Balanced Art

Covered in swirling darkness, she found herself once again in a place she had visited many times before. Flashes of neon, the only source of light illuminated the dank void she found herself in. Sweat trickling, the girl stood frozen with dreadful anticipation.

Letting out a fragile breath, she ambled through the obscurity, until she came across a large, ordinate, wooden door. Gasping, her eyes narrowed dangerously as her pulse quickened. The girl haughtily threw the door open; readying herself to spelunk even deeper into the shadows within. The twists and turns that followed did little to put her mind at ease as she felt the darkness, as if searching for the inevitable.

Step by lonesome step down, the shadows consumed her until left everything, even the remnants of her heart all but tainted. Still, she continued onwards, veering into a room filled with self-suspending canvases. As she came closer in order to examine them, the girl quickly came to the conclusion that they were blank; barren of any color.

No smear of tempera, dab of watercolor, nor stroke of oil could ever hope to even touch such empty canvases. Even the almighty acrylic had failed in yielding any fruit. Hues forgotten, bypassed by all but nothing, swirling into themselves; spawning melancholy monochrome in its place. In the girl's heart, the very same could be said. Trapped in alcoves of her own emotional turbulence, she continued forward, taking note of the sudden chill in the air.

A dim overhead light grew brighter and brighter as she drew near the only canvas that held a painting. It was a simple portrait, a self portrait to be precise, one depicting that of a young girl with lovely features despite the deep scowl that marred her lips. From what could be seen of her upper torso, she wore a simple house kimono over what could be suspected as a combat blouse. One also could not overlook her hair, with blond tresses flowing freely far beyond her frail shoulders or even her eyes for that matter. Eyes blazing gold, with such a searing gaze that could easily incinerate any potential passerby save for its original counterpart.

The portait spoke eerily, "Why?"

Day One
At that moment, Yakuro awoke, golden eyes ablaze with a mix of fear and confusion. "Just a dream, it was just a dream." She nervously took in the nature that was around her on the now dead Terralius. She had been seperated for quite some time now, no life forms had visited for a long period, she began to wonder of Temeres, and buried her face in her palms, only to cry.

For some time, she has owned the large mansion she dubbed home, as she was the only one to live in it for the ages to come and pass. It had been so long, so lonely, so peaceful though, the ages had gone by as quick as her drawings, each one had only taken few moments, even she could, if she wanted, make a painting in mere seconds, though she preferred if she could take her time.

Quieting down, she sighed, only to once more begin to paint, the canvas expressing what her mood was at that moment. As dark blue shades swirling with a hint to purple, light blue extracts jumping out from each corner as the center swirled with the dark blue loneliness.

Activating her 'sixth-sense', as a whole, Yakuro's eyes glowed deep, rich gold, as soft energy enveloped Terralius, her power spreading about the whole planet, making the massive orb seem as if itself were glowing the beautiful shade. Deep down, in the depths of her heart, Yakuro yearned for love, for that fluttering feeling that sends the spirit ablaze with unsurmountable passion.

She peered up into the clouds, hoping for a visitor, though she felt none of that would ever occur, her hopes died off in seconds as she gathered her items, and slowly walked back toward her mansion, canves and paints, the few things that actually made her life worht living. Once more, she found herself depressed, down, and doomed to live a life of solitude, curse her weak body and frail container.

As Yakuro headed back to her home, she caught sight of someone in the distance; a figure in a black traveler's cloak, sprawled on the ground, unmoving. An enormous sword lay next to the man.

Yakuro blinked, 'How could I have not noticed this person moments ago?' she asked herself, as she made slow strides and eventually stopped at the unmoving man, she bent down, "E-excuse me? Are you okay?" she politely asked, nervousness laced the whole question, as she gently placed each one of her belongings upon the ground. She put her hand upon the man, lightly shaking him, she asked her same question once more.

Upon closer inspection, the man's hair was a brilliant shade of emerald green, and his cloak torn in many places. He was facedown on the ground. Despite her prodding, the fellow did not move.

Yakuro stared at his hair, this shade bringing her back to another time, long gone, she sighed, after noticing that his cloak was torn, and knowing that he didn't seem to respond to her continuous shaking, she tried turning him over, 'Why do I have to be so weak?' She mentally berates herself as she turns over the cloaked man.

