~ Episode Thirteen ~

Shinji’s Affliction:

A Family of Three, Painted in Oils

“Psst, Evan!”

Evan looked up from his Game Boy, nearly on the verge of catching Mewtwo with only Ultra Balls. He noticed Shinji staring at him past a group of soccer-playing sixth graders from behind a chain-link fence that separated the schoolyard from an undeveloped field, soon to be a residential block.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, meeting Shinji at the fence. “I thought you were sick.”

“I can’t stay long.” Shinji glanced in both directions. “I need you to pass on a message: we’re meeting at The Dreaming Tree tomorrow at lunch. I can’t stop thinking about those four Monsters that hit us. Four in two days. Things are happening faster than we thought, Evan. We need to get our act together.”

“Yeah, I hear you, man,” he agreed. “It’s on my mind, too. Last night—last night was crazy. What are we gonna do about … you-know-who?”

Shinji chewed his tongue, considering his friend’s concern. “There’s still a lot we don’t know about her.”

“What does that mean?” Evan asked. “Didn’t you guys used to be like total besties? How do you not know—”

Shinji cut him off. “For now, it might be better this way—let her think she’s one of us.”

“…One of us…” The words hung on the air like a sour skittle on the tongue. Evan frowned and scratched an itch caused by the scar across his cheek. “Think so? You talk about doing the right thing. But I’unno, man. Is what we’re doing here really the right thing?”

Shinji didn’t reply, distracted by Evan’s fingertips at work against the scar.

Evan continued, “I mean—I get that you wanna protect her, keep her safe, and all that. I get it. But last night with Cloria and Zorfus? Shin, that was too much. Too close—”

“I told you, Cloria was protecting her—”

“I hear you, but I—I still—I can’t get the thought outta my head, man. That, and like, you letting her fight Kyupo alone. Shinji, that was—was that really a good idea?”

“My nose was broken.”

“It’s still broken.”

“And Seruma’s still here.”

Evan sighed. “How did you even know she could use the Fire Hammer? You’re such a—a hypocrite, you know that?”

Shinji grunted, taken aback by this. “Do you even know what that word means? I should go. Before someone spots me.” He pushed away from the fence and started across the field towards a small row of houses in the distance.

Evan called out to him. “Yo, Shin!”

Shinji stopped and turned at the hip. “What? You’re going to get me caught.”

“Come on, brother. Don’t be like this.”

“What do you want me to say, Evan? I’m doing my best.”

“I know. I know you are. But you’re not alone in this though. You don’t—you don’t have to make all the decisions, on your own, all the time.”

“This, from the guy who waited around for me and Seruma to show up before making a plan against Cloria?” Shinji grunted again, started to walk away. “Whatever. Hypocrite.”

“Hey, wait!” Evan called out to him again.

“What?”

“We got a new girl in class today.”

“…New girl?” Shinji raised an eyebrow. He considered this and returned to the fence. “What new girl?”

“A real lone wolf type, I think. Moved here from Vancouver—can you believe it? She’s sorta cute, y’know, in a heavy metal kinda way? But man, Shinji, I’m telling you she’s got a real mean look to—”

“What color are her eyes?”

“Huh?”

“Her eyes,” Shinji said again. “Did you see what color they are?”

“N-no? Why?”

Shinji stared at his best friend for an eternal moment. A warm breeze gusted through the long chocolate bangs that seeped over his emerald irises. Then without another word, he turned away and trekked back across the undeveloped field. “See you tomorrow.”

“S-see you…” Evan said, surprised by the abrupt departure. He watched until Shinji was but a speck that wavered on the pre-suburban horizon. The bell rang in his ears, ending recess.

On his trek back across the schoolyard, Evan merged with packs of kids heading up past the circular bus lane in front of the main doors. Around back, he spotted Mackenzie and Eri within parallel lines of students being herded inside by yard monitors.

Evan pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and started after them, ready to pass along Shinji’s message. Hopefully they’d be in attendance this time—for Eri’s sake.

He noticed the new girl, Isabella, leaning against the pole of a basketball net nearby. She was intently listening to a Walkman folded within crossed arms, a wary gaze upon the cacophony of students she was not a part of.

Evan couldn’t get over just how tall Isa was for a girl their age. Could probably play a mean game of basketball, herself. Until now, Evan had been the tallest kid in their class at five-foot-six, and he almost wanted to challenge her to a one-on-one match, just for fun.

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It was then that the new girl noticed him staring at her.

Evan beamed and gave her an animated wave.

Isa frowned and replied by flipping him off.

~

Shinji stood within the portal between the living room and kitchen later that night, phone receiver nestled against his jaw. His shadow was a seamless silhouette of darkness cut across the outpour of kitchen light.

“Yes,” he murmured into the phone. “I accept the charges.”

A click sounded in his ear. Then a ragged breath, an old man’s voice:

“Shinji.”

No hello. No how are you. Just a gravelly German accent, broken up by bad reception. Just a single purpose for the long-distance call.

Shinji cut to the chase: “Four Kenah’dai arrived in the last couple days. We’ve secured the Child of Destiny, but—”

“Is Terra aware of who she is?”

“Well—no. Not yet, but—”

“And why not? Shinji, I don’t believe you comprehend just how grave this situation is.”

“No, I understand.” Shinji peered out the bay window across the living room. Libra Road was a lifeless stretch tonight amidst the glow of streetlamps. “Things are getting worse. Monsters are coming after her at a greater frequency for some reason. I think Sufocus is starting to make his move.”

