[fuuchou]
PLANESWALKER (1/4): EMISSARY
by ai_ling
"Forest again?" Isumi said, watching as Shindou cast his first land to the plane. They stood, side by side, conversing casually as they prepared the plane for this battle. It wouldn't last--eventually, the plane would demand their attention elsewhere, and the fighting would begin--but for now, Isumi enjoyed the friendly banter while it was available.
"You're one to talk," Shindou grumbled, watching his forest settle and take root. "Mountains and plains, more mountains and more plains. Your planes either stick out all over the place or they just lie flat. Make up your mind, Isumi-san."
Isumi laughed, smiling good-naturedly at Shindou's words. He knew Shindou didn't mean anything by them. He laid a volcanic peak not far off, then watched over it as the plane shifted to accommodate and incorporate the mountain before he ceded control back to Shindou. "I occasionally dabble in other lands if the situation calls for it," Isumi said. "You seem to prefer llanowar vines and rampant overgrowth."
Shindou waved, made a dismissive snorting noise, and laid down another forest before speaking a soft word of command. Some figures in green appeared, llanowar elves that wouldn't do Isumi much damage. Isumi would need to deal with them eventually, though, for llanowar creatures helped their casters harness wild plane magic. Shindou, like all green mages, was always difficult to stop when there was an abundance of mana behind them. Isumi was grateful the elves couldn't do anything this round, affected by summoning sickness as they were.
Shindou seemed to know he'd chosen predictably, because he grinned at Isumi sheepishly. "I guess you have a point. Your turn," he said cheerfully.
Isumi's mountain stretched a little as another joined it, the two of them merging to become a short but still imposing range. To defend against Shindou's elves, Isumi summoned some shield-bearers. In response, Shindou placed more forestland and then created a giant rodent that towered over the elves. It bared wickedly sharp fangs at Isumi's shield-bearers.
Isumi made a face, and Shindou grinned. "I thought you liked Mickey Mouse?" Shindou asked cheekily.
"That's hardly comparable," Isumi said, chuckling even as he protested the parallel. The rat could slice a planeswalker in half with those dangerous-looking teeth. Isumi added another peak, pulling the mountain range up a little higher so it would make a better natural wall. That rodent would be able to attack in the next turn; it would have to be removed. This early in the match, there was only one way for Isumi to do so. He concentrated, drawing on the mana his mountains fed him, feeling the red warmth tingle as it gathered at his fingertips.
Beside him, Isumi heard Shindou groan suddenly in resigned recognition as the air around them began to grow slightly charged. It was too late for Shindou to do anything now. "Flax!" Isumi said, suddenly snapping a finger towards the rodent.
With a loud crack, a streak of red lighting arced through the air. Shindou winced as the giant creature uttered a squeal and vanished.
"It's not even the tenth turn, Isumi-san!" Shindou said, protesting, before he huffed indignantly and puffed his chest up. "Fine, you asked for it." A giant spider appeared on the edge of Shindou's still-growing forest, larger than the rodent. It rubbed two of its eight legs together, then stretched up, reaching high and exposing the venom sacs on its underside. Shindou smirked. "That lightning won't work on this one. Don't blame me when you lose!"
Isumi laid down the first of his plains, returning Shindou's smirk with a calm gaze. "Isn't that why I have this?" he asked. Now, Isumi could call on white mana to merge with the red. White archers appeared beside Isumi, and a goblin fire brigade shimmered into existence, hovering a moment before it took to the skies. The goblins cackled, and the hot air balloons they rode angled towards Shindou's forest. They would attack the next turn.
Shindou's eyes brightened visibly. Isumi could feel Shindou's excitement--the tension of Shindou's posture, the in-drawn breath, the quickening rise-and-fall, the fast-flicker of eyes over the entirety of the plane. More forest grew, and llanovar vines appeared, beginning to weave themselves into a protective web above the leafy canopy.
"Bring it on," Shindou said, beaming as the first of the goblins' firebombs bounced off the net.
Isumi smiled. "Here I come, then," he said, placing another plains.
That had been three weeks ago, an unfinished friendly match that had been suspended with a called draw. Isumi knew they would not be replaying that fight. This time, it was war.
Beyond the heavy drapes, he could hear junior planeswalkers setting up the precautions that would keep battle magic within their battle plane when the skirmishing began. The air in the confined space surrounding him weighed down heavily on his shoulders as he thought of the clash that awaited him. It would be a long duel. None of the qualifier face-offs had ended in a lopsided rout so far. Isumi anticipated an involved encounter and had prepared for a drawn-out siege. He would pass this year--it was possible. They were halfway through the qualifiers, and so far Isumi was undefeated.
However, so was Shindou.
On the opposite side of the communal ready room, Shindou paced, his footsteps creating a slow, steady, barely-audible rhythm that Isumi realized he was matching his breathing to. Unaware of Isumi's scrutiny, Shindou's fingers ran distractedly through spelled blond bangs. Occasionally, he looked to the side at nothing in particular. Isumi watched as Shindou's mouth moved again, speaking to the air as he had done countless times before.
Strange behaviour was something Shindou had manifested since his first day at the Institute. The newcomer often talked to himself, stopping randomly in the middle of tasks to wave wildly and gesticulate at thin air. Over time, the other planeswalkers at the Institute had accepted the strange movements as merely yet another manifestation of Shindou's eccentricities. The senior scribe Amano had acclimatized too; the last time Shindou had done this, Amano had caught Isumi's eyes and then shrugged and carried on with his duties.
Waya had once suggested that Shindou's strange behaviour was his way of talking to himself. It made sense, when one took into account certain other aspects of Shindou's personality. Whatever the reason, it was certainly entertaining. Perhaps that was why Shindou did it. Shindou had never been very bothered by other's opinions. Outsiders still looked twice whenever Shindou looked to the side and said something indistinct. The devil-may-care smile Shindou gave those who were caught watching after one of those episodes led Isumi to surmise that perhaps Shindou enjoyed the attention it brought him.
Isumi closed his eyes a moment to rest them. Lately, his eyes had been open and working a little more than their fair share. Isumi had spent almost all of his waking moments in the past three weeks secluded in the Institute's libraries, researching and experimenting. Occasionally he fell asleep amongst the dusty references, but he refused to let himself rest too long.
Ever since he had watched Shindou's impromptu clash with Hong Su-young on a private practice plane twenty days ago, Isumi had felt a vague sense of unease. The confrontation he'd witnessed between the two young planeswalkers had taken his breath away and pressed more than a tinge of urgency and purpose into his preparations. That battle had been one worthy of national planeswalkers of any country. During that clash, Isumi had forgotten that both Shindou and Hong were merely trainee planeswalkers. He had never seen magic like that before; in fact, he had never thought plane magic could be used that way before. If Isumi did not improvise, Shindou would overtake him in the blink of an eye.
The memory of his three previous failed attempts to attain the Circle lurked in the back of Isumi's mind, but this time ... this time Isumi knew he would pass. It wasn't a matter of desperation, of needing to pass or being forced to leave the Institute. That didn't matter now. Never mind that some non-affiliates passed occasionally. Isumi knew he was good enough to join the Circle and serve Japan as one of its chosen national planeswalkers.
A movement beside Isumi drew him out of his reverie. He turned to the unwelcome sight of Ochi, standing in front of him. Isumi would face him in three weeks, three battles after this one.
"Isumi-san," Ochi said. He stared up at Isumi through owlishly round lenses on a face that was still plump with baby fat. On the planes, Ochi preferred a deadly combination of blue islands and black swamps. Isumi thought the nature of those two mana types suited Ochi's calculating and ambitiously ruthless nature far too well, but considered it very unsettling to see a young child like Ochi shaping planes with predominantly black spellbooks full of swamp creatures and dark artifacts.
Ochi sat down uninvited beside Isumi, and pushed his glasses up. He squinted up at Isumi's face. "You're not worried, are you? I wouldn't be. I'm sure you'll defeat Shindou easily. Everyone overestimates him."
"If you mean what Iijima and Komiya have been saying lately, Shindou is stronger than either of them, so it's to be expected that they consider him better. That's not an overestimation. There's nothing surprising about it," Isumi said.
Ochi adjusted his round spectacles once more. "It's not just Iijima and Komiya. I'm talking about Touya Akira."
Touya Akira ...
Like his father, Touya Akira had an almost unnatural control over plane mana. Touya Akira favored blue field enchantments that manipulated the plane masterfully, commanding territory from the first move, molding the plane so that it both defended and attacked at the same time. Isumi had watched Touya Akira efficiently shaping planes and harnessing wild mana almost effortlessly when he was less than half Isumi's age. The first Touya to become a planeswalker, Touya Koyo the Meijin, held five of the Core responsibilities. Most planeswalkers expected Touya Akira to one day equal or surpass his father. Many said it was in the Touya blood, but no one had ever heard of Touya's grandfather.
No one had ever heard of Shindou Hikaru, either, but here Shindou was within the Institute, rumored to be a planeswalker that could rival Touya Akira. No one at the Institute had ever seen a planeswalker meld the irreverent technical skill of an artificer with the intuitive living touch of a forest mage so seamlessly. Not before Shindou, at any rate. When Shindou touched the planes there were many who compared his strategies and methods with those of Shuusaku, the legendary planeswalker with rainbow splash mana spellbooks that utilized all five mana types as well as the colorless variant.
... wait, what am I doing?
Isumi shook his head, trying to dispel the thoughts. He didn't want to think about Touya Akira right now. He didn't need to lose himself in thoughts of Shindou's supposed greatness, either. Instead, Isumi reminded himself that Shindou was his opponent, and Shindou would not make it easy for Isumi to win. His eyes met those of Shindou's across the room, and Isumi narrowed his eyes in response to the challenging glare he received. Then Shindou resumed his pacing, the rhythm of his footfalls uninterrupted.
