He didn't want to fight a war; he didn't want to climb any towers. He didn't care for parts, he just wanted his hours to melt into the sky, to float along the clouds. He never wanted any of this.

But life was like the wind; sometimes, it took you to places you didn't want to go.

His eyes closed as he felt the breeze giggle about his body, caressing him as it made its way through town. He gave it a happy wave, in spite of his inner turmoil.

The sound of wheels rang through the air and stopped by his head. A foot nudged him. "Oi, you lazy crow, let's go."

"Agito."

"Hm?"

"I get it now, what Akito told me. He never really wanted to become a King, either. He just wanted to run. Somewhere along the way, he saw all the blood."

The Crocodile's child was quiet for a moment. "I never asked to be born, but when I woke up, the world was in my hands. All I had left were my fangs. So I bore them. Even if I look back, there is nothing for me there; and when I look forward, there is only the blackness of the future, a blur. So for now, I'll look up instead and gaze at the sky I so wanted to touch."

Itsuki stood up, a hand reaching out and one eye squinting. "Some days, I feel like I can pinch the moon."

He didn't understand why parts were so important, or why people cared about the gems glistening in the sand. It frustrated him. Couldn't they see it? Why didn't they understand; it wasn't hard to stop looking between the dirt or to take a break from all the scavenging. No matter how high the garbage piled, the tower of trash was part of Earth. And all he saw were the lights of Father Sky.

A sigh broke from his lips. Oh well. He had more to his life than the thoughts of the lesser things. His legs carried him through the sky as he danced with his friends. "Oi, Ringo! How're you feeling tonight? Up for some trouble?"

She laughed, melodic as the rhythm of her her kicks. "Always, Ikki."

His face morphed, eyes full of lead, and a soul full of stone. "Game on. Our target is the top of the schooltower; the second point," he paused, his eyes squinting into the distance, "that bridge over there. We cross it, and we're good."

"Neither of us need to hold back then, you know?" She clicked the lock off her second gear. "This doesn't need to be a Parts War, but it'll be a war for the pride you demolished back then."

He met her gaze. "...Yeah."

He loved Kururu in a way that couldn't be understood; it was a conflict of respect and admiration. The idea of constant improvements and upgrades in parts made sense to him; the future was yesterday, and making motions were all you could do for yourself. But her field made his heart clench, an uncomfortable cloud settling into his spirits.

Please, let me add this; please, let me change that. Can we fix this - It's a screw too loose. How are you feeling today? Is your body feeling optimized?

It was too much. He had to get away, to a place no soul would follow. The shouts following him were ignored, and he shut down any semblance of tears.

He didn't stop until the blackness of the night sky vanished and the coolness of dank, murky, disgusting air tickled his nose. Sadly, this place was slowly becoming more and more a haven than the schooltower ever was.

The roughed up patches of stickers and emblems that lay in the filthy water and scratched walls never seemed more homely, ironically. That the Forgotten Pit, old home of Behemoth, monster and gatekeeper of Trophaeum, the place he loathed most, was his comfort seemed to coat him in a greater sadness.

He idly wondered if this was why Udou Akira broke upon seeing the sky.

The chill suited his shivers, and the sewage that seemed to accumulate in the absence of the tunnels' maintenance did not bother him as much as he imagined. He walked slowly, or at least as slowly as the skates permitted.

He wondered what it meant to Udou, for him to walk the ground with such hesitation that he couldn't even bear to look at the sky. Agito spoke to him of Udou's torment; how he wore fake fangs. The beast that he was was so confused, dazzled by the paths into the forest known as Trophaeum. He couldn't understand it, and it drove him insane.

Itsuki thought he felt very much the same.

"Itsuki-sama."

"Aeon."

"What brings you here?"

"I could ask the same of you."

He could almost hear the older rider smile. "I could play this game with you for as long as you want, my King." Itsuki's fist clenched.

"Stop calling me that, Aeon. I'm not anyone's king; and I'm not king of anything but me. Myself. I. That's it. All of you guys can fight over that crap, but leave me out of it."

