To What Was Ours

xii (hoseok)

The rest of himself he could barely catch a glimpse of. In the sunlight the bronze plate across his chest glinted, reflecting onto the ground below. It added fifty pounds that weighed down on his organs, each inhale of breath a struggle. Standing, his legs shook as he attempted to maintain his balance.

His knuckles brushed against the rounded shield in his left hand, made from the finest, thickest, wood, then fitted with a layer of bronze. With his free hand, he patted down his body, finding a sheath on his right hip. He traced the outline of a sword before pretending it never existed. The thought of its required use was too heavy for the breathless moment.

All at once, silence fell over. Hoseok went rigid, body not daring to move but eyes glancing around wildly for any indication of reason to quiet. In the corner of his eye, largely blocked from the helmet, he saw that at the top of the northern curve of the arena, a broad figure stood.

Across the cloudless sky, lightning cracked, louder and brighter than any natural occurrence ever witnessed before. Hoseok flinched with a strangled gasp but the crowd did not waver, did not even blink. With the phenomenon came a voice, just as booming as the voice he'd been accustomed to. Though a solid difference. The other did not require respect, nor did it ask for it. Speaking so the birds in faraway forests left their homes and the ground rumbled, this one demanded it. Would not settle for less.

Hoseok wanted to listen, figured that whatever was being spoken was the reason for the event. The language remained foreign. A different type of sweat developed on his skin whilst the man, seemingly so, went on in his attempt to break the sound barrier. Once or twice he swore he heard his name. Unless that was a common word. Unless he was absolutely nothing insignificance. Absentmindedly his hand reached for the sword he previously ignored as though it was a natural reaction for falling into the state of defense.

It shouldn't have been.

Eventually, the long, thunderous, speech came to an end. The crowd erupted once more, though noticeably more controlled than the last time as if there was fear of offense. Their chant was different this time. Lightning split through the sunlight and the sky became a silvery blue for only a few seconds.

He remembered the last omen an electric sky declared.

A different voice, less authoritative, spoke next. This time, Hoseok's name had been said. He straightened his back, held in the deepest breath, expecting all of the attention to suddenly focus on him. Instead, the crowd sucked in a collective breath. Scattered whispering was shushed. He glanced up and saw not a pair of eyes was looking his way.

All regard was to the opposite end of the arena, the curve facing him. Through his peepholes he watched as a wooden wall slowly slid to one side, a process possible by man, a dozen of them appearing from tiny entrances and pulling at a singular rope. Without mechanics, it was slow, nearing on tedious, and as the long seconds ticked by the crowd leaned in further, craning their necks for a sacred look. Hoseok could not help but squint.

From the darkness of the entranceway, the faint outlines of a figure were visible. Hoseok's hand clenched around the handle of his shield as the messy form stepped forwards, into the sunlight. They were not remarkably tall or wide in stature, small, even, from the distance, but there was an undeniably heavy atmosphere around their mere presence. If the raucous voice before could bring an entire arena to silence, this silent silhouette brought them to their knees.

They began a gradual stride out of the entranceway. No apparent rush in viewing proximity. Hoseok licked his dried lips, unsure of how to react, how to greet this newcomer. Would they be a friend, or foe? He figured the first was improbable because the only friends he had during this time were his members, entire realities away. The loneliness came rushing in with that thought. Was it his own fault for walking away?