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It is 12:45 now, 45 minutes since the clock struck 12 and its faint singing rang through Eight’s ears. Only slightly louder than the countless tick-tick-tick of the clocks that littered his walls, akin to that of stars in the night sky. Similar to the face of the bey which he gazed upon…
Clock Mirage a bey with 60 ridges one for each second in a minute one for each minute in an hour. A bey that counted the passing time of a battle, that twisted and warped it into whatever it wanted. A bey that was defeated. A bey that had the coiling hands of time wrapped around its opponent and oh Eight was so sure he had him. So sure the great blue dragon would follow the others and succumb to time.
Eight is not unaccustomed to loss he has lost many times to the hands of his older siblings but his losses, much like him, have never ventured outside of the family. Well, that is assuming that Ekusu lied about his last name.
“There is no way he’s one of us, it can’t be. He got lucky that’s all, this means nothing.”
The clocks responded to him in their typical rhythmic ticking.
No matter how familiar Eight was with loss he never got over the sickness that consumed him whenever he heard the metal clatter of Clock Mirage hitting the floor or the snap of a burst finish. That is not to say Eight is weak, even as one of the youngest he still carries the Kurosu name. Afterall he defeated Yoko with relative ease. Ekusu Kurosu, a boy only a year or so younger than him, team Persona’s ace, defeated him with no trouble at all. Eight heard the faint clatter of metal during that battle, the familiar sound of announced defeat.
His father will not be pleased, no, he must be furious but he’ll never show it. That is what made Zero so terrifying. His expression, his voice, they never matched what he truly felt. A man of many faces, all of which wore masks, all of which told lies.
“There you are, come in Eight.”
A silhouette shadowed in the blinding lights of a hundred monitors greeted him as he walked into the room. It was so cold… Eight forgot how cold this room is he cannot recall the last time he was here, oh how he longed for his jacket. Eight stepped closer to his father, careful not to get too close. Standing close to him would introduce a sense of informality, the idea that you are equals and Eight would never make such a foolish assumption.
“I need you to follow Nine, keep an eye on her.”
His father’s voice seemed to chill the room further… it was so cold…
“Nine? I thought you said we shouldn’t speak to her anymore.”
“I did not say speak to her. You can say nothing at all or read her a novel if you so wish, I want you to watch her closely. Nine is a clever girl I doubt she doesn’t have a plan of sorts.”
Zero noticed Eight’s lack of response and began typing, the screens around them displayed a video of Nine at an arena. The signs and multi-colored speaker indicated an event run by Persona, the top of the X.
“I don’t understand why she wishes to ruin my plans. I am saving the world of blading it is all boring now, just the same thing over and over again,” Zero throws his arms around and continues to ramble about the fate of blading before abruptly stopping and finally turning to Eight.
Eight swore he could see a thin layer of frost covering his father’s mask. God, why was it so cold…
“But you can save it.”
Eight looked at his father, well, where he assumed his eyes would be behind the dark mask, “How come?”
“Follow her and defeat her, surely then she will have a change of heart and return. It’s rather lonely around here.”
Lonely? She was the weakest of them and hardly spoke to anyone. How is her absence lonely? Eight was a much stronger blader than she was, he could easily be a worthy replacement. Sure he was no beycrafter like she was but they had Five and Five was all they needed. Eight thought that with Nine gone his father would finally notice him, would finally smile at Eight’s victories.
Zero said nothing when Eight walked in with news of his victory. “I defeated Yoko, only a minute into the match.” An impressive victory it was, Yoko’s bey wasn’t even given time to react before Clock Mirage knocked it out of the stadium. The pride Eight felt was swiftly crushed under the weight of his father’s silence.
Eight was always resentful towards Nine, sure they were close when young but Eight noticed how she was preferred. She had a gift for beycrafting, a gift their father praised her for. Praise that Eight longed for but never got, and so he grew bitter. To think she dared to leave, what, was the praise and admiration not enough for her?
“I won’t let her out of my sight.”
Zero did not ask many favors of Eight, opting to give important tasks to more capable siblings. This was Eight’s first and surely his very last assignment. All results of assignments no matter how big or small no matter the outcome must be reported to Zero himself. For the faintest of a second Eight thought of running away. Of following Nine’s path and leaving the family, maybe she was right after all…
No, no no he couldn't, he was nothing, nothing like her and he would never hide away. She hid because she was afraid, afraid of Zero’s plan and Eight was not afraid.
Eight wanted to hide the minute the freezing chill of the room slashed across his face as the heavy metal doors opened. This time his father did not greet him, Eight considered backing out. He could say he left the stove on or…, or he forgot about his battle with Three and Four but he knew that such an attempt would be foolish. For Zero sees all he knows all, the ever watching eye.
It must be 1 o'clock now. He can't see his clocks but he can feel them. Can feel their reminder of the task of the day, the only task. Eight always had a special connection to time even before Clock Mirage was created. He could tell time without ever needing to look at a clock, he simply had them because he liked looking at them. Eight enjoyed their presence and the ticking noise they sung, the different shapes and materials they were. He thought of them akin to the way someone thinks of their fish. No way to directly interact with them really but a very real way of connection.
The sound of Eight’s boots echoed as he stepped closer, he had to get away from the door. Had to drown out the pleas it extended to Eight, Come back, it is so very cold in there and it is warm out here. Eight would never admit to feeling fear. “Fear is a weakness,” his father once said, but fear is what he instilled in them and right now-standing in this room he felt afraid.
The slightest rustle of fabric snapped his attention away from his father to the figure standing not too far away. Drowning in his fear Eight did not even notice his eldest brother upon entering the room. Was he there last time? He felt ashamed for not greeting him, they hardly had the time to speak anymore since Zero’s plan started. When they did speak One never said much and when he did the topic was always about Zero. How grand Zero was, how perfect his plan was and how they were all going to save the blading world. Something about making necessary sacrifices. It bored Eight but it was the only connection he had to his brother so he faked interest even though, to be honest, he couldn’t understand a word he said.
One did not break eye contact with the screen ahead of him as he continued to adjust his jacket. Eight turned to look at the screen of which captivated One’s attention, curious at to what could be so alluring.
The screen was filled with static, gray spots dancing across it in an unreadable pattern. Sure it was stimulating but nothing interesting. However One was just so enchanted by it, maybe he saw something in it that Eight could not see. Or maybe it was nothing at all, maybe he’d rather look at a screen filled with static than look at Eight. Would rather be absorbed in meaningless lights than to acknowledge the failure of the family, the first to be defeated by an outsider.
His father still had not turned to look at him but Eight felt him growing impatient. Waiting for Eight to make the first move, to see if Eight had the courage. To hear Eight admit to failure, admit to defeat. Suddenly Eight felt like a child again, hiding behind his older brother from the sharp cruel words of their father. He wanted to run to One and ask him once more to protect him just one more time and then he can be on his own. He wanted to reach out to One, to apologize for tarnishing their family name for making them seem weak-for being weak, “I tried I really did I just made a mistake! I’ll never do it again I swear! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”
Eight did nothing at all but stare into the static of the screen.
It is so very cold...
Cold enough, he hoped, to stop the persistent ticking of the clocks.