Welcome to Gaia! ::

The night had been standard fare, which was about as reassuring as it was disappointing; things weren't getting worse, the optimist in him said, but the pessimist whispered back that they weren't getting any better, either. He tried to suppress that thought, but sometimes, Grayson didn't think that was a very good idea, either. Ignoring it would just mean that he didn't work as hard to make things better, right? And he had to work hard to make things better.

Things were changing. Fast. Virgo was the new captain to their team, and he didn't begrudge her that for a second, but it was a bit alarming. His pride hurt a little, mostly because she'd promoted and become stronger while he was still... exactly the same, but that was his own fault. Jude had died, and part of him had tucked itself away. Then Hero, too, and with their numbers falling like it was going out of style, he couldn't help but think of the times before. The building, the explosion. Barren Pines.

Tiny soldiers, barely holding their ground before, inevitably, they fell one by one.

Heels clicking against the pavement, he turned troubled eyes skyward, let his mind drift a bit as Virgo kept pace beside him. Well, they were doing the best they could. They'd taken care of two youma for the evening, and while that wouldn't have been taxing on a good day, he was tired. He was always tired lately, but as the night steadily progressed toward dawn, he remembered just why he went into a coma-like state whenever he slept; fire academy plus senshi business? Ridiculous.

He would blame it on the tiredness, later, when he reflected on how the two youma had managed to pincer the Zodiacs between them. He took a step forward, intending to draw Virgo into the alley -- they could force them into a tight space, fight them one at a time -- but she had already taken off in the pursuit of the fight.

Biting down an oath, he demanded, "Where are you going?"

These youma were big, and they were both tired. He was damned if he was going to let her get the hell knocked out of her right before he took her home and tucked her into bed.

Of course, the youma behind him wasn't really waiting for his white knight theatrics; a sharp, hooked hand swiped at him, gathering a fistful of his jacket and tearing it backward, sending seams and buttons flying. Gritting his teeth, Leo turned, doing the only thing that immediately came to mind: he hauled his fist back and punched the damn thing in the face.

The blood blooming on his gloves where his knuckles grazed teeth should have told him that was a bad idea, but it was, at least, an alternative to getting a chunk taken out of his shoulder.

He wanted to focus on Virgo and make sure she was all right, but that was difficult to do with the youma breathing in his face. He shook his hand out, dancing backward a few steps even though his tired joints protested the sudden movement, and clenched his fist tight against the pain. It didn't make it hurt any less, not really, but it did make what was left of his glove go taut over the wound, so there was that.

Leo had long ago given up trying to decide exactly what animals made up the hellish monsters that stalked Destiny City's streets at night; sometimes, they resembled something that he knew, and others they were just a conglomeration of limbs and teeth and claws that made no sense to him at all. Tonight, he cared less than usual about what he was facing, so much as the fact that he wanted it destroyed so that he could get his girlfriend home safely.

"Fine!" was tossed over his shoulder, slightly ineffectively, but only because the moment he spared to inform her of this was one where the youma gained ground. Hard, jagged knuckles caught him in the stomach, forcing the breath out of him as he was lifted atop a fist and held high in the air, a glowing beacon in the middle of the otherwise deserted ********>, he thought, breath burning in his chest as kicked the youma's arm as hard as he could. The points of his shoes dug into its flesh, distracting it enough so that he could thrust his palms in front of him and bark out the name of his attack.

Light speared the darkness, turning midnight to noon in an instant; the youma shrieked, and somewhere behind him another did as well. He was satisfied for about a second, but the downside of using his attack was that the injured beast wanted to cover its eyes. The youma jerked its fist, flinging Leo out and into a wall; his shoulders hit, pain exploding as his head cracked against the wall, and reverberating down to his waist. Almost as soon as he felt it, though, it disappeared; his body slid down the wall, and instead of being pleased, when he crumpled to a heap at the bottom of it, it was with his stomach falling between his feet.

