Blood Circulation (or If I Had Your Name)

Chapter VI: Whistle for the Wind

They came from behind the curtains as they strolled towards me. I counted at least twenty in my head, Jim and Ishmael at the front of the gathered force. Some of them carried an assortment of weapons, such as sharpened pencils, steel rulers, thick books, and the like. Ordinary everyday stuff and they have a new purpose today. They're going to hurt me. Clever bastards.

If I'm going to end up bloodied by the people I bullied, I might as well ask the obvious question. I took a step forward and said, "What's this all about?"

"Justice," came the reply but not from the crowd. No, it came from...

"Tasha?" My voice couldn't restrain the shock, "You? But I don't think I've ever bullied you."

Her immediate reply was a kick to my chest. I was almost on my knees when she said calmly, "You know, Wyeth, for a smart man, I didn't think you'd forget my name so quickly. You're like Kroph city's native flower, the purple mubes. A vibrant short-stemmed flower that loses its color three days after you bloom and has... really short lifespan. "

Name? What name? I do remember saying that there was another layer in her voice earlier that I couldn't understand. Thanks to the pain, I take it as a kind of... vengeful happiness. When I looked up, I saw her eyes screech hatred, and joy at my sorry state, but her smile remained ghostly.

Then, another kick connected to my nose and I ended up flat on my back, a stream of blood arced. Looking up, the ceiling was almost pitch-black, I noticed, several large unlit ceiling lamps dangled aimlessly.

"Though the mubes has a sense of grace as it is dying slowly. Try to remember, Wyeth," she said as I wince through the pain, "Go back to your grade-school life – on that particular day. Out of all the people you bullied, do you remember Conan Brixton Letlias?"

"L-Letlias?" I returned, mumbling half to myself. Each time I blinked, a memory played in my head. There was Ishmael with how I smashed his face to a table, Andres when I pushed him to the ground where sharp rocks lay, and Jim when I covered his book with tape and threw it into the garbage bin. I dig deeper, remembering one boy who I stabbed with a pencil, and a girl who I convinced my friends to make fun of her fat appearance and named a tree after her in dishonor of that day. And then came one memory, and my eyes went wild. "You don't mean–"

"The food poisoning incident," she finished for me.

Bits of memory flashed in and out but I couldn't pinpoint which happened first thanks to my forgetful ass. There was the canteen, the assortment of food layered by trays, the empty tables, the grubby woman at the cashier who often picked her nose and secretly ate whatever she could find in her nostrils... and my hand replacing an item. "But I was young. I didn't know any better." I said, gagging from the pain, "Conan wasn't my target, he was one of the few who was so nice to me. I wouldn't dare –"

"Admitting that you were and are wrong won't bring my older brother back," she said, her foot applying pressure on my throat. "You didn't bully me before, but you've done something far worse. You think growing a conscience now would fix anything? Ha!"

Whatever courage I had left was replaced by guilt, which in turn rapidly bred fear in my heart. Weekly, I clawed her foot from my neck and began to crawl away only to be stopped by the feet of the crowd. Arms came down and hoisted me, one of those arms slapped me awake. The harsh smacking sound was followed by chuckles and whistles.

I should fight back, but somehow, I can't. My emotions feel heavy, the guilt won't let me do anything. How quickly it formed... just like my anger earlier.

"When Indanaw saw the crimes of the Erranites," said Natasha, maintaining her calm voice, "I understand why it encouraged them. They threw the rock at us first, and even when they tossed a second and third, the time for diplomacy had ended when they seized Kroph city by the throat. Your answer earlier matched my description of justice. So, I take that you won't mind if we act by your words. You understand after all."

"At first," Natasha continued, "I didn't know if I could take you down on my own. It wasn't until after a few years my powers showed themselves," Natasha blinked, and her sword-grey eyes turned to an eerie green, "that I started planning for this day. Right now, my eyes transformed green, which means that you are guilty and afraid. Excellent."

That would explain why her eyes had traces of red earlier. It wasn't targeted at me, I realized. It was targeted at Laura. I never pegged her to be so easily angered. It was at this discovery that I couldn't stop myself and said, "You're the other Endowed Dr. Frunggas mentioned."

"I see the little mubes still has its color to resist against its short lifespan," replied Natasha, still maintaining that serene smile. "My power isn't showy like the others. No, my powers give me dominion over others through their emotions. I can intensify or weaken a person's current emotions – anger, sadness, happiness, and the like – and manipulate them into my plans. Everyone gives off an emotional cloud that only I can see, and after years of practice, I was confident enough to trap you one day." She paused, but then her lips curled into an eerie smile. "A thin pink cloud hovered over Laura whenever she saw you. She did exactly what I wanted her to do: invite you to this field trip. You took the bait so quickly."

"Why tell me this?" I asked though I couldn't help but focus on the idea that, maybe, Laura liked me after all.

"It's not enough to hurt you physically. I want to be there when the guilt sinks into you as you remember what you've done to my older brother, to see that girl disappointed to know who you really are. My powers made sure of that." She grabbed me by the collar and leaned in close, and with her beautiful gaze, heavy emotions flooded me. I was frozen. "And even if they ask what happened to you, I'm going to make another lie, tug at their emotions, and these people" – she pointed at the crowd – "will support my claims. Why don't we even up the battlefield and show us your powers? Hmm? That's right, Wyeth, I know. This is why I'm going to give you a chance to save yourself, unlike what you did to my brother. You were his first friend after all. Consider this a thank you from his dear little sister."

"I won't," I said, though I'm not sure if it was because I decided to change or because of her powers, as other memories resurfaced: the newspaper article, the news anchor talking about the incident... and the last smile on Conan's face.

She smashed me against the floor and sent me tumbling away from the crowd. "Smart move. I would've informed Hal and turned him against you if you did."

"But Tasha," I said, and at that moment, all I could think of was Laura. I rose to meet her calm gaze, "If your brother was here now looking at his younger sister turn into a vengeful bully, do you think he'll appreciate it? Even if you beat me up, you could've chosen other things than revenge, you could've spent your time on something that Conan would be proud of."

At my comment, her confidence vanished and turned into an angry face. She punched me twice. one at my chest and the other at the side of my ribs before finishing with a straight kick to my stomach. The pain gave me the idea that she was trained in some kind of martial arts, her strikes are more precise yet not as powerful.

The ground and I met once more, but this time I managed to find the strength to look at her. "Believe me when I say that I wanted to change. Because..." I looked keenly at her, tracing her set jaw and her fiery stare, "that's what Conan would have wanted me to do. He was the first to believe I could be better, and right now, I'm honoring him more than you'll ever do. Seeing as you are, he wouldn't even try to look in your direction."

That touched a raw nerve and her eyes changed. It was no longer green, but a deep scarlet touch. Whether it may mean that I am showing, perhaps, bravery, or reflecting her own anger, it's anyone's guess honestly. If I do go down today with broken bones and a bloodied face or meet, possibly, Death, so be it. At least I'll be killed by a smoking hot chick. Yes, even in a situation like this, I still think she's hot.

Instinctively, my eyes closed and braced for whatever Natasha or the crowd will do to me. In those precious seconds, it's only natural that I would think of Laura, who I've managed to hurt on this field trip the most. It hurts to think about it. I thought by meditating about it would make the incoming beating bearable. She clearly deserved better.

Only there was no beating or boisterous cheering from the crowd. There were only gasps and a sharp crash of a heavy object, and when I opened my eyes, Hal was on top of Natasha, his palm smashing her face against the floor.