Chapter 1

Out of the Blue

 

 

            Nothing had seemed so out of the ordinary, so out of place, than the appearance of the Northern Lights in mid August had, spreading out across the black canvas.  The smog and pollution in the atmosphere that had been collecting more intensely than ever before for the past 100 years had always blocked out any clear view of the night sky.

But not tonight. 

The National Committee of Environmentalists recently fought and succeeded in passing a special series of laws that forced industrial companies to completely eliminate the exhaust fumes given off by the massive machinery still functioning.  Most of the executives of the Industrial Valley agreed with these laws and took the proper precautionary measures needed to alter the flow of energy through the powerful machinery without any ill effects to the rest of the planet.  Within only a few months, the clouds of gray and black parted to let the first rays of light to penetrate through the darkness of 100 years to an awestruck people below. 

The young common folk in the less concentrated villages did not know what to think of the glowing orb floating mysteriously in the blue sky, but the elders knew.  All nearly falling to the ground in a wave of joy, the elders gazed upon the brilliance of the new dawn, memories from youth overflowing lively in their crystal clear vision of the past. 

Now, as the people of the earth slowly grew accustomed to the brightness of day, life again went back to normal, the normal life of 100 years past.  But some things remained in the darkness and refused to change. 

 

**********

 

“Hisoka!  Hisoka-kun, where are you?”

Kenage Hisoka sat loafing in a wooden chair in the middle of the backyard, gazing into the depths of the night sky, his sea-green eyes glittering in time with the pulsating light high above.  He always wondered what was beyond those thick clouds, wishing he could soar as high as an eagle to peer behind the blanket of the ever-present smog.  But tonight he could do that without even leaving the ground.  Tonight was also the most quiet, peaceful night he had experienced in a long time.  Everything seemed to be at rest, the silence nearly singing him to sleep.

“Hisoka!”

Jumping with a start and nearly falling off the chair, Hisoka turned his head back towards the house.  Most of the lights were turned off inside, but the outside ones that lit the patio were all on.  As he looked to the house, the light blinding him, he saw a black figure walking toward him.

“Uhh, don't scare me like that!” Hisoka sighed, sitting back in the chair.

Hisoka’s mother, a woman in her mid forties, stood with her arms placed on her hips impatiently.  Even though she had the authority in the house ever since his father died from a sudden heart attack, she never seemed to have total control over the youngster.  She wasn’t much of a control freak than she was a concerned, single parent, however she did expect to be obeyed. 

“What do you think you’re doing out here this late?  You have school in the morning, young man.”

“I know, I know…" He had heard the same speech a zillion times.

“You’re not going to want to get up in the morning, you know.  You can’t miss any more school.  Do you want to start getting bad grades?  What will you do if you don’t get one of those good scholarships when this year is over?  You know that I can’t afford to send you to college.  You have to stop sloughing off and start acting seriously about your education…”

Hisoka restlessly rolled his eyes.  How much longer could she treat him like a child?  “Mother… I’m not going to miss school nor am I going to get bad grades by spending one night looking at the stars.  I'm sure you've never seen them before either.”

Giving up her cause hopelessly, Hisoka's mother stopped arguing with her son and set her dark eyes upon the stars as well.  "No, I haven't…" Her voice seemed to trail off as she lost herself amid the endless stretch of space above their tiny planet.  She suddenly felt small and insignificant in comparison to the greatness of the stars as a shiver traveled through her.  That night when she had first laid eyes upon Hisoka’s father for the first time was one very much like tonight.  She could almost feel his eyes watching her through the glitter of the stars.  With a sudden shudder, she quickly regained her thoughts.  She turned and began to walk back to the house.  Without looking back she said with the sound of defeat, "It's freezing out here, Hisoka.  You'd better come in soon, okay?  I don't want you catching a cold."