"Damn it," he said, recognizing Virgo's stance, watching the youma careen around her like startled, howling marionettes. There wasn't time to be angry or even worry, really; the effects of his attack would only last so long, so he braced a foot against the wall, launched himself headlong into the closet youma to grapple with it.

Just damn everything, was all he could think, as each wound seared across his skin for a moment before disappearing like each one before it.

Tendrils of smoke wrapped around his wrists, smoke that somehow had a solid form -- flecks of things were inside it, and he only realized that they were parts of the youma when a few pieces flew out and tore across his cheeks. He brought his knee up, slamming the youma in the chest and using his momentum to tuck them both into a roll. Leo ended up on top, more through luck than design, and didn't hesitate when he jammed two fingers into the youma's oversized eye socket.

Another scream pierced the night, and the youma thrashed beneath him, but he held his ground. Difficult, but worth it, when his fists finally pounded through to the pavement below and his knees hit the ground. The youma defeated, he stood, rocking back on his heels for a moment.

The breath of a moment was all he got, however, before talons dug into his shoulders. He jerked backward, hands flying up to the bird-legs that gripped him, and screamed while his feet left the ground. For two powerful beats of its wings he thrashed, the gouges in his shoulders trying to heal themselves even though the talons remained in place, until he managed to free himself and fall hard to the ground. He crawled, a wild jumble of limbs, as the bird-like demon hit the asphalt behind him, nails scraping shrilly.

Rolling onto his back, Leo waited for the youma to descend again and kicked it square in the chest, his concern for his teammate apparent when he yelled, "Virgo?"

He needed to hear her talk, to have her reassure him that she was holding her own, or he...

The third youma was a smaller one, a vulture among predators; it had swept in assuming that there would be easy prey and starseeds to feed upon, and it would be sorely disappointed. When he found his feet again, Leo spared a glance to Virgo, but what he could see of her seemed to be fine; she was asking for him, anyhow, and he had to trust that if she really needed him she would say so.

He gripped the bird-youma at the base of its wings, digging his thumbs into the joints as he twisted and popped. The noise was sickening, but the pain was enough to make the bird twist and squawk wildly, more intent on escape than actual attack. It hit the ground and began to propel itself by only the power of its legs, horrible, wrenching noises tearing from it while it spun on its back like a useless toy. Leo was not in the habit of torture, not even to beasts like these, and so he drove his foot down on its head, expression grim when it cracked and disintegrated beneath the heel of his shoe. A few meters away, Virgo had finished off her own, but there was something wrong.

She was still shaking, and upon closer inspection, he could see blood seeping into the fabric of her fuku.

Striding toward her, muscles protesting every move, he hit his knees and brought his hands up to hover over them. "What did you do," he asked, helplessness threading into his voice. "Why did you do that?"

There was nothing he could say. She'd been hurt because of him -- because he was tired, because he was careless, because he was weak. She'd had to defend him because he couldn't handle this on his own, had blood staining her clothing because he hadn't been good enough, was on the ground about to vomit because she was in pain that should have been his. Self-loathing came easily, far too easily; it twisted his insides, ran fine razorblade strokes over his heart until every beat hurt. If he was stronger, she would be fine. If he was better, more capable, more everything that he ought to be, she would be fine.

What use was he as a Zodiac? Images burned in the back of his mind, smoky memories of this life, of this fight and so many before it. How many times had he sat helpless while someone else hurt for him? While someone struggled, while someone died? Hadn't it been Magellan who had given Jude CPR when he'd nearly drowned? Hadn't it been Virgo, countless times, whose body was riddled with his hurts?

What good was he?

What ******** good was he?

Wordlessly, he slipped a hand under he knees, picked her up and struggled to his feet. He was tired, so tired, but he could do this -- he cradled her against his chest, closed his eyes for just a moment as she trembled in his arms. Then he began to walk.

His fuku fell away as he did, so he was simply a teenage boy in an oversized Colts sweatshirt, silently carrying his bleeding girlfriend home.