Upon turning him over, she is greeted to the sight of numerous wounds; The man's eyes were closed and blood was spattered on his face and torso.

Yakuro's eyes widened at the sight, she had not expected this, using some of her own energy, she began to slowly heal these wounds, though with her level at such techniques, it's take her a while to perform such power. As such, the healing process took ten minutes before the man could be fully healed.

The man gave a strangled gasp, suddenly becoming active as his golden eyes snapped open.

Once more, Yakuro asked curiously, "Are you okay?", her face being the first thing to come into focus once his golden orbs had opened.

The man gasped for air for a few moments, before responding. "...you shouldn't have helped me..."

"And why is that? You looked like you were dying." Yakuro formed a small smile, "And everyone deserves at least a second chance."

"A second chance?" the man asked, "I've squandered away any second chances I may have deserved..."

"I doubt that." Yakuro responded, "And even so, I saved your life. It's good to have at least someone around, haven't spoken to a person in a long time."

The man sighed, and looked away. "Fate is a cruel thing," he said. "People around me tend to die before their time."

"Well, I've been alive for a long time." Yakuro explained, "I was alive even before war ravaged this planet. I had a lover who became a killer, so you must not worry about my life."

"...you are pure-blood?" the man asked. "But how- no, nevermind. It matters not. Nothing matters. I am but a fool, thinking that redemption would be possible... but I could do nothing as my friends, brothers and sisters in arms, were sent to their deaths..."

"It tends to happen that way, does it not?" Yakuro asked, "Many have tried, many have failed. It's the circle, where a life dies, another takes it's place. Think of it as a joy for your friends, should they now be happy in the next world. And you shall join them later, you must wait your turn." Even though her morbid explanation certainly has it's dark side, it also has a happier thought to it.

The man simply stared off into the sky for a few moments, before he spoke. "I ought to go... perhaps I can find some place where I may die in peace..." However, upon trying to sit up, a searing pain shot through his shoulders, and he fell back down, growling in pain.

Yakuro's unwavering expression showed signs of indifference, "You must not move, you could get hurt worse." Within a few moments, the man finds himself floating, though still in his lying position. Yakuro picks up her things, stands up, and walks toward her house, the man floating next to her. "By the way, my name is Yakuro, what is your's?"

"Names are unimportant," the man said. "But... you may call me Ar- I mean, Ryou." The man was unsure why he suddenly changed his mind; he hadn't called himself 'Ryou' for over a thousand years.

"Ryou.." Yakuro repeated, "That's a sweet name." She softly smiles, as the door to her mansion opens itself, allowing Ryou to float about in, straight to what could be assumed to be a guest room, he was placed down upon the bed. Yakuro comes walking in moments later, "I hope you enjoy the room, although no one has slept in it for years."

The room itself contained portraits of Terralius' landscape from ages before, a self-portrait of Yakuro, and a picture containing swirling colors. Periwinkle curtains were draped over the windows, blocking out some light that made it's way through the window.

Ryou sighed, merely staring blankly at the ceiling. ''Inferno... you once told me that you were a god... who made your own fate... that didn't stop your death nor the deaths of Amnesty and Red, though... why must fate toy with us so? Why can't I simply defy my own fate and take my own life? Curse my cowardice...''

Yakuro interrupted Ryou's thoughts, "Excuse me, but would you like some tea, or something to eat?"

"I need nothing," Ryou said distantly.

"Oh..." Yakuro quietly responded, leaving the room for a moment. At the very same time, Ryou could feel a dark power inhabiting the house, evil intentions on destroying him. Although all of it washed away the exact moment Yakuro came walking back into the room, with her own cup of tea. She asked, "Have I seen you before?"

"I doubt it."

"Oh..." Yakuro quietly stated, "After the war razed the land, I have been so lonely. I thought I was the last Terral, besides my lover, who left and became a supernatural being. His name was Temeres, did you know him?" She asked, hope laced in her voice, to see if she could get a more joyous response from the despondant Ryou.

Ryou was silent for a moment, before responding. "...unfortunately."

Yakuro took a sip of her tea, "He really did change." She sat down on a nearby stool, "He was a good, kind hearted man, but that was long ago. And then war raged, and Terralius became nothing. Almost everyone is dead." A few tears dropped from Yakuro's face as she sniffled, "I'm sorry, I don't normally cry over something I've lost, I should be over it."

