Sunflowers and Daisies

January 14 4005 4:21AM

He listened as the revolver's hammer clicked into place, the barrel pointed menacingly by Theseus, an ominous prelude to what felt like his impending demise. Then, the deafening gunshot and a sudden burst of blinding light erupted from the gun's muzzle, plunging everything into pitch-black darkness.

From Light's perspective, his sight was consumed by this obsidian void, his eyelids tightly shut. Despite his determined effort, he struggled to summon any strength to move. The faint metallic resonance reverberated in his ears, resembling the rapid impact of a small object, perhaps a bullet.

But then, a revelation dawned upon him—he hadn't lost his life. There was no bullet lodged in his head, no gruesome wound. Something was amiss. Slowly, he pried his eyes open, greeted by a slightly blurred vision dominated by a cascade of silver hair. It belonged to a woman, seemingly shielding him from the bullet with her dagger, the source of that faint metallic sound.

"Light!" came a desperate cry from a familiar feminine voice, filled with urgency.

It felt like the well-known feminine voice was echoing within him, unmistakably familiar yet not an exact match. It carried a distinct quality, associated with someone close to him. Her hair shared the exact color with that person's, evoking a strong sense of recognition. She seemed so recognizable, as though he hadn't heard her for a considerable time, someone he deeply cared for.

In his memory, he recalls a person with silver hair, flowing like gentle ocean waves, moving through a white room filled with children of his age at that time. Just as she turns towards him, her wide smile overwhelms him, and then the voice he knows so well resonates within him once again.

"Light!" the familiar feminine voice shouts, tinged with a heightened desperation.

Light's gaze remains fixed as his surroundings blur, vision playing tricks on him, and he struggles to inch forward towards the figure ahead. His intention is to shield this person from Theseus. Despite his gloves, a gift from his sister, adorning his hands, he drags himself along, face down. The pain courses through his veins as he attempts to raise his head, defying both the agony and his own perceived limitations – the very limits meant to shatter him.

Gradually, his vision clears, allowing him to observe clearly with his gray eyes. There she stands – the familiar girl he recognizes, though her face is turned away from him. She confronts Theseus directly, their exchange of words muffled and indistinct. With her gray hair, matching gray eyes, and an uncanny resemblance to him, there's no room for doubt. The individual before him is...

"K-Karra..." Light murmurs, his voice feeble and strained.

Earlier, just before Theseus overwhelmed Light, Claire sprinted down the hallways in a frantic search for him. She pushed her legs to their limits, driven by the singular thought of Light. In her hands, she gripped her bow tightly, and multiple quivers of arrows were slung over her shoulder. Through the bandit's stronghold, she scoured every corner, her pace unwavering in her pursuit of Light. Then, a sudden gunshot reverberated through the air, neither too near nor too distant, audible to Claire's attentive ears.

Adrenaline coursing through her veins and concern for Light welling up inside her, a drop of sweat fell from her brow to the ground. With renewed urgency, she dashed toward the origin of the gunshot, her feet propelling her forward with all the speed she could muster.

To her astonishment, she stumbled upon a familiar visage – someone she hadn't laid eyes on in a considerable time. This person had hair as pink as cherry blossoms, and their eyes, once innocent and gentle, held a faint vulnerability. Tears welled in Claire's yellow eyes as she gazed upon this sight, momentarily diverting her attention from Light and the echoing gunshot.

"Claire?" spoke the voice, feminine and known, yet unheard for quite a while.

"Rose... Is it really you? Are you really here..." Claire's voice trembled with a mixture of emotions, laden with sorrow.

"Claire," Rose uttered, her voice carrying a depth of sentiment. The circumstances that had kept them apart melted away in that moment, replaced by the shared relief of reuniting amidst their individual struggles.

Claire's heart surged with emotion, an overwhelming mixture of joy, relief, and anguish. Without hesitation, she surged forward and enveloped Rose in a tight, all-encompassing hug. Her arms encircled Rose, fingers gripping with a fervent intensity, as if she never wanted to let go. For that fleeting moment, the gunshot's distant echo faded into insignificance as they stood locked in a tight embrace. Both of them, so entwined, momentarily lost in the warmth of each other's presence. But as the hug lingered, both of them realized the gravity of the situation and the loved ones they were fighting for, and Claire gradually withdrew, her eyes reflecting a mournful understanding. Rose too, with a deep sadness etched across her features, gazed ahead, lost in her thoughts, her tearful eyes locked onto Claire's own.

