Blue Flower

My ears were ringing. Noah chewed with his mouth open, and his sticky slobber glued food to the roof of his mouth as he slurped his dinner. Across from him, Mindy filed the first layer of her nail off, and my father tapped his foot, humming. He only hummed when he was anxious. Still, he smiled at his new wife, and my stomach churned.  How could he be so happy with a human? If it wasn’t for his wedding, the accident wouldn’t have happened, and Abby would be alive. But she wasn’t.  “How was your day, Eric?” Mindy asked, her high-pitched voice tearing my sensitive ears like a razorblade.  “Fine,” I said, shoveling food into my mouth to avoid a discussion. My father’s glare burned my skin, but I’d never acknowledge his human life. It was only a distraction. In fact, I often wondered if he married a human to throw off the Light, hoping they’d write him off as a human as well. But he wasn’t. And if I couldn’t deny it, he shouldn’t either.  Noah kicked the table’s legs, shaking our dinner. “My day was amazing,” he said, spraying meatloaf across his plate. “Billy and I scared the substitute.”  “That’s nice, Noah,” Mindy said, patting her son’s head. She hadn’t even paid attention; she was too focused on us. “You two are acting strange.” No. Really?  “We’re just practicing our poker faces,” my dad said, beaming.  As far as I had been told, we couldn’t have our meeting in the shelter. Security was breeched, and the elders weren’t risking exposure if a light decided to attack. Instead, my father was holding it in his office. We told Mindy it was a father-son poker tournament. She wouldn’t interrupt—not when we had been fighting so often.  “We lost the last one from getting too excited,” I said, pushing my meatloaf around. “We don’t want that happening again.” She grinned, lighting up at the opportunity to talk to me. “I really hope you win tonight.” Me, too.  The front door rattled with knocks, and then it opened. A man waltzed in, peering into the kitchen from downstairs. “Hello.” Mindy shot up from her chair and waved over the railing. “Hey, George. How are you doing?” “Great,” he said, scaling the stairs with his son behind him.  Pierce barely resembled his human form of Jonathon Stone. Instead of pale skin, green eyes, and dark hair, Jonathon had light brown hair and eyes. He wore thick glasses, but his right eye was fogged over with a thick, white cloud. He was partially blind.  At school, he was an artist, and he was easily picked on, but his bullies would shake if they ever saw his Dark side. He was strong, capable, and had the best endurance I’d seen from a trainee. He could easily kick any human’s ass. Too bad they would never see him like that.  I stood from the table and shook my friend’s hand. “Hey.”  Jonathon avoided my eye contact. I’d known him since birth, but he was never secure about his human identity. “How’s the family?” he asked.  “Don’t force small talk,” I said, dropping my voice. “You sound like our parents.”

