NOTE: I have finished the anime series and have decided to incorporate this story towards the middle-end of it, following there after. So I'll just post this once, in addition to in the story's summary: Spoilers ahead.
Moth
to the Flame
First
Installment
Sharp eyes watched ahead in lethargic disinterest, unyielding and aloof as the deflected sunrays from the fluttering leaves outside flickered in his usual, lifeless gaze. Benawi's face rarely gave way to emotions, mere crunching of the brow and tightening of thin lips all he'd seemingly ceded to, as if emotions were to weaken him. Occasionally one could see a mere curve of a smile, but it was never in his presence. Hot-headed and short-tempered, Oboro looked beyond any rationale, which caused an exchange of harsh words between Benawi and himself on every occasion granted.
"How many people have to die until you realize waiting won't help anymore!?" Oboro growled over his spilt cup of tea, it's contents splashed out when he'd slammed it against the ground seconds prior. He clenched his teeth to mask the burn he felt, the liquid's temperature turning all but his knuckles red.
"Storming in when we are at a disadvantage will only cause more deaths, and then there'll be no one left to fight" Benawi replied calmly, eyes slit as he kept his cold gaze on the youth.
"Sire, understand that the soldiers are weak, some were facing death and are still recovering, we need time," the silver head continued in his calm, deep voice, eyes now settled on the man with the mask: Hakuoro, the Emperor, who was sitting amongst them quietly.
"It's better to die fighting for a cause, than let them kill us!" Oboro shouted, shocked gasps from his two faithful followers, Dori and Gura, echoing behind him. His hazel eyes narrowed as Benawi acknowledged him with his aloof stare, obviously unimpressed with the verbal outburst. The brisk youth in contrast was predictable, which earned him that odious stare he loathed. It was much like a vicious circle, his senseless words ensuing in detached remarks, strengthening Benawi's will to remain composed, an impersonal attitude which made Oboro's blood boil.
"Our cause is to protect the people," Benawi replied sharply, eyes lowered as he paused for effect, lifting his cup to his lips for a silent sip.
"If you are willing to send everyone to their deaths so selfishly," he continued, setting the cup down, the room in silence. Slate grey eyes glanced up, brow furrowed in annoyance at the youth's insolence. The words that would follow would take out yet another part of the youth's pride: "then go get yourself killed. There's no place for audacious punks in this army..."
Not even the wind dared to tousle the leaves outside, the tension near snapping, all eyes moving from one man to another. Oboro took a deep, nasal breath, knuckles white as he fisted them in repressed anger. He could have struck that flawless face, but chances were Benawi would have dodged, further ridiculing the young Lord. Instead, as always when tension was near breaking point, Oboro retrieved in silence, but this time pulled himself to his feet and made his way to the door without a word.
Dori and Gura followed, catching up with their young master, who calmly asked for some time alone. They knew better than to insist, the soft-tone of his request telltale to the soon-to-come fuse he'd blow in private. Once outside, he gripped the hilt of both swords at his waist and made his way towards a sideways entrance to the royal court. It took a few minutes for him to stop running, chest heaving as he glanced back at the layers and layers of trunks and leaves. Only then did he draw the deadly blades with a sounding swish of metal to wooden scabbard, lashing out at everything around him with mastered dexterity.
This is particularly short, don't get used to it.
: ) Please review. Suggestions are welcome.