Super random. I thought of this early this morning, which was noon for me. I wrote a bit, did my homework, and came back to it.
And all of a sudden this random drabble wants me to make it into a frickin' epic. I haven't finished any of my other Kuri fics, dammit!
Well, we'll see. (btw, my particle knowledge sucks, so please don't mind the title. i know it has issues.)
*********
He was surrounded by fire. He didn't know if the white flames would harm him, but he wasn't willing to chance it, not after seeing what they'd done to the earth. Everything was burned to ash or melted into smooth obsidian from the heat.
It was his fault. He had turned the dragon loose in his search for power. The dragon only wanted to go home, but 'home' was turned against him for his long-ago crimes. And then chaos came.
When attacked, a warrior retaliates. The dragon was foremost a warrior. He forged bright blades, fought with blades or claws and his white, white breath. His defense was his own skill, and it had only been breached once in his long life- breached by one he once called 'friend'. It left him with only one eye and a long scar, a constant reminder of his betrayal of their comradery.
He wanted to blame Konton, Souryu, Kurikara himself, but really, Hisoka knew it was all his own fault. For being weak, for seeking power. He had let the Dragon King loose, and Chaos had merely followed him.
Souryu had been right when he named him a catastrophe for the Gensoukai. But the winds following Hisoka no longer bore scattered petals. They bore sparks. The world was on fire around him, burned by the breath of the Dragon King he had sought to command.
"I think," he whispered to his companion, "I'm starting to understand how you felt in Kyoto." He could feel Tsuzuki tense beside him, and knew his words had frightened him. He didn't turn to comfort him. There was too much to do.
The world was turning to ash, and he had to stop it. |