Unaware of Isumi's thoughts, Ochi continued to speak. "Shindou doesn't scare me. Everyone acts like Shindou's possessed by demonic powers that augment his abilities and shape his planes for him. I'm sure he's just faking it, like he fakes the hand-waving. Still, because of Touya's paranoia, I've been lucky enough to duel with Touya every night. He really doesn't have a thing to worry about except us. He's probably heard too many rumors. Then again, it suits me, facing Touya this often. Not everyone gets chances like this. I've been learning new tricks for every spell in his many books, and then some."
One of those phrases caught Isumi's attention. When Shindou had entered the Institute, he had bragged that Touya Akira viewed him as a rival. No one believed him, of course. Nameless planeswalkers were beneath the notice of the national planeswalkers within the Circle. Isumi had waited to see if Shindou was telling the truth before passing judgment, but Shindou lost so many training matches in the beginning that it was difficult to see him as the equal of Fuku, much less Touya.
What did Ochi mean, Touya was dueling with Ochi every night? Did Touya even know Ochi existed? Had there been truth in Shindou's words after all? Did Touya really think of Shindou as a rival?
No, that couldn't be ...
The memory of Shindou's match against Hong Su-yeong pushed itself back into Isumi's awareness. Shindou had summoned troops and artifacts in strange places. At the beginning of the duel, no one had thought there would be any use to that invisible wall he'd planted far out of his territory. There had been speculation among the watchers surrounding the battle plane that perhaps Shindou had needed to burn some mana before it burned him.
Twenty turns later, that invisible wall had been the key to Shindou's victory. No one else present (including some reserve planeswalkers from Korea) had realized the extent of Shindou's strategy until then. It had been an unprecedented display of strategic genius.
Even now, the memory of that encounter sent chills down Isumi's spine. Was that what Shindou's true abilities were like? Could Touya have seen what Shindou was capable of? Was that why Touya was watching Shindou? Were I in Hong's place, I'm not sure I could have won, Isumi thought. Can I win this upcoming battle?
Then he realized, with a jolt of horror, what sort of thoughts those were.
Stop that, Isumi Shinichirou, he mentally chastised himself. You shape the planes your way. Remember that.
Isumi closed his eyes, hoping to regain his previous calm. Now was not the time to doubt himself. Shindou had only been planeswalking for less than two years; Isumi had been shaping planes half of his life. The fight against Hong must have been on an exceptionally good day for Shindou. The winds of battle ran that way sometimes, mana occasionally deigning to favor one planeswalker over another. Even though Shindou was indeed proving to be an amazing strategist and improving faster than anyone could imagine possible, Isumi was sure that--at least for now--he was Shindou's equal at worst.
Ochi's words finally reinserted themselves into Isumi's consciousness. " ... may consider you a rival, Isumi-san, but I would never consider Shindou one. He's never beaten me before, and he never will. Nevertheless, good luck against Shindou. Be sure to crush him. Then I can beat you proudly."
Those words were irritating, especially coming from Ochi, who'd managed a close victory over Isumi the last time they'd fought over a plane. Isumi could feel his heartbeat speed up a little against his will. He gave Ochi a dark look.
Perhaps Ochi finally grasped the unspoken message, for he paused, momentarily taken aback. Then he shrugged nonchalantly, getting up. "Be afraid, then. I thought you were a better planeswalker than that."
Watching Ochi walk away, Isumi shifted, glad Ochi had decided to take his monologue elsewhere. He disliked the other planeswalker at the best of times, and looked forward to trouncing Ochi. He took a deep breath and consciously bent his shoulders, stooping a little. Sitting ramrod straight was uncomfortable enough that it was no longer worth the tension it helped him release. Ochi didn't matter. Isumi would defeat Ochi and qualify for the Circle.
But first, he needed to defeat Shindou.
Over in his corner, Shindou waved his fist at an empty corner, the rhythm of his walk falling out of beat, now just slightly lagging behind Isumi's breaths. The dissonance rubbed strangely. Isumi concentrated on the rhythm of his breaths until they were in unison with Shindou's pacing again.
He preferred this state of being. Even if they were planeswalkers competing for a place in the Circle, Shindou was a friend, just as Waya was.
The stoop began to pull at his backbone. Isumi straightened and fidgeted again, impatient for the confrontation to begin. He wanted to put this behind him. No more thoughts of Touya, of Waya, of anyone else. Right now, he needed to face Shindou, and only Shindou.
I will win, he told himself.
Standing atop his mountain perch, Isumi pulled his wandering thoughts back yet again from their contemplations. Now that he controlled most of the plane, it was tempting to let his focus wander, but Isumi reminded himself that this duel wasn't over yet. Concentrate, he told himself, surveying the battlefield again as he shaped his red and white mana carefully.
Over the last hour, the original whitespace of this battle plane had been transformed. A thick green forest defended the northern reach, stretching towards the red mountain range that defended white plains to the west. The rest of the uneven terrain was dotted with solitary trees languishing at the bottom of dead-end valleys and poised precariously on steep, jagged cliffs. In some places, woods burned above mountains. Those trees had lost the protection of Shindou's aura, and the earlier green light around them had faded to a colorless shimmer with touches of Isumi's red and white. Behind the forest, gray spikes rose, indicating the location of Shindou's Tower. The Tower helped to harness colorless mana, and had sustained Shindou through Isumi's gradual acquisition of forest land.
Taking the other green territories had not been easy. Shindou had fought well. Early in the game, Shindou's flying golems had caused Isumi some worry before he had managed to shape his mountains high enough that Shindou's creations could no longer cross them. Two turns later, Isumi had returned the favor with a sand-shifting spell that destabilized the plane. It uprooted some of Shindou's forests and forced Shindou's land-based armies to advance along a certain path that took a few turns longer. This had bought Isumi enough time to construct his assault on Shindou's northern territories.
Below Isumi's observation point, Shindou's brass golems were advancing slowly through the shifting sands surrounding Isumi. With satisfaction, Isumi noted that the golems were approaching from the north just as he had intended them to. It had been difficult to hide the weakness well enough that Shindou would not suspect a trap, yet not so well that Shindou could not see it.
Isumi turned to face the golems. It was time to set his plan in motion. His pegasus chargers, cast this round, would be able to attack the next turn, and they had first strike. Shindou did not have enough air defenses, and it was now too late to shape them from the plane. Isumi's pegasus chargers would pick away at Shindou's remaining offensive power while Isumi prepared his Shivan Dragons. The mana required would drain him, and he would need two turns to complete the spells. Once in existence, though, the twin Shivan Dragons would be able to burn through Shindou's forests and invade the heart of that last remaining green stronghold.
Isumi knew Shindou was struggling. Though Shindou's green aura continued to burn brightly, every land counted equally when harnessing mana, and Shindou had been losing forests to Isumi's slow advances faster than the Tower could provide colorless mana to bridge the widening gap. The light of Shindou's green aura surged and ebbed, while Isumi's aura glowed steadily behind him, rays of red streaked with white. Even when Shindou's in trouble, his aura is always full of life, just like the spells he casts, Isumi thought. The upside for Isumi was that Shindou's strategies were unexpected and unpredictable, and thus, subsequently, they were risky and unstable. One mistake could undo everything. Shindou had not made many, but Isumi had picked at every opening he saw. Slowly but surely, it was beginning to pay off.
Speaking of unstable ... Isumi winced as he felt the gradual stinging sensation begin to assert itself a little more forcefully. He had been extremely cautious, deliberating over every decision for twice as long as he normally would have, and thus he had held mana for too long during this battle. Already the mana flowing through him was hotter than before, and Isumi could feel the slight burn. If he wasn't careful, the mana would spill out of his lands and scald him. Perhaps it would not hurt Isumi badly enough to warrant medical attention beyond the slight wounds he would sustain, but it would certainly affect his rest before the next match. He did not need to deliberate so long anymore, though. As long as he concentrated on carrying out the rest of his plan, Isumi knew he would emerge triumphant.
This fight would probably not last much longer, at any rate. It was clear that Shindou was barely holding the last bastion of green territory. All Isumi needed to do was carry out his plan carefully. He had enough mana to make this work. He could do it. He would enter the Circle at last.
Isumi carefully checked that all was in order. Yes, there was enough mana for the two turns after this, and Shindou's armies had only progressed halfway through the shifting sands, just as Isumi had predicted. The golems were getting close, but he had a plan for them. He would protect himself and at the same time, settle the matter once and for all. Once Shindou's golem army was neutralized, Shindou's northern border would be exposed. Normally it would require three turns. More experienced planeswalkers might do it in two.
Isumi knew of a way to do it in one. He had perfected it last night.
Be honored, Shindou. A new spell, and this is the first time it will ever be used in battle. And to think, I owe its invention to you, Isumi thought, a slight smile on his face. You may have defeated Korea's latest bright star, but I will defeat you, and stand beside you and Touya on equal terms within the Circle once this is over. Isumi would not allow himself to gloat, but he felt he had earned this victory as he began to say the words that would seal Shindou's fate.
Touya, even Hong--no, don't think about them now, your opponent at this very moment is Shindou. Think about Shindou and--Oh no--
The last spellword was net yet fully out of Isumi's mouth before he cut his train of thought off, horrified. He had not paid enough attention to the casting of the nebulous spell, and had not yet performed the side-gesture that determined the position of the wall of fire. There was now less than a tenth of a second left in the spell window. The mana around him shimmered, gathering--there was no time left. Isumi panicked, instinct taking over. "Murum ignis iacio!" he spoke, hand slashing.
Too late, he realized he had slashed towards the golems, not away from them, inadvertently protecting what he had wanted to destroy.
In an incandescent blaze, a mile-high, ten-miles-long wall sprang before him. Isumi knew it was now too late--he could not redirect the wall once cast. Though planeswalkers controlled plane magic to some extent, it did not recognize any master, and the flames would not care what they consumed. Any moment now the second half of the spell would trigger, charring him with searing heat meant for the golems that were advancing towards him.
For one endless moment, Isumi's heart stopped. There was nowhere to run. He had spent the last of his mana reserves and lacked the mana for a counterspell. The flames were real and they would burn him as surely as any fire in the real world would. An extended stay in the Institute's medical center would disqualify him from further battles. Without completing the remainder of the qualifier battles, there was no chance Isumi would pass this year.
