en guard, you fiend ! , - - - [hiro]

[MICHAELANGELO DONATELLO GRACE]

To continue the use of his knee, which admittedly still crapped out on him more than enough, he had to keep it active. He had to keep moving, doing things that would exercise the muscles. That was why he still played soccer (usually alone, using his garage door as a goal and himself as antagonist) and why he hadn’t stopped fencing. It was the latter of the two he was currently working on. He didn’t consider fencing foils real weapons. They were generally harmless after all. His wasn’t electric because he had no reason to keep tracks of touches when he was just practicing the lunges against a nonexistent partner. So the blunted end struck nothing. Although a foil could hurt if one made a whipping motion with it, the tool was usually preserved for lunging, and he wasn’t worried about hurting anyone. It was the weekend. Teachers were only around for tutoring sessions or the few professors who scheduled weekend classes. Hell, maybe there was a seminar going on. Either way, he wasn’t worried about running into students literally. He had the whole area to himself.

Besides, who would intentionally run into the dude with the sword, practicing lunges out on the field? Admittedly, a foil probably didn’t look like an actual sword, but still. It was a stupid move. Especially if you knew the man and realized how erratic he could be. For that, he blamed the voices, but a reputation could be damned useful in the moments when you really wanted to be left alone. Sometimes, just frowning at someone would keep them from talking to you. When he was having a bad day, he usually took advantage of this, because he had every reason to and no reason not. Then there were, of course, days on which the opposite occurred, and he was in a rather good mood. Those days he usually spent with a smile of some sort, or at least a more neutral expression. On those days, he didn’t mind too much if someone came to talk to him. At least, he didn’t complain about it nearly as much as some would have expected, taken how quickly he grew frustrated with people on a bad day. Some who know him only on an extremely superficial level wouldn’t even recognize him going from one day to the second, but he wasn’t about to complain about that. He liked it better when people didn’t know everything there was to know about him. He preferred to remain a mystery, because it provided less weakness which someone could use against him.

There was the paranoia of course. Paranoia was why he sometimes wanted to carry a knife when he went into town, and why he never considered a gun. A gun was relatively simple to use, especially at close ranges. You didn’t have to be able to aim a gun if someone was standing two feet in front of you. You just had to point and pull the trigger, and you were likely o hit some expense of flesh. You didn’t even need a kill shot. When it came to knives (and swords, considering the saber and epee he had in his duffel bag), you had to have some amount of skill to do any damage with them. The professor’s fascination for blades, having stemmed from his fencing in the first place and then broadened, was in part what had driven him to understand how a blade could be used, and he considered himself among the ones who could use a knife or a sword to get out of a sticky situation. Nonetheless, he knew that carrying a weapon at all was a bad idea, especially if you ran into a cop who was suspicious of a hooded near-30 running around the streets after midnight, as he sometimes did when he was feeling restless or stressed. If said cop searched you and found a knife, you were sure to get in some trouble, though he doubted carrying a butter knife was against any laws whatsoever. He really needed to look that up.

Sure, he taught criminal justice, but he didn’t want to fall behind on shit. He usually spent his break brushing up on anything, even the simple stuff like probable cause and the order of the courts, but you never knew. You might miss something. Books weren’t ultimately reliable in that sense. It was why he was glad he had a contact in the police department with whom he could chat if he had any questions about the law and its practice. He haunted court rooms when he had the time and the properly sedated patience, though that rarely earned him any success because he couldn’t sit through hours of testimony. He really wasn’t cut out to be a cop. If he couldn’t sit through testimony, after all, he’d never be able to give it. So he was a teacher. He could pace and skip around the room if he wanted to.

