Words: 2062



Björn sat on the floor, cradled against the sectional couch that dominated the apartment living room that he called home. It was a good, sturdy grey upholstered and oak construction, made so that he could sit on it if he wanted. On the floor, the couch as a barrier against his back and screening his appearance from any windows or doors...or anyone passing through the room, was a comfort though. No one else was home. He only lived with his mother, Anna, anyway, so the possibilities were both limited and improbable with her baker’s work hours. He wasn’t certain why he cared what felt secure and didn’t, or why there was a difference anymore. The senshi weren’t known for willy-nilly breaking into people’s homes and attacking them. The only times the ‘safety’ of his home life had been invaded, at Hillworth or now at the apartment, involved direct summons from the upper echelons of the Negaverse. They could all be drawn in the blink of an eye before their superiors, visible or invisible, behind a couch or not. They’d even appear in uniform when they inevitably arrived in the great rooms. What was the point in being nervous of that then, expected or unexpected whenever it happened? It could be petty avoidance, like if he couldn’t see the doors, windows, or clocks, he wouldn’t feel guilty of wasting time or the panic that came with realizing that the day or more than one had passed by unperturbed by his various obligations. It could be the feeling of groundedness, on the floor was as much contact surface area as he could want. A bed could serve as nicely if that were the only reason.

He felt tired, most days. It was a distinctly foreign feeling- one that had been absent from his life since the first two years that he’d turned his life around and had decided that he was going to pursue being a strongman. Those first years had been harder than anything he’d known with constant feelings of starvation, his muscles and skin always sore like he belonged in a fibromyalgia commercial, and the loss of the few outcast friends he had to time away and lack of attention. Working out had become his only hobby then, and it was a very, very strange one to other young children. It was still strange in junior high school. Thankfully less strange by high school and Hillworth.

Throughout his short life there were always periods of not being able to eat enough- usually growth spurts, and because of working out too late sometimes not being able to sleep enough. He had expected there to be some drag, thanks to taking on the added responsibilities of the Negaverse. It was extra hours out late, extra hours and damage to limb from training with Obsidian, extra damage from facing peril of magic and wrath of the senshi. It was extra everything- and extra meant needing more of everything. More resources to make it work. Only he wasn’t getting more sleep, more food, more down time to sort himself out. He was glad he’d graduated, or he was pretty certain there would be trouble. He hadn’t been tired so often before. He had been long enough in training and had learned the routine of his body and responsibilities that he spent his days energetic, ready and willing to face any and all challenges with gusto. Where had the gusto gone?

He was glad, in the same way, that with graduation he had moved home- and had not seen much of anyone. His civilian life was just training- his mother was mostly busy at work, and Colin was busy with his own post graduate life. There were brushes here or there- if he mother needed help for a catering job he volunteered. Colin and he sent occasional text messages. But he was usually alone now, and strangely, felt like he preferred that. It was foreign. Countries foreign. The difference between Norway and the USA type-foreign. He couldn’t imagine what he would talk about to normal people now, and he didn’t want to try. He didn’t want to get to know them. He knew enough already- they had a starseed and energy and they may one day be part of orders to sacrifice either, unwittingly to them. He didn’t know how to reconcile the uncertainty and desperation of his own civilian life before his drafting into the Negaverse with those feelings. Those people at the carnival- he could hear the screams in the quiet. They were all terrified and asking why, and no one was answering them- not the news, not the senshi, not the negaverse, not the cops. They all wanted to live their simple lives with their simple dreams, and he’d been a part of that world. Now he’d been a part of breaking it. He had become analogous to the valravn. But he didn’t think the Youma had ever worried about such things. It didn’t wear an iPod constantly to drown out voices, or lose sleep at night because closing its eyes replayed each and every second of flailing limbs, falling bodies, black tentacles and most especially the look of his own huge hand wrist deep in a chest. Then the brilliant light- the glow of a starseed fighting to escape from between his fingers.

That starseed was a soul among energy orbs, leaving a corpse and empty eyes staring at the roof of vinyl and colour. He had not only terrified tens of people, he had killed someone. They all had that night. They had celebrated, called it a victory, and gloated over what amounted to a pile of souls on a table next to pizza and drinks while comparing battle wounds and glory moments.