"The war..." Ryou said absentmindedly. He remembered it only too well- part of him died on it's final day, both literally and metaphorically.

"About your question-" Yakuro began, "From earlier, yes, I'm a pure-blood. I've been around here for ages, though I rarely left my home. I guess I could say I'm either lucky, or cursed." She sniffled, finally quieting from her earlier fit of tears.

Ryou continued to stare absent-mindedly, as if distracted by something- the poor man appeared broken in both mind and spirit.

"You see, my home, this place, has a ancient power hoving over it." Yakuro explained, "The power was also a reason why I was safe during the war, and I don't know if it was a good thing or not." She took another sip of her tea, enjoying the bitter flavor. "It's why I'm still alive, but it's only an educated guess." She adds, taking another sip of her tea.

Ryou sighed. "Fate is needlessly cruel."

"How so? Explain yourself to me, I'm always open for a story." Yakuro emptily smiled.

"...My past is better left a mystery," Ryou said.

"Oh... Are you sure?" Yakuro asked, then after mulling a moment, she spoke again, "I suppose it's rash and incorrect of me to corner a guest. Excuse my rash behavior."

Ryou made no response and continued to stare silently at the ceiling. It was apparent that he would not be easy to talk to...

"I... I am sorry." Yakuro stated, "I didn't mean to hurt or offend you, I just-"

"Weren't thinking." A voice echoed, giving assistance to Yakuro's seemingly lost sentence.

"Yeah..." Yakuro sighed.

Ryou was suddenly startled at the sound of the voice, enough to try and leap up- resulting in the piercing agony to shoot through his body again.

"...that voice..." he finally said. "What is that... voice?"

"It's the curse I just spoke of." Yakuro stated, "It lives here, with me." Her eyes glistened with welling tears, her expression fearful and melancholity.

Ryou's eyes softened slightly, as if coming to a kind of realization. "...I'm sorry."

"Yakuro..." The sickly voice spoke, "Show our guest around..."

"R-right..." Yakuro stated, as she slowly walked out of the room, she brought in what could be presumed a large canvas, "This will show you the inside of the house." Within moments, images of the house were shown, each showing some form of joy, and some sadness, but all the while, being a cozy home.

After the brief presentation, the canves burned itself down to nothingness. Yakuro began to sniffle once more before leaving the room to cry to herself, her emotional energy radiating off her all into the house. A laugh though, echoes in the room, sickly and weak, yet containing dark power, which resonated through Ryou's body, and the room grows cold.

The picture that's the self-portrait of Yakuro speaks to Ryou, "Why did she allow you in?"

"...perhaps you should ask her that yourself..." Ryou said.

The cold energy dies away, as Yakuro walks back in, she walks over to Ryou's bedside, "I'm sure you want to get better right away." She states, handing him what appears to be a small, round, clear orb. "Swallow it, it will heal the rest of your internal injuries, it's made from the plants I cultivate outside."

Arbiter stared for a moment, before slowly extending a hand to take the orb in silence.

"The plant life is hard to come across, and I sincerely hope that it will heal you right away." Yakuro barely smiles, "I don't like seeing others in pain..." She holds her cup of tea with an iron grip, but keeps quiet to herself.

In his right mind, Ryou would not have taken a pill from a near-stranger, not at least without searching the person's intentions with his mind. Ryou, however, was not in his right mind. With some difficulty, he swallowed the strange orb.

With what could be assumed, moments, energy suddenly lifted Ryou up, healing him of his internal dilemmas and ridding him of any pain he had moments before. Yakuro looked to his expression though, she wondered if it worked, she knew that at times it could fail, but she'd just have to ask, "Do you feel better? I mean, does it hurt anymore?" She quaintly questions.

Ryou sat up. "No."

Yakuro looked down, "I'm sorry." She puts her pointer fingers together, over and over again, looking away from Ryou's visage. "I always mess up anyways..."

"No as in it does not hurt." Ryou said, noticing Yakuro's gesture. "It worked."

She looks up to Ryou, "It did?" She paused for a moment, and then smiled, "It did! That's good. I was hoping it worked." She thinks for a moment, "But I guess you have somewhere to be?" She questions, "Well, not on Terralius, we've been long since dead."

