One

There was a deafening silence inside the Petrichor café, despite the steady bustle of customers and waiters maneuvering in the shop on the rainy August morning. Executives and brokers rummaged through the news stacks as they waited for their orders, keeping pace with late morning joggers who stopped for fueling snacks. Young mothers, or young nannies as is more common in the area, awkwardly maneuvered strollers in and out of the restaurant with a blend of caution and belligerence. Despite the venue being an adequate size for a café in the executive district, it seemed to be a much smaller space. Three televisions sounded the morning news throughout the venue, with one perched above the farthest corner of the room. Unseen by the patron that sat beneath to this screen, it nevertheless drew his attention from the shifting sea of people to its message.

"In a shocking upset to the Jukar Secession bill presented last year, the Minister of Energy and Natural Resources, Octavious Beltaton declared his intentions of renouncing his citizenship in his homeland… in favor of an International Citizenship with the Arcadian Alligience."

Baristas paused their work and turned to the nearest television. The pause in the air lingered only for a few seconds, but it was enough to rouse Mr. Beltaton in his seat and adjust the rim of his hat closer to his face. All patrons kept their attention to the screens nearest to the door and the line, yet had they turned even slightly they would find the red-faced man seated beneath his own portrait in a wide-brimmed hat and sooty coat. His hair had been shaven to the scalp, and a grey and black beard disguised the sunken cheeks and smile in his government photo. Nevertheless, the same broad brow, green eyes and scarlet pigment in his cheeks were undeniable under his attire.

"--while the nation remains divided. Beltaton is the first national leader of Jukar to relinquish his national citizenship for loyalties to an autonomous collective. He even goes so far as to say, quote: "The secession of Jukar from the Arcadian Alliance is simply an invitation for energy crisis and an impossible trade war… We would not survive the repercussions of our own idealized nationalization. We are not as undeveloped as Shinri, and we are not capable of such simple livelihoods as the Kodama…"

There was no retaliation to the news. No one booed at the screens, or loudly protested the announcement. It was, for many of the patrons, a passing moment in their day that was presented at an inconvenient time. The roars of the crowd would come, but not before their second cup of coffee. And although polite conversation regarding the news did occur, Octavious still focused on the silence among the crowd. There were no rushed footfalls heading his direction. There was no reassuring pattern of a security officer pacing the room. No sirens, no click of a gun in its holster bumping on the hip of an officer.

"Where is he?" Octavious whispered, shifting his eyes between the entrance, the counter, and through the windows. He scanned over as much as his sight could permit him to see underneath the sloped brim of his cap. He was sure to be seated slightly out of sight, where he could observe the room without much foot traffic.

"Sir?"

Octavious was startled, his jolt halting at the sight of a petite waitress holding an aluminum kettle. She could be no taller than most girls, yet not too short. Her hair, though black, was slightly tinted with tones of reds and browns and tied tightly with a red band. She was boyish, and could not have been older than fourteen or fifteen based on her childish appearance. Yet her smile seemed to be the very thing he needed to calm his nerves. "I have a new cup of medium-roasted beans if you would like something! You see, you've been sitting here a while with just some water, and, well…" The girl leaned to one hip, her eyes meeting Octavious'. "To tell you the truth, my boss is wondering if you're gonna buy anything. You know how it is, right?"

"He'll take a cup, and please get a second one for me." Erik loomed over the small woman for a moment before seating himself across from Octavious. He removed his scarf, placing it beside the pop-tent menu on the table, yet settled into his seat with his black raincoat still on. Octavious stared at him, mouth agape now, forgetting to hide his face to the crowd for a moment.

"Erik!" Octavious muttered as he reached out, grasping to the man's gloved hand with quivering desperation. "I-I am so happy to see you. I thought—"

"Oh no! I'm so sorry, I didn't think that you were expecting someone!" The waitress bowed, flipping a second cup from a nearby table before Erik and proceeding to pour into both mugs. "Any food for either—"

"No Miss. Miss… Aki?" Erik stated, staring at her nametag while gesturing with one hand for Octavious to look down. He did so, grateful of his attentiveness even with such a minor audience as their waitress was. "What a pretty name! And so considerate of us as well. We will be taking just this while we are here, and I will leave payment on the table shortly before we leave. Thank you, but may we have privacy?"