Battle through the heavens

He laughed. “Isn’t that a scary thought?”  I nodded, and his telepathic thought shot through me. “You ready to talk to the elders?” “It’s not like I have a choice,” I said.  Jonathon pushed his glasses up his nose, and my father waved sodas in our direction. “Come on, boys,” he said, forcing an awkward, chipper tone. “Let’s start.” We followed our fathers down the hallway to the office. George opened the door, ushering us inside, and then he spun around, surveying the golden room. “They should be here any second,” he said, locking the door.  Without a word, my father laid his hand on the wall, and we watched as a thick layer of shadows spewed over the room. Gliding around the room from the floor to the ceiling, they twisted into oblivion and the room spun in a tight circle. He’d used a silencing spell.  George smiled. “That should help,” he said, enveloping his body in blackness. When he reappeared, his long black hair was shortened, and thick bristles grew along his formerly smooth chin. His black eyes burned green, and I recognized him for who he was after transformation, Urte—my father’s guard and fellow elder.  In seconds, my father morphed as well. In his shade form, he was taller, thinner, and had a lot more hair. “You two stay human,” he said, shaking his limbs as he solidified. “I don’t want these elders pushing you around.” “I’d like to see that,” I said, and Urte glared.  “Don’t be ignorant, Eric.” I shrugged, and my arm hair spiked up. I tensed, watching the office floor unfold into a whirlpool. Jonathon and I stepped back, and two men sizzled to the surface. Luthicer’s patchy white beard stretched to his collarbone, while his blond hair curled at the nape of his neck. His pitch black eyes wavered from side to side, but Eu stared right at us.  He had silver irises and the whitest pupils I’d ever seen, and they contrasted harshly against his thick, mangled black hair. He was three feet shorter than Luthicer, making him about a foot shorter than me. I had only met him once before, but he always seemed to be out of place. He hovered behind Luthicer like—well—a shadow, and Luthicer shined like he was more of a light than a half-breed.  “Will Camille be joining us tonight?” Urte asked, and Luthicer’s forehead wrinkled.  “She’s resting,” he said, dragging his dark eyes over Jonathon and I. “Her training has been rigorous, but it’ll help our descendant.” I hid my fist behind my back. What’d he do to Camille? I didn’t care if he was her trainer or not. He didn’t have the right.  “Which one is he?” Eu asked, and I raised my hand as he stepped forward. His white eyes flickered. “It’s hard to recognize you in this form.” I raised my brow. “Isn’t that the point?”  “Eric.” My father’s tone dropped. “You must excuse my son. He’s very—” “Nervous,” Luthicer finished, dragging his eyes over me.  I smirked. “That’s your opinion.”  “And it’s right,” he said, tilting his head. “If you aren’t nervous, why would you still be a human right now?” “Luthicer.” Urte stood between us. “This meeting is strictly going to be a conversation.” “A conversation won’t get Eric anywhere,” Luthicer said, stepping around Urte.  “No,” my father said, sitting on the edge of his desk. “It’s up to Eric.” I changed before anyone even realized I had decided. I didn’t hesitate. I had to be Shoman, the first descendent, and hesitation was weakness.  Luthicer smiled, slowly pushing Jonathon aside. “You’re weaker than I expected,” he said, waltzing around me as his fingers grazed my skin.  A pain shot up my arm, through my shoulder, and my skin burned. I sucked in breath and grabbed my arm as the pain thundered through me. What was this? I felt hot and dizzy, like I’d collapse at any moment. Why can’t I move? “What are you doing?” Urte’s voice wavered through my foggy hearing.  “Testing him,” Luthicer said, leaning in to stare at my pupils. His breath was hot against my cheek. “You can’t even handle a little Light energy.” Light? My body trembled. Is that what this was? Light energy could kill a shade—easily—but it could also poison us.