He couldn't help but smile at his flighty mother.  She always did throw in the towel a little too soon; but then again, he was always so stubborn.  That was the only thing she could ever do.  Hisoka was a strong-willed loner, always by himself, watching out for himself, never needing much if not any help from anyone.  He was smart and knew how to manipulate people, especially his mother.  She was always nagging and complaining to him.  Of course, he knew how to ignore that little disturbance, the constant nagging from his mother, so it didn't bother him much. 

The more the felt frustrated toward his mother he ended up feeling sorry for her.  How long had it been?  15 years?  Hisoka was only four when his father passed away suddenly, completely crushing his mother’s heart and soul.  If it weren’t for Hisoka’s presence, she would have followed his father’s footsteps into the next world right then.  But she didn’t.  She had to be strong for Hisoka’s sake.  And she did it, all on her own.  It made him feel proud of her, too; proud and amazed at how she was ever able to carry on the way she had and done such a good job at it, for that matter.  Hisoka was living proof of that.  So through all the mixed feelings of frustration, pity, and admiration, he still loved his mother very much and nothing would ever change that.

A crisp wind swept across the open field and seemed to cut straight through his being.  "Uhh, burr!  I guess it is a little chilly out here…” As he stood in the shadows of the night, picking the chair up as he went along towards the house, a rumble shattered in the deep silence of the sky. A great bolt of blue streaked out of the sky like a bat out of Hell and erupted into flame on the ground only a few feet away from where he stood.  The sound was ear splitting, cracking through the air until the bolt touched the ground and began burning through the grass.  The blast was so strong and sudden; he lost his footing and fell to the damp ground, his face dangerously close to the blaze.

Unsure of what just happened, he raised himself up on his elbows to look at the scorched ground beside him.  His heart was pounding.  How could there be lightning when there's not a cloud in the sky?  It didn’t make any sense.  Completely shaken, Hisoka stumbled to his feet.  Still gazing upon the flame slowly dying in the grass such a short distance away, his shaking hands fumbled to grasp a hold of the chair next to him.

"Hisoka!  Hisoka!" Dashing out of the house and across the yard, his mother met him with her wide eyes and pale face.  "Are you all right?"  She grasped his arm and helped him to stand, but in essence, she was attempting to drag him back inside the house.

Hisoka brushed off his mother's hand.  He knew she was worried about him, but he couldn't help feeling somewhat irritated at her constant state of panic towards him.  When was she ever going to learn to let go?  "I-I'm fine, Mother.  Really.  I-It didn't get me.  See?" he pointed to the hole in the ground that was now only a pile of ash and broken soil.  "It just made a nice hole in the yard."  He looked back to his mother and smiled fondly, trying to comfort her.  "Well, at least you won't need to dig another hole to plant that new tree you just bought."

It worked, too, like it always did.  Hisoka's mother grinned at the thought.  "You… you…  Hahaha…"  But her laughter didn't last for long.  Frowning again, she hit him on the arm.  "You could have been killed!  And all you can think of is that stupid tree?"

"Ouch!" Hisoka flinched, cowering away from the angry mother.  "What was I supposed to say?  You should be glad I'm still alive!  And what do you do?  Smack me on the arm!"

"That's right!  I told you to come inside earlier, but you didn't listen to me!  So it's your own fault you were nearly blown to smithereens…” The thought of her own son, her only son, suddenly wrenched away from her, to die such a wicked, painful death, frightened her to no end.  The mere thought of it set her into a panic, a mad state of depression.  But what worried her the most was the thought of being alone again.  Before when Toosei left her, she felt entirely alone even though she still had Hisoka.  The thought of feeling that pain again ripped her tattered heart a part.  The only way she saw to keep anything as painful from happening again was to protect Hisoka from everything she possibly could. 

Turning away from him, she sobbed within the cover of the darkness.  Hisoka often wondered if this was just one of her defenses that sought to protect him by first manipulating him into feeling badly about her.  Whether or not this was just an act, he didn't know, but he couldn't stand there and let her cry.

"Hey, hey.  I'm sorry, okay?"  He tried to turn her back around to look at him, but she shrugged him off.

"No, it’s not okay!  If you would have just listened…” She couldn't take it anymore.  Without saying another word or even looking back into the eyes of her son, she broke into a sprint and flew into the house with the wooden door crashing loudly behind her. 

Sighing, Hisoka again turned to the chair and picked it up to take it back inside, but then he felt a sharp pain in his arm that held the chair.  As he looked down at his left arm, he saw that the inside of it was partially burnt, the skin ripped a part. 

"What!?" 

How could this happen?  It couldn’t have been the lightning.  It didn’t even hit him!  Then how did the blast burn his arm?  Maybe he had been hit by the lightning and just didn't realize it, but people who are hit by lightning rarely live to tell the tale.  So then how…?

He shook his head and decided to try to forget about it.  He'd have to hide the burn on his arm from his mother until it healed unless he wanted to hear another "If you would just listen" speech.  But as he walked into the house and set the chair beside the back door, the thought continued to blaze in his mind.  How…?

 

**********

 

The next morning seemed to come all too soon.  As Hisoka lie in his bed just barely awake, his wounded left arm suddenly began to burn, waking him up better than his mother ever could have.  The night before still hung in his memory like a bad dream.  The burn on his arm assured him that it definitely was no dream and yet it seemed all so impossible…  How could lightning strike in the middle of nowhere with not a cloud in the sky?  It just didn’t make sense.  

He groggily kicked the covers off and sat up.  The white bandage he wrapped around his arm was starting to unravel as part of it pulled tighter during the night.  He carefully removed the wrap to examine the wound in the bright daylight.  Yawning as he sat his frozen feet upon the floor to stand, he instantly remembered feeling too lazy the night before to even get out a pair of socks. As he thought back to that night, he felt that lingering question tug upon him as his arm began to throb painfully.  How was he going to hide the injury from his mother?  The wound was far too large to hide from his discerning mother without her catching on after a while, but he had to try.  Her endless nagging was simply too much to take.  But he knew she meant well, even though she was more annoying to listen to than the high pitched buzzing of an old light bulb about to explode.  He would just have to hide the burn until it healed and hope she won’t find out.  How many days could he continue to wear long sleeved shirts on the average, sizzling day of early August?

Not caring about details any further, Hisoka grabbed a clean, black shirt from his dresser and a pair of blue jeans and headed off to the shower.  Thankfully, his school had no such thing as a dress code or uniform, so he could wear whatever he pleased.  Some days the other students took as much advantage from the dress policy as they possibly could, the extremists standing out from the rest so much more than they had before.  He almost wondered if such freedom would suddenly backfire one day.  There were so many cliques and gangs around these days, but the school was safe from those things.  Nothing could possibly ever happen in school, nothing ever did.

As Hisoka quietly tiptoed down the hallway to the bathroom, past his mother’s bedroom, she called out after him.  “Hisoka?  You getting ready for school yet?”

Feeling as if he were a baby, caught red-handed for reaching into a cookie jar, Hisoka held his clothes over the burn that his short-sleeved nightshirt did not hide from sight.  “Uh, yeah, mom.  I’m gettin’ into the shower now, alright?”

Stepping near the door to see him, Hisoka’s mother smiled.  “Oh, that’s good.  You’re up earlier than usual today, aren’t you?  Couldn’t you sleep?”

He wasn’t up to answering all her questions today.  As he continued to walk down the short hallway, he replied, “No, not really, but I’ll be fine.  I just need a cold shower to wake me up.”

“Oh, okay.  I have to run into the office this morning,” she yelled after Hisoka, who had just reached the bathroom down the hall, walked in, and closed the door behind him.  “I should be back around supper time, though, okay?  Hisoka?”

Hisoka flipped the water on in the shower, almost intentionally to drown out his mother’s voice.  Throwing his clean clothes down in a pile on the floor, he took off his white T-shirt, and with the door securely closed, looked at the burn again.  Burns were always so disgusting to look at, more so if they were infected.  The burn looked much redder than it did in the sunlight a few minutes ago, the aching, pounding sensation still throbbing through the entire length of his arm.  How could the first signs of infection begin to show in the course of only one night?  He couldn’t understand it, but then again, he couldn’t understand exactly what happened that night anyway.  He opened the mirrored cabinet above the sink and grasped a black bottle of hydrogen peroxide.  Trying to move his right arm as little as possible, he took a small, white cloth from the towel rack on the side of the wall behind where he stood.  The black jar was always one of those childhood items he hated.  Whenever he would get cut or scrapped, his mother would go to this very cabinet for the bottle of “instant pain,” he called it.  Memories flooding through his mind, he recalled thinking that he would rather suffer the pain of a raw wound than have to apply the hydrogen peroxide to it.  No matter how many times his mother told him that he needed to clean his wounds, he always dreaded doing so. 

Now as he held the black bottle in one hand and the white cloth in the other, he paused, almost as if he were paralyzed.  This burn was by far the worst wound he had ever had and he knew the pain would be so much greater when he applied the cleanser to it.  It was a weakness he had, and it angered him.  As he stood silently in the bathroom, staring at himself in the mirror, he suddenly frowned.  How childish he was acting!  He had always wanted to be strong and pictured himself as a valiant knight that could overcome anything, anything at all.  But then reality hit him and shattered his visions like a cheap mirror.  He learned that he wasn’t as strong as he had envisioned.  Even so, he fought to change, to achieve his dreams of becoming powerful and to suppress his earthly emotions of pain and everything else related to it.  In an instant of anger, he poured nearly the entire bottle of peroxide onto the cloth and slapped it on his burnt arm with such force, tears instantly poured uncontrollably from his eyes.  Losing his balance from the intense pain rushing through his arm, he bashed his back into the door, letting out a harsh cry of pain.

His mother in the other room, startled, came running down the hall.  “Hisoka!  Hisoka!  What’s the matter in there?”  She knocked on the door, demanding to know what happened.  “Hisoka, are you in there?  Are you all right?  Speak to me!”

Gritting his teeth as he slid down the side of the door, he replied in a faltering voice, “I-I’m fine…  I just…stubbed my toe.”

There was silence on the other side of the door.  Whenever Hisoka injured himself, he felt somewhat angered at himself, so he would deny that anything happened to him at all.  Whether she knew these things because of mother’s intuition or by other means, she never cared enough to explore this any further.  All she understood was that something was wrong, but she also knew she couldn’t expect Hisoka to reply truthfully to her interrogations.  “Ohh…” she said, disbelief evidently lingering in her voice, “I…heard you scream from clear in the other room.  Are-are you sure you didn’t break something?”

“…yeah, I’m sure…  It just hurt like hell.”

Turning around to leave the area, Hisoka’s mother said, “Try to be more careful next time, okay?”

Irritated both by his mother and his own weakness, he frowned and said, “Yeah, I’ll try to remember that…”  All because he allowed his anger to control him temporarily, he managed to gain the attention of his mother once again.  She mustn’t find out about the burn… no matter what…

The pain fading to an annoying pang, Hisoka removed the white cloth and found it tainted with a dark red color.  The burn wasn’t bleeding, but the color on the piece of cloth made him believe otherwise.  Propping himself up with his elbow against the door, he stood with a twisted look of pain.  He’d have to throw away the cloth in case his mother ever found it.  There was one thing that made her even more protective than simply hearing Hisoka cry out in pain and that was blood.  She would never loose sight of him again if she ever found out.  It would have to be burnt… or thrown into the trash elsewhere rather than in the daily, household trash.

Again, Hisoka looked at himself in the mirror, but this time, he didn’t see a knight or a little kid.  He saw frightened young man, clinging onto anything from past experiences in order to stay in control.  He couldn’t understand what was happening to him, and he decided that he didn’t care.  That was the only way he could ever hope to look to the future and still remain sane.

Throwing the dirtied cloth into the sink, he removed the rest of his clothing and stepped into the shower.  As the water washed over him, his mind ceased running around in all directions, and could finally put what happened the night before into the past.