While skipping did a number on his knee, the actual fencing kept him active as well. Considering a lot of the stances meant at least one of his knees was bent, he used this to his advantage and reversed his sword-holding hand so the crap knee was the one he had to keep bending. Sure, he’d be sore as fuck in the morning, but as long as the knee kept working, he was fine with it. He’d just pop a couple of aleve in the morning. Painkillers were the only pills he took, and then only if he felt he really needed to. Otherwise, he avoided little rattling bottles like the plague. After all, someone might be trying to poison him. An irritated student, for example. Michaelangelo blinked, realizing he’d frozen with the sword point outward, his knee bent, the other leg stretched behind him—and that he was about to fall over, which he promptly did as his knee completely gave out. He face-planted in the lawn, half in the shadow of the tree that also shaded his black duffel bag. “Shit,” he groaned quietly and tried to pick himself up, but the knee had locked in an odd stretching position and refused to bend again. He hoisted himself into uncomfortable sitting position instead and rubbed at the knee, grumbling under his breath and cursing Greek gods and goddesses.

[HIRO JUN MIZUSHIMA]

Just another one of those Saturdays where you got stuck at work. For Hiro it meant a few hours of his morning in his classroom. Four months into the new school year and already some of his students were having some trouble. How could he resist his students when a group of them asked for help. It was just the fact that they had asked that had won him over and considering it had been a high number of students willing to get up and dressed and down into the classroom that gave him the extra push to say yes and even more surprising was the fact that everyone of them had shown up, even some that were doing were doing better had decided to show up. Despite the fact that he could have been sleeping in in the end it had been worth it. So he couldn't complain too much.

When the last of his students filled out of the room he leaned back into his chair and sighed. Peace at last. He got up from his chair and began to erase the board. This would be his fourth year of teaching at the Academy. Sometimes thinking about it still surprised him, especially when thinking about his own Academy days. Back then this would not have been the career course he would have chosen. Then again back then he had no idea what he would have chosen but he was fairly certain that teaching would have been the last thing he would have chosen. Yet hear he was. Years later sitting in his classroom after giving a study session to his students. Funny how things worked out and that wasn't the only thing that had changed about him over the year. People who knew him back then could go on about the things that had changed about Hiro since his high school days such as his maturity and one of the obvious one being the people who chose to hang around with. Like Avery. The water elemental school nurse. Once victim to Hiro idotic antics in school had somehow become his best friends. How the hell that happened even Hiro had trouble understanding it but it did?

Of course there were still a number of things about Hiro that hadn't changed over the years. Like his dislike for Ayane, his longest known rival although that relationship had taken an interest new turn which Hiro was trying to unpuzzle when he wasn't busy with other things. With the board clean he wiped his hands and began to pick up his belongings. It was time to go home and maybe sleep for a while. Isabella wouldn't be home since she had made plans with her friends. It was noon so Hiro would perhaps make a lunch stop before actually heading home. With his things in hand he walked out the door and making sure it was locked he walked the down the hall towards the parking lot. When he was on the first level he was walking down the hallway with the cloister where you could see out into the grounds. As he was walking by the large openings something caught his attention out of the corner of his eyes. When he stopped to look what it was it was quite curious. It wasn't a student that he knew. It was someone fencing if he was correct. Fencing alone on the grounds on a Saturday. That wasn't something you see everyday. He stepped onto cloister and leaned on the pillar as he looked at the event going on.

After another second he realized who exactly was the one fencing. He realized it when the figured sat down and made his face visible. They weren't very far from each other so he spoke in a nonchalant voice. "I think I've seen you on better days Michaelangelo."

[MICHAELANGELO DONATELLO GRACE]

Contrary to what he sometimes said, he had never intended to be a teacher. He was only a teacher because he could never have been a cop, and he wanted to least help out those who could be. Maybe it was a fairness thing. He couldn’t be a direct part of the justice system, so he wanted to help those who could be. He wasn’t living vicariously through any of them largely because he didn’t keep track of them after they graduated. Besides that, he’d only been teaching for three years. Any impact he’d made on “the system” couldn’t possibly be a big one. Hell, if he had any impact on any part of the world, he’d be surprised. He would accuse anyone he told him so of lying in an attempt to flatter him or get him to do something he wouldn’t want to do. That was that. He wasn’t too shy about calling someone out on lying or if they were telling him pure bullshit. He did it to their faces. He sometimes even took pleasure in it.