 Kumo desu ga nani ka 

“I can handle it,” I said, forcing my voice through clenched teeth.  “I’m not so sure,” he said, digging his nails into my shoulder, and, as if to prove his point. I lurched over in pain, gasping.  Urte slammed his hand against the wall. “Elder or not, you have no right to hurt this boy.” “He isn’t hurting him, Urte,” Eu said.  Urte shook his head. “I’m an elder just like you, Eu,” he said, and I stumbled back, leaning against the wall for support. “Eric doesn’t need this sort of a test yet.” I held my hand up, silencing them. “If they think I need it,” I said and sucked in a breath. “I’ll believe them.” I will not be weak. Not in front of them. Luthicer hummed. “You’re either brave or very foolish.” “What’s the difference?”  The room silenced, and Luthicer knelt in front of me. “That kind of talk can be used against you, Shoman.” My lip curled. “They can’t use anything against me,” I said, and Luthicer squinted.  “What about love?” Abby. “I have no love,” I said, shoving the loss away. “I haven’t had love in a long time. Not for anybody.” Luthicer’s face turned, and he focused on my father. “You, at least, raised the boy right.” Then, he stood, pointing at Urte. “But you,” he said. “You haven’t begun his training.” Urte straightened. “I was planning on starting soon.” “Planning does nothing,” Luthicer said. “You start soon. Understand?” “Don’t forget we’re equals,” Urte said, his chest rising.  Luthicer’s brow scrunched. “So act like it then.” My father stood and pushed himself between the men. “This isn’t about you two,” he said, his black hair springing into the air. His eyes radiated as he glowered at Luthicer. “Shoman will start training with Urte soon—as long as Eric agrees.” Everyone turned to me, and I winced. My spine was squeezing. “I can do it,” I said.  “This is a serious decision, Eric,” he said. “If you do it when you’re not ready, you’ll only injure yourself.” I hesitated for the first time that night. In the corner, Jonathon was pale, his working eye widening behind his thick glasses, and I knew he realized what I had. Our fathers were just as capable as Luthicer, and Darthon—the second descendant—was worse than them. He was more powerful than our elders, just as I was supposed to be, but I wasn’t even close to meeting that power. If I was going to survive, I needed to be stronger.  “I will try,” I said, wincing as my voice strained against my throat. Whatever Luthicer had done to me resonated. The pain was worsening.  “Then it’s decided,” Luthicer said, stepping back and clasping his hands together. “Eric will begin his training.” I clenched my teeth together, while my father guided the men to the middle of the room. “So this meeting is over,” he said, and both men nodded.  “We’ll be within calling distance,” Eu said, and then they were gone—without even bothering to say their goodbyes to me. The shadows spiraled and dissipated. When I was positive they were long gone, I collapsed.  “What the hell did he do to me?” I asked, grabbing my scalp.  My father shoved water in my face. “Drink it,” he said, and I gulped it as he explained. “It’s a torture illusion; you’re okay.” “You mean,” I choked, hitting my knee as I caught my breath. “That wasn’t even happening?” “It attacks your nervous system,” he confirmed, shaking his head. “It’s probably the most commonly used spell. You’re not hurt.” I lay back, groaning. “I hate that guy.” “Roll up your sleeves,” Urte said, and I fell out of my shade form as I obeyed. Urte ran his fingers across my bruising skin, glowering at the red marks Luthicer left behind. “He had no right.” “The power he used,” I breathed. “Does Camille—” “She’s capable of it,” my father said, cringing. “I’m afraid she knows much more than that.” “And she’s nothing compared to Darthon?” Their silence answered my question.  “It’s going to be okay, Eric,” Urte said, helping me sit up.  I shook my head. “Lying is my forte, Urte, not yours.” Slowly, I stood up on my shaking feet and walked across the office. I leaned against the desk, ran my hand over my father’s paperwork, and picked up a pen. Turning around, I shoved it in my father’s hand.  “What’s this?” he asked, raising a brow.  “You’ll need it to sign my death certificate,” I said, pain vibrating my veins against my muscles and bones. “Are we done now?”


“Peanut butter and chocolate is the best medicine,” Crystal said, dropping the sticky mess in front of me. I stared at it, unable to feel hungry. I was too angry. Eric was so conceited. He only cared about himself, and my grades were going to drop because of it. I’d never find information on my parents.  Robb reached over me, dipping a pretzel into the peanut butter. “Don’t mind if I do.”  Crystal swatted his hand. “Rude much,” she said. “Lola would have a fit if she saw you do that.”  Lola was Crystal’s mother, and she wasn’t going to be home all night, despite the fact that Crystal had school tomorrow. We all did.  “Lola doesn’t have to know,” Robb said, chewing with his mouth open. “It’s the best medicine, after all. I’m sure she’ll understand.” “Medicine for Jess,” Crystal’s pierced lip banged against her teeth, and she winced. “We’re here to make Jess feel better,” she mumbled. “Not you.” Robb chewed on his pretzel and stared with his big, brown eyes. “How’s that science project going for you anyway?”  I moaned, collapsing on Crystal’s bed. “Horribly.” Crystal sighed. “Reminding her of it is not how you make a girl feel better.” Robb waved his arms in the air. “How was I supposed to know that?”  “Maybe from all the girls you’ve dated,” she said, raising her black eyebrows. Robb shrugged, returned to his food, and Crystal rubbed her temples. “No wonder none of them worked out.” “Hey!” Chewed pretzel spewed from Robb’s mouth. “Some of them worked out.” Crystal nodded. “The drunk ones.”  My mouth hung open. “You two drink?” I asked, reminding myself that I barely knew my two closest friends. “Like alcohol?” They turned to me and grinned. “What else can you do here?” Robb laughed. “The parties are the best.” “The clubs are even better,” Crystal agreed.  My cheeks burned. “I didn’t know you had any.” “We don’t,” she said. “But the next town over does.” “My friend, Zac, makes fakes,” Robb said, leaning back with his arms behind his head. “We can get in anywhere.” I swallowed my nerves. “But aren’t you a little young?”  Crystal waved her hand in my face. “You’re never too young for journalism.” Robb rolled his eyes. “I got her a fake, so she could beat her mom’s news stories.”  “And if you want the best stories, you have to go to the best places,” Crystal said, beaming behind her bleached hair.  “That’s when she realized how much fun clubs could be.” Robb laughed, his chest rising beneath his red shirt. “Alcohol is better than sweets any day.” I cringed. I generally avoided alcohol. Warping my mind didn’t appeal to me.  “Relax, Jess,” Crystal said, pinching my arm. “It’s not a big deal; we’ll take you sometime.” I ignored her and stared at Robb. “I thought your parents were strict.” Kill The Lights

