TO CUT A TURNING TAIL

33). GROWING

Pressing his finger against the stomach, Jon realizes the presence of a hole/ loop on his stomach. He irks, bt continues to pry his finger deeper into the dig, finally making a big peep-through hole off his own stomach.

A group of blue bright veins appear all over his body, his robe has nearly fallen off the dress so his arms are pretty much visible. Also, a part of his sweater and t0shirt have been torn off so the skin near the hole is bare as well. Similar veins swirl the hole, covering it. For now, this blue-colored coil is not morphing into the skin which is sad. The hole of Jon's lavender chiffon shirt no longer looks strange, given that a blue-coloured coil has camouflaged as it covers the hole in the body.

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[Oh yeah, did I forget to tell you that rather than wearing his classic black polo t-shirt? Jon just wore his robe over his previous costume. I used the term "change" right? But don't you think adding something to your attire a.k.a disguise is also a kind of change? Uniforms are often a disguise, eh. Please appreciate me for passing this profound statement haha]

The coil is formed by a group of wires/ veins in Jon's body. Jon voluntarily let the coil stay like that rather than morphing into the skin so that the torn piece of clothing doesn't look weird. Of course, if his creator was the owner of Versace, he won't even have had the need to do it. The coil would have had a fashion sense of its own! Either way, this coil was formed to heal the hole and after entering solicitation in his room, Jon will free the pressure and let the coil morph into the skin.

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The match is over and Jon is being wrapped around with a net on his legs and the stomach. This waist net has the hole covered even more magnificently, now the blueness of this lavender t-shirt is not visible at all. Yet, Jon doesn't want the coil to morph right now, as the skin color will surely outshine even under the net's wing.

"Wait, wait, wait! Why are you wrapping them over me?" he asks in paranoia. "I am not eating food or anything. That you'd do this to me" he adds. "Well,", Marubi is in astonishment for a minute. "You truly never gave attention to a single knowledge installment," remarks Connell in amazement. "These nets are used over your culinary tables to boost the nutrient energy. What's the case with you! That's why Kamaya wears them all the time. "But I thought that was something else!". "The world around is slow, yet you never thought about it during those slow moments?" asks Marubi in his classy poise. "It's just a few seconds slower than how it actually goes. Well, more like five or six seconds!" he bellows in sadness, his eyes filled with tears as he grumpily goes on, "but you know! Those five seconds, how weird is it at times! Like, if you had an ocean-deep voice, it would have scared me! Thank god your melodies!" Jon starts walking away but stops a few steps ahead, he turns back to them and says, "now watch me". They see him running at a fast speed. Like a bullet train passing away in front of them. Impressive, of course not like what Jon actually is. This was a very satirical meme scenario that blew away Connell's sober mind.

"Jon, you know what? You can still advance. It's just, we didn't need you to use up this much energy so no one ever asked you to advance more than this. We thought everything would be over by the time the next generation grows up, but I guess that's always destined to be false!" shouts Marubi. However, Jon has left the hall. Yet, Marubi senses someone behind him. "It's Jon," Connell reveals dully. "He's improving," she remarks. "It's not him improving. It's his energy coming back faster. It's all about preserving our energy."

Marubi's pupils squint on sensing Jon standing at the end of the corridor with a grumpy attitude. "Rub your eyes often" shouts Marubi. Marubi sees that distant figure of Jon is rubbing his eyes like a crybaby. Marubi and Connell jump down the elevated ground, somehow, the battlefield looks larger than it did when they were fighting. In front of the stage is a royal corridor in petal-like strokes of purple and faded grey. Marubi and Connell turn left where Jon is standing by the pillar, waiting for them. They continue forward from the turn, walking together now.

"Why don't you use your chain anymore?" she asks. "Well, I hate its clanging(s). Brash and slow" tells Jon. "They should have been rash and blow(ing) instead", he adds, revealing his expectations. Connell is by far not impressed by the ridicules. "you're good with them. they'd be an asset". "Trust me, they won't. I am not able to resonate with them". "We'd land in a dessert most probably, they won't bang on sand". This leaves Jon with some hope, "well then, the sand might fly into my eyes when I swoosh my chain. You see Connell, I think twice as dfast as you. As I am an accursed-ly gifted soul."

"But yeah, there's a possibility." he shrugs. "Yes, there is", from behind, Marubi has joined the conversation, he logically explains, "but I'll just warn not to keep your hopes up. Just imagine if they have placed odd traps that you'd be busy removing because... obviously you're the fastest! and we'd be fighting instead", "Hey! Why won't I fight!?" Jon argues. "Simple, we're like normal warriors. You are built differently. You have a different quality that none of us happen to possess. Speed. A warrior- someone rapid - someone with a high intellect; this is the order of which trait will be more helpful in burning a rug of a lie; a trap that is". Jon understands it more now. He feels proud of his accursed ability.

"Now, you're putting your hopes here instead? What if we don't even need speed, we need the clanging chains instead!?", Marubi screams. Jon is flabbergasted, he shrugs "I just use one chain". This leaves Marubi deadpanned for a minute, he inhales deeply and lets the air turn into the words, "what I mean to say is that there are a lot of possibilities. You never know which one will come true. So, train yourself in the arguably best ways, just imagine if you hadn't gone out to protect the civilians and practiced combats instead. But then you survived after the psycho trio and their hidden stones were calmed. Will you be able to protect the civilian with empathy like you are now able to? No." "Oh, I am sorry, did you just ask a question and then replied to it yourself!?" "Ahh!!!" Just like this, they prattle and discuss till they reach their dorms.

Jon is still covered in those nets; he is sitting on a glass roof of a lavish home. The view in front of him is similar to the one he gets from the back terrace cum patio of his house, the forests shaded by a dark blue sky. "Tell me, what brings you here?" asks Marubi, he looks concerned for the young one. "Yelp, I remember being underssigned a mission." Marubi is helpless here, he soberly chuckles, "ahuh". He sighs and lets out the spells, "I believe your generation is going to have a bright future if you all survive". "Well, isn't that crazy? But thanks for bestowing such a prophecy", Jon mocks satirically. To this, Marubi rapidly answers back, "Oh, well that's my ken trait you know, precise intuition". Nearly clean bowled by the answer, Jon savagely comes back with a decent answer, but adds some acute wight to his wordings, "Oh no, I just feel it is the fact that one can easily describe things that lie in front of their eyes. I know I have shown caliber." He proudly asserts the latter.

Marubi stutters, they shift their sitting, making themself slightly uncomfortable. But you see, when you have to spit something profound, you always feel uncomfortable, that's how feelings play. And unfortunately, there is barely any technology to automatically change the sitting or make it comfortable. No scientist and psychologist could discover the right way to sit. The mere try is to let people adapt to the posture. Also, Marubi won't grow old to have a slouching back that he needs to care about such a posture.

The uncomfortable part starts as he states, "Listen, Connell could have had a great future as well, but the fog psyching her and the responsibility on her shoulders hindered the possibility for her to show that she has the traits. So let her have her own space. She severly needs it, she has a heavier heart than any of ours. We can control our emotions but she can't! She tries to, but it a mental malfunction that can't be helped with taht easily." Jon tries to ignore such nags, he merely sighs, "yeah".