Asylum

Wasted Potential

Elektra

The Sages assigned us rooms, though they knew we were all going to be out and about. Leo and Sarah are going to the Minato Mirai in Yokohama; Kya suddenly decided to "spend some time away" at the village closest to the dojo; I'm meeting with the Reaper at the Tokyo Tower.

We got to pick our rooms, but considering all the doors here look the same, they were marked. We all got a colored ribbon pinned to the top of our doorway. Mine was seafoam; Ren's was gold; Kya's was silver; Sarah's was purple; Leo's was brown, which he claimed wasn't "spicy" enough to represent him, so they gave him a white banner to paint his own design – five freaking chili cheese dogs.

Before I knew it, midnight was an hour away. I snatched one of the Dragon medallions and marched down the quartz steps. Just behind me are the other three. Leo and Sarah bubble over with excitement and happiness. If it was possible, I'm sure sparkles would trail in their wake, rainbows would arch over their heads, and a giant heart would frame the two whenever they're together. Typically, I'd group Kya in with them, but she's been on-edge lately; darker, sadder, heavier.

We may just get along, after all.

"So, Elektra, why do you wanna go to Tokyo?" Leo quips, jogging to catch up to me. He's dressed in more modern clothes; straight jeans and a collared shirt. But beneath the shirt, I make out two impressions of straps running up his body.

I swear to God, this kid... I reach out and grab the straps, pulling them back taught and releasing them. The sound of suspender straps against skin is loud and rather pleasing. "Why the hell are you wearing suspenders under your shirt, twiggy?"

Leo cringes and rubs himself where he's most sore. Pouting, he crosses his arms over his skinny chest and grumbles, "It's my comfort item."

And all this time I thought Sarah was his comfort item. Anyways, as much as I'd love to (not) stay and chat, I shrug and turn back around. Soon enough, Kya departs for the old village to our right and the rest of us reach a city. Leo and Sarah hail a cab first, flashing their medallion with eager smiles.

Sticking my hand in the air as another taxi rolls by, I wait for it to pull over. Despite the driver making eye contact with me, the man continues to pull away. Gritting my teeth, I lower my hand and aim my palm at the vehicle, ordering the engine to respond as if the brakes are being applied. I feel as its parts slow down, listening to me rather than the rude man taking the wheel. The horrified face he wears pleases me.

Finally, the car stops and I slide in the passenger seat, flashing my medallion to the rattled man. "Tokyo Tower," I bluntly state, ignoring the flaccid jaw of the driver. Flashing him a glare, I add, "And you better step on it."

Admiring scenery and all the pretty things in the world was never my thing. The blurring lights nearly give me headaches, the masses of people promise difficulty in efficient travel, and the architecture of different cultures was never special to me. In my mind, if there was a place I needed to go, I got there as fast as possible; no detours, no dragging my feet, no lollygagging. They say the journey is as important as the destination, but whoever "they" are needs to open their eyes and get a slap in the face from reality. The world doesn't pause and wait for us to smell the roses when people like Asylum and the Reaper are chasing us halfway across the world; especially not when they've been instructed to kill me on sight.

An hour later, it's 11:50 PM the vehicle has parked in front of the head-craning Tokyo Tower. Without a word to my insolent driver, I exit the cab and survey the area. People give me estranged looks, pointing to my lightning markings and strands of blue hair. Ignoring the looks I've gotten since birth, I scan the immense tower. My eyes are drawn to the very top, where I can barely make out a lone silhouette leaning against a railing. Despite the lack of details I can make out, I'm certain it's the Reaper.