He raised his brow. “Who said they ever catch me?” he asked, suddenly checking his watch. “But I should get out of here before my parents freak.” My heart pounded. “What time is it?” “Eleven.” “What?” I leapt from Crystal’s bed and grabbed my things. “I’m late.” Crystal blinked. “So call them.” I searched my pockets, and my entire body sank. “I left my phone at home.” That explains why they weren’t blowing up my phone.  “Weirdo.” I frowned at her. “It’s a bad habit.”  “Relax,” Robb said, stepping between us. “I can drive you.”  Before I knew it, I wrapped my arms around him. “Thank you,” I said, shying away before he could reciprocate my touch.  When I looked at him, he was grinning. “Let’s go.” I threw on my jacket. “See you at school, Crystal.” She waved, not even bothering to walk us out, and we rushed to Robb’s blue Chevy Suburban. As soon as we were buckled in, Robb took off, and I gripped the seat.  “Sorry if this is a burden,” I said, knowing he knew where I lived. He already drove me to school twice, yet I was oblivious about where he lived. “I hope my house isn’t out of the way.” “You’re not a burden, Jess,” Robb laughed, pointing to Crystal’s neighbor. “But I live right there.”  My stomach sunk. “I’m sorry.” “Don’t be,” he said. “My parents can’t mind if they’re asleep.”  I watched his unlit house disappear behind us. “Why are they so strict anyway?” I asked, hoping to find someone to relate to. “Grades or something?” Robb chuckled. “My grades are perfect. Believe me, they make sure of that.” Our conversation stopped, and Robb fiddled with the radio controls on his steering wheel. He briefly looked away, but quickly returned his focus to the main road. Then his hand pushed against the console, and his radio turned off. “They’re strict, because they’re paranoid.” “About what?” He shrugged, but it was stiff. “Stupid teenager stuff.” Clearly, he didn’t want to elaborate.  “Mine are too,” I said, attempting to lighten his mood. Ever since my mother told my father I wanted to look for information on my biological parents, they hadn’t been the same. They tiptoed around the subject as if I’d leave them the instant I found a long-lost uncle, twice removed. Like that was going to happen. I was beginning to believe an extended family didn’t even exist, yet I hadn’t bothered looking. Because I was afraid and didn’t want to find out I was born practically alone. “I’m barely let out on weekend nights,” Robb said, suddenly breaking the silence again. His brow was furrowed. “I normally study. Isn’t much of a life for a player,” he joked.  I bit my lip, curiosity bubbling in my veins. “How many girls have you dated?”  “Quite a lot,” he said, winking. “I’m addicted.”  “You’re going to get screwed over one day,” I said, and he smirked.  “And I’m looking forward to it.”  We laughed for a few seconds but spun into silence quickly afterwards. I leaned my head against the passenger window and watched the streets fly by. His truck sped past a drug store, and long lampposts stretched light over the street in a blur. We passed our school, and, even in the darkness, I could make out the willow tree’s looming shadow. Eric. I remembered how he met Teresa beneath it and frowned. I had no clue what I was going to do about my incompetent homeroom partner. Clearly, he wasn’t going to help me, but I couldn’t do the entire project by myself. It was due in three weeks, and Crystal and Robb had already begun theirs. They weren’t even close to done yet.  Robb leaned over and tapped my leg, breaking my enraged trance.

