Conscious, Conscientious

A mini-Twitchy soared straight up into the air on Deon’s command. Skrili, high above atop one of his floating platforms, leaned forward and dove. She caught the imagined being at just the right angle so the momentum would make her spin.

Deon was already moving to his next position: a plank he’d imagined just above the ground. He pounced onto it, controlling it to thrust upward in that very moment, catapulting him high into the air.

His next moves needed to happen at just the right time, in just the right order: without being able to aim, he imagined a pillow on the ground where Skrili was supposed to be falling. Then, he reached his hands out in preparation to receive the Twitchy Skrili had caught and redirected.

He felt fur skim his finger, and the Twitchy almost escaped his grasp as he seized it in midair. Slightly delayed from the near miss, he clumsily threw the Twitchy at their target: the largest tree at the edge of the yard. It merely nudged the side of the trunk with a stubby kick before fading away.

“Crap!” Deon shouted as he fell, imagining another landing pillow. He sunk safely into it and quickly climbed to his feet.

“That wasn’t the only screw-up,” Skip said off to the side, near Skrili’s targeted landing spot.

Deon turned to find she wasn’t in the pillow he’d imagined for her. Instead, she was in Skip’s arms just next to it.

“You missed her landing point,” explained Skip as he let Skrili return to her feet.

Deon grit his teeth. From the height she’d fallen, that could have been nasty had Skip not caught her. His precision was crucial in this new team attack.

“I ruined it, too,” Skrili noted. “I threw Twitchy to your catching point too fast. That messed with your aim.”

Skip gave a thumbs-up. “Good analysis. Now—”

“Again?” Deon inquired to his teammate intensely.

Skrili nodded.

Skip let whatever he was about to instruct deflate as he watched them race back to their starting positions.

“Gotta memorize the landing point,” Deon reminded himself.

“I just have to throw it a little slower…” Skrili muttered.

Before Skip could even give the okay, they were at it again. This time, Deon didn’t launch himself high enough and they aborted the attack.

“AGAIN!”

“Guys…”

They got closer than the first time, but Skrili threw Twitchy a bit too low and Deon missed it.

“AGAIN!!”

“H—hey, guys…”

Skip’s calm smile gradually turned crooked as he watched his pupils rage on without him. They attempted the attack on repeat, each time almost succeeding if not for one intricate detail.

Deon and Skrili landed in their pillows and rushed to their feet, gaspingly rushing back to their positions again.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, Deon noticed Skip’s hand shoot up. He and Skrili finally stopped themselves, and found Skip standing there with a raised hand like a schoolboy.

“Uh…yes, Skip?” Deon called. “Something wrong?”

“Guys…just pause for one second,” Skip urged. “Look…I’m really glad you’re both determined to improve and get into Conscious Competitions, but…this is a very advanced attack. I didn’t introduce it today to have you master it today.”

The Conscious Competitions…right…Deon thought.

It finally occurred to him: in the past few days since the first time Deon and Skrili faced the cliff vision together, the Conscious Competitions hadn’t even crossed his mind.

He doubted it crossed Skrili’s mind, either. He saw it in her eyes as they stood there, gasping from their overexertion:

Just like him, all she could think about was that vision—that omen.

“Alright, we’ve been going nonstop the past four or five days…I think it’s time we slow down a little,” decided Skip. “Let’s take a break; I’ll whip up some lunch. Something is going on with you two, and I can’t tell if it’s good or bad. But either way, we need to talk about it.”

This was the most uncertainty Deon had ever heard in Skip’s voice. He was usually twelve steps ahead of them at all times. But right now, he was stumped.

It gave Deon an uncomfortable feeling.

He and Skrili hadn’t allowed themselves to stop and think since that day they saw the vision together—or perhaps it was since the night before, when Skrili unveiled her trauma. All they knew, as some sort of unspoken rule, was that they had to keep going.