"Oh! I-I'm so sorry! Yes, of course." Aki bowed slightly again, her cheeks flushed red. Perhaps she was truly embarrassed of the situation, or perhaps like other women she had become enamored already with Erik. She gazed into his eyes, her cheeks growing more flushed, before turning her attention back to the bar. Erik chuckled, his voice deep like the growls of a wolf would be.

"You are certainly a sight I am grateful to see Erik. But please," Octavious withdrew his grip from Erik and drew his coffee cup closer to him. "Please, avoid attention from this point on. Even from young girls like that."

"You say that as though I could help it," Erik said with a chuckle.

"You/re a contracted body guard, Erik. One of the best in the world as I understand it." Octavious retorted, lowering his voice as the café crowd thinned once more. "A relentless, unblemished reputation of completing your job without issues. And, without hesitation."

Erik gripped his coffee gently with one hand, leaning his free arm against the back of the chair beside him. His pale skin captured the iridescent lights above, brightening his platinum blonde hair and silver eyes against the grey of the outside. Erik simply named himself by his alias, yet he was also referred in the underground as the White Wolf. His birthplace, unknown, leaving his citizenship status ambiguous and unbound to the rules of any nation. Including Arcadia. And despite their meetings over the past few months, Octavious could not confirm Erik's many successful missions. The White Wolf had singlehandedly defended the emperor of Yo-Gon when his parliament declared a military coup. Months before that, he had evacuated a power facility in Argon before a major explosion, and somehow managed to survive the incident unscathed. Though discreet in his work, the White Wolf's reputation was renowned and talents seemingly unparalleled. Above all, Erik was rumored to be a Pulse user. And somewhere on his person at all times, he carried a katana embedded with pure Pulse energy so strong that it could cut through even the strongest weapons of today. Octavious studied the man as he sipped his coffee, searching for any indication of such blade hidden beneath his coat. Not one wrinkle betrayed Erik's secret blade, but perhaps that was one of the traits a Pulse user could manipulate.

"Let's not speak of reputations, and focus on the plans ahead." Erik said boldly. His tone was level and unsheltered from eavesdroppers. Octavious shivered in his seat, imagining the burning eyes of the public on his skin. Or worse, the cold grip of an assassin rumored to be following him. Erik continued, his gaze piercing into Octavious' eyes like hot iron. "So tell me, citizen of Arcadia, what is next?"

Octavious swallowed loudly. What is next? What has brought us here? His mind drew portraits of his wife and young sons in their home, living in luxury within the city that had minimal probability of a Pulse Surge. Unlike families rural and suburban areas of Jukar, his wife and sons could live without fear of sudden catastrophes and death. He could image the moment President Reza had introduced the concept of secession from International Arcadia Alliance. Reza, a man of great influence and a distinguished bloodline within Jukar, held a deep hatred for the alliance solely for its political hold of the most volatile soldiers in the world. They steal children from their homelands, give them a paper without a country or a home, they become shared property of the world. They are tools for controlling world powers, and suppressing countries from advancement. Octavious had helped pen the controversial speech announcing Jukar's national plan for independence. He had spent countless hours manipulating data to put the public at ease, that the loss of Arcadia's support would be beneficial. And yet, he could not escape the grim reality Jukar would face in its aftermath. How helpless his countrymen would be if a Surge crisis destroyed more communities.

"I-I, I… Ahem." Octavious turned his gaze behind Erik. Still, the café remained at ease and operating as usual. He frequented this shop many times before he became a government official, and now as a political exile for his radical moves he found solace in this one spot of familiarity. He inhaled deeply before continuing. "I will continue to seek support from Arcadia. And to support true international unity."

Erik remained stone faced, though the depth of his eyes seemed to vanish for a brief moment. "Arcadia has power over all Pulse users, not just soldiers. I cannot allow the President to migrate this country away from that resource, when children easily die or hurt others without the support of an Arcadian system."

"But the secession has nothing to do with children, does it?"

"It never has," Octavious' retort was quick, passionate. His gaze met with Erik's again. "It has been entirely financially based to benefit sub-contracted energy distributors. Since there were signs of Pulse vibrations found in the southeast, Reza has wanted to create an independent economy. He wants to build it from this power source and compete with Arcadia's, but it's impossible to—"

"You say it's impossible because secrets of what the Pulse even is are hidden within Arcadia."