In a corner of his mind, Isumi heard a door slam.
The air around him began to shimmer, and he knew in the next moment he would not be able to do anything to save himself once the flames erupted. To have come so far, only to lose and disqualify himself because of one split-second of inattention ...
Then Isumi remembered the only avenue left to him.
"Forisfacio," he whispered, defeated. I forfeit.
After the battle with Shindou, Isumi tried to rally, but his concentration was scattered, his strategies conservative and defensive. The battles were intense, but it was with little surprise that Isumi found he couldn't control the plane smoothly any more. He had expected it, though he was far from accepting of it.
He struggled to understand why quickly. It was important to recover before it was too late, Isumi knew. But--what was it? His mountains were as high as ever, and his plains still wide and open, but somehow, there was no coherence to the contours he sought to coax from the plane. Try as he might, Isumi could not see the clear shape of the land formations in his mind. It affected his molding, and when his geography clashed against that of another planeswalker, Isumi realized with a measure of shock that more often than not, Isumi's own modifications--the once-steady mountains and steadfast plains--were giving way before the other's.
Two losses to both Waya and Fuku followed quickly.
My strategies have become too routine, too unadventurous, Isumi thought. Fuku's wind elementals are weak to rising air, and Fuku often rushes into skirmishes without realizing they're traps. On the plains my lightning bolts would have found his creatures easy targets--how could I have forgotten that? And Waya. How could I have not seen Waya's cannons in the distance? What was I thinking? The elves had merely been a distraction, but Isumi had diverted many turns to dealing with them, losing precious time and mana.
Too many mistakes, he thought desperately.
Perversely, his strategies became more defensive. Isumi could see it all in hindsight after the encounters, and he knew it did not suit a fire mage, for without aggressive strategies the fire could not do what it needed to. While Isumi still made the right decisions on the battlefield, they were not inspired decisions, merely safe decisions. It wasn't as if he was overwhelmed by their mastery, Isumi thought, frustrated. Reviewing the losses in his mind, he could clearly see the right strategies he should have used: what to do, how to react, when to lead his opponents astray and when to fall back and defend. However, the knowledge seemed to be deserting him on the planes, and he didn't know what to do about it.
The answer lurked tantalizingly close. Isumi could feel it like a shadow that slipped exasperatingly away every time Isumi neared its hiding place. He spent long hours in the library, searching for the answer to a nebulous question he couldn't quite grasp.
Ochi passed Isumi daily in the halls of the Institute, but the first time he spoke to Isumi was a week before their scheduled clash. Ochi stopped walking in front of Isumi, peering up at Isumi with his usual expression, one tinged with what Isumi considered a strange variant of constipated arrogance. "You were scared of Shindou, weren't you?" Ochi asked, face serious.
Isumi felt his heart clench with deep-seated dislike, and he attempted to walk past Ochi with only a nod of acknowledgement. Ochi was currently at the top of the league tables and was so far undefeated. No wonder he was swaggering. Mashiba had been just as bad when he had entered the Circle, but he and Isumi were of an age. Then, it had been easier for Isumi to look away and tell himself it had merely been their separate fortunes that Isumi had lost a few games in a row after a crucial defeat against Touya Akira, while Mashiba had managed wins over lesser opponents. With Ochi, it was difficult for Isumi to pretend that was so. That Ochi was more able than Mashiba was a fact Isumi did not forget. It still did not make it any easier.
Ochi persisted, and Isumi could hear Ochi's faster footsteps behind him. "Is that why you've kept silent all this while? After we spoke of Touya that day, that is. Were you afraid to let anyone know you were afraid of Shindou? Well, say something, I'm talking to you."
The thought of Touya Akira made Isumi's throat constrict. Even now it was difficult, remembering that Touya Akira had merely been an Institute Planeswalker last year. Even though everyone knew Touya Akira had been shaping planes under the tutelage of Touya Meijin ever since he'd been born, Touya Akira had been a peer that year. A peer, just like all the other non-Circle Planeswalkers. Yet one year later, Touya was within the Circle, moving up its ranks, and Isumi remained outside, on the brink of non-affiliation, not having progressed at all. Never mind that Touya Akira was Circle-born, that his father was part of the Core. Touya Akira had started outside the Circle, just like everyone else, and proven his worth free of his father's influence. It was difficult to hate someone like Touya because of that. Even Waya, who disliked the other intensely, could not bring himself to hate someone who deserved a large measure of respect for achievement in their own right. ("The worst thing is, you can't even accuse him of benefiting from his father's influence, because he wipes the planes with you!")
If there were any people Isumi found it easy to hate right now, Ochi was one of them. Isumi berated himself for that thought, but it didn't remove the intense sense of dissatisfaction Isumi felt when faced with Ochi. Ochi, who was now speaking to Isumi as if Isumi was not an equal any more. If Ochi didn't leave him alone, Isumi wondered whether the tension he felt might become far too visible. That wouldn't do. He didn't want to give Ochi the satisfaction of knowing just how much Isumi cared at that moment. He halted, hoping Ochi would continue on his way, but Ochi stopped walking, too.
"Isumi-san?" another voice asked, too close to be Ochi.
When Isumi looked up, Waya stood beside him, looking at him with an expression of concern. Isumi hadn't heard Waya's approach. It was difficult to meet Waya's eyes after Waya had slaughtered Isumi's armies on the battlefield so recently; moreso because both Isumi and Waya knew that might likely not have been the case if Isumi had not been too preoccupied with defensive strategies during that duel. The look in Waya's eyes was both concerned and questioning, and it was all Isumi could do not to grimace. Instead, he gave Waya a nod of acknowledgement and forced himself to continue walking, away from Ochi, away from Waya.
Ochi, mercifully, had been detained by Waya, and didn't follow Isumi this time. Isumi turned the corner. Behind him, he could hear Waya and Ochi speaking, Waya demanding to know what Ochi had said. Isumi paused just within earshot and listened as Ochi spoke and Waya replied.
"He's cracked again," Ochi said, sounding much too light-hearted and smug for Isumi's ears.
"Shut up, Ochi," Waya said. Isumi could hear the strain in Waya's voice, and envisioned the tightly-balled fists he imagined Waya was keeping down through sheer will. Waya had never liked Ochi.
"He cracks every year," Ochi said. "Best qualifying planeswalker four years in a row, and he still hasn't passed. Even Mashiba-san passed last year."
"Stop pressing him about it," Waya said. "It's obvious he doesn't want to talk about that. I don't know what Isumi-san is thinking, Ochi, but I don't like hearing it from you. Isumi-san will pass in his own time. If not this year, the next. And if not next year, then the year after that. We'll be waiting for him in the Circle. When he's ready, he'll come."
"He won't pass. He always cracks under pressure. You and Shindou don't, but Isumi-san does. It happened the last three years, didn't it?"
"Maybe he will, and maybe he won't. Now shut up, Ochi," Waya said. "Isumi-san hasn't told me anything, and it's not your place to ask. If he wants to tell anyone he will. Stop thinking about Isumi-san's problems. You still have to face me, and Shindou. We'll beat you."
It was getting increasingly difficult to listen to the conversation. He had known what Ochi thought of him, but Waya's words, full of concern, caused his heart to clench a little. So even Waya, his closest friend, was beginning to wonder about his ability to continue under pressure. Every shred of common sense and decency Isumi had was telling him to stop listening and walk away before he heard any more. His feet, however, unwilling to listen to his commands, were rooted to the floor. Isumi closed his eyes and leaned against the corner as he heard Ochi speak again.
"As if you could. Ah well, I shall look forward to passing undefeated."
Isumi could hear Ochi's steps, small but imperial, stepping away, and then Waya's steps, slower, managing to sound troubled even though they were mere clacks of heel on stone. Isumi stayed motionless in the corridor as Waya neared the corner, but Waya's footsteps took a different direction and began to fade. Neither of them had noticed Isumi.
Within Isumi, a fire began to burn, hot and determined.
When Isumi entered the ready room for his match against Ochi the next week, Ochi was already there, habitual black cloak wrapped around him, pushing up his round spectacle frames in the middle again. He wasn't doing anything in particular, merely glaring at something in the distance, visible only to Ochi himself through the glass of the ready room's windows. As Isumi entered, Ochi turned and shrugged at the sight of his opponent.
"Lost to Fuku too, didn't you? My condolences. Such a disappointment. I had thought you would be my greatest hurdle, Isumi-san. What a pity. You were too worried about Shindou in the end. I feel some small measure of regret for having seen you as a rival."
The fire within Isumi flared again, but he suppressed it and contained it within him. There would be plenty of opportunities to use the flames shortly. Ochi opened his mouth to speak again, but today, Isumi didn't want to converse with anyone, least of all his opponent.
"Ochi."
"Well, no matter. Now it will be easy for me to enter the Circle undefeate--"
"Ochi."
Ochi looked at Isumi, trailing off. "Yes?"
Isumi looked at Ochi, and something in Isumi's gaze seemed to unnerve the other, for Ochi flinched. "Be quiet," Isumi said without his usual smile. He stood and walked into the battle room, preparing to transcend to the battle plane.
This time the plane was definitely mountainous. Here and there, swamps lay, tiny puddles of brackish water at the foot of giants, their black aura faded, almost indistinct. Once more, Isumi surveyed the skirmishing around him. He watched dispassionately as dark purple mana swirled in the distance and a Skeleton King appeared, flanking Isumi's scout to the east.
So that's what you wish, Isumi thought. He closed his eyes, concentrating, letting the mana flow into him again. He could feel every ripple and whirl in his pure white mana, every bubble and surge in the red. The conditions were right.
It's time.
Fire angels descended upon the skeletons, and the battle began in earnest. For every angel defeated, more appeared. Skeletons surged, regenerating as they fell. The embattled scout retreated behind its fiery angelic defenders. Then Isumi sent in Serra Angels and a Pegasus. He could feel Ochi's pause and the dark swirl of the black aura to the east as it shimmered a moment.