He did not take pleasure in hearing the voice when he did, solely because he remembered it, and he remembered not liking the person. At all. He looked up so his glare found the face, hiding in the shadows of the building like some coward. The embarrassment of being caught with his locked knee fueled the irritation. Sometimes, it was amusing how one emotion could drive another like that, but mostly it was just that he really didn’t like Hiro, and he really didn’t like being called by his full name. How in the hell of all that deserved to be burned did the other even know his full name? He never introduced himself with it. He couldn’t remember having any classes with the guy, but after his schizophrenia hit, he had no recollection whatsoever of why was in his classes unless they managed to stand out in some manner or another. He didn’t care enough about bullies like the fire to care about having him in his classes.

Of course, people changed with time. Maybe he’d grown up. Maybe he was volunteering at an animal shelter and serving soup to homeless veterans and telling stories to kids with leukemia. That wouldn’t help the fact that Michaelangelo remembered with insane clarity that the man had been a bully at one time, and, though it was fuzzy whether they had exchanged punches themselves, he really wanted to throw one right now. That was probably the fury, bordering on various definitions of madness, but he really didn’t care. Too bad foils weren’t made for throwing. He chewed on his tongue. It probably wasn’t a good idea to get in a fight with another faculty member, if the dude really was a teacher or a janitor. They’d probably keep the sane one over him anyway. He didn’t have seniority, but then Hiro couldn’t have that either, especially since Michaelangelo was older than him by what, two years? Three? Maybe it was only one, but god damn it all, he didn’t really give a shit anymore.

Rather than reply right away, he kept rubbing at his knee, trying to get the muscles to loosen up so he could bend it again. It would hurt like hell when he did—it always hurt after his knee locked up like this—but he could deal with pain. He just really needed a cigarette to go along with this. Cigarettes made everything better. The flick of his thumb over his little lighter, the flame that resulted, bright and orange and hot enough to burn. The near-silent hiss as he held the lighter to the end of the cigarette and the paper and the powder inside caught fire, the blue-gray smoke that wafted into the otherwise clear air. The scent that was so distinct and clung to his clothes enough that his sisters sometimes complained. And then, of course, the inhale itself, the dose that every druggie needed, as the drug clung to whatever sensors inside him accepted it and gave him that odd little high that to some wouldn’t really be a high at all. And then the exhale, almost of relief, sometimes accompanied by odd formations of smoke. He’d been smoking long enough to make rings if he wanted to. It probably wasn’t a good thing, but so what?

Thinking about the cigarettes made him wanted one, and he turned his glare away from Hiro for a minute to search his pockets for the package he never placed in the same one, for god only knew what reasons. Once he found it, he stuck one in his mouth and started playing with the lighter for a minute, not even trying to light it. “I’ve had worse days, too, so don’t flatter yourself with seeing my bad side,” he snapped coldly. “The years haven’t exactly been sweet to you either. You look like someone ran you over.” Lying. He didn’t do it as often as some, but did so more often than others. Maybe he just thought that Hiro didn’t look as good as he could because it was early afternoon on a Saturday and he wasn’t fond of the guy. Maybe it was because he hadn’t lit the cigarette yet. Either way, he was being mean because he could (to be honest, he had nothing to say about Hiro's appearance one way or the other). Elsa would hate it. Chann and Audley would get on his back about it later.

[HIRO JUN MIZUSHIMA]

If you would have asked Hiro once upon a time ago if he would be willing to wake up on a Saturday morning to help a bunch of students with history he would have laughed at you and called you an idiot. The Hiro people knew in high school had no real ambitions or goals, unless you call wanting to show everyone you were better than them a goal then he had that covered. Aside from that though Hiro had no sense of direction as to where he was heading for in his life. Teaching was definitely not at the top of his list as to potential career choices. From from it, let alone a history teacher. History had been his favorite subject but he had no intention to actually teach it. The lost of his parents had played the major factor in Hiro doing a complete one eighty in his personality and things ending up where they were today. Of course there were little reminiscents to the kind of guy he used to be. Sometimes traits were stuck with him but those who knew him then and know him now could tell you that they were in no way completely the same person.