“So why are you stalling? Tell Terra she is the Child of Destiny so she can prepare.”

“I—she’s—it’s not—it’s more complicated than that. We have prepared her. Are preparing her.”

“All I hear are excuses.” His grandfather’s words boomed through a flicker of shoddy reception. “You forget I am the reincarnation of Jarem Sufocus, as well as a descendant of Earth. I don’t care about your petty teenage anxieties. This is my sister we’re talking about.”

Shinji flinched. “I … I understand.”

“I don’t think you do. Common sense has always been a difficult thing for you to grasp.” A sigh like a cement mixer crackled in his ear. “What of Spade? Ghetta?”

“…Nothing. There’s been no activity.”

“Are you sure about that?”

Shinji folded an arm against the door frame and rubbed his forehead against the crook of his elbow. “No, I’m not…”

“Hmph. Does Terra know yet about her … powers?”

“Her—? Oh. I don’t think so.” Shinji considered the question and shook his head no. “She would have mentioned, if so. She’s been pretty exhausted recently, however. Fainting a lot the last couple days. From migraines, mostly. They’re consistent. She mentioned bad dreams and abdominal pains—”

“Then that can mean only one thing,” said his Opa. “Her connection to the Kenah’dai is starting to blossom. It will only grow stronger from here on out. So too will her powers when they reveal themselves. Be mindful of this.”

“Okay. Evan and I will pay closer attention. We’re holding a meeting tomorrow. She’ll be there, too. I’ll update you then.”

“I look forward to it. It is very late here, so let me end our conversation with this, to the point: Terra’s fate rides on your shoulders. As does the world. Shinji—Don’t screw this up. Prepare. Make a clear, well-organized, plan. You’re a descendant of Arissa Lockhart, a once decisive leader for a whole country. Act like it.”

A click sounded in his ear. Then, dead tone.

Shinji exhaled the tension that lived in his back muscles. He hung the phone back on the wall-mounted cradle and reclined his head against the fridge.

Preparation. A clear, well-organized plan.

These were things already important to Shinji. Facets of stability, instilled in him as a child. It was how his parents tackled life.

He glanced over at the stack of homework Evan dropped off earlier that afternoon, neglected on the kitchen table. The sight of schoolwork made him queasy. Recreational reading wouldn’t cut it, either.

Protecting Lady Terra is the only reason Shiara exists.

It is the only reason you exist.

Grabbing a can of Coke from the fridge, Shinji wandered into the middle of the living room. The glow of the waning moon peeked through the bay window curtains behind the leather sectional.

He cracked open the drink, took a long swig.

An eerie stillness carried through the rest of the darkened farmhouse, now renovated and surrounded by the affliction of modern suburbia. Coldness lingered on the wood panel walls. The floorboards were quiet with spite. Homes were filled with warmth and comfort. Where Shinji lived was but a house. A hollow and loveless shell. Empty. No longer a home.

The bristly energy off of the Earth Pendant scratched against his throat. Shinji stood with the feeling for a time, set the drink on the coffee table with a sigh, and unclasped the necklace.

“Element Earth—R E L E A S E ! !”

A gust of air formed around him as the Earth Pendant glowed to life. The Earth Sword took shape in an instant.

Shinji held out the weapon vertically, examining his broken-nosed reflection in its gleaming edge.

“This is who I am, now.”

He sucked in a deep inhale, nodded at the fact. He wielded the Earth Sword in both hands and fell into a prepared stance in the middle of the darkened living room. He exhaled and let the flow of all his exhaustion, all his frustration, all his guilt and sorrow to drain from his muscles.

He began his devoted practice, a nightly ritual—Kunst des Fechtens. The art of German long sword fighting.

Shinji lunged forward. His arms came down in a graceful arc, pretending to catch an invisible enemy’s weapon by the edge of his Sword—Zwerchhau. He spun at the heel, then lunged again at another invisible enemy to deliver an up-thrust, striking them by the ear.

He followed up with absetzen, a form of downward parrying from thrusting attacks, and finally nachreissen, a deflective maneuver that opened enemies for a direct overhead strike.

These were the basic techniques of any medieval sword fight. Shinji had mastered them all. Unnecessary, really—as all Star Warriors were born attuned with their ancestors’ assigned elemental weapon. Shinji trained only because he had been instructed to. Because the fate of Terra Leigh Sufocus was his responsibility first and foremost.

For her sake, he needed to be the best guardsman possible. A better warrior than prescribed by the DNA that flowed through him.

Or else.

After a time, Shinji took a break from practice to grab for the can of Coke off the coffee table. He wiped his brow of sweat and turned a gaze to a large portrait over the fireplace. There, the moonlight shone against the only dreg of belonging he understood anymore:

A family of three, painted in oils.

The father, of Japanese heritage, wore a brown suit jacket and trousers. The mother, German with radiant blonde curls, wore a striking red dress that would have sparkled in reality. Between them both, with a parental hand on each shoulder, stood an eight-year-old boy. A mix between the two cultures, wearing a toothy smile Shinji barely recognized anymore.

He shot back another gulp of cola.

The portrait cringed so much of 1994. The original eight-by-twelve from Sears was lost away in a box somewhere in the basement—probably a victim of humidity and mouse scat by now.

Not that it mattered. Not anymore. There were bigger things to worry about.

Things like preparation, a clear and well-organized plan.

Things Shinji felt at a complete loss over.