Ryou sighed. "I have nowhere to be."

Yakuro nodded, "Well, you can keep this room if you want, no one is using it." Yakuro stood up, and took one last sip of her tea, before she slowly sauntered out of the room.

At the same moment, the cold energy wafted itself in, wrapping itself around Ryou, before Yakuro just happened to run back in, it melted away instantly, "Are you hungry, I'm still offering." Her voice laced with hope and sincerity.

"...if you insist." Ryou said.

Yakuro beamed, literally lighting up the whole room with her joy, the periwinkle curtains spreading apart, to allow the heavenly light of the outdoors to shine in. Within moments, Yakuro left, ready to begin her mid-day snack for her and her newfound guest. Though, at her departure, the room once again, grew to become cold, darkening without her joy, whatever "curse" was upon the mansion, seemed to follow Ryou when he was alone.

Ryou, however, remained silent despite the strange changes.

"I'm sorry that took so long." Yakuro's voice could be heard down the hall.

The cold darkness left immediately, "But I made fruit bowls, I love fruit." She stated as she handed Ryou a bowl of the delicious, delectable produce. She went on to eating her own fruit.

Ryou stared at the bowl for a few moments before eating a piece of fruit. The taste seemed to shock his mouth at first, out of lack of food for some time, but it was also refreshing.

Yakuro had only nibbled on her first fruit, though she eventually took bigger bites, as she herself enjoyed the texture and flavor. "I hope you like them, fruits are healthy for you and can really brighten your mood." She informed, "I also want to thank you for keeping yourself around, I don't normally have company."

"This is... refreshing." Ryou said finally. "Thank you."

Yakuro giggled, "You're welcome." She finished her fruit, and watched the outdoors in motion, even though there was not much to see. "I'm hoping to one day leave this place. Too many memories." She sighed, "What of you?"

Ryou looked down. "I have nothing left to hope for. I've been around the cosmos... whatever shreds of happiness I found disappeared only too soon."

"Oh..." Yakuro answered, "I'm sorry..." She quietly answered, she though of what had transpired, of the man named Ryou, of how she found him, why the house's curse didn't take even the tiniest shred of liking to him, she sighed inwardly, at what the house would do.

A Few Nights Later...
Yakuro had been crying, it hadn't been because of Ryou, it was because of that damn curse, the darkness that envelopes the house at night. She had been so upset, as she relives every dream of the death of her parents. The fire, the inevitable suffocation, the pain, the screams. For the innumerable amount of days that had passed since their death, Yakuro had awoken, every single night, screaming, and every single night, the house would come to life with the reliving of the nightmarish day of her parents death, so to say, this is what Yakuro's every night seemed to exist with.

This night, was no different, she had awoken, screaming, screaming her lungs out.

In Ryou's room, the cold embrace of hate magnitudes almost reaching to the Secret of the same name, surrounded Ryou. Whispers could be heard, the voices speaking of death and slaughtering, it was as if Temeres had walked into the room, even his own aura could be felt, and he had not been in the house for a LONG time.

One voice stood out the most, it being the one sounding like Yakuro's the most, it spoke, ''"Leave, leave and never return, or we shall send you away ourselves." ''It threatened, obviously angered by his presence.

Ryou, however, would lie stony-faced and still as the whispers echoed around him like the voices of ghosts.

Though, suddenly, the whispers left, the cold, dark energy left the room, as if in a rush. Crying could be heard down the hall, as well as pained moans, these noises escaping from the lips of the woman who invited Ryou into her home. These noises could peak anyone's interest into what she could be doing, and so desire would be what would come to pass in the pursuit of knowledge.

Silently, Ryou slipped out of the bed, not having gotten out of it since he arrived. He walked over to the door, pulling it open and heading into the hallway.

Blood soaked the walls, the floors, the ceiling. Strange markings marred the paintings, and the cold energy was felt througout the hall. Some canveses could be seen destroyed or simply vanished, while some hang upon the ceiling. It's as if the house made a complete change at night. The crying could be heard from where Yakuro's room was, it being the next door down the hall, and where the door was what appeared to be a fire, though it did not burn anything, it appeared to be blazing in place, setting flames to nothing but the air it constricted.