Arc 2, Chapter 50: A Hollow Breath

'What, what's going on…' Jotou spoke but her lips did not move.

"Jotou!" a muffled sound to her left; Fumeko?

"Careful!" Hotaru's yell following behind. Probably holding Fumeko back from what Jotou's eyes could tell…

In front of her was blurry visage of the figure she was fighting, glowing yellow eyes, nearly beaming into her soul…

"AH! So many more! What's wrong with Jotou!?" Asobi's voice rang in one ear, noticing several swishes across her vision from blues and greens, to reds; like little specs across her faded eyes…

What was wrong? Nothing could be wrong, right? She was… she was winning. Why was the figure moving closer… Why was the sound all around muffled to mere vibrations.

Her hands were shivering, but they were not cold… Cold, why could she not feel cold? Why could she not feel her hands shaking? Why could she not feel… anything?

She could sense her body was getting lower based on the approaching figure, limping as he moved forward. A subtle voice in her head, like a hushing wind. 'Kneel… Fall before us… Serve… Vessel may you serve…'

Jotou could not move her neck. What was around her, what was happening to her legs? Her gaze was caught on the approaching figure who halted at his steps. He raised one hand, beckoning the blonde over.

'Go… Time to go…' All Jotou could feel was bits of her hair drifting and pupils moving in their sockets. The strands of hair going over her forehead, but even then she could feel only the hair and not her own face… Like she felt no skin, floating in a void.

The eyes stared at his summon… Slowly her vision grew cloudy. The sides of her eyes like snowflakes were taking over; like silver spider legs, crawling to centre in on her irises.

A hollow breath escaped her lips, leaving a puff of clouds. She couldn't feel the air in her lungs, couldn't feel, couldn't feel. Her spark was fading, around her hair, around her eyes, her spark was fading.

It was so easy to listen… A quiet little whisper in her head… Don't listen, don't listen…

Her body was moving without her command, arms moving with a pan in one hand. Legs shifting beneath her as she moved, like her back was hunched.

Don't kneel, don't kneel. Back straight, back straight…

'Stop resisting.'

'Keep fighting.'

'You can't win.'

'You will win.'

One voice told her to stop… A silver hush in her mind, whispering such an easy task. The other—herself; or rather, himself. One thing never changed after all; that voice in her head was the other world's…

'Don't let him win.'

'Yield vessel, you have no will to fight.'

'Stand Jotou, you will always fight.'

…and it would always would be. 'Jotou Howllett is Jotou Howllett.' She thought for herself what the elf had told her.

'You fail to comprehend what resisting will do.'

'You fail to comprehend who you're talking to.' Jotou fought back… Her eyes felt a little lighter, a little less tight. She could hear something… like a drum beating… in a rhythm; her heart.

Her eyes closed and opened; a blink that felt like weeks. A flickering light… yellow, no white? All the same a light from above, on a street waiting. Waiting, waiting, something in her hand; no his hand.

Pulled through by a tether, a window, no veil. Blonde strands, no black, no blonde… No, the white, not from above, but from the front. That night, that night, pitch black void.

Memories flashing in and out. Was Jotou in her subconscious? Then what did she see through the windows; her eyes? Muddled together like different colours of paint…

'Memories from a world afar…' The silver voice hushed as if confirmation… Was it, scanning through? 'Let me, go deeper.'

'Who are you? What's happening?' Jotou's voice was getting louder.

'A soul for bidding. I no longer will be lost. Thank you for this place… You may now rest…' The hush was so convincing… It was so easy to just… sleep…

Don't sleep, don't sleep…

'A soul… this place?' Jotou's voice whispered within. 'Ghost… possession…' The clouded gaze watched the figure, commanding her body as it shifted forward in heavy steps.

'Spirit… soul… So in touch, can manipulate, spirits… bidding, bidding… A soul for bidding… Spirit-Mage.' Jotou connected the dots, one by one.

'What is this… stop, resisting.' The silvery voice cooed.

Her eyes felt freer to move, the sensation of wind once again hitting her skin. 'You're in my head; you're a ghost in my body trying to control it… Get out…'

"GET THE HELL OUT OF MY BODY!" Jotou yelled into the room, startling everyone around. She panted in a flurry, feeling breath once again flow in and out of her lungs.

"Jotou!?" Hotaru and Fumeko yelled, being swarmed by ghouls and ghosts. Asobi being constantly healed as marks of lacerations were stained on her clothes, yet the light in the room glimmered no less bright.

"YOU!" Jotou's eyes glared daggers to the figure who put his hand down, taking one step back… He was completely on his guard.

Jotou stood up straight, fighting something else in her body; two souls in one form, trying to fight for control. The sparks sizzled across her hair and hands.

Her face feral, fist gripping onto the pan handle. A silvery gust seemed to escape her breath every exhale she made, "WHO, ARE YOU!?" Jotou dashed forward.

The figure leapt back, dagger spinning but, "Hya!" with heft the pan swung, impacting onto his side with sparks flying off. A wincing grunt came from the masked figure.

Both his sides now looked unstable; how many bones were broken? She did not stop, rotating the pan in her grasp to swing it around and bending her knees. "CRACK!" Why not a few bones more?

The pan slammed into his left knee, breaking it by the joint as he slumped with a heavier grunt. In a daze, he looked to Jotou behind- "crrRRACK!" The goggles that now cracked at the sides…

"Zap!" Jotou exclaimed as she impacted again to the side of his head. His entire body spasmed and shook as a gust of silver escaped out her breath, once and for all.

Sure to have a concussion by the metal hitting his skull and blood seeping through several pieces of fabric, he twitched. The electricity impacted right through his veins.

Yellow fragments shattered into the mask, his goggles burst from the spell—two eyes gazed now, through a waterfall of crimson, to a blonde standing over him.

Breaths frantic, trying to whimper, only to realize he could not speak as his tongue spasmed alongside his form which knelt. "P, Pl.. PLls sssss PPPFFF," he tried to speak something, anything, stuttering each time and drooling against the mask.

One last spin he saw of her, as the frying pan, sparking in electricity, went to his neck while on its side… "SHlick!" And just like that, the body fell, backwards onto the wall.

"You come into my house, threaten, scare and hurt my friends and try to control my body with a ghost!?" Jotou recovered from the spin, holding the frying pan behind her.

She stared at the slumped figure, the blood, not even liquid. Dry blood, stuck to the edge of the frying pan that swiped across.

"You better give me a good reason!" Jotou yelled at him… Her gaze continued… Brows were knitted, but her anger was twisting into confusion…

"Jotou?" Fumeko blinked beside her; Hotaru tended to Asobi's wounds. The ghosts were all gone, leaving a light in the house from a spell. Fumeko then looked at the figure.

No part of the body moved. The eyes, one swollen and one… One was not even there; merely a socket with what could be assumed to be fluids of the eye previously there along with a fountain of blood that was freshly being poured…

Jotou panted out her breath… Her eyes slowly widened in realization of what she had done. She was trying to threaten a corpse.