Even with major changes in one's life it didn't erase the past. In this case that being Hiro's bullying days. For Hiro he remembered some of his victims more than other's. It mostly had to do with the severity of his bullying. Like in the case of Avery. The guy had definitely been one that sadly had ammo for someone like Hiro to completely take advantage of to use against him. It was kind of a different situation here with Michaelangelo. Mickey hadn't necessarily been one that he directly bullied. The reason someone like Mickey stood out in his mind was because he was the kind of guy that actually put up a bit more of a fight and not just for himself but it was because he stood up more for Avery when they were all in school. Hiro was a year younger than Mickey but that didn't affect Hiro. The wind never had sat well with Hiro because of that. Then there came a time when Mickey wouldn't be around to put up those defenses. Hiro wasn't one to complain nor did he ask questions about it because he just didn't care.

That was then though. Since then he had swallowed his pride and apologized to Avery and had earned a friend in the water. Mickey seemed to be a different case. That glare that the wind threw at him wasn't helping. He didn't know much about the wind aside from the fact that Hiro was aware that the guy was a fellow staff member but their paths hadn't yet crossed until now. It wasn't like Hiro went out looking for everyone that he had hurt in some way to apologize. That was asking to much of the fire. Avery had for whatever reason been a special case that had worked out better than Hiro had expected. If someone was expecting Hiro to do the exact same thing for Mickey right now they better not hold their breath. Hiro was having to keep his composure when he returned the glare at the wind. Of course Mickey would remember him. Why wouldn't he? Then again Hiro had caught Mickey in a bad position he guessed by the way the wind was rubbing his leg.

The wind didn't answer him right away. No surprise there. Hiro just leaned on the wall as Mickey went along his business, basically ignoring the Hiro. After what seemed like a very long while Hiro saw Mickey take out a cigarette and lighter. He didn't light either right away before he finally spoke. Hiro just smirked. He wasn't exactly expecting a good comment or anything. It was rather amusing. "Sweet words. You must be a hit at parties. Tell me, is that how you always treat former classmates that you probably don't like or was I just the unlucky one?"

[MICHAELANGELO DONATELLO GRACE]

Michaelangelo did not think that Hiro owed him any sort of apology. When he had defended Avery from the fire back in their school days, it had been of his own account. Avery hadn’t asked him to do it. He’d just had a little much of seeing the fire beat on the water, and he’d stepped in because he’d been confident he could actually help out. He was physically fit (had been then even more so than he was nowadays, considering his knee hadn’t yet caused trouble) and he had fair aim, if his skill in fencing or soccer was worth anything. He hadn’t minded throwing or receiving the occasional punch when it ended up coming to that, so he’d just gone along with it. There was nothing Hiro had to apologize to him for. It was Avery who deserved the apologies, even if they were insincere and it meant dragging Hiro over by the collar and forcing it out of him. Of course, that might lose him his job (he was sure the administrators would look down on teachers picking fights), so it wasn’t the wisest idea, but he entertained the thoughts nonetheless. It would be extremely pleasing if he could see such a thing, but he doubted he ever would. He also doubted that Avery would be very grateful if he did do it.

Gratitude was an odd little thing. Of course, it was important to human relationships and how certain dynamics worked out. He found that students who were grateful for the opportunity to learn were the ones who were more likely to do well. Those who didn’t want to be there, who didn’t feel gratitude for the opportunity, were more likely to slack. Someone who could express gratitude was more likely to have friends. In an odd turn of things, Michaelangelo could actually be grateful for the fact that Hiro had bullied Avery back in high school, though that sounded cruel, because it had allowed for the friendship they were building now. He wasn’t about to say that, though, because he knew Hiro would be an ass about it without even asking Braedon. The voice would only confirm his conviction anyway.