The next spell Ochi cast summoned a wall of bone. Too little, too late, Isumi thought. An artifact bridge shimmered into existence between two mountains, and Isumi's ballista rolled onto it, rocks flying, smashing through the wall and into the skeletons, scattering them. The black aura hovering around the area faded a little before it dissipated, and the mountains took on more of Isumi's red and white colors.
To the west, Isumi sighted a plume of red smoke from a flare. In a moment he had transported himself there, watching as two angels turned upon the lich that had begun this attack. His fire elementals dueled Ochi's foul beasts, and in the skies their angels of light and darkness struggled against each other. Ochi's death vassals appeared with meat wagons in tow, but Isumi's ballistas crushed the wagons, and his fire elementals drove the vassals away.
Isumi watched the battles, eyes narrowed in determination. I may respect your skill, but I have never once considered you my better, Ochi, he thought. Even if I lose every other match ... I will defeat you, no matter what it takes.
Vaguely, he could feel the presence of others above the plane. Shindou, perhaps ... and Honda. Then there was Fuku. Waya appeared, closer above Isumi's territory, and soon after that Isumi thought he sensed Nase.
Now was not the time to notice. Isumi focused on the battle before him and the war that expanded outwards. Ochi hadn't paid enough attention to the valley, and Isumi took advantage of this. The black aura shimmered again, this time an uneasy tremor. Isumi paid it no heed. This was his match. No matter what had happened before or after, this was his plane now. He was controlling the war, and his magic was winning over the fight to shape this plane. He would crush Ochi.
Then the black aura disappeared and the plane shimmered. The swamps and badlands began to fade from view.
Ochi had forfeited.
When Isumi re-entered the ready room, their audience had already begun discussing the match. In the debate that followed, Isumi watched as Ochi excused himself and quietly slipped away.
Isumi felt as if he'd been submerged underwater and only just allowed to surface. Sounds and other people were gradually beginning to settle themselves around him again. Light-headed, he realized the emotion was relief, dizzying and exhilarating and perhaps just a little bit too much for him to handle at that moment in time. Counterbalancing that euphoria, though, was shame. Shame at having lost control of himself and conceding the games before. Why had he been able to beat Ochi but not Fuku, Waya, or Shindou? Isumi wondered. He normally won most games against Waya, and Fuku had beaten Isumi less than five duels in all the time they'd been in the Institute together.
Because you cared, his inner voice said. You didn't mind giving Waya or Fuku the wins, but you refused to let Ochi get one from you.
Yes, Isumi realized. He'd cared as he'd never cared before. He'd allowed his friendship with Waya and the knowledge of Waya's strength on the planes persuade him into the loss. He'd been careless too, and unable to focus against Fuku. Fuku was not normally a difficult opponent for Isumi, but Fuku was a solid planeswalker. Of course he would be difficult to overcome when Isumi was off balance. He hadn't been upset with Waya or Fuku, though. They had deserved the wins, shaping their planes steadily and beautifully while Isumi floundered.
No, Isumi wasn't angry at either of those two. However, though he knew it was his own fault he'd allowed himself to be so careless in the match with Shindou, Isumi had felt a bitterness that was firmly directed at Ochi. Ochi, who had spoken thoughtlessly of Touya Akira before Isumi's important battle. Ochi, who had mocked Isumi's abilities. Ochi, for dismissing Isumi mentally after his loss.
Isumi had entered the plane today absolutely determined that no matter what, he would defeat Ochi, and this determination had been the difference. He cast about in his mind for the bitterness, but it had receded already, merely a faint trace that was even now being smothered by his relief.
I am grateful in a way, Ochi. Thanks to you, I've regained my will to fight.
"Welcome back," Waya said, breaking into Isumi's reverie with a brilliant smile.
Isumi looked at Waya and saw only the trusting confidence of his first and closest planeswalker friend. Isumi was glad the losses had, at least, been to planeswalkers who deserved it. The memory of the loss to Mashiba the week after losing to Touya Akira stung him. Isumi's gaze met Waya's, and he nodded lightly, expressing thanks for Waya's concern.
Wherever you've been, welcome back, Waya's look seemed to say.
Isumi nodded, smiling as his heart warmed for what he felt was the first time in weeks. "I feel as if I haven't seen your face in days, Waya."
Waya chuckled. "What do you mean by that? What about Shindou?" He pointed towards the uncharacteristically silent figure beside him.
Isumi looked at Shindou, who shrugged wordlessly, watching Isumi from under a slightly furrowed forehead. Perhaps Shindou looked nervous and was thinking of their match, too.
The thought of their match soured in the back of Isumi's throat, but he smiled, reaching out to ruffle Shindou's blond hair, and resolved not to let it ruin the moment now. "The exam isn't over yet," Isumi said, smiling slightly. "It starts here for both of us. You won't beat me again."
Shindou nodded, letting out a breath visibly. Then he grinned. "Sure I will. Many times."
"Why, you--" Waya grabbed Shindou, and the gathered planeswalkers laughed at the mock scuffle that ensued.
Later, walking out of the institute, Waya began to argue with Shindou over who would be paying for Isumi's celebratory lunch. Isumi walked behind them, content to enjoy his friends' company and savor the victory a little while longer. He thought once more of the battle between Shindou and himself, but then shook his head lightly to clear it. Mistakes like that were made only once and no more. Though he promised himself not to dwell on it, he also knew he wasn't about to forget it in a hurry.
I don't know if Shindou is stronger than me or not, but I'm still getting better. Shindou isn't the only one that's improving. I should believe in myself more.
Two months later, the qualifiers were finally over. In the last battle, Shindou beat Ochi to qualify for the last seat in the Circle.
Isumi, one loss behind, was the first to fail.
"It was a pity you didn't pass, but you know you don't have to leave now," Shinoda-sensei said. "Why not take your time? They don't need you immediately."
Isumi had thought the same. He had never expected to leave the Institute without membership in the Circle. He had tried to prepare himself for the eventuality, but had fought on determinedly, sure that as long as he kept winning, somehow ... somehow he would pass. Though it had loomed large the last few weeks, the possibility growing ever more concrete with every win Shindou, Waya, and Ochi had gotten, when it actually occured, it had shook Isumi more than he'd thought possible.
Staying in the Institute, though, would have meant running to them around every corner. It had been awkward that last time, and none of them had known what to say to the other. Isumi had made an excuse of an urgent appointment, and not missed the relief in Waya and Shindou's eyes.
The moment he'd known of Shindou's success, Isumi had despaired. Since then, though, he had been able to look calmly at the incident. Yes, he had failed for the fourth time. It was not unusual. He would simply try again next year for the fifth time. Other national planeswalkers had faced the qualifiers five times or more. It was not the most shining of entries, but it would be an entry. And Isumi knew he was not Shindou. Shining entries were for Shindou, or Touya Akira. Isumi would enter the Circle one day. He knew he would.
That didn't mean he was ready to face Shindou right now. Or Waya. Neither Waya nor Shindou had contacted Isumi to join them in their celebrations, and Isumi wasn't sure he could have celebrated with them if they had. Did it prove he wasn't really their friend after all? What friend wouldn't want to celebrate such glorious achievements? Especially Shindou, passing on his first try. And yet ... Isumi still couldn't bring himself to say a word of congratulations to either of them. It would do him good to leave Japan for now. He couldn't think with Waya and Shindou so close and this most recent of failures calling to him.
Remembering that Shinoda-sensei was expecting a response, Isumi's expression settled into a determined look as his gaze met that of his mentor. "I failed again, and I'm a non-affiliate now. Japan ... it's not somewhere I want to be right now. It doesn't matter if it's a ten-month tour of duty. I can't serve our country here. I may as well do some good somewhere else."
"China," Shinoda-sensei said. "A good place and a strong country. It's not a bad place for visitors. It can, however, be a cruel environment for the weak among their own ranks. Chinese hospitality and your diplomatic immunity will protect you, but you need to have a goal. What do you hope to accomplish there?"
"The Institute needs someone non-threatening as an representative to the Chinese Academy. I am of age and there are no state secrets in my head to endanger. And ... it will do me good to clear my head and see the world a little more before I enter the next Circle qualifiers. It's a good opportunity, sensei."
"That it is," Shinoda-sensei said, nodding. "I am glad you will be returning to us, even if your timetable is uncertain. Ten months seems a long time away from these halls."
"I'm a planeswalker," Isumi said, catching the undercurrent of concern in Shinoda-sensei's voice. He smiled at his teacher. "It's in me. I couldn't stop walking the planes, sensei. It would be as if you'd asked me to stop breathing."
"Good." Shinoda-sensei stood, and as Isumi straightened too, Shinoda-sensei laid a fatherly hand on Isumi's shoulder. "Do us proud," he said. "I expect great things from you."
Isumi nodded, standing just that little bit taller. "Thank you," he said. He felt a surge of warmth at his teacher's apparent faith. "The next time I set foot in these halls I will be ready to win my place in the Circle."
"I'll be waiting. I know they will, too," Shinoda-sensei said kindly.
The mention of Waya and Shindou hurt a little. Awkwardness at the conflict of emotions aside, neither of them had tried to speak to him since beginning their Circle duties, though Isumi thought it might be the whirlwind of official duties. Isumi hadn't actually been easy to find, either. He wondered how long it would take them to find out he had left for China.
"I'm sure you have a lot to do. Don't let me detain you too long," Shinoda-sensei said, and he nodded at Isumi. "Make us proud, Isumi-kun. I know you will."
Isumi bowed. "See you, sensei." Then he turned and walked out of the Institute.
Notes on the universe:
- The magic originated from Magic: The Gathering, but I've obviously made modifications. Please consider this universe similar to ours, except with planes that trained planeswalkers can transcend to and shape.