"No, what I am saying is it's impossible because we do not have enough manpower to handle that energy independently." Octavious' palm slammed slightly into the table, though the pounding sound was unnoticed by the other customers amid the shrieking of an over-used latte frothier and the shouts of one worker to another.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk." Erik wagged his finger at each utterance. "We must still be discreet within here. You're lucky no one has noticed you yet, even with your subtle… modifications."

"That is why you were hired—"

"Doesn't mean you have to make my job more difficult." Erik's grin became less friendly with each word, his lips curling back as though he was in fact a wolf. He leaned into the table, one elbow supporting his weight. "Might I remind you of the danger your family is now in because of your inability to act earlier. To prevent this risk in the first place."

"I could not have understood the risk before—" Octavious' voice quivered with a deep fear. "I couldn't, not before I saw what it means—what it means to be so incapable of stopping a Surge."

"Based on what? Your singular observation of a Surge in Vagda?"

"Yes! Yes, of course. The footage, the testing, the studies. It is nothing less than a catastrophic. We cannot isolate ourselves to this, we—"

"You need not explain that part." Erik folded his arms together on the table. "The part you must explain is what you plan to do with your role, your international citizenship and title, and how you'll escape from here. Where is your family? Who are confidants I can help you protect?"

Octavious stared bewildered at Erik. His body guard asked a significant weight to be unburdened onto him, as though Octavious knew all the answers already. How could he though? How could he while his emotions stirred facts and reason with fear? The overwhelming pain of his decision, its impact on his family and life's work, was nearly unbearable. Yet he reflected still on the greater fear he had of the unforgiving nature of the Pulse, of when it is left uncontained and unaided by those who were naturally gifted with it. Humans without it could not venture into the wild terrains without fearing for their lives. Few explorers without the gift ever survived an expedition to new lands, most dying from natural explosions of energy found in the wild or by the few animals that received constant exposure to the power sources. Entire communities even near energy conversion plants, outside of Arcadia's headquarters, were completely wiped out in an instant Surge, and burdened with chronic diseases for generations from toxic exposure years later.

Vagda, the fourth largest city in Jukar, was still suffering the effects of a "micro-surge" that scorched much of its local agricultural lands. The trigger for the disaster remains unknown. Though, at the center of the 50,000 acres of destroyed land had been a rice field, burned to ash with no signs of life. The hospital flooded with men and women with dark bruises and violet welts on their arms and face. Pregnant women had started to miscarry, while children experienced extreme nosebleeds while playing outside, and there were even reports of citizens who had lost teeth or developed brittle bones from exposure near the outskirts of the city. Octavious had felt the effects himself while investigating the scene months before. He had visited the Surge site only for a week to secure it from the press, and to allow Arcadian specialists to collect samples. He had been avoidant of interacting with the Arcadian forces, that is until his third day of exposure brought on the bleeding. Red tears fell from his eyes in a steady stream, while the taste and smell of iron could not escape him. Jukarian doctors refused to treat him, partly because of his status as a Minister. One Arcadian doctor, a student at that, had taken the risk to treat him. Thankfully, he only retained the permanent flush in his cheeks from the incident.

"Mr. Beltaton."

"I—" Octavious snapped back from the memory, his body quaking and now rattling the table. "I, I wish to protect Jukar. I wish to protect Arcadia. M-m-my loyalty is to the Arcadian Global Alliance. You have to understand—" The words were building within Octavious. The salt shakers quaked quietly against the wood grain of the table, but he could not turn his eyes upward to meet his companion's. His words defied everything Jukarian government stood for today. Dependance on foreign powers? Surrendering opportunities for its economy? And, above all else, accepting a global citizenship? Among the general public, these sentiments were to be denied and championed for the benefit of Jukar. But the Minister's appointment, and his newfound opportunities to see Surge sites before the public alongside Arcadian relief forces, made those sentiments seem entirely selfish and poorly contrived.

"You- you have to understand," he said with a quiet, quivering voice, eyes shut. "You have to understand as a Pulse user yourself."

Erik laughed, his tone jarring. "And to think you were believed to become president in the years after Reza."

"I have no desire for that position if there is no country to serve after this administration."

"And what makes you think you can survive this sort of scandal sir?"

Octavious glanced up at Erik, seeing the continued bustle of the café patrons behind him. Their waitress rounded other tables nearby with a bright smile, while two runners settled in their seat near the entry and young children pulled at their guardian's clothes for more treats.

"It is a necessary sacrifice, Erik. It is for the sake of this world we keep now, and our future in it. It is something I thought you would better understand, and should be something you try to empathize with if—" Octavious quickly swallowed before continuing. "If you are to continue protecting me from- from my enemies."

Erik's stare became even colder, his relaxed smile now barely showed any emotion. It was not a welcoming face, certainly unusual of him from what Octavious had previously seen. He was not hiding his own disdain for Octavious' decision, but the man had been paid nevertheless. With the announcement today, Octavious now had a mere three days before his citizenship would become official. Three days before his contract with Erik would be fulfilled, and his security transferred officially to the Arcadian Allegiance, where no man would be able to touch him or his family. Yet, despite Arcadia's strict laws for acquiring all Pulse users, Erik still remained untethered to the allegiance. That was the most difficult fact of his story for Octavious to accept.

"Our contract will still stand, Mr. Belaton. Unless I fail at my mission, but I will be sure to see it through to the end." Erik pulled his scarf from the table and placed it on his right arm, allowing the dark fabric to drape over the sleeve to his raincoat. "But for now, I must continue my duties discreetly. Congratulations on your work thusfar, sir." He extended his right hand as he rose from the table, his bright grin returning once again. "Let's be in touch again soon, sir."

Octavious released a sigh, feeling the weight of his situation flow out with his breath. He smiled up at the man across from him, his hero, reaching his own hand towards him. "Yes, let's—"

Erik's eyes turned cold, while his grin grew more wicked. Octavious would never have noticed the subtle change if not for the swift flash of white passing his peripheral vision. His chair tilted back, his extended hand reaching forward towards air instead of his companion. The black sleeve was shoved towards the glass window. A bright green light flashing through the room, glass shattering and falling with the rain over tables and the concrete outside. A young woman, hair tied in a short ponytail with a red band, held onto Erik's arm for only a moment before pushing the man to the street. Pedestrians curiously looking at the scene, approaching the man in the street as the café patrons swarmed the exit on the other side of the building.

Erik quickly rose, clutching his shoulder and viciously gazing back into the café. In the instant before Octavious fell to the floor, he could see Erik's rage and the build of green static around his right arm. His head hit against a backpack, cushioning his fall. The girl moved quickly to the café bar, unfazed by the shouts of people in the streets or the sudden roar of her opponent outside. She climbed above the espresso machines, punching a loose ceiling tile before withdrawing a sword from above. A bright green light flashed again through the café towards her. The girl dodged the Pulse blast with a single flip, taking cover behind the bar once more. A second blast shot through, and in the seconds before another was shot, she hopped over the counter to the other side, squatted with her sword unsheathed mere feet away from Octavious. He screamed in fear, now pressed desperately against the wall.

I am going to die. This thought raced through his mind, capturing scenes of the young girl in a white polyester café uniform standing at the end of her blade above him. He felt the cuts along his neck, through his torso, his arm, his legs, between his brows.

"God! God no, please! I—"

"Come out you bitch!" Erik's voice drew closer.

The girl smirked, raising her gaze till she met Octavious'. He flinched, though her amber eyes showed no malice. Instead he saw the soft, friendly face of the waitress, her smirk playful despite the chaos around her. She raised her free land and placed a finger against her smile, winking at Octavious. Be still, and wait for my signal. He heard it so clearly in his mind, the soft voice of a young girl in the silence. The noise of the world slowly began to rebuild around him, as the girl jumped up and over the tables. A flash of green light struck against the blade, now glowing a blazing white with pulses of red light. The girl, shrouded in the same light, showed a wild grin as the blade reverted the blast to the side with ease.

Octavious could see the conflicted lights reflected against the coffee machines, hearing the roar of Pulse energies colliding in the fight. He dared not to move, except to reach for his fallen hat behind him. He counted each pounding sound he heard from outside. One… Seven… Twelve… Eighteen, nineteen, twenty.

