It was so cold that the air actually hurt his chest every time he breathed. It would soon snow, but not that day, he knew. He was also clearly aware that he wasn’t really there, he reminded himself standing up, shivering and rubbing his small arms. But, even though he knew all that, he was still cold, he was still hungry, he still felt alone and afraid.
“Hey! Look there! Isn’t that the retarded brat that lives under the bridge?”
Even though he had been expecting it, the sound of that voice still startled him. Soon, he would be in a lot of pain as well, he told himself, stepping away from them, wondering if, now that he knew what would come next, he’d be able to escape them and simply run away. Silly him! Of course he wouldn’t be able to run away. This was all in his past, and the past could not be changed.
“That’s right! He’s probably begging for scraps again!” another boy added with despise and Snow did his best not to pay attention to them. He had to find out why he was being shown that specific memory, how what happened back then had somehow led to the appearance of that daitai1Literally dai (light) + tai (mark), or Holy Markings, considered Heavenly Blessings. They’re the source of power. on his back.
“You filthy beggar! How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t want to see your dirty face roaming the streets? You never learn!”
As if he’d wanted to see their faces!, he thought. Back then, if offered the choice, he would have rather never have to look at anyone’s faces but Sand’s! Nothing good ever came from looking at other people. If they didn’t plainly ignored him, they always scorned him, giving him disgusted, hateful glares, like the four kids standing right in front of him.
“I think he needs another lesson!”
The first punch hit him straight in the head, leaving him dizzy. The second hit his stomach, forcing him to bend forward, his small legs giving in, making him fall on the cold ground. From then on all he could do was pull his knees to his chest and use his arms to protect his face, as they kicked him and stomped him viciously, until he couldn’t move anymore.
“You filthy son of a whore! Can’t even beg for his own life!” a voice scorned and someone spat on him.
Those words left his heart beating faster, warmth flooding his body as anger roiled in his chest. They could do whatever they wanted to him! Say whatever they wanted about him! But they could not talk like that about Sand!
Another kick hit him straight in his ribs, forcing him to expel all the air he had stored in his lungs. Snow gagged and threw-up, even though his stomach had been more than empty to begin with.
“Still want to glare at me? You useless piece of shit!” the kid that had kicked him demanded, his dark eyes staring threateningly at him. “Learn your place! You’re nothing but dirt beneath my feet! There to be stepped on whenever I please!” he declared and stepped on his head, pressing his face against the harsh, wooden floor of the bridge. “And you! You can just crawl like the insignificant vermin you are! Try looking at my face again and I’ll pull your eyes out!”
Snow clenched his teeth and closed his eyes, feeling as small and powerless as he’d been told he was.
The kids all laughed, and he was finally released. Their scorning laughter followed them as they happily walked away, still talking about him, still mocking him, still calling him names.
There was nothing he could do. He was just too small, just too weak. Even if he allowed himself to get angry, even if he allowed himself to feel frustrated, what good would any of that do? Better not feel anything at all, he decided, as his own spilled blood froze over his skin. Numbness took over his body, the cold seeping in through his clothes, through his skin, expelling the angry heat that, just an instant ago, had run wild through his veins.
“Enough! Can’t you hear me? Open your eyes!”
The sudden voice that thundered inside his head gave him such a startle that Snow instantly obeyed, taking a deep breath that immediately made him wince.
It was still cold, and he was still shivering, but a pair of hands was holding his, rubbing them furiously, trying to chase the cold away.
Looking around, Snow immediately realized he had failed again. Everything was frozen, even the smallest sprouts of grass, even his own clothes, even ZaiWin2Literally zai (blade) + win (chaos).'s black hair, he realized, noticing how small speckles of ice covered his head, as if he’d been standing outside for hours in the highest peak of winter.
Lowering his gaze, he quickly pulled his hands away from his. ZaiWin was shivering as much as him, and his elegant hands had turned red from the extreme cold, his fingertips purple.
A warm, heavy cloak was placed over his naked shoulders and ZaiWin rubbed his arms, which only made him wince some more. Everything hurt again, and tears he didn’t want to cry escaped his eyes, immediately freezing over his skin.
“Stop touching me …” he whispered, feeling too weak to simply push him away, but if ZaiWin heard him he chose to pretend he hadn’t. Taking a ragged breath, Snow tried to speak a bit louder. “Stop touch …”
“Be quiet! If you have the strength to speak, do something about this damn cold!”
Snow lowered his gaze. He was right. First things first. Calm down. Erase those images from his mind. Turn his thoughts to more pleasant, warmer things. Like how great it was that MenTar3Literally men (lake) + tar (wind) had agreed to teach him archery. As he filled his mind with such thoughts, slowly, the temperature started rising again.
“I think … I understand,” he declared when he was finally able to stop shivering.
The hands still rubbing his arms and back halted for a moment.
“You understand?”
Snow nodded and raised his head to look at him, at the bright-blue eyes watching him apprehensively.
“The reason. Why it showed me that memory.”
Finally releasing him, ZaiWin sat back, and Snow couldn’t help wincing at the sudden loss of his support, lightly pressing his own ribs where they hurt most.
“I think I can do it now.”
ZaiWin sighed.
“Tomorrow.”
Snow quickly reached out, grabbing his hand, fearing he might just get up and leave. Even though his hands were normally pleasantly warm, right now he couldn’t feel any difference between their hands’ temperature. His blue eyes, however, looked positively shocked, almost as if he had punched him in the face instead of merely holding his hand.
“I can do this,” he insisted, and ZaiWin studied him for a moment, the way he kept pressing his chest with his other hand, his body slightly bent forward, his breathing shallow and fast.