He lit up, watching him for a minute. The orange glow of the flame was almost as soothing as the nicotine that hit his system. He inhaled deeply, closing his eyes and letting the sensation sweep over him. Wonderful. He exhaled, letting the smoke escape both through his nostrils and past his lips. It was probably terrible for him. Scratch that, it was. Why did he do it? It kept the faces at bay. As far as he’d experienced, only the pills kept the voices themselves away, but he didn’t actually see people unless he stopped smoking or got riled up emotionally some other way. That much was good. Besides, his symptoms weren’t that bad when he wasn’t taking his pills. That’s why he didn’t take them. He felt better without them than he did with them. The pills dulled him. He hated that feeling. It felt like he was in a box that was just barely big enough not to suffocate him, but definitely small enough to make him extremely uncomfortable. It was the only case in which he felt sufficiently claustrophobic. Cigarettes helped a little because they were just good at relaxing him, but they could get rid of the feeling completely. So he didn’t take his pills. People didn’t know. They just thought he was weird.

Sometimes, he wanted to tell people just so they’d go easy on him if he was having a bad day. That was just stupid though. He wasn’t about to just go blabbing. There was no point. Besides, it wasn’t anyone’s business anyway. The people who needed to know, knew. People who didn’t need to know, or for whom the necessity was debatable even a little bit, didn’t know and wouldn’t know as long as he could stop them from finding out. He didn’t trust just anyone to know his dirty little secret. It had made him stop helping out Avery way back when. It made him wonder how much Hiro suspected, how he had reacted when suddenly there was no longer someone to stop him from being an asshole to the water. He’d probably been very happy with situation. It had been terribly convenient. Part of him regretted allowing it, but looking back on it… it had just been so effortless. He’d just stopped. There hadn’t been much question. It was just easier than dealing with people, especially when he was having a hard time distinguishing which people were real and which ones weren’t.

“Unlucky to end up with that face, certainly,” he agreed easily, looking up before he stuck the cigarette back between his lips. Insults. Insults and lies. There would be no flattery here. There was not enough respect or liking going on. That was enough. Besides, this was more fun than possibly being sweet and kind and the other things that were against his nature. Pretending… pretending had no point. Maybe this way Hiro would take a walk onto one of his swords. That would be wonderfully entertaining. “So why did you stick around? Want to see if you can bully the students now that you’re supposedly an authority figure?”

[/color] He lifted an eyebrow, trying to draw attention away from the fact that he was still massaging his knee. God, why wouldn’t it just relax? Was it the possible emotional tension?[/blockquote][/font][/justify][/size][/blockquote]

[HIRO JUN MIZUSHIMA]

You could probably say that Hiro really had nothing against the wind. After all the only reason Mickey here had ever gone onto his radar in the first place was because of his connection to Avery. Avery had been a pushover and easy target for Hiro and Avery's only form of defense happy to be one Michaelangelo. It was quite an annoyance for someone who got a kick out of the suffering of others like Hiro used to. So when someone would get in the way and "defy" him. Well, that never sat well with Hiro and thus why the two could never quite get along. Hiro didn't care the Mickey was a year older. He could care less actually. Only unlike Avery, Mickey wouldn't be getting an apology from the fire anytime soon. He had swallowed enough pride to apologize to the water. To do the same for Mickey would be asking too much to Hiro. The man could say he had changed but even he had his limits.


Hiro just stared at Mickey as the man lit up a cigarette. Besides being a fire he had never been one to smoke. He never liked the notion. He was beginning to question why he had even began talking to Michaelangelo right now. It seemed pointless. It was obvious they still didn't like each other and that their relationship hadn't changed at all during the years. So this rather pointless talking was just terrible for the both of them and they would be better off if Hiro just left Mickey here to his own devices. It seemed like the obvious solution to the problem. He didn't pay much attention to Mickey and his knee rubbing. He gave an unamused smirk to Mickey's retort and gave no response. It was Mickey's next question that made him raise an eye brow. Not many people knew the reason behind Hiro's drastic change and it wasn't something he talked about. Considering he hadn't seen Mickey again until he first started working at the academy he wouldn't know. "Let's just say I had a life changing experience. I could say the same to you. You never came off as the teaching type."

[MICHAELANGELO DONATELLO GRACE]

They were all grown up now. Teachers, both of them, it seemed. Adults. No longer stupid little teenagers.

They were supposed to be more mature.