He turned and rode down the tunnels, his mind ablaze. He wasn't, he repeated. He wasn't anyone. He was just Minami Itsuki. Who made him king of anything? The sound of Aeon's wheels behind him hurt. They were clear as day, even though he kept his distance from Itsuki.

"Please, Aeon." His voice echoed backwards, cracking with each stride. "Please."

The sound stopped, and Itsuki rode on. His eyes closed, but the way was still clear. He had been down here far too many times by this point.

Why couldn't they just leave him alone? Why didn't they understand? Everyone kept going on and on about the responsibilities they had; they kept talking about duty, and how cool it was and great it was to keep going on and gathering parts and making themselves better. People talked about roads and kings.

But no one wanted to talk about the gift of Icarus. No one seemed to notice their wings. It hurt. His heart couldn't help it. Why didn't they just want to ride?

Wasn't the sky enough for them?

Drip. Drop. The twin tears dropped into the water as he clutched his knees, panting. He skated toward a dry platform and lay there silently. He wondered how Rika felt. He thought about Sora, too.

Spitfire's voice rang through his head as his eyes fell to blackness.

The next time he saw Spitfire, his heart broke.

He was on a screen, waving to everyone; his eyes dead, his smile empty, and he himself actually dead. Itsuki kneeled as his mind took him back to what led to this point.

It was hard to imagine that Ringo and so many other people didn't understand the sky because they were born to understand it; that they were made to be treasure hunters rather than gatherers of their own gems. Their lives, he thought, were pitiable.

But most of all, he felt betrayal. How could Sora do this to him? What made the sky something that couldn't be shared; what made the world something his for the taking?

The prone form of a bleeding Udou burned itself into Itsuki's mind and stoked his rage, forged its temper, even as Sora ignored him and talked to Kilik. Itsuki respected the solemn Gravity Child; as deluded as he was, he kept his eyes cool and his heart colder. He supposed that the older man had many more years to reflect over his best friend's cruelty.

Itsuki blinked, and he saw Spitfire's image still smiling. And then he heard the words that made his heart thump with joy and weep the most bitter mourning as the night passed.

So he promised to Spitfire, silent as eye of the storm, that just this once, he would ride the wind to greet someone else and tear him down from the clouds.

Everyone else murmured and voiced their opinions on the true war; most of them talked about their stances and the alliances they all shared were torn. But he ignored it all. None of it mattered to him anymore.

When the old man wanted to name him, Itsuki hissed at him and walked off. "I'm not a king," he repeated for what must have been the thousandth time. "I'm just a Storm Rider."

Meeting Sora was anticlimactic. When was he so small? He was taller than Itsuki, but his stature seemed to make him shrink. Even the context of their battle seemed dwarfed by the hurting of his soul.

"Is the sky really that meaningless to you," he asked Sora.

"...Yes." There wasn't even his usual smirk. No, it was cold. Callous. Concentrated. Every nerve on his face and under his flesh seemed focus on one thing: battle. Or was it slaughter?

"Did you ever see the wind?" Sora raised a leg and a bend of wind gushed at him; his fangs stretched and lashed out at Itsuki. Itsuki stepped aside and jumped. "Please, Sora. Just talk to me; you say this is for the ninety-nine percent? Don't give me that."

"How could you understand?" The snarl that was the elder's voice bled into his muscles as he charged at the younger. "You were born free and I a slave to the desires of science; my curiosity was mine alone, but my Fate-thread was uncut due to Kilik. I was a product of fortune and given freedom; but in the end, there was nothing left for us. I had nothing to see that I could not grasp; so, then, why not give the sky away? Its beauty never bled true for me as it does for you."

Itsuki soared to meet his enemy. "You could have done anything, you know? You've amazed me. I thought… I thought we were the same. I thought all you wanted was the freedom I had; you act like you've always had the world against you, but you've had the world in your palm all this time."

He closed his eyes. "You could always dance with the wind."