But now, forced to finally take a breather, they would have to face their behavior. And as Deon and Skrili followed Skip into his cabin, Deon had a feeling he wouldn’t love what their teacher had to say.

~

“So it’s like, your ankle does this…?” guessed Deon.

“No, it’s more of a flick,” Skrili corrected calmly.

“Like this?”

“Nothing like that.”

“UGH!”

They sat at the low table in Skip’s dining room, having already waited for nearly an hour as clings and clangs resounded from the kitchen. Skip insisted he didn’t need help, so they sat together after washing up from their first session.

Skrili reached down and grabbed Deon’s foot, guiding the motion along.

“That’s how I kick,” she said.

“That’s how you kick?! How does your foot move like that?!”

Skip whistled to himself in the next room over as he tended to a sizzling ingredient. But unlike usual, he didn’t yell over to them to brag about how good their meal was about to be.

Though forever laid back, he seemed just a tad solemner. Clearly, he was concerned.

Did Deon and Skrili do something wrong?

“This is like waiting for the schoolhouse’s headmaster whenever Savannah and I got caught skipping,” Deon shared. “You know?”

“I never went to school.”

“Oh yeah,” Deon realized. “By the way, I’ve been wondering: if you never went to school, why are you so freaking smart?”

A hint of pink appeared on Skrili’s face. She bit her cheek to hide it, and shrugged. “You went to school, so why aren’t you?” she muttered evenly.

Deon shoved her as they both cracked into a laugh. He had to admit: without Skrili, he would have known nothing about the Multiverse in which he now spent all his days. How did Tailpiece have a schoolhouse, but they seemed to know nothing more than farming and basic life?

One day when he returned, perhaps he would ask. But for now, he was enjoying this simple downtime with Skrili. Perhaps Skip was right: they needed a break.

But the more time they put off getting stronger, the less prepared they’d be if…

No.

Deon and Skrili pounced in shock when Skip exploded into the room, the door flying open. He carried plates filled with thin, grilled sandwiches.

“Sorry. Had to kick—my hands were full,” he explained casually. “Okay: meeting time.”

After placing their meal on the table in a neat presentation, Skip sat across from them. His silent, unreadable gaze lasted long enough to repel Deon and Skrili’s eyes.

“Alright, I’m confused,” he finally said.

“Uh…why?” uttered Deon.

“I love what I’m seeing from you two lately. You’re bonding—it’s obvious you’re developing a real relationship, which as I always say, is the most important part of a consciousness team. And not to mention your fighting: you’re working harder than ever before, cooperating and communicating very healthily, and honestly, improving faster than any other team I’ve trained.”

Deon looked on in confusion. So far, these all sounded like good things.

“So what’s wrong, then?” wondered Skrili.

Skip claimed one of his flatbread sandwiches, but hesitated to take a bite.

“I’ve seen people working towards a goal. I know what a team looks like when they’re trying to pass my training, or when they’re practicing before a championship. What you’re doing doesn’t look like that at all,” he told them, his usual calmness diminished. “It looks less like you’re working towards a goal, and more like you’re working to avoid something.”

Deon and Skrili glanced at each other.

“It’s more like you’re preparing for war,” he finished. “Now, I don’t do things like other Legend Trainers. They want to become the third team member, and need to know every intricate detail about your lives and inner thoughts. I never roll like that: a team is the two people, and I’m guiding them along. But…I do care. So I’m gonna need to break my own rule.”

He leaned forward.

“I want you to tell me what you’re so afraid of. I’m getting worried about you two.”

Deon felt his heart skip for a moment. He noticed Skrili clutch the table tightly.

“Well…” Deon started, “that whole ‘face your fears’ thing every day can get a little old…”

“We can’t overcome our vision,” Skrili said quietly. “We helped each other work through the first one, but…now we see the second one together, and it won’t go away.”

Skip listened closely. His eyes narrowed in puzzlement. “You had two visions?” he checked. “Both of you?”

Deon and Skrili nodded.