"No!" cried a woman as another blast was emitted. There was another familiar collide between Pulses, followed by the young girl shouting for bystanders to flee. Octavious instinctively rose, leaning against the windowsill at the scene. He found himself with a view of mangled concrete and blacktop surfaces, the streets filled with a stampede of civilians running in every possible direction to evade the scene. Some fled more slowly, or even took cover behind vehicles with their phones recording. The girl stood as a shield before a mother and her young daughter, both crying and clumsily fleeing away as well. Erik's right sleeve now emitted the same green light as the earlier blasts.

"So you'll defend just about anyone then? How weak! And in a city like this?" Erik raised his arm above his head. "If I had known this earlier, I would have used it before! My opponent is just a weak little girl with an artificial Pulse, crying over casualties!" He turned to the crowd directly behind him, aiming the green Pulse towards fleeing bystanders. Octavious found himself leaping to his feet, his stomach falling as he himself shouted for the people to run.

"I'll end this now!" Erik shouted, his right arm humming as the emerald static surrounded him. "I'll end this with—" Before he could finish, there was a swift, singular chime. The static surrounding Erik's body now dissipated, as the black sleeved arm fell onto the wet concrete with a metal clamor. Red light overpowered the green until both completely disappeared, fading back to the grey scene of a typical rainy day.

"Don't turn your back to an opponent." The girl's voice was level, serene as sound of the rainfall. She twisted her wrist, showing the blood soaked blade.

Erik writhed on to his knees on the blacktop, his one hand now holding the bleeding stub of where his right arm had been decapitated. The severed limb convulsed on the ground, red embers searing the man-made fabric coat. Rain continued to pour on the city streets, seeming to amplify the sound of chaos in the streets. The glass, the water, the sirens and horns of city, the shouts of the crowd echoing through the broken window like a tunnel. Yet Octavious could only focus on the sound of hissing water as it evaporated in the air around the gleaming katana. The blade was far too long to be comfortably wielded by a girl so small. It emitted its own white light, with streaks of red racing across its surface like water droplets over a hot pan. Despite its irregular size, the blade and its hilt flowed perfectly with the thin olive skinned arm that carried it. Muscles corded the girl's arms, and forced the wet polyester fabric of her uniform on her shoulders to stretch. She had moved so fluidly, without hesitation, and stood with her back facing her opponent unshaken by the environment around her or the fight she engaged. The frail girl who held a coffee pot so cautiously before radiated pure, untainted power in both her physical stance and the aura surrounding her.

"Who-" Octavious paused as the girl began to ease her stance. Her shoulders dropped slightly, left leg shifting closer to a normal stance. She turned to face Erik first, seeing his pain was too much still for him take notice of her gaze. Her blank face shifted to a gentle smile as she met Octavious' eyes.

"Akira Akuma, but my friends call me Aki. Ah, well—" In one powerful swoop she slashed the excess blood on her blade to the floor. "That is what my friends here would call me if I had any. You see, I am a Kodama, I am a Pulse, and I am the "relentless guard" you wanted." The girl sheathed the now jagged, rusted blade, her grin sharp yet inviting. Through hearty laughs, she said "Not much of a social person right now with all those titles!"

The girl brushed her drenched hair from her brow. Amber eyes, wide and almond shaped with thick black lashes framing her iris like a portrait. She was feminine, certainly, with a visible confidence that bolded her presence. Akira Akuma, who moved without hesitation, precisely hitting only her target and defending all others in the process, a living power source in the body of a dainty little girl. Blue and red lights reflected through the glass buildings around the girl. She turned towards the approaching officers, unphased by Erik's sudden rise to his feet and weak running in the opposite direction.

Tires of the police cars screeched in the rain. Yet, in that moment, a white flash raced to the left of Octavious. He could not make out its shape till it stood beside the girl—a wolf. Its coat white as snow, with black and grey crowning its brow, the nape of its neck, down its spine to the tip of its tail. An old, tattered red rope clung to its neck as a collar, braided with elaborate designs that still held strong despite the many split threads. Aki swept her hand over the wolf's head and neck, leaping onto the wolfs back with a familiar ease. Her smile broadened; the gold of her eyes brightened even as the patrol lights reflected behind her. The wolf never raised its head, but simply paced with the girl astride its broad back to the decapitated limb, taking it into its mouth with menacing white fangs. She called out to Octavious, her hands grasping at the white fur of the beast's neck as it braced to race away.

"Tell your friends in Arcadia about me! I am the White Wolf!"