"Rose, what's wrong? Is there something wrong?" Claire inquired, her voice a blend of confusion and sorrow. She wanted to comprehend the layers beneath Rose's expression.

In that moment, Claire's perceptive gaze fell upon the crimson stain on Rose's chest, evidence of a grievous wound. Rose's trembling hands tried desperately to conceal it, a gesture to shield Claire from the worry that would undoubtedly consume her if she noticed.

"Claire, forget about me," Rose's voice quavered, her words carrying a weight that mirrored the heaviness in her heart. "Light... He..."

Interrupting her, Claire's concern surged anew. "But you're hurt!" Her tone was tinged with a genuine worry for her friend's well-being.

"Yeah! but Light is in serious danger than I am! He's the reason I escaped, he is fighting Theseus, alone!" Rose's voice turned desperate, a cry that echoed her memory of his selflessness, how he had rescued her.

Rose's magic wove its intricate threads around her wound, a careful balance struck between alleviating pain and keeping the blood at bay. Claire's gaze, brimming with concern, remained fixed on the scene ahead, where the unfolding events tugged at her heart.

"But..." Claire began, the word hanging in the air as hesitation laced her voice. She was torn, reluctant to leave Rose in this precarious state.

"Claire!" Rose's voice pierced through the air, a fervent urgency that was unexpected but spoke volumes about her determination.

With Rose stabilizing herself against the wall, her hand pressed firmly to her wound, she channeled her magic to mend the injury while enduring the ache it brought. Claire, spurred by the plea in Rose's voice, pivoted and dashed toward the source of the gunshot, leaving Rose behind to face her own struggle.

In swift fluidity, Claire's deft fingers plucked arrows from her quiver, her focus unrelenting on the doorway from which the gunshot had emanated. Her eyes widened as the scene unfolded before her. Light, wounded and sprawled face down, met her gaze. He lay there, his hand stretched out toward the gray-haired woman battling against Theseus. His consciousness wavered, fading slowly as he clung to the fight that unfolded before him, his hand grazing the sword she had given him.

Amidst the chaos, a mysterious figure with gray hair engaged Theseus, daggers clutched tightly in her grasp. Her swift movements deflected the onslaught of bullets that Theseus unleashed, a dance of precision that kept her just out of his reach.

Claire's expertise took center stage. Her fingers moved with practiced grace, an embodiment of her skill -Swiftshot Precision-. Arrows released from her bow with a purpose, one finding its mark on Theseus' hand, forcing him to release one of his guns. This momentary disruption granted the gray-haired woman an opportunity, and she seized it, drawing closer to her adversary.

Approaching Light with determined resolve, Claire lifted him into a sitting position, her arms a strong anchor around him. Despite the weight of his sword, she managed to drag him away from the fray, her steps purposeful and unwavering. Her gaze shifted back to the ongoing duel, where the gray-haired woman closed in on Theseus. But his response was a sly grin and a swift draw of his sword, meeting her dagger strikes with a clash of steel.

"Karra..." Light's voice was a whisper, a murmur that hung in the air as the battle raged on.

Light strained with every ounce of his will, his eyes fighting the pull of unconsciousness as he fixed his gaze on Karra, shock mingling with awe as he witnessed her fierce struggle against Theseus. His trembling hand attempted to stretch towards his sword, a desperate effort to join the fight, but his body resisted, as though the shards of magic had wrought deep damage, leaving him powerless and immobilized.

His surroundings blurred as nausea swelled within him, the darkness encroaching at the edges of his vision. Slowly, he succumbed to unconsciousness, his last coherent thought a poignant image of Karra, the sister he had believed lost.

"Karra..." he whispered, the name a fragile breath on his lips.

Claire, fully comprehending the connection, was resolute in her mission. Even as Light slipped into unconsciousness, she continued her laborious task of moving him away from the battle. With steady determination, she shifted his weight onto her back, feeling the strain but refusing to yield. Step by careful step, she made her way back to where Rose remained, pressed against the wall in her own pain.

Rose winced as her fingers brushed her wound, a pained sound escaping her lips. She gritted her teeth, resolving to address the issue head-on. Fingers delved into the wound, extracting the bullet with a sharp jolt of pain. Rose cried out, the sound echoing her discomfort, but she cast the bullet aside with a metallic clatter.

Amidst this, Claire's efforts continued, dragging Light to safety. His eyes fluttered, his vision marred by blurriness, helplessly observing the ongoing battle he could no longer influence. As he teetered on the brink of unconsciousness, Claire's thoughts intertwined with his name, a whispered echo of concern and determination.