“The second one’s the same,” Skrili added.

“Is…is that wrong or something?” asked Deon.

Skip shook his head. “No…it’s not wrong, just…unique…” He put his uneaten sandwich back down. “Okay, so…what happens in this second vision you both have?”

Skrili sighed slowly.

“We see Skrili holding her little brother Akri…he was killed a year ago,” answered Deon carefully. “He’s dead in the vision, and then…his body turns into my younger cousin’s.”

“The vision keeps telling us this is the future,” Skrili said grimly. “That…we’ll fail. I know your lesson is for us to work together to overcome this, but…we can’t.”

“So you’re trying to prevent it,” Skip concluded.

Deon and Skrili exchanged glances again. They never verbally decided on it, but they both knew it was true.

“No wonder you’re working your butts off lately…jeez…” said Skip, wiping his face.

“You said…” Deon started, his fists clenching, “that those visions tell us our deepest fears, but they also can predict the future. Is that…for real?”

He didn’t find the reassurance he was seeking in Skip’s expression. It only grew more serious.

“Yeah,” he admitted plainly.

Deon slammed his fist against the table. “So something’s gonna happen to Lammy?! No! I can’t let that come true!”

“Maybe, but maybe not,” explained Skip. “The cliff’s visions are peculiar. They can see into these things, but their purpose is to reveal your own mind—even things that you didn’t know were in there. So you can’t take it at face value.”

“I know what that vision feels like—I’ve lived it,” Skrili muttered. She stared at the table. “I…I can’t do that again. I can’t let Deon go through that.”

Deon watched his teammate. He knew she meant exactly what she said, and it filled his heart.

“So…what else are we supposed to do about it?” she finished.

Skip’s usually analytical eyes softened. “I can tell you exactly what you shouldn’t do,” he said. “You can’t let the fear of loss control your life. Trust me—and I’m not telling you that as your Legend Trainer. I’m telling you that as a person.”

“Then…we do nothing?!” question Deon. “So what happens if we don’t make the vision go away? It comes true?”

“That’s not how it works,” Skip dismissed patiently. “The cliff training isn’t about removing all of your worst fears. It’s about learning to be there for each other. From what I’m seeing, it looks like you already learned that lesson.”

Finally, he took a bite of his sandwich.

“You can’t realistically destroy all your worst fears over the course of a month. It’s about learning what you’ll need to do for the rest of your lives as a team together. You’ll probably have to face that fear together for a long time, and it won’t be as simple as eliminating its existence. We all carry these things with us. Are you ready to accept that?”

Again, Deon and Skrili exchanged glances. As her aura surrounded him once more, he realized: despite the horrific possibility it threatened, this vision had brought them closer than he’d ever expected.

The darkness Skrili knew, and Deon feared, had connected them.

No…it was more than that: it was the care within them both.

Skip suddenly laughed, and they could practically hear his worry weakening. “Yeah, you don’t have to say it. I can tell you’re ready.”

Suddenly, he reached over and tossed a couple sandwiches at them.

“Eat up, will ya?! And ease up, too,” he pressed. “So you want to be ready in case anything were to happen to Deon’s cousin? Good. Use that as inspiration. But don’t let the fear of loss take you over. If you keep up at the pace you’ve been going, it’ll destroy you both.”

Finally, Deon felt at least slightly encouraged. Even with Lammy all the way back in Tailpiece, where nothing bad ever happened, he couldn’t help but worry. But he could tell Skip spoke with conviction—his words were born from a past filled with experience, so Deon felt they were trustworthy.

Deon’s family had spoken the same way to him his whole life—especially his mother and Aunt Ergi. Though they would never elaborate, he could tell their wisdom had to come from something.

Skip’s words brought with them the same mystery. They’d spent weeks with him now, and he’d guided them to new heights so quickly, yet they knew nothing about him.

Why did he often understand their situation so well?