Yeah, right. He didn’t think maturity was really something that existed, the way it was sometimes defined, but rather that it was something women had invented to show their displeasure at the way mean behaved. People just couldn’t hold up to those crazy standards. People held grudges. People were petty and judgmental and occasionally lazy and irresponsible. They looked at someone and relied on that first impression until their minds were changed by some random event or chance or the efforts of the other person to change the impression they gave said judges. People didn’t trust instinctively because they were suspicious creatures and because life was jading. Of course, it was very likely his own cynicism and paranoia were inflating and impressing upon people these not-so-ideal images and considerations because that was what he knew about himself. He didn’t like to think that he judged someone based solely off first impression, but he was very aware that he was judgmental and exactly the sort of guy to hold a grudge. That was why he was currently hating on Hiro, after all—not just because he needed some practice for insults and doing so was entertaining him.

He was probably enjoying insulting the man a little too much, though. Maybe it was jsut another nasty mood of his. He shrugged that off. He had his nasty moods and he could be quite the asshole sometimes. So what? If the guy had a problem with some verbal sparring, he could report him to the head of the school for all Michaelangelo cared. He’d defend himself, say there was no harm in it because they hadn’t come to blows and because you couldn’t expect everyone to get along. It wasn’t a reason to fire a professor—being immature or arguing or insulting another faculty member. They couldn’t fire him for his disorder (he couldn’t even remember if they knew about it) because it didn’t interfere with his work anyway, even if his class was a bit disorganized because of it. They didn’t have an audience, anyway, so it wasn’t like students would know these two particular staff members didn’t get along and acted like children because of it. Nor were they likely to come to blows, unless Hiro offered himself up as some sort of kabob for Mickey to practice stabbing with one of his swords. He wouldn’t kill the guy, god no (he wasn’t that insane), but using him as target practice would be amusing either way.

What wasn’t amusing was the teaching comment. It irritated him. He didn’t like being remidned of why he had gone into teaching—because he couldn’t do what he actually wanted to, which had the same reason as why he’d stopped protecting the little water from the big nasty fire. He sent a glare in Hiro’s direction but refused to reply verbally. It wasn’t a direct question anyway, though an implied one.

Instead, he forced himself into a standing position, ignoring the pain that jabbed through his knee at the abuse, probably because it hadn’t wanted ot unlock just yet. He hit it with the base of his fist, snapping it back a little for added discomfort, but the harsh movement did something and the joint unlocked. He stretched his leg and bent it, glaring at the stupid limb. He looked up, a flash of mischief crossing his expression before he asked coolly, “You know how to fence?” They could let out their hatred for each other by pretend-stabbing one another with his swords. Foils weren’t too dangerous anyway, at least not the ones he carried around. He’d probably get in trouble if he ever tried to get a sabre or something onto campus, for the sole reason that those actually looked more like weapons and could do quite a bit of damage if used as not intended in current sporting events.

[HIRO JUN MIZUSHIMA]

Quite the change. The teenage years were a distant memory of a time long ago. Hiro knew he was no longer that same person. At least that was what he believed and what he had come to understand from people like Avery whom he spent a lot of time with. Avery was one of the few people that he saw from his school days on a regular basis. So either Avery was lying to him or Hiro really did have a change of heart. Now Hiro couldn't exactly say that for sure for Michaelangelo here. Then again he couldn't really say that he knew him well to begin with. After all they had been on opposite sides of the spectrum. The only times the two had had any really interaction was when Mickey was was keeping Hiro at bay from Avery.

The winds were so....different, he guessed would be a good way to explain it. The winds weren't like the other elements that had similar personality traits. The winds varied. That's not to say that winds that didn't share common characteristics among each other, its just you couldn't say "that's a typical wind for you." They were vary much like the wind. You really didn't know what to expect from them at first glance but once you did meet one you got the general idea what they were like. There was something that picking at him though. Here was a guy that Hiro knew from his high school days. Granted that he didn't exactly hang out with the guy as if they were best buddies since they were on the opposite sides of the spectrum but from the times they did run into each other he had at least an idea of the guy, or at least his own idea of the guy but the guy that was sitting, leaning back on the tree right now seemed far from that person. Granted he wasn't surprised by the bit of hostility since there was really no reason for either of them to be truly nice with each other but still. There was just something...different about Michaelangelo. Hiro shook the thought. Maybe he was just making things up and going crazy. It wasn't like people didn't change all the time. He was proof of that. What difference would that really make to him.