"Light..." Claire's inner voice resonated, a testament to the bond they shared amidst the chaos that enveloped them.

Amidst the present turmoil, Claire's thoughts meandered back in time to the origin of her connection with the Black Scar bandits. A vivid recollection emerged: a neighborhood ravaged, its life and vibrancy crushed under the relentless pursuit of magic shards. The white-clad bandits bore no remorse as they plundered, leaving behind devastation and death.

And in the midst of the destruction, stood a young Claire, her form a stark contrast against the fiery chaos. Tears flowed unchecked from her yellow eyes, a testament to the innocence lost in the wake of this heartless massacre. The memory etched deep within her, entwining her emotions with the pain and suffering she had witnessed.

Wounds adorned her, a testament to the very brutality she now faced. But these injuries were inconsequential in the face of the tragedy before her. Among the debris, her gaze fell upon her fallen brother, his final act having shielded her from a fatal blow. His sacrifice was etched upon her heart, mingling grief with gratitude.

With trembling fingers and tear-streaked cheeks, Claire navigated the somber aftermath, her vision blurred by both tears and the haze of smoke. The bandits' callousness knew no bounds as they massacred without remorse, their insatiable greed for magic shards eclipsing any empathy.

In the midst of this grim tableau, a single bandit advanced on Claire, sword drawn with deadly intent. She fell to her knees, powerless and overwhelmed by sorrow. But just as the blade descended, fate intervened in the form of a thrown sword, an act of defiance from an unseen savior.

The sudden intrusion turned both Claire and her assailant's attention to the blade embedded in the ground, a moment of confusion that would later evolve into shock. From the smoke and chaos emerged a cloaked figure, dark and mysterious. Their arrival was a resolute declaration against the bandits' reign of terror.

"Who are you supposed to be!" shouted one of the bandits, incredulous in the face of this unexpected challenge.

Silent and undeterred, the figure surged forward, swift and unwavering. Their actions spoke louder than words, as they incapacitated a bandit with a single, powerful kick, followed by disarming another with the lightest of sword throws, hitting with precision.

Though young in appearance, this enigmatic figure wielded strength and strategy, reminiscent of their older counterpart. Claire watched in awe as they fought, their every movement imbued with purpose.

In a dawning realization, Claire's thoughts converged, uniting past and present. Amidst the flames and turmoil, the figure's identity crystallized.

"It was him all along..." Claire's internal voice murmured, her understanding a mix of astonishment and realization.

In the present turmoil, Claire's actions were imbued with a newfound understanding of Light's sacrifices. The memory of that fateful day, his act of shielding her from harm, resonated deeply within her. His courage had ignited a flame within her, propelling her to seek guidance at the Celestial Sword Academy, to strive for mastery despite the odds.

Amid the chaos, a recollection flitted across her consciousness – not of the renowned Everglaive, but of the shattered blade, The Metalink Sword, he had wielded. A realization bloomed within her, as if a veil had been lifted, revealing the countless times that very sword had safeguarded her life.

"How could I have forgotten..." Claire's thoughts echoed, a mix of awe and regret. The truth that had eluded her for so long now stood clear – Light's silent vigilance had often been her shield, even before they had joined forces.

Amid the realization, an image of Light flitted through her mind, igniting a warm blush. Beneath his stoic exterior, a caring guardian existed. His actions spoke louder than words, a testament to his unspoken commitment to her safety.

Light's strength wavered, his consciousness slipping through his grasp. As he teetered on the brink of unconsciousness, his mind was consumed by the image of Karra, his sister. Her urgent plea to escape resonated, a final cry that accompanied the enveloping darkness.

"Go Light!" Karra's voice echoed faintly, like a fading whisper in the distance, as everything faded into blackness.

In the control room at the Celestial Sword Academy, a mixture of tension and determination settled in the air. Marcus, hunched over his console, found his brows furrowing in frustration as his efforts to breach the administrator controls of the academy encountered a seemingly impenetrable barrier. Beside him, Liene observed his struggle with a blend of surprise and concern, her presence a silent testament of support.

"Damn it!" Exasperation colored Marcus's voice as he finally vented his frustration, a sudden outburst that reverberated through the room.

"What? What is it?" Liene, caught off guard by the sudden burst of emotion, turned to him with genuine concern etching her features. She sought to understand the source of his frustration, her voice gently inquiring.

Marcus gestured towards his screen, where a series of ominous boxes were illuminated by stark red letters spelling out the dreaded word: ERROR. The contrast between the vibrant red text and the pitch-black background created a visual representation of the barriers that stood in his way.