Deon decided to leave it at that so they could all enjoy their cooling meal, but his curiosity lingered. When they were done, Skip led them towards the front door to resume their training. By then, Deon couldn’t put it off any longer:

“Hey Skip,” he started.

Skip stopped just short of opening the door to return outside. He turned to face his students. “What’s up?”

“Last time I tried asking, you said to save it for another time,” he said. “And well, we’ve told you our vision now. So…when we go to the cliff, what vision do you see?”

Skrili watched on quizzically.

“And,” added Deon, “what was with the tree we had to save you from in the Caves of Insecurity? Didn’t that have a meaning, too?”

Skip shifted his weight, his cool expression wrinkling seemingly against his wishes, as if he’d convinced himself Deon had forgotten all about these questions. But his discomfort—obvious as it was—gave way to his typical confidence after he mulled over something for a moment. He lifted a declarative finger.

“Here’s what: we’ve only got a week or so left in the training,” he started, opening the front door.

Deon’s eyebrows raised, his mind shaken with the abrupt realization. Wow…we’re really almost at the end, huh?

“…So I’ll tell you,” Skip promised, “if you can figure out my consciousness type before you leave. Deal?”

Deon hesitated to respond, and Skip twirled back around to step into the daylight, hands in pocket and whistling. When Deon looked to Skrili, she simply shrugged.

“Huh…” he muttered. “Deal, I guess.”

~

As Deon quickly realized, determining one’s consciousness type was particularly challenging when they had no reason to use it.

Deon and Skrili’s drills continued on for the rest of the day, and Skip merely watched and coached as usual. If this was the plan for the rest of their time in Nightwood Valley, his chances of guessing Skip’s powers were more than slim.

But on the bright side, he and Skrili continued to strengthen. By the time the cool evening breeze swooped in, they’d successfully completed today’s team attack three times. Their progress even allowed room for running techniques from previous days. Skip applauded them all along.

Deon knew their technical end goal was to pass and get approved for Conscious Competitions—something he still itched for, now that he allowed his mind room for it again. But whenever he met Skrili’s eyes, he saw the exact same tenacity as his—and he knew what they were really fighting for now.

Even more trying than the drills, Deon and Skrili were learning a new lesson: the delicate balance between passion, and fear.

The air chilled against Deon’s still drying skin when he and Skrili exited Skip’s cabin for the night. They’d dined and showered, and now all that was left was rest.

The night was silent—too silent for Deon, filled with only their footsteps against the grass. He bumped Skrili’s shoulder playfully.

“Good stuff today,” he said.

Skrili’s face appeared emotionless, but somehow Deon could detect her air of concern when she looked at him.

“Is it still on your mind?” she asked.

Deon smiled, as if to reassure them both. “Yep.”

“Mine too.”

“No way it’s coming true, though,” Deon said, his voice growing vibrant. “Cuz we’re gonna become the best consciousness team of all time, remember?”

Skrili’s eyes flickered. “Not with—”

“‘Not with the way you’re kicking,’” Deon finished, mimicking her monotone. “That’s what you were gonna say.”

Skrili’s cheeks puffed as she pouted and looked away. “No,” she denied, refusing to let a guilty smile break through.

“It so was!!” Deon insisted.

“…Maybe…” she finally caved.

Deon barked a victorious laugh when she swatted him on the chest, cracking a smile at last.

When they reached their tree, Deon noticed Skrili hesitate at the bottom for a peculiarly long time.

Abruptly, she turned to him.

“There’s probably a good view of the stars up in my spot tonight…” she uttered, eyes on the ground. “You can come see…if you want.”

Deon couldn’t quite describe the warmth he felt as he watched her stand there for a quick moment, and then awkwardly turn to climb up the tree. This time, it wasn’t just the Fiction Country aura to blame.

“Definitely,” he said.

But as he followed her, he couldn’t help but notice:

It was cloudy out tonight. There were no stars.

A smirk spread across his face.

Cute, he thought.