I shall seal the heavens

“See that mansion over there?” he asked, and my eyes adjusted in the darkness. Somewhat hidden in a thick mass of trees, a house peered out. A few lights shined through the thorns and lit up the contorted driveway. It was dark and eerie—the kind of house neighborhood kids would only approach on Halloween.  As we passed it, Robb’s lip curled. “That’s Welborn’s house.”  My knuckles tightened into a fist. “He’s so rude,” I said. “I tried so hard today, and he doesn’t care at all—” “Jess,” Robb interrupted me quietly, and his eyes fogged over. “He used to be a really great guy. Awesome, nice, smart, funny, you name it. He was even there for me when my dog died,” he spoke through a struggled laugh. “He was my best friend until Hannah’s death.” “I’m sorry.” “I wasn’t asking for pity,” he said, briefly meeting my eyes. He sighed and gripped the wheel. “That Eric is still in him somewhere; I’m sure you can talk him out of it.” I held my breath. “Do you really think that?”  He nodded, but didn’t elaborate, and I didn’t push it. Who was I to judge them? I’d never lost anyone, aside from my biological parents, and I didn’t even remember what they looked like. I knew nothing of death, and, for some unexplainable reason, I was beginning to feel guilty for that.  “It’ll be okay, Jess,” Robb said, pulling into my driveway minutes later.  “Thanks,” I said, forcing a grateful smile. “For everything.” Before he could continue our night with more conversation, I shut the door. I watched him back out of the driveway, and then I turned to my house. All the lights were on. Fantastic.  When I opened the front door, my parents met me with folded arms.  “Jessie Taylor.” My mother’s blonde hair was ruffled. “Where have you been? It’s a school night.” I sighed, dropping my bag on the floor. “Studying.” “Studying?” She raised her voice, and my father placed a hand on her shoulder. “It’s almost midnight.” “It’s eleven.” “Don’t argue with me, young lady,” she said, jabbing a finger in my direction. “We’ve been worried sick.” “And who was that boy who dropped you off?” my dad asked, peering behind his reading glasses, and my shoulders dropped.  “His name’s Robb,” I said. “And I was with Crystal and him—studying. We were working on our science projects.” “That’s funny, because your teacher called,” my mom said, raising her brow. “She said you haven’t even started.” My mouth hung open. I was ready to argue.  “My partner won’t help me,” I said, and my father waved my excuse away.  “You’re failing, Jess,” he said, shaking his head back and forth. “We made a deal; if you don’t keep your grades up, then you can wait to research your—” “My parents?” I finished, and they tensed. “I haven’t even had time to start researching yet.” “Whose fault it that?” my mother asked. “Maybe if you spent less time socializing, and more time studying, you’d be able to.”  “But—” “No ‘buts’, Jessie.” She didn’t even let me speak. “We made a deal.”  I bit my lip, avoiding their eyes. They didn’t understand. They’d never understand.  “You get your grade up, and you can start searching.” “Fine,” I said, climbing my stairs to my bedroom and ending the conversation.  Welborn was going to get it tomorrow.


            Translated manga, being mostly anime-style works from the 1990s and later, have largely passed up what was once a huge element of Japanese culture: the blue-collar yankii culture of delinquent teens and lower-class brawlers. In the 1970s and early 1980s shônen manga was full of manly, sentimental stories of banchô (gang boss) types in ragged school uniforms, often with elaborately greased and pompadoured hair, as parodied in the character “Wooden Sword” Ryu in Shen Yin Wang Zuo (1998). A related subculture is bôsôzoku (violent running tribes), gangs of young men and women who ride souped-up cars and motorcycles and wear baggy clothes combining the style of kamikaze pilots and day laborers. (They were also infamous for sniffing paint thinner.) The hero of Tohru Fujisawa’s GTO: The Early Years: Shonan Junai-Gumi (1990) is a bôsôzoku (or technically an ex-bôsôzoku), as is one of the heroines of Novala Takemoto’s Kamikaze Girls. A female street punk, such as Kamikaze Girls’ Ichiko, is nothing out of the ordinary. Japanese movie and manga audiences have loved sailor-suited, death-dealing ladies long before Quentin Tarantino tried his hand at the genre; one classic example is Shinji Wada’s 1976 Sukeban Deka (“Delinquent Girl Detective”), whose teenage heroine fights crime with a razor-bladed yo-yo that doubles as a police badge. Although yankii and bôsôzoku were once a serious concern of Japanese parents and police, they are now more a subject of nostalgia, as seen in the popular Japanese retro band Kishidan.