Frustration oozed from Marcus's voice as he vocalized the hindrance he faced, a sentiment shared by the relentless red errors on his screen. "There's something blocking me from getting through their security system..." he stated with a mixture of irritation and helplessness, punctuating his words with an expletive. "Damn it!"

Liene, though unable to directly intervene in the technical challenge, pondered how to soothe the waves of frustration that had enveloped Marcus. Her voice carried empathy and a gentle attempt at consolation. "Hey... It's alright, you did your best..."

However, Marcus's agitation was not so easily quelled. His voice rose in a burst of irritation, the words rushing out as he vented his disappointment. "Best isn't good enough, dammit!" His frustration was palpable, and he let his head fall onto the keyboard, a symbolic gesture of defeat and frustration.

"Marcus..." Liene's voice held a soft, soothing quality, an attempt to remind him that he wasn't alone in his struggle. Her presence was a reassuring touch, a reminder that they were in this together.

Suddenly, a burst of red light illuminated the screen, its presence both unexpected and startling. The brilliant flash demanded Liene's attention, drawing her eyes to the digital display.

"Hey, what is that?" Liene's curiosity seeped into her voice as she questioned the unusual occurrence.

Marcus, initially caught off guard by the phenomenon, diverted his attention towards the screen in response to Liene's inquiry. The recurring red flashes, like pulsating beacons, continued to captivate his gaze. An intense realization dawned upon him, prompting him to take action. His fingers danced nimbly across the keyboard, pressing the enter button with purpose.

In an instant, a new window materialized on the screen, a stark green line cutting across the otherwise static interface. The line's trajectory morphed, weaving in a series of intricate zigzags, each movement in response to the words of a voice emanating from the other side.

"Hey! Is anyone there?" The voice carried a tone of urgency and recognition, a mixture of surprise and hope.

Liene's mind raced as she connected the dots, her familiarity with the voice causing her to speculate aloud. "Wait, is that Cain?" Her words were a mixture of disbelief and excitement, her attention fully claimed by the conversation unfolding before them.

"Liene?" The voice, seemingly belonging to Cain, sought confirmation in a tone that resonated with their shared history.

Caught in a moment of mutual astonishment, Liene and Marcus exchanged glances that reflected their shared surprise. Their eyes met fleetingly, communicating a mixture of bewilderment and intrigue before their attention refocused on the illuminated screen. An atmosphere of keen anticipation enveloped them, the very air seemingly charged with curiosity as they awaited the voice on the other end to pierce the silence.

Marcus, his voice a blend of astonishment and intrigue, initiated their questioning. "How did you-" he began, his words hanging in the air as a testament to his curiosity and surprise, only to find himself abruptly cut off by Cain's swift response.

"We snuck into the base of the bandits along with a friend..." Cain's words carried a note of intrigue, his voice a mix of adventure and purpose.

"Hi there," added Rhea, her tone bearing a touch of confusion, as if joining the conversation with a slightly bemused disposition.

The narrative on the opposite end of the screen slowly unfolded, revealing Cain and Rhea's audacious account of their infiltration into the heart of the bandits' control room. The imagery they painted was vibrant – guards incapacitated, their path cleared through the force of Rhea's powerful blows.

Liene's response was understated yet concordant with the unfolding events. "Right..."

With the confirmation that Cain and Rhea were physically present at the heart of the operation, Marcus seized the moment to present his request. Urgency and hope blended in his words, a plea to harness their proximity to aid in their shared mission.

"Well, since you're there right now... Could you do me a favor?" Marcus's words were tinged with a blend of earnestness and hope.

Cain's agreement resonated with a sense of commitment, but beneath his affirmative response, a thread of uncertainty was discernible. The intricacies of Marcus's request seemed to cast a shadow of doubt on Cain's confidence, a doubt that manifested in the slight tremor in his voice. This uncertainty was mirrored in the furrowing of his brow, a silent reflection of the technical complexity that lay before them.

This confusion etched itself into Rhea's expression as well. A furrowed brow and a slightly puzzled gaze painted a picture of her grappling with the unfamiliar terms and concepts Marcus's request involved. Her features became a canvas for her sincere desire to assist, combined with her honest lack of comprehension.

"Look, just follow my instructions, okay?" Marcus's voice carried a reassuring quality, an attempt to simplify his request for their benefit.

"Right..." Cain's response held a commitment to collaborate, despite the challenges they might face.

Aligned with the roadmap Marcus provided, the other side of the communication channel ignited with purposeful movement. Rhea's protective instincts surged to the forefront, her stance near the door a testament to her readiness to counteract any impending danger. Her posture radiated both unwavering determination and a palpable sense of urgency, a resolute guardian at her post.