It was a dream and a nightmare. He had spent his life wanting such camaraderie- even now The 13th warrior DVD was cycling through its 10th time that day. There were 1440 minutes in a day, the run time of the move was 102 of those. It could run 14 times in a day, if he had the whole of it and his mother wasn’t home to worry about bothering by it. If he was home the whole day and not training for trials and competitions or for the Negaverse. When he was there with them, he could laugh with them, strive for perfection, help them better their bodies and work closely to form better and tighter bonds. They could all be friends of the battlefield and loyal to their cause. They would gather the energy needed to defend the goals of their commanders, and they would extend the influence of their lords throughout the city. That was also the nightmare, exemplified well by those starseeds put aside like treasure and not like sacrifice. Like Bischofite’s disregard for the Youma, the majority of his so called compatriots didn’t seem to care or understand. Or care to understand- they were killing people, real people, like themselves only months or weeks or years ago. They weren’t respecting the gravity of that. He didn’t mind that it had to happen, that there was a sacrifice for a cause they were part of. He minded that they were cheapening or allowing the cheapening of those they professed to defend to the 9.99 carry out price of a large one-topping pizza from the corner store. Like the energy orbs were damned pepperoni.

Björn stood from his place against the couch on the floor, stretching briefly, and left to the restroom- he needed a shower. He hadn’t done anything yet today, but already he didn’t want to leave the house. It wasn’t productive. He needed to be both productive and willing. Anna, his mother, would be home by eight that evening. He needed to be out of the house before then if he wanted to avoid words, explanations, small talk and goading that he should take the opportunity of his ‘free time’ to go on a couple month visit to family in Europe. It was even something of a tradition to his family on graduation to tour for a few months- see the world. The first few times he had explained that he wanted and needed to work heavily on this season's competitions first, and would defer the touring until after the winter season closed. He didn’t feel like hearing the reminder-hints though. He didn’t feel like asking about her day and the store, however much he admired and loved it or her. Coloured frosting and sweets and people’s cars of small indulgences at a bakery felt planets instead of countries away.

He needed to wash regrets away. Maybe it didn’t actually work like that, but he usually felt better. Today would be a bad day. Standing in the stream of scalding water, not really feeling it or noticing the red of his limbs, or sitting, arms curled around his knees and forehead rested against them in the bottom of the Kohler K-702207-L-SHP shower, he would probably lose at least two hours before he could move again. Before it was safe to dry off, get dressed, put in his headphones and go to the gym. Or to the Dark Kingdom. He understood what ‘Dark’ meant, in a way. It was what they all faced, not around them there in the negaverse, but in their own homes- in the living room, the kitchen, the bedroom, wherever they looked they were each gathering dark around themselves until they were staring at it full in the not-face. In its palpable but empty presence. There was so little warning or preparation for it that they were, so many of them, standing there and doing it alone. And they were going mad with it. Forgetting where they started, or who they were with, and all laughing and smiling awkwardly with painted on smiles and trying to prove how brave they were by putting souls next to snacks.

He worried. Was he the only one who saw it? He had Obsidian to watch- knowing that no hand had torn through that dark in so long that not only were the starseeds next to the snacks on his table, but they pretty much were alone there? Did none of the other lieutenants have such observations of their superiors? Did they not choose to be the hands of their lords and ladies? There was no telling, with no one talking about it. None of the other Generals or captains seemed to spend as much time grinding souls between their teeth, or constantly toying them in their hand like a magician’s coin trick. But no one seemed to take notice, at least not in an active discussion way, about any of the oddities in behavior or the excesses of any of its members from the ground level up to the highest echelons. He wondered what part it played in the deal they’d all made. In that moment, turning the hot faucet to full and pulling off his shirt, he was sure he didn’t have the energy to approach it with anyone. He just wanted to get to where he could paint his own smile back on, at least for another day. Stepping out of pajama pants, he decided on staying still to the ground and sat on the floor of the shower with the water rolling down his shoulders and bangs like rain. It would be nicer if it was a rainmaker shower head, or if they had had any sort of yard or terrace to their apartment that was private. Then real rain could be enjoyed. Real rain from a real sky could wash the heaviness away for more than a few hours. Nature helped where science couldn’t- adding minerals for taste, perfume for the nose, colours and streaks of light as a feast for the eyes. It meant something, to see the bounty of the place he professed to protect, and the reminder of its value to his heart. He tried to focus on those images of sunrise over the ocean at the ports of Norway and the sunlight through the waterfalls on the boat tours through the fjords. The screams and colors of the big top bled in, making the imagery strange and surreal. He couldn’t command his mind to enough focus. He had to.

He had work to do.