            The streets of Tokyo are one of the most frequently and accurately depicted settings in manga; the big manga publishers make their headquarters here, and Tokyo nightlife is a common subject. In the 1990s Japan was gripped with moral panic over enjo kôsai, “compensated dating,” a euphemism for prostitution usually performed by teenage girls in search of spending money. Voyeurs Inc. (1994), Star martial god technique (1998), Gals! (1999), Confidential Confessions: Deai (2003), and IWGP: Ikebukuro West Gate Park (2001) all depict the phenomenon with varying degrees of prurient interest. Other youth crime scares of the 1990s have appeared in manga as well, such as oyaji-gari (old-man hunting), in which gangs beat up middle-aged office workers for their paychecks. It was in such a climate that Koushun Takami wrote Battle Royale, his brutal 1999 satire in which a fascist Japanese government deals with youth unrest by forcing teenagers to kill each other in a survival game whose traumatized winners are shown on national TV.

Jess slammed her chemistry book and glared. “You know we have a science project due soon, right?”  Of course I did. She’d been on my case all week.  “So what?” “So I think we should plan a time to meet up,” she said, her lips pressing into a white line. “We need to work on it.” “Why would we want to do that?” I asked, scanning over our current, and painful, lab.  She tied her curls into a ponytail so aggressively I was surprised the hair tie didn’t snap. “Because we have to finish this project,” she said, tapping her nails.  The sound was deafening. I cringed. “Why don’t we work on it now?” “We can’t,” she said, leaving her mouth hanging open.

Heavenly Jewel Change

“We’re in the middle of a lab.” “So what?”  “So we can’t work on our project right now.” Her blue eyes turned to slits. “The project is homework—meaning we do it out of school.” Her attitude made me smile. No one talked back to me. I hated to admit I was impressed, but I was.  I laid my chin on my hand, covering up my grin. “I do homework in class.” Or not at all. It wasn’t like I’d get to graduate if I was dead.  Jess blinked, her face reddening. “Well, I do it at home.” I shrugged. “Then whose problem is this exactly?”  She gripped the table with her tiny hands. “Look, Eric—” I laughed. “You call me Welborn, remember?” She groaned and laid her forehead on the black desk.

“This is impossible.” “Welcome to high school,” I said, and she pushed her chair backward, scraping the metal legs against the tile floor. Goose bumps crawled over my skin, and I turned away. “I’m busy outside of school anyway.” With a girl.  I also had a meeting with the elders tonight. I didn’t have time to worry about my human life. I needed to prepare to deal with Luthicer and Eu, two of the fiercest Dark elders. They expected a lot from the first descendant, yet I had nothing to show them.  “Maybe I’m busy too, Welborn,” Jessica said, leaning over to catch my gaze. She was persistent. “Did you ever think of that?” My lips pulled into an uncontrollable grin. “I can’t take your anger seriously.” She hit the table and stood up. “Whatever, Welborn,” she said, collecting her bag. “If you stop being a selfish prick, I’ll be with Crystal and Robb.”  This time, I was the one to glare. “So you can ask them more questions about me?” I asked, knowing I was revealing my eavesdropping.  

Martial God Asura

She paled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I rolled my eyes, ignoring her denial. “I’d prefer you ask me about my problems instead of gossiping,” I said. “It isn’t a good look on you.”  She froze, but she didn’t redden. Instead, she raised her brow and leaned down, whispering. “And being an asshole isn’t a good look on anyone.” Then, she turned and walked away. I watched her sit next to her friends, struck with the peculiar urge to stop her. I’m not an asshole. I wanted to say it, but it was too late. She was gone, and I couldn’t even distract myself with our science lab.  I was already done.



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