Amid the charged atmosphere, her words carried the weight of her commitment. "Do your little magic, I'll guard the door..." Her voice resonated with a blend of firm resolve and an acknowledgment of the gravity of their situation. The urgency in her tone reflected her understanding of the stakes at hand, underscoring her role as a steadfast protector in their volatile circumstances.

"Do your little magic, I'll guard the door..." Rhea's declaration was laced with confidence, embodying her role as a guardian in this unexpected mission.

Cain's inquiry regarding Rhea's decision was met with a response that was both pointed and warranted. Rhea's words carried a sharp edge, a swift retort that justified her course of action. Her tone conveyed an urgency that transcended mere words, spilling forth as a commanding exhortation that left no room for ambiguity. In the face of imminent danger, her voice bore the weight of necessity, demanding Cain's cooperation and urging him to act without delay.

"In case bandits start coming after us! Now go!" Rhea's words carried a mixture of fierce determination and a touch of worry, a potent reminder of the peril they were in.

As the dialogue unfolded, Marcus and Liene exchanged knowing glances, a mixture of bemusement and amusement dancing in their eyes. The unfolding situation held a delicate balance of confusion and humor, drawing shared smiles from both of them. Their mirrored grins reflected their mutual understanding, and their gazes returned to the screen, utterly captivated by the unfolding events in the remote location.

While witnessing the camaraderie between Cain and Rhea, Liene found her heart stirred with a protective instinct. The connection between the two friends was palpable, and it resonated deeply with her empathetic nature. Her voice, gentle yet charged with sincere concern, held a genuine warmth as she addressed them both, the depth of her emotions shining through her words.

"Hey... Cain and that other person..." Her words held a note of affectionate worry, a testament to her genuine care.

Cain and Rhea's voices seamlessly intertwined, their responses harmonizing in an almost choreographed agreement. The synchronization of their words created a powerful unity, underscoring the bond of understanding and cooperation that existed between them. Their shared sentiment echoed through the air, a testament to the unspoken connection they shared.

"Yeah?" The shared question was met with a unified response, both of them acknowledging Liene's concern.

"Be careful..." Liene's voice held a soft, genuine sincerity, the depth of her emotions evident in her tone.

"Right back at you..." The simultaneous response from Cain and Rhea resonated with a mutual understanding of the dangers they faced.

Reinvigorated and resolute, Marcus redirected his focus to the screen, his entire being honed in on the critical mission before him. With unwavering determination, he tuned out all distractions and zeroed in on the intricacies of the task at hand. Beside him, Liene's presence provided both silent support and a sense of shared purpose. Bracing himself for the imminent challenge, he readied himself for the culmination of his efforts, the crescendo that would hopefully grant them control over the academy's vital systems once more.

On the opposing end of the connection, Cain remained poised and attentive, prepared to execute Marcus's directives with precision. Every ounce of his concentration was channeled into the impending sequence of actions he was about to undertake. His role was that of the executor, translating Marcus's guidance into tangible results. His readiness mirrored the charged atmosphere that surrounded them.

Beside him, Rhea stood sentinel at the entrance, a steadfast guardian ready to intercept any threat that dared to approach. Her vigilant stance was emblematic of her unwavering determination to ensure their safety. Her presence underscored the gravity of their situation and the urgency of their endeavor, a silent but potent testament to her commitment to the mission's success.

"Now, Cain, here's what you need to do..." Marcus's voice rang out with determination, setting the stage for the intricate dance of actions that would determine the outcome of their mission.

Meanwhile, amid the corridors of the bandits' base, a foreboding aura emanated from a solitary figure. The air seemed to thicken with tension as the figure navigated the dimly lit passageways, a colossal maul cradled in powerful arms. Brown eyes, flecked with determination, glinted in the shadows, revealing a readiness for imminent combat.

With every step, the figure left behind a trail of fallen adversaries, their unconscious forms a testament to the swift and potent force that had struck them down. Shadows clung to the figure, shrouding them in an aura of enigma as they continued their determined ascent.

As the truth unfolded, the shadowy figure unveiled itself to be Dylan, a force to be reckoned with. His intent was palpable in the intensity of his gaze, his presence radiating a tangible resolve. The maul he carried was both weapon and symbol, embodying his unyielding pursuit of justice.

"Where are you, Theseus..." Dylan's words cut through the stillness, charged with sincerity. His voice resonated with a mixture of resolve and urgency.