A New Kingdom to Rule

Deceptive Deceits

The wind was surprisingly calm as Sero danced between its trails. The mixed emotions he felt inside however weren't. Stomach churning at the idea of both being discovered and having the death of this young female on his hands.
He landed behind an old looking building. Carefully forcing a shift on to blend in before adventuring through the alleyway and into the street to find the nearest guard.

——

The table was barely recognisable beneath the paper that lay disorganised on top. Detailed plans of action, records of damage that had been collected and victims to the assaults. Every single one of them with lifeless portraits of the deceased. A name to a face that will no longer be seen. The whole room fell to the silence.
A fresh simmering rage bubbled in Shoto's throat as he briefly scanned the dead eyes of the people, his people in the photos. He was loosing them so quickly.
Iida had taken a moment to reorganise the papers into casualty order; those who had perished in fires, succumbed to injury from them or who were now left with the bare minimum seeking sanctuary in the newly converted hostels.
So many had gone.
Iida's frown hadn't diminished as he sighed through the work. Treating every file with upmost delicacy as though the very lives of the people were trapped in those papers and any slight mishandling would cause them physical pain. He thumbed the corner of the last, lingering his touch. It was a child. A young, what read to be, six year old Kota Izumi. A small boy who in the photo wore a red cap and a big frown over his face. He didn't look impressed to have his photo taken. Underneath his name read "aspiring hero and guard" Would he be impressed at the efforts the "heroes and guards" had taken now? Would he still have wanted to be one had he made it?
Iida's throat bobbed at the silent questions.

Momo had seemed to notice the pause and strained a look to Iida, before sharing a confused glance with Shoto.

"What's that?"

Iida quietly handed the papers over and rubbed at his temples, removing his glasses to properly shut his eyes and rub the newly forming tears away. If grief was an element it would be unsettled water. Ebbing in every which way, leaking from any point it can squeeze through. It comes in random waves with the littlest things rolling the next one along. They say those with a strong heart have ventured through the harshest of waves refusing to submit to its tsunami's.

Momo remained focused and unfazed by the photos. Carelessly flicking through the small pile she had been passed. Shoto leaning back in his chair just watched on. Arms crossed over his chair and ankle crossed over his knee. His expression blank, unreadable, only watching.

"Who are they?"

A soft question, a bit too curious. An unsettling one. Iida quizzically looked back at Momo. Pausing his previous action to take her in. Struggling to understand if she was being sarcastic for once or not.

"What?"

Iida questioned her. The word catching in his throat.

"This pile. Who are they?"

She repeated again. Meandering through the pages as though they meant nothing, that the lives of people were now no more than scribbles on the very pages she was holding.

"Momo."

"You don't recognise them at all?"

Shoto spoke up this time. Eyes narrowing on his guard. Uneasy stillness grew in the room. The cloud of tension thick. Something wasn't right and as sharp as a knife Shoto was always the first to pick up on it. As she turned her head to see who had asked the question, her fingers stopped. She knew she'd failed his test the minute she looked back at the paper, her mind went blank, no answers came to mind that she knew would please him.