“What if you can’t? What if you get stuck in your memory again? What if you get beaten up again? We’ll be lucky if you’re able to stand! We can try again tomorrow. There’s no point in rushing these things.”
“I can do this!” Snow insisted once more, urgently squeezing his hand, and ZaiWin lowered his gaze to look at the much smaller fingers tightly wrapped around his. “If I don’t try it now I’m afraid that tomorrow I may have … forgotten this … feeling,” he tried to explain, searching for the right words, and ZaiWin released a deep sigh.
“Fine. But if I see that you’re being dragged back into your memories, I will stop it immediately! And you better hear me and obey me!”
Snow nodded urgently and he sighed again, standing up to crouch behind him.
His skin was already turning purple, ZaiWin noticed as new bruises slowly formed over the recent ones.
Focusing, he pressed two fingers against the small marking on his back, and Snow’s entire body jerked forward as if he’d used his full force to push him instead. Cursing under his breath, he quickly wrapped his arms around him, pulling him back, and Snow simply fell listless against his chest, his head lolling to one side as if he’d simply fainted.
He knew he shouldn’t have listened to him!, ZaiWin told himself, holding him as best as he could so he wouldn’t simply fall on the ice-covered ground. The brat was obviously too weak, too spent, his body too hurt. He needed rest!, he grunted, placing a hand on his forehead to hold his head straight against his chest. It was as if he was hugging a freaking block of ice, he thought with a shiver. And the worst thing was that, if the damn brat failed to control it again, he’d be the first one to freeze to death!
Maybe he should just pull him out of it!, he considered, peering at his face. His lips were still bluish, his pale eyelashes glistening from all the small ice-crystals that had formed over them. His breathing was still shallow and fast, but it didn’t look as if he were in pain, at least no more than he’d been a while ago. He’d wait a bit more, ZaiWin decided, shivering uncontrollably. He had never wished he were able to use one or two fire daitai more than did now. That would have allowed him to easily controlled his body temperature. As things stood, he had no way to fight back that growing cold.
Two small tears escaped the brat’s closed eyes but, unlike the others from before, these ones didn’t immediately freeze. And then the gentle sound of ice thwarting reached his ears, the air around him slowly warming up, returning to its normal temperature.
ZaiWin could hardly believe his own eyes, as the frozen sprouts of grass around them returned to life, small droplets of water forming over the green leaves. He’d done it, he realized, looking at that young face again.
Soon enough they too, were both wet, the ice that had formed over their clothes and hair melting away, the brat’s silver hair sticking to his head.
Taking a deep breath and wincing halfway through it, Snow finally opened his eyes. He looked to be in a daze, for a moment, simply staring at the dark dome above their heads. Then he blinked and tried to sit up but, even though ZaiWin immediately released him, his body still refused to obey, his expression twisting into one of pure pain.
“Well, I guess you really did it,” ZaiWin admitted, wrapping his arms around him again, since he had started to fall like a limp doll to one side. Snow immediately tensed up but, even so, refrained from trying to move again.
“I wonder … if they’re all going to be like this …” he whispered and ZaiWin took a deep breath.
“Hopefully you won’t have to take a beating every single time.”
“That’s not … what I meant. My heart … just got a bit colder. If they’re all going to be like this, by the time I’m finished …” his voice broke off, and it had sounded so incredibly frail that ZaiWin couldn’t help holding him a bit closer.
“You’re wrong about that. It’s not that your heart has suddenly become a bit colder. It has been cold for a long time now. The same way it has been warm and giving. The same way it has been destructive and deadly. You just couldn’t see it. You simply got used to the way it is and stopped paying attention. The same way you don’t pay attention to each and every one of your fingers. They’re simply there, and you use them when needed, but you don’t take the time to really look at them, to see how they differ from one another, to pay attention to how they move, to remember what you did with each one of them. All you’re doing right now is taking the time to take a real good look at your heart, nothing else.”
“What if … I don’t like what I see?”
ZaiWin couldn’t help laugh at the irony of that question.
“No matter the reason behind the markings on your back, no matter which events led them to be there, they are all in your past. The markings themselves are mere tools, they may have an origin but they have no feelings, no mind of their own. You’re free not to like the reason why they’re there, but that cannot be changed. Since that’s so, instead of filling your head with such things, make sure you use them in a way that will make you feel good about them. That should balance things out a bit, don’t you think? Or you can always kill yourself and be done with it,” he added with sarcasm but ended up taking a deep breath. “The past is worth for what is worth. It may even determine your origin, but it will only determine your future if you allow it to. And besides, you’re a freaking Celestial! What’s there not to like in a holy, blessed existence like yours?”
Snow took a deep, ragged breath and allowed his eyes to close, feeling too tired to keep them open. Even though both their clothes were completely wet and cold, somehow he felt strangely comfortable leaning against his chest.
“I don’t feel … nor have I ever felt, holy or blessed like you keep saying …”
ZaiWin snorted, trying to reach his crystal pouch without releasing him.
“I bet you don’t,” he agreed, fishing out a green crystal and pressing it against the his chest. Snow immediately winced, taking a sharp breath, biting down his lower lip so he wouldn’t scream in pain.
“If this goes on I’ll be out of green crystals in no time at all,” he complained in a mutter and took a deep breath, feeling the cold body he held against his twitch and cringe, knowing all too well the pain he must be in. And yet, Snow didn’t utter a single complain nor shed a single tear, bearing it all in silence, keeping as still as possible, until the green glow of the crystal was completely gone.