Hiro raised an eyebrow at Mickey when he asked him if he could fence. "Since I was ten." he said with a bit of pride and smirk, of course Mickey's glare didn't go unnoticed. He did grow up in a wealthy family. The rich did many things when they were grooming their future heirs. Was Mickey doing what Hiro believed he was doing? Was he challenging him a bit? The idea was thoroughly tempting but not exactly something he should be doing right? Two people that really don't like each going at it with fencing swords didn't exactly sound like a bright idea and yet Hiro stepped down from the cloister and walked over to where Michaelangelo was. By the look of it these were foil swords weren't very dangerous and of course he highly doubt Mickey here would be able to have carried them onto campus if they were. "How's the leg though?I wouldn't want to have go easy on you." he teased with a smirk as he picked up one of the swords.

[MICHAELANGELO DONATELLO GRACE]

Sometimes, looking around himself, he felt as if he would have been better suited as a thunder. Especially after he “got sick,” he felt as if he fit the irritable, the quiet, and all the rest better than he did among the winds. And yet, there were some days he knew he fit into his element. Fitting into any of the elements felt a bit constraining. His voices, as much as his own stubbornness, wouldn’t be satisfied confined by a separate set of personal details. He appreciated how much the winds differed. It was sort of like the “other” category. It was a category often neglected. People didn’t seem to see the beauty there was to be found among the things that were separate from everything else, not quite possible to be placed in any one category because they fit none or multiple, and then none better than any other. It was like the winds had mastered the acceptance of a social abnormality: where most everyone strove to fit in with the majority, the winds reveled in not being counted as fitting with anyone else. Of course, they fit together. It was impossible not to agree with at least someone in the universe. Originality just didn’t exist anymore. It was just putting a hopefully relatively new spin on a very old story. Of course, the old stories survived because they were beautiful and worthy of repetition.

Who am I? He remembered the question from his English classes. Apparently, it was the only true plot when everything was boiled down to the very basic element. Who am I?, asked the confused hero. Who will I become? Michaelangelo didn’t like the questions very much himself. For one, he didn’t want to look so closely at himself as to define what he felt was constantly changing—or at least hoped was constantly changing. He didn’t want to think of himself as unlearning, as perpetual, as… continuous. It was boring. He didn’t want to be boring. Of course, how boring could a man be when he heard voices on a regular basis and wasn’t mentally stable? He rolled his eyes at the thought, though he wouldn’t have taken offense at all if, for some reason, Hiro thought he was rolling his eyes at the fire.

He was tempted to do so when the man brought up how long he had been fencing. It wasn’t quite as long as Michaelangelo had, which added a bit of apprehension to his system. It would be embarrassing if he lost a match to the fire, even if the other knew not how long he’d been fencing. It would be embarrassing to him. He wasn’t about to use his knee as an excuse. He had a bad knee. So what? It wasn’t like he’d use the same excuse for anything else, except maybe to get his mom to bring him food when he didn’t want to get up from the couch while back home. That was more laziness than anything else though. Here, he had a sense of competition rising inside him, making him feel oddly energetic. He wanted to bounce in place, but knew it would only kill his knee even more. So he bit his tongue and held still, watching the other and deliberating. It was like asking for capitol punishment when the man brought up his knee.

If Michaelangelo had a gun, he would have shot Hiro. Of course, that was a bit of a hyperbole. He wasn’t quite so stupid, nor quite so temperamental, though his emotional state was a thing to be questioned and not relied on. The comment about his leg made him wish he were less stable, however, because it irritated him to no end and reminded him just why he had enjoyed protecting Avery from his bullying. The guy was a plague all by himself. The world would be better off without him. His teeth ground together in a moment of fury, but he composed himself quickly and smiled. It came out a grimace, a devilish expression, one that failed to beguile as it very clearly displayed the fury and even a hint of evil. It was not a happy smile. It was more of an “I’m going to kill you” smