igniting his palm again, he places the higher – than previous – flame over Sao's wound, sealing it. Sao is not awake, but his heart still beats, and his lungs allow him to keep breathing. Yuda would make sure Sao was healthy, he saved Hannah after all, and Akuma many times after with his fire mishaps. But there is no Yuda nearby. The only place to go is their destination, without a clue to whether Sao is healthy. Akuma does not think in this situation; his excitement for his first mission would not extinguish so quickly. He uses his new-found energy to drag Sao back to camp, then – using Sao's money – pays for a truck for the remainder of the journey. Akuma keeps an eye on Sao and an eye ahead for the entire ride. Sao keeps his closed: asleep.