- Planes serve as an interesting battlefield and cut the body count of a war drastically. Some planes are also economically viable as a greatly shortened means of transport once properly shaped, though these require the experience and expertise of Core Planeswalkers, of which only a select few exist in each country.
by ai_ling
"Forest again?" Isumi said, watching as Shindou cast his first land to the plane. They stood, side by side, conversing casually as they prepared the plane for this battle. It wouldn't last--eventually, the plane would demand their attention elsewhere, and the fighting would begin--but for now, Isumi enjoyed the friendly banter while it was available.
"You're one to talk," Shindou grumbled, watching his forest settle and take root. "Mountains and plains, more mountains and more plains. Your planes either stick out all over the place or they just lie flat. Make up your mind, Isumi-san."
Isumi laughed, smiling good-naturedly at Shindou's words. He knew Shindou didn't mean anything by them. He laid a volcanic peak not far off, then watched over it as the plane shifted to accommodate and incorporate the mountain before he ceded control back to Shindou. "I occasionally dabble in other lands if the situation calls for it," Isumi said. "You seem to prefer llanowar vines and rampant overgrowth."
Shindou waved, made a dismissive snorting noise, and laid down another forest before speaking a soft word of command. Some figures in green appeared, llanowar elves that wouldn't do Isumi much damage. Isumi would need to deal with them eventually, though, for llanowar creatures helped their casters harness wild plane magic. Shindou, like all green mages, was always difficult to stop when there was an abundance of mana behind them. Isumi was grateful the elves couldn't do anything this round, affected by summoning sickness as they were.
Shindou seemed to know he'd chosen predictably, because he grinned at Isumi sheepishly. "I guess you have a point. Your turn," he said cheerfully.
Isumi's mountain stretched a little as another joined it, the two of them merging to become a short but still imposing range. To defend against Shindou's elves, Isumi summoned some shield-bearers. In response, Shindou placed more forestland and then created a giant rodent that towered over the elves. It bared wickedly sharp fangs at Isumi's shield-bearers.
Isumi made a face, and Shindou grinned. "I thought you liked Mickey Mouse?" Shindou asked cheekily.
"That's hardly comparable," Isumi said, chuckling even as he protested the parallel. The rat could slice a planeswalker in half with those dangerous-looking teeth. Isumi added another peak, pulling the mountain range up a little higher so it would make a better natural wall. That rodent would be able to attack in the next turn; it would have to be removed. This early in the match, there was only one way for Isumi to do so. He concentrated, drawing on the mana his mountains fed him, feeling the red warmth tingle as it gathered at his fingertips.
Beside him, Isumi heard Shindou groan suddenly in resigned recognition as the air around them began to grow slightly charged. It was too late for Shindou to do anything now. "Flax!" Isumi said, suddenly snapping a finger towards the rodent.
With a loud crack, a streak of red lighting arced through the air. Shindou winced as the giant creature uttered a squeal and vanished.
"It's not even the tenth turn, Isumi-san!" Shindou said, protesting, before he huffed indignantly and puffed his chest up. "Fine, you asked for it." A giant spider appeared on the edge of Shindou's still-growing forest, larger than the rodent. It rubbed two of its eight legs together, then stretched up, reaching high and exposing the venom sacs on its underside. Shindou smirked. "That lightning won't work on this one. Don't blame me when you lose!"
Isumi laid down the first of his plains, returning Shindou's smirk with a calm gaze. "Isn't that why I have this?" he asked. Now, Isumi could call on white mana to merge with the red. White archers appeared beside Isumi, and a goblin fire brigade shimmered into existence, hovering a moment before it took to the skies. The goblins cackled, and the hot air balloons they rode angled towards Shindou's forest. They would attack the next turn.
Shindou's eyes brightened visibly. Isumi could feel Shindou's excitement--the tension of Shindou's posture, the in-drawn breath, the quickening rise-and-fall, the fast-flicker of eyes over the entirety of the plane. More forest grew, and llanovar vines appeared, beginning to weave themselves into a protective web above the leafy canopy.
"Bring it on," Shindou said, beaming as the first of the goblins' firebombs bounced off the net.
Isumi smiled. "Here I come, then," he said, placing another plains.
That had been three weeks ago, an unfinished friendly match that had been suspended with a called draw. Isumi knew they would not be replaying that fight. This time, it was war.
Beyond the heavy drapes, he could hear junior planeswalkers setting up the precautions that would keep battle magic within their battle plane when the skirmishing began. The air in the confined space surrounding him weighed down heavily on his shoulders as he thought of the clash that awaited him. It would be a long duel. None of the qualifier face-offs had ended in a lopsided rout so far. Isumi anticipated an involved encounter and had prepared for a drawn-out siege. He would pass this year--it was possible. They were halfway through the qualifiers, and so far Isumi was undefeated.
However, so was Shindou.
On the opposite side of the communal ready room, Shindou paced, his footsteps creating a slow, steady, barely-audible rhythm that Isumi realized he was matching his breathing to. Unaware of Isumi's scrutiny, Shindou's fingers ran distractedly through spelled blond bangs. Occasionally, he looked to the side at nothing in particular. Isumi watched as Shindou's mouth moved again, speaking to the air as he had done countless times before.
Strange behaviour was something Shindou had manifested since his first day at the Institute. The newcomer often talked to himself, stopping randomly in the middle of tasks to wave wildly and gesticulate at thin air. Over time, the other planeswalkers at the Institute had accepted the strange movements as merely yet another manifestation of Shindou's eccentricities. The senior scribe Amano had acclimatized too; the last time Shindou had done this, Amano had caught Isumi's eyes and then shrugged and carried on with his duties.
Waya had once suggested that Shindou's strange behaviour was his way of talking to himself. It made sense, when one took into account certain other aspects of Shindou's personality. Whatever the reason, it was certainly entertaining. Perhaps that was why Shindou did it. Shindou had never been very bothered by other's opinions. Outsiders still looked twice whenever Shindou looked to the side and said something indistinct. The devil-may-care smile Shindou gave those who were caught watching after one of those episodes led Isumi to surmise that perhaps Shindou enjoyed the attention it brought him.
Isumi closed his eyes a moment to rest them. Lately, his eyes had been open and working a little more than their fair share. Isumi had spent almost all of his waking moments in the past three weeks secluded in the Institute's libraries, researching and experimenting. Occasionally he fell asleep amongst the dusty references, but he refused to let himself rest too long.
Ever since he had watched Shindou's impromptu clash with Hong Su-young on a private practice plane twenty days ago, Isumi had felt a vague sense of unease. The confrontation he'd witnessed between the two young planeswalkers had taken his breath away and pressed more than a tinge of urgency and purpose into his preparations. That battle had been one worthy of national planeswalkers of any country. During that clash, Isumi had forgotten that both Shindou and Hong were merely trainee planeswalkers. He had never seen magic like that before; in fact, he had never thought plane magic could be used that way before. If Isumi did not improvise, Shindou would overtake him in the blink of an eye.
The memory of his three previous failed attempts to attain the Circle lurked in the back of Isumi's mind, but this time ... this time Isumi knew he would pass. It wasn't a matter of desperation, of needing to pass or being forced to leave the Institute. That didn't matter now. Never mind that some non-affiliates passed occasionally. Isumi knew he was good enough to join the Circle and serve Japan as one of its chosen national planeswalkers.
A movement beside Isumi drew him out of his reverie. He turned to the unwelcome sight of Ochi, standing in front of him. Isumi would face him in three weeks, three battles after this one.
"Isumi-san," Ochi said. He stared up at Isumi through owlishly round lenses on a face that was still plump with baby fat. On the planes, Ochi preferred a deadly combination of blue islands and black swamps. Isumi thought the nature of those two mana types suited Ochi's calculating and ambitiously ruthless nature far too well, but considered it very unsettling to see a young child like Ochi shaping planes with predominantly black spellbooks full of swamp creatures and dark artifacts.
Ochi sat down uninvited beside Isumi, and pushed his glasses up. He squinted up at Isumi's face. "You're not worried, are you? I wouldn't be. I'm sure you'll defeat Shindou easily. Everyone overestimates him."
"If you mean what Iijima and Komiya have been saying lately, Shindou is stronger than either of them, so it's to be expected that they consider him better. That's not an overestimation. There's nothing surprising about it," Isumi said.
Ochi adjusted his round spectacles once more. "It's not just Iijima and Komiya. I'm talking about Touya Akira."
Touya Akira ...
Like his father, Touya Akira had an almost unnatural control over plane mana. Touya Akira favored blue field enchantments that manipulated the plane masterfully, commanding territory from the first move, molding the plane so that it both defended and attacked at the same time. Isumi had watched Touya Akira efficiently shaping planes and harnessing wild mana almost effortlessly when he was less than half Isumi's age. The first Touya to become a planeswalker, Touya Koyo the Meijin, held five of the Core responsibilities. Most planeswalkers expected Touya Akira to one day equal or surpass his father. Many said it was in the Touya blood, but no one had ever heard of Touya's grandfather.
No one had ever heard of Shindou Hikaru, either, but here Shindou was within the Institute, rumored to be a planeswalker that could rival Touya Akira. No one at the Institute had ever seen a planeswalker meld the irreverent technical skill of an artificer with the intuitive living touch of a forest mage so seamlessly. Not before Shindou, at any rate. When Shindou touched the planes there were many who compared his strategies and methods with those of Shuusaku, the legendary planeswalker with rainbow splash mana spellbooks that utilized all five mana types as well as the colorless variant.
... wait, what am I doing?
Isumi shook his head, trying to dispel the thoughts. He didn't want to think about Touya Akira right now. He didn't need to lose himself in thoughts of Shindou's supposed greatness, either. Instead, Isumi reminded himself that Shindou was his opponent, and Shindou would not make it easy for Isumi to win. His eyes met those of Shindou's across the room, and Isumi narrowed his eyes in response to the challenging glare he received. Then Shindou resumed his pacing, the rhythm of his footfalls uninterrupted.
Unaware of Isumi's thoughts, Ochi continued to speak. "Shindou doesn't scare me. Everyone acts like Shindou's possessed by demonic powers that augment his abilities and shape his planes for him. I'm sure he's just faking it, like he fakes the hand-waving. Still, because of Touya's paranoia, I've been lucky enough to duel with Touya every night. He really doesn't have a thing to worry about except us. He's probably heard too many rumors. Then again, it suits me, facing Touya this often. Not everyone gets chances like this. I've been learning new tricks for every spell in his many books, and then some."
One of those phrases caught Isumi's attention. When Shindou had entered the Institute, he had bragged that Touya Akira viewed him as a rival. No one believed him, of course. Nameless planeswalkers were beneath the notice of the national planeswalkers within the Circle. Isumi had waited to see if Shindou was telling the truth before passing judgment, but Shindou lost so many training matches in the beginning that it was difficult to see him as the equal of Fuku, much less Touya.
What did Ochi mean, Touya was dueling with Ochi every night? Did Touya even know Ochi existed? Had there been truth in Shindou's words after all? Did Touya really think of Shindou as a rival?
No, that couldn't be ...
The memory of Shindou's match against Hong Su-yeong pushed itself back into Isumi's awareness. Shindou had summoned troops and artifacts in strange places. At the beginning of the duel, no one had thought there would be any use to that invisible wall he'd planted far out of his territory. There had been speculation among the watchers surrounding the battle plane that perhaps Shindou had needed to burn some mana before it burned him.
Twenty turns later, that invisible wall had been the key to Shindou's victory. No one else present (including some reserve planeswalkers from Korea) had realized the extent of Shindou's strategy until then. It had been an unprecedented display of strategic genius.
Even now, the memory of that encounter sent chills down Isumi's spine. Was that what Shindou's true abilities were like? Could Touya have seen what Shindou was capable of? Was that why Touya was watching Shindou? Were I in Hong's place, I'm not sure I could have won, Isumi thought. Can I win this upcoming battle?
Then he realized, with a jolt of horror, what sort of thoughts those were.
Stop that, Isumi Shinichirou, he mentally chastised himself. You shape the planes your way. Remember that.
Isumi closed his eyes, hoping to regain his previous calm. Now was not the time to doubt himself. Shindou had only been planeswalking for less than two years; Isumi had been shaping planes half of his life. The fight against Hong must have been on an exceptionally good day for Shindou. The winds of battle ran that way sometimes, mana occasionally deigning to favor one planeswalker over another. Even though Shindou was indeed proving to be an amazing strategist and improving faster than anyone could imagine possible, Isumi was sure that--at least for now--he was Shindou's equal at worst.
Ochi's words finally reinserted themselves into Isumi's consciousness. " ... may consider you a rival, Isumi-san, but I would never consider Shindou one. He's never beaten me before, and he never will. Nevertheless, good luck against Shindou. Be sure to crush him. Then I can beat you proudly."
Those words were irritating, especially coming from Ochi, who'd managed a close victory over Isumi the last time they'd fought over a plane. Isumi could feel his heartbeat speed up a little against his will. He gave Ochi a dark look.
Perhaps Ochi finally grasped the unspoken message, for he paused, momentarily taken aback. Then he shrugged nonchalantly, getting up. "Be afraid, then. I thought you were a better planeswalker than that."
Watching Ochi walk away, Isumi shifted, glad Ochi had decided to take his monologue elsewhere. He disliked the other planeswalker at the best of times, and looked forward to trouncing Ochi. He took a deep breath and consciously bent his shoulders, stooping a little. Sitting ramrod straight was uncomfortable enough that it was no longer worth the tension it helped him release. Ochi didn't matter. Isumi would defeat Ochi and qualify for the Circle.
But first, he needed to defeat Shindou.
Over in his corner, Shindou waved his fist at an empty corner, the rhythm of his walk falling out of beat, now just slightly lagging behind Isumi's breaths. The dissonance rubbed strangely. Isumi concentrated on the rhythm of his breaths until they were in unison with Shindou's pacing again.
He preferred this state of being. Even if they were planeswalkers competing for a place in the Circle, Shindou was a friend, just as Waya was.
The stoop began to pull at his backbone. Isumi straightened and fidgeted again, impatient for the confrontation to begin. He wanted to put this behind him. No more thoughts of Touya, of Waya, of anyone else. Right now, he needed to face Shindou, and only Shindou.
I will win, he told himself.
Standing atop his mountain perch, Isumi pulled his wandering thoughts back yet again from their contemplations. Now that he controlled most of the plane, it was tempting to let his focus wander, but Isumi reminded himself that this duel wasn't over yet. Concentrate, he told himself, surveying the battlefield again as he shaped his red and white mana carefully.
Over the last hour, the original whitespace of this battle plane had been transformed. A thick green forest defended the northern reach, stretching towards the red mountain range that defended white plains to the west. The rest of the uneven terrain was dotted with solitary trees languishing at the bottom of dead-end valleys and poised precariously on steep, jagged cliffs. In some places, woods burned above mountains. Those trees had lost the protection of Shindou's aura, and the earlier green light around them had faded to a colorless shimmer with touches of Isumi's red and white. Behind the forest, gray spikes rose, indicating the location of Shindou's Tower. The Tower helped to harness colorless mana, and had sustained Shindou through Isumi's gradual acquisition of forest land.
Taking the other green territories had not been easy. Shindou had fought well. Early in the game, Shindou's flying golems had caused Isumi some worry before he had managed to shape his mountains high enough that Shindou's creations could no longer cross them. Two turns later, Isumi had returned the favor with a sand-shifting spell that destabilized the plane. It uprooted some of Shindou's forests and forced Shindou's land-based armies to advance along a certain path that took a few turns longer. This had bought Isumi enough time to construct his assault on Shindou's northern territories.
Below Isumi's observation point, Shindou's brass golems were advancing slowly through the shifting sands surrounding Isumi. With satisfaction, Isumi noted that the golems were approaching from the north just as he had intended them to. It had been difficult to hide the weakness well enough that Shindou would not suspect a trap, yet not so well that Shindou could not see it.
Isumi turned to face the golems. It was time to set his plan in motion. His pegasus chargers, cast this round, would be able to attack the next turn, and they had first strike. Shindou did not have enough air defenses, and it was now too late to shape them from the plane. Isumi's pegasus chargers would pick away at Shindou's remaining offensive power while Isumi prepared his Shivan Dragons. The mana required would drain him, and he would need two turns to complete the spells. Once in existence, though, the twin Shivan Dragons would be able to burn through Shindou's forests and invade the heart of that last remaining green stronghold.
Isumi knew Shindou was struggling. Though Shindou's green aura continued to burn brightly, every land counted equally when harnessing mana, and Shindou had been losing forests to Isumi's slow advances faster than the Tower could provide colorless mana to bridge the widening gap. The light of Shindou's green aura surged and ebbed, while Isumi's aura glowed steadily behind him, rays of red streaked with white. Even when Shindou's in trouble, his aura is always full of life, just like the spells he casts, Isumi thought. The upside for Isumi was that Shindou's strategies were unexpected and unpredictable, and thus, subsequently, they were risky and unstable. One mistake could undo everything. Shindou had not made many, but Isumi had picked at every opening he saw. Slowly but surely, it was beginning to pay off.
Speaking of unstable ... Isumi winced as he felt the gradual stinging sensation begin to assert itself a little more forcefully. He had been extremely cautious, deliberating over every decision for twice as long as he normally would have, and thus he had held mana for too long during this battle. Already the mana flowing through him was hotter than before, and Isumi could feel the slight burn. If he wasn't careful, the mana would spill out of his lands and scald him. Perhaps it would not hurt Isumi badly enough to warrant medical attention beyond the slight wounds he would sustain, but it would certainly affect his rest before the next match. He did not need to deliberate so long anymore, though. As long as he concentrated on carrying out the rest of his plan, Isumi knew he would emerge triumphant.
This fight would probably not last much longer, at any rate. It was clear that Shindou was barely holding the last bastion of green territory. All Isumi needed to do was carry out his plan carefully. He had enough mana to make this work. He could do it. He would enter the Circle at last.
Isumi carefully checked that all was in order. Yes, there was enough mana for the two turns after this, and Shindou's armies had only progressed halfway through the shifting sands, just as Isumi had predicted. The golems were getting close, but he had a plan for them. He would protect himself and at the same time, settle the matter once and for all. Once Shindou's golem army was neutralized, Shindou's northern border would be exposed. Normally it would require three turns. More experienced planeswalkers might do it in two.
Isumi knew of a way to do it in one. He had perfected it last night.
Be honored, Shindou. A new spell, and this is the first time it will ever be used in battle. And to think, I owe its invention to you, Isumi thought, a slight smile on his face. You may have defeated Korea's latest bright star, but I will defeat you, and stand beside you and Touya on equal terms within the Circle once this is over. Isumi would not allow himself to gloat, but he felt he had earned this victory as he began to say the words that would seal Shindou's fate.
Touya, even Hong--no, don't think about them now, your opponent at this very moment is Shindou. Think about Shindou and--Oh no--
The last spellword was net yet fully out of Isumi's mouth before he cut his train of thought off, horrified. He had not paid enough attention to the casting of the nebulous spell, and had not yet performed the side-gesture that determined the position of the wall of fire. There was now less than a tenth of a second left in the spell window. The mana around him shimmered, gathering--there was no time left. Isumi panicked, instinct taking over. "Murum ignis iacio!" he spoke, hand slashing.
Too late, he realized he had slashed towards the golems, not away from them, inadvertently protecting what he had wanted to destroy.
In an incandescent blaze, a mile-high, ten-miles-long wall sprang before him. Isumi knew it was now too late--he could not redirect the wall once cast. Though planeswalkers controlled plane magic to some extent, it did not recognize any master, and the flames would not care what they consumed. Any moment now the second half of the spell would trigger, charring him with searing heat meant for the golems that were advancing towards him.
For one endless moment, Isumi's heart stopped. There was nowhere to run. He had spent the last of his mana reserves and lacked the mana for a counterspell. The flames were real and they would burn him as surely as any fire in the real world would. An extended stay in the Institute's medical center would disqualify him from further battles. Without completing the remainder of the qualifier battles, there was no chance Isumi would pass this year.
In a corner of his mind, Isumi heard a door slam.
The air around him began to shimmer, and he knew in the next moment he would not be able to do anything to save himself once the flames erupted. To have come so far, only to lose and disqualify himself because of one split-second of inattention ...
Then Isumi remembered the only avenue left to him.
"Forisfacio," he whispered, defeated. I forfeit.
After the battle with Shindou, Isumi tried to rally, but his concentration was scattered, his strategies conservative and defensive. The battles were intense, but it was with little surprise that Isumi found he couldn't control the plane smoothly any more. He had expected it, though he was far from accepting of it.
He struggled to understand why quickly. It was important to recover before it was too late, Isumi knew. But--what was it? His mountains were as high as ever, and his plains still wide and open, but somehow, there was no coherence to the contours he sought to coax from the plane. Try as he might, Isumi could not see the clear shape of the land formations in his mind. It affected his molding, and when his geography clashed against that of another planeswalker, Isumi realized with a measure of shock that more often than not, Isumi's own modifications--the once-steady mountains and steadfast plains--were giving way before the other's.
Two losses to both Waya and Fuku followed quickly.
My strategies have become too routine, too unadventurous, Isumi thought. Fuku's wind elementals are weak to rising air, and Fuku often rushes into skirmishes without realizing they're traps. On the plains my lightning bolts would have found his creatures easy targets--how could I have forgotten that? And Waya. How could I have not seen Waya's cannons in the distance? What was I thinking? The elves had merely been a distraction, but Isumi had diverted many turns to dealing with them, losing precious time and mana.
Too many mistakes, he thought desperately.
Perversely, his strategies became more defensive. Isumi could see it all in hindsight after the encounters, and he knew it did not suit a fire mage, for without aggressive strategies the fire could not do what it needed to. While Isumi still made the right decisions on the battlefield, they were not inspired decisions, merely safe decisions. It wasn't as if he was overwhelmed by their mastery, Isumi thought, frustrated. Reviewing the losses in his mind, he could clearly see the right strategies he should have used: what to do, how to react, when to lead his opponents astray and when to fall back and defend. However, the knowledge seemed to be deserting him on the planes, and he didn't know what to do about it.
The answer lurked tantalizingly close. Isumi could feel it like a shadow that slipped exasperatingly away every time Isumi neared its hiding place. He spent long hours in the library, searching for the answer to a nebulous question he couldn't quite grasp.
Ochi passed Isumi daily in the halls of the Institute, but the first time he spoke to Isumi was a week before their scheduled clash. Ochi stopped walking in front of Isumi, peering up at Isumi with his usual expression, one tinged with what Isumi considered a strange variant of constipated arrogance. "You were scared of Shindou, weren't you?" Ochi asked, face serious.
Isumi felt his heart clench with deep-seated dislike, and he attempted to walk past Ochi with only a nod of acknowledgement. Ochi was currently at the top of the league tables and was so far undefeated. No wonder he was swaggering. Mashiba had been just as bad when he had entered the Circle, but he and Isumi were of an age. Then, it had been easier for Isumi to look away and tell himself it had merely been their separate fortunes that Isumi had lost a few games in a row after a crucial defeat against Touya Akira, while Mashiba had managed wins over lesser opponents. With Ochi, it was difficult for Isumi to pretend that was so. That Ochi was more able than Mashiba was a fact Isumi did not forget. It still did not make it any easier.
Ochi persisted, and Isumi could hear Ochi's faster footsteps behind him. "Is that why you've kept silent all this while? After we spoke of Touya that day, that is. Were you afraid to let anyone know you were afraid of Shindou? Well, say something, I'm talking to you."
The thought of Touya Akira made Isumi's throat constrict. Even now it was difficult, remembering that Touya Akira had merely been an Institute Planeswalker last year. Even though everyone knew Touya Akira had been shaping planes under the tutelage of Touya Meijin ever since he'd been born, Touya Akira had been a peer that year. A peer, just like all the other non-Circle Planeswalkers. Yet one year later, Touya was within the Circle, moving up its ranks, and Isumi remained outside, on the brink of non-affiliation, not having progressed at all. Never mind that Touya Akira was Circle-born, that his father was part of the Core. Touya Akira had started outside the Circle, just like everyone else, and proven his worth free of his father's influence. It was difficult to hate someone like Touya because of that. Even Waya, who disliked the other intensely, could not bring himself to hate someone who deserved a large measure of respect for achievement in their own right. ("The worst thing is, you can't even accuse him of benefiting from his father's influence, because he wipes the planes with you!")
If there were any people Isumi found it easy to hate right now, Ochi was one of them. Isumi berated himself for that thought, but it didn't remove the intense sense of dissatisfaction Isumi felt when faced with Ochi. Ochi, who was now speaking to Isumi as if Isumi was not an equal any more. If Ochi didn't leave him alone, Isumi wondered whether the tension he felt might become far too visible. That wouldn't do. He didn't want to give Ochi the satisfaction of knowing just how much Isumi cared at that moment. He halted, hoping Ochi would continue on his way, but Ochi stopped walking, too.
"Isumi-san?" another voice asked, too close to be Ochi.
When Isumi looked up, Waya stood beside him, looking at him with an expression of concern. Isumi hadn't heard Waya's approach. It was difficult to meet Waya's eyes after Waya had slaughtered Isumi's armies on the battlefield so recently; moreso because both Isumi and Waya knew that might likely not have been the case if Isumi had not been too preoccupied with defensive strategies during that duel. The look in Waya's eyes was both concerned and questioning, and it was all Isumi could do not to grimace. Instead, he gave Waya a nod of acknowledgement and forced himself to continue walking, away from Ochi, away from Waya.
Ochi, mercifully, had been detained by Waya, and didn't follow Isumi this time. Isumi turned the corner. Behind him, he could hear Waya and Ochi speaking, Waya demanding to know what Ochi had said. Isumi paused just within earshot and listened as Ochi spoke and Waya replied.
"He's cracked again," Ochi said, sounding much too light-hearted and smug for Isumi's ears.
"Shut up, Ochi," Waya said. Isumi could hear the strain in Waya's voice, and envisioned the tightly-balled fists he imagined Waya was keeping down through sheer will. Waya had never liked Ochi.
"He cracks every year," Ochi said. "Best qualifying planeswalker four years in a row, and he still hasn't passed. Even Mashiba-san passed last year."
"Stop pressing him about it," Waya said. "It's obvious he doesn't want to talk about that. I don't know what Isumi-san is thinking, Ochi, but I don't like hearing it from you. Isumi-san will pass in his own time. If not this year, the next. And if not next year, then the year after that. We'll be waiting for him in the Circle. When he's ready, he'll come."
"He won't pass. He always cracks under pressure. You and Shindou don't, but Isumi-san does. It happened the last three years, didn't it?"
"Maybe he will, and maybe he won't. Now shut up, Ochi," Waya said. "Isumi-san hasn't told me anything, and it's not your place to ask. If he wants to tell anyone he will. Stop thinking about Isumi-san's problems. You still have to face me, and Shindou. We'll beat you."
It was getting increasingly difficult to listen to the conversation. He had known what Ochi thought of him, but Waya's words, full of concern, caused his heart to clench a little. So even Waya, his closest friend, was beginning to wonder about his ability to continue under pressure. Every shred of common sense and decency Isumi had was telling him to stop listening and walk away before he heard any more. His feet, however, unwilling to listen to his commands, were rooted to the floor. Isumi closed his eyes and leaned against the corner as he heard Ochi speak again.
"As if you could. Ah well, I shall look forward to passing undefeated."
Isumi could hear Ochi's steps, small but imperial, stepping away, and then Waya's steps, slower, managing to sound troubled even though they were mere clacks of heel on stone. Isumi stayed motionless in the corridor as Waya neared the corner, but Waya's footsteps took a different direction and began to fade. Neither of them had noticed Isumi.
Within Isumi, a fire began to burn, hot and determined.
When Isumi entered the ready room for his match against Ochi the next week, Ochi was already there, habitual black cloak wrapped around him, pushing up his round spectacle frames in the middle again. He wasn't doing anything in particular, merely glaring at something in the distance, visible only to Ochi himself through the glass of the ready room's windows. As Isumi entered, Ochi turned and shrugged at the sight of his opponent.
"Lost to Fuku too, didn't you? My condolences. Such a disappointment. I had thought you would be my greatest hurdle, Isumi-san. What a pity. You were too worried about Shindou in the end. I feel some small measure of regret for having seen you as a rival."
The fire within Isumi flared again, but he suppressed it and contained it within him. There would be plenty of opportunities to use the flames shortly. Ochi opened his mouth to speak again, but today, Isumi didn't want to converse with anyone, least of all his opponent.
"Ochi."
"Well, no matter. Now it will be easy for me to enter the Circle undefeate--"
"Ochi."
Ochi looked at Isumi, trailing off. "Yes?"
Isumi looked at Ochi, and something in Isumi's gaze seemed to unnerve the other, for Ochi flinched. "Be quiet," Isumi said without his usual smile. He stood and walked into the battle room, preparing to transcend to the battle plane.
This time the plane was definitely mountainous. Here and there, swamps lay, tiny puddles of brackish water at the foot of giants, their black aura faded, almost indistinct. Once more, Isumi surveyed the skirmishing around him. He watched dispassionately as dark purple mana swirled in the distance and a Skeleton King appeared, flanking Isumi's scout to the east.
So that's what you wish, Isumi thought. He closed his eyes, concentrating, letting the mana flow into him again. He could feel every ripple and whirl in his pure white mana, every bubble and surge in the red. The conditions were right.
It's time.
Fire angels descended upon the skeletons, and the battle began in earnest. For every angel defeated, more appeared. Skeletons surged, regenerating as they fell. The embattled scout retreated behind its fiery angelic defenders. Then Isumi sent in Serra Angels and a Pegasus. He could feel Ochi's pause and the dark swirl of the black aura to the east as it shimmered a moment.
The next spell Ochi cast summoned a wall of bone. Too little, too late, Isumi thought. An artifact bridge shimmered into existence between two mountains, and Isumi's ballista rolled onto it, rocks flying, smashing through the wall and into the skeletons, scattering them. The black aura hovering around the area faded a little before it dissipated, and the mountains took on more of Isumi's red and white colors.
To the west, Isumi sighted a plume of red smoke from a flare. In a moment he had transported himself there, watching as two angels turned upon the lich that had begun this attack. His fire elementals dueled Ochi's foul beasts, and in the skies their angels of light and darkness struggled against each other. Ochi's death vassals appeared with meat wagons in tow, but Isumi's ballistas crushed the wagons, and his fire elementals drove the vassals away.
Isumi watched the battles, eyes narrowed in determination. I may respect your skill, but I have never once considered you my better, Ochi, he thought. Even if I lose every other match ... I will defeat you, no matter what it takes.
Vaguely, he could feel the presence of others above the plane. Shindou, perhaps ... and Honda. Then there was Fuku. Waya appeared, closer above Isumi's territory, and soon after that Isumi thought he sensed Nase.
Now was not the time to notice. Isumi focused on the battle before him and the war that expanded outwards. Ochi hadn't paid enough attention to the valley, and Isumi took advantage of this. The black aura shimmered again, this time an uneasy tremor. Isumi paid it no heed. This was his match. No matter what had happened before or after, this was his plane now. He was controlling the war, and his magic was winning over the fight to shape this plane. He would crush Ochi.
Then the black aura disappeared and the plane shimmered. The swamps and badlands began to fade from view.
Ochi had forfeited.
When Isumi re-entered the ready room, their audience had already begun discussing the match. In the debate that followed, Isumi watched as Ochi excused himself and quietly slipped away.
Isumi felt as if he'd been submerged underwater and only just allowed to surface. Sounds and other people were gradually beginning to settle themselves around him again. Light-headed, he realized the emotion was relief, dizzying and exhilarating and perhaps just a little bit too much for him to handle at that moment in time. Counterbalancing that euphoria, though, was shame. Shame at having lost control of himself and conceding the games before. Why had he been able to beat Ochi but not Fuku, Waya, or Shindou? Isumi wondered. He normally won most games against Waya, and Fuku had beaten Isumi less than five duels in all the time they'd been in the Institute together.
Because you cared, his inner voice said. You didn't mind giving Waya or Fuku the wins, but you refused to let Ochi get one from you.
Yes, Isumi realized. He'd cared as he'd never cared before. He'd allowed his friendship with Waya and the knowledge of Waya's strength on the planes persuade him into the loss. He'd been careless too, and unable to focus against Fuku. Fuku was not normally a difficult opponent for Isumi, but Fuku was a solid planeswalker. Of course he would be difficult to overcome when Isumi was off balance. He hadn't been upset with Waya or Fuku, though. They had deserved the wins, shaping their planes steadily and beautifully while Isumi floundered.
No, Isumi wasn't angry at either of those two. However, though he knew it was his own fault he'd allowed himself to be so careless in the match with Shindou, Isumi had felt a bitterness that was firmly directed at Ochi. Ochi, who had spoken thoughtlessly of Touya Akira before Isumi's important battle. Ochi, who had mocked Isumi's abilities. Ochi, for dismissing Isumi mentally after his loss.
Isumi had entered the plane today absolutely determined that no matter what, he would defeat Ochi, and this determination had been the difference. He cast about in his mind for the bitterness, but it had receded already, merely a faint trace that was even now being smothered by his relief.
I am grateful in a way, Ochi. Thanks to you, I've regained my will to fight.
"Welcome back," Waya said, breaking into Isumi's reverie with a brilliant smile.
Isumi looked at Waya and saw only the trusting confidence of his first and closest planeswalker friend. Isumi was glad the losses had, at least, been to planeswalkers who deserved it. The memory of the loss to Mashiba the week after losing to Touya Akira stung him. Isumi's gaze met Waya's, and he nodded lightly, expressing thanks for Waya's concern.
Wherever you've been, welcome back, Waya's look seemed to say.
Isumi nodded, smiling as his heart warmed for what he felt was the first time in weeks. "I feel as if I haven't seen your face in days, Waya."
Waya chuckled. "What do you mean by that? What about Shindou?" He pointed towards the uncharacteristically silent figure beside him.
Isumi looked at Shindou, who shrugged wordlessly, watching Isumi from under a slightly furrowed forehead. Perhaps Shindou looked nervous and was thinking of their match, too.
The thought of their match soured in the back of Isumi's throat, but he smiled, reaching out to ruffle Shindou's blond hair, and resolved not to let it ruin the moment now. "The exam isn't over yet," Isumi said, smiling slightly. "It starts here for both of us. You won't beat me again."
Shindou nodded, letting out a breath visibly. Then he grinned. "Sure I will. Many times."
"Why, you--" Waya grabbed Shindou, and the gathered planeswalkers laughed at the mock scuffle that ensued.
Later, walking out of the institute, Waya began to argue with Shindou over who would be paying for Isumi's celebratory lunch. Isumi walked behind them, content to enjoy his friends' company and savor the victory a little while longer. He thought once more of the battle between Shindou and himself, but then shook his head lightly to clear it. Mistakes like that were made only once and no more. Though he promised himself not to dwell on it, he also knew he wasn't about to forget it in a hurry.
I don't know if Shindou is stronger than me or not, but I'm still getting better. Shindou isn't the only one that's improving. I should believe in myself more.
Two months later, the qualifiers were finally over. In the last battle, Shindou beat Ochi to qualify for the last seat in the Circle.
Isumi, one loss behind, was the first to fail.
"It was a pity you didn't pass, but you know you don't have to leave now," Shinoda-sensei said. "Why not take your time? They don't need you immediately."
Isumi had thought the same. He had never expected to leave the Institute without membership in the Circle. He had tried to prepare himself for the eventuality, but had fought on determinedly, sure that as long as he kept winning, somehow ... somehow he would pass. Though it had loomed large the last few weeks, the possibility growing ever more concrete with every win Shindou, Waya, and Ochi had gotten, when it actually occured, it had shook Isumi more than he'd thought possible.
Staying in the Institute, though, would have meant running to them around every corner. It had been awkward that last time, and none of them had known what to say to the other. Isumi had made an excuse of an urgent appointment, and not missed the relief in Waya and Shindou's eyes.
The moment he'd known of Shindou's success, Isumi had despaired. Since then, though, he had been able to look calmly at the incident. Yes, he had failed for the fourth time. It was not unusual. He would simply try again next year for the fifth time. Other national planeswalkers had faced the qualifiers five times or more. It was not the most shining of entries, but it would be an entry. And Isumi knew he was not Shindou. Shining entries were for Shindou, or Touya Akira. Isumi would enter the Circle one day. He knew he would.
That didn't mean he was ready to face Shindou right now. Or Waya. Neither Waya nor Shindou had contacted Isumi to join them in their celebrations, and Isumi wasn't sure he could have celebrated with them if they had. Did it prove he wasn't really their friend after all? What friend wouldn't want to celebrate such glorious achievements? Especially Shindou, passing on his first try. And yet ... Isumi still couldn't bring himself to say a word of congratulations to either of them. It would do him good to leave Japan for now. He couldn't think with Waya and Shindou so close and this most recent of failures calling to him.
Remembering that Shinoda-sensei was expecting a response, Isumi's expression settled into a determined look as his gaze met that of his mentor. "I failed again, and I'm a non-affiliate now. Japan ... it's not somewhere I want to be right now. It doesn't matter if it's a ten-month tour of duty. I can't serve our country here. I may as well do some good somewhere else."
"China," Shinoda-sensei said. "A good place and a strong country. It's not a bad place for visitors. It can, however, be a cruel environment for the weak among their own ranks. Chinese hospitality and your diplomatic immunity will protect you, but you need to have a goal. What do you hope to accomplish there?"
"The Institute needs someone non-threatening as an representative to the Chinese Academy. I am of age and there are no state secrets in my head to endanger. And ... it will do me good to clear my head and see the world a little more before I enter the next Circle qualifiers. It's a good opportunity, sensei."
"That it is," Shinoda-sensei said, nodding. "I am glad you will be returning to us, even if your timetable is uncertain. Ten months seems a long time away from these halls."
"I'm a planeswalker," Isumi said, catching the undercurrent of concern in Shinoda-sensei's voice. He smiled at his teacher. "It's in me. I couldn't stop walking the planes, sensei. It would be as if you'd asked me to stop breathing."
"Good." Shinoda-sensei stood, and as Isumi straightened too, Shinoda-sensei laid a fatherly hand on Isumi's shoulder. "Do us proud," he said. "I expect great things from you."
Isumi nodded, standing just that little bit taller. "Thank you," he said. He felt a surge of warmth at his teacher's apparent faith. "The next time I set foot in these halls I will be ready to win my place in the Circle."
"I'll be waiting. I know they will, too," Shinoda-sensei said kindly.
The mention of Waya and Shindou hurt a little. Awkwardness at the conflict of emotions aside, neither of them had tried to speak to him since beginning their Circle duties, though Isumi thought it might be the whirlwind of official duties. Isumi hadn't actually been easy to find, either. He wondered how long it would take them to find out he had left for China.
"I'm sure you have a lot to do. Don't let me detain you too long," Shinoda-sensei said, and he nodded at Isumi. "Make us proud, Isumi-kun. I know you will."
Isumi bowed. "See you, sensei." Then he turned and walked out of the Institute.
Notes on the universe:
- The magic originated from Magic: The Gathering, but I've obviously made modifications. Please consider this universe similar to ours, except with planes that trained planeswalkers can transcend to and shape.
- Planes serve as an interesting battlefield and cut the body count of a war drastically. Some planes are also economically viable as a greatly shortened means of transport once properly shaped, though these require the experience and expertise of Core Planeswalkers, of which only a select few exist in each country.