Feel the Rhythms; Hear the Noises

[Thomas J "Chrono" Springfield]

is angels, is it devils, whispering in my ears. The sight of a black dragon dwarfing its surroundings filled Thomas's sight. His roar alone shook the trees and the mountains. And old man ran forward and grappled with it, holding the beast down to let his subordinates, whom he called his children, escape. All of them ran except one, who wanted to stay and fight. A woman, a friend of his, and his rival, tried to pull him away, but the man broke free.

Is it illusions, is it illusions, I want to be with you. The gargantuan creature knocked the old man off, and made a move to kill the old man, when his 'children' all came back to help him, apparently moved by the one man who wanted to stay. They all struck at the gigantic creature, but to no avail. The beast beat its gigantic wings and took flight, flying high above the island they were on.

Feel the People, Hear the Voices, They are Reaching Out to Catch You! A drop of crimson fell from above and landed on the Black Dragon. It's red essences seeped into the fibers of the scene, distorting the material. "Sonofa," Thomas said aloud, "You dumbasses got my blood on my new manga dammit!" He kicked one of the unconscious boys of his age on the side of the head, venting his frustrations.

Thomas stuffed the Shounen Jump back in the plastic bag and stuffed that into his satchel of wonders. Taking one last glance back at the kids from the rival school, he was tempted to kick them one more time, but he decided against it. The had suffered enough, each one beaten unconscious. Of course, even if they were alert enough to respond to anything Thomas said, he wouldn't hear it, not with his music so loud. The thumping bassline helped distract him from the raging headache that lead pipe had given him.

"Who knew a lead pipe could hurt so much," he said, gingerly rubbing the bloodstain-red spot on his normally all-white headband. "And where the heck did they get a lead pipe in this day and age, much less one for each of them?" With one last glance at the cut lead pipes and the shallow cuts on the 'boys', Thomas finally began to move on.

The crowds were thin with the sun setting. Even with Mr. Satan protecting the city, not many people wanted to be out late, not in this day and age. As he neared the market, his vision began to shift and Thomas's sense of balance vanished. The crimson-haired youth began to fall over and quickly threw himself against the building side to keep from falling completely over.

[Son Chi-Chi]

“It’s a miracle the market’s open this late,” Chi-Chi said to no one in particular. No matter how casually she said this; the aged widow was half-hearted in her attempt to fill the cart with edible goodies of deliciousness.

This routine, oddly enough, hurt her the most in more ways than one. When she was left alone to do the usual grocery shopping – there was no stopping the memories that would plague her very mind and soul when she stopped by the food section.

This was her husband’s favorite chore to perform in his spare time, she believed. Keenly observed by the way he would beam so brightly, like a shooting star, and wipe the store clean with his huge appetite, leaving her to spend a good portion of her money in order to satisfied the angered shop keeper.

If you ever stop training, your muscles are going to turn into flab from all that food you eat!

"I sure wish you were here," she said, instantly regretting her words. She stuffed her cart with what was needed and wanted, paid the fellow for his services, then made her way to the exit. Not a very eventful night for her, this was certain.

The next thing, however, was something she didn't quite expect. "Hm?" she uttered, surveying her surroundings rather warily. It was never safe to go out alone these days, so the cautious broad was always careful to associate herself in the presence of others. The sheltered house-wife caught sight of a slumped figure, one in close proximity.

"Who's there? Show yourself! I may be old, but I can still pack a punch!" she bluffed, taking on an overall fighting stance. She neared the figure, then looked about the youth.

He was injured. She blinked several times before making her vigilant approach. "Your mother must be worried sick. What happened?" she asked carefully, looking rather guarded.

[Thomas J "Chrono" Springfield]

Thomas heard the vague mutterings of someone trying to speak with him beyond the virtual wall of sound he built up. He pulled the large headphones down from around his ears, letting his bright crimson hair spring back into shape. He wasn't able to make out most of what the woman said. His vision blurred and kept him from glimpsing even a shadow of the woman.

As she kept speaking, Thomas was finally able to discern what she was saying, though he still lacked clarity of sense. "G-gomene, 'baa-san. I'm fine," Thomas's speech was subtly slurred, "just hit my head rather hard." Thomas tried to stand up on his own, "Don't worry, I'm f-"

Thomas let out a yelp as his legs suddenly gave out from under him as a numbness spread over his body. He had no strength in his limbs anymore, just barely keeping his head from smacking hard on the concrete. A thin steam of blood began to dribble down from the spreading red marks on his headband. The baseline of his music reverberated vainly alongside his pounding heart. His senses swam in and out of existence for a moment before the red haired youth built up the strength to shift to a sitting position, leaning against the building for support.

Thomas sat with his back against the wall, waiting for the waves of unsteadiness to pass, his palm resting on his forehead.