Artwork by  DemonYoshio but I decided to revisit some old shadows and spruce them up with a story.

Calvin belongs to  phantomcub

And Frostbite belongs to me, or John in his pre-mutation state. So does Octis.

Story written by yours truly.

****

        “It’s something simple, something fun, and something extremely dumb. That last part mostly. I mean, have you ever balanced an apple on top of your head? I mean, here, lemme show you my head– it’s not exactly flat enough because if you could see my skull structure, it’ll roll right off.”

        “I still do not understand how you are my father’s best friend. Everything you have told me outside of your work life, or your mutated life, is one reckless stunt after the other.”

        “I didn’t used to be that reckless, y’know. This was a one off because the reward was a thousand credits.”

        “So a thousand credits or a trip to the hospital to pay ten times the healing procedure?”

        “I’m insured, so it would’ve been zero creds.”

        “That’s not the point. You know what, just tell me the whole thing. I will not retort.”

        “Thanks, Octis. So it was this…”

Balancing Act

        Earth - XX/XX/2772

        It’s all about trust, John tells himself. Trusting yourself to get through this little contest. A thousand credits, or five hundred because they’re splitting it. Five hundred credits could pay for all his meals over the course of two weeks. The kind that you can upsize, and he’ll still have ten left over. It’s also about trusting your friend, he adds. Trusting that Calvin can hit the apple that he’s perched on top of his head with great difficulty– the damn thing has a habit of rolling off. Furthermore, he trusts that the knife won’t hit him whatsoever.

        “Are you ready?” Calvin asks with this twisted excited smile. Tail wagging and all, and he’s even worn his lucky outfit today. This sort of brown leather jacket with a yellow shirt underneath, jeans and sneakers, and his cyan-white striped scarf; the one that he’s got several of, and always one spare in his satchel bag.

        “Not yet, just give me one moment, please.” John says, hiding the anxiety in the form of a false excitement. He shifts his focus to his surroundings– how the room is well lit. A capybara photographer is taking photos of them from different angles, walking in an arc and avoiding the area behind him, fearing for his own safety far better than his own.

        “Don’t keep us waiting too long,” the demon-human hybrid jokes with them. The financier of their little game. He’s doing it for a magazine of devilry and delights. Sitting on his cloth chair hung up by a foldable wooden frame, and enjoying himself a glass of martini with a wheeled minibar beside.

        “We won’t,” Calvin assures him, side glancing at him enough for his aiming arm to veer off by a few millimeters.

        “Yep,” John sees the deviation, trying not to tremble. Letting out a long exhale in the longest four seconds of his life, feeling the minute pass, anticipating either the relief of half a thousand, or the sudden plunge or cut on his dandy blue-green shirt. His tails shrivel up though, still trying to calm himself down. Distractions here– the room is small, his knapsack is next to Calvin’s, and they're in a small production room in a mall. And once they’re out here, they’ll eat something nice. “For the sizzling plate,” he tells himself. Can already imagine the fine chops of pork cuts and bits, egg washed, and cooked alive on a heating plate. It’s served with rice too. Smells nice, and having the meat cook in front is savory and hunger-inducing.

        “For the sizzling plate,” Calvin takes a deep breath after speaking his last words for this moment. The pupils on his red eyes went from black oblongs to a three-pronged star shape– a Sharingan he’s called it.

        John suddenly feels an intense stare into his heart as the minute ends, and suddenly the weight on his head is gone, his body feels the cold faint, followed by his prickling fur standing while his muscles underneath continue to tremble. The sound of clapping and laughter from the demon-human, and the subsequent cheer from the canine too. He tilts his head down to find nothing stuck onto him, and turns around to see the struck apple hit the wall with a thud. And he raises his arm with a cheer, “Yeah!”

        “We’re not paying for the wall, right?” The photographer leans in to their host.

        “Don’t worry, the photos you’ve taken will pay for itself.” He says pleased, approaching the both of them after leaving his glass atop the bar. “Gentlemen, quite the show.”

        Calvin takes a bow, and John does so after he’s calmed down too, and they proceed to hug each other in jubilee, hopping at their newfound short-term fortune. Tails wagging and then holding their hands out for the credit bills. It has this nice banknote smell to it, fresh from the machine. The hybrid bids them adieu while they fetch their things and gone off to the food court.

        They talked along the way, moving along a windowed hall showing the splendor of an old Earth before its shattering, where tall colorful skyscrapers are aligned along the horizon, with greens growing out of crevices to provide fresh air. And the view of the Continental Mall and its concrete-marble infusion, with its plenty of built-in gardens, and fresh and drinkable rivers that the inhabitants could make use of.

        John refills his thermos with said drinking water as Calvin details how his Sharingan works again, bragging about it even. “When did you get it?” He asks him after having learned that it allows him to focus easily. It has abilities but his only concern is the one that didn’t get him injured.

        “Given to me by a friend of mine,” Calvin remarks with a nostalgic tone. Either a friend that’s passed or someone who he’s not speaking with anymore. He looks to the side with a quick smile, then back to John. “It’s helped me a lot. Especially now.”

        “Five hundred creds,” He taps his pocket.

        “Yep!” Their enthusiasm matches the crowd of hungry people lining up into the food court. It’ll be long before they get to eat but are happy knowing it’s gonna be a decent hot meal with upsized drinks, and a side of fries to share.

        “Come by my place later?” John offers, a slight shade of pink on his cheeks.

        “Sure,” he replies.

bronaaitorn

        “Good.” He trusts him.

        Aereath - 10/27/29XX

        “Is Sharingan magic?”

        “A bit, but it follows a different school altogether. Far from Inylsen or anything from Pureic even.”

        “I see. Wait. You said that Calvin’s not from here, correct?”

        “No, he’s a part of an old group– the experimental iteration of ‘Volunteers’.”

        “Anyone from that group still alive and kicking?”

        “They’re all alive. Mostly not associated anymore. I think Mizaru’s the only one who’s with us but he’s on leave while Ricky’s thinking of an assignment for him.”

        “Knowing Ricky and his association, it might be leadership work.”

        “Probably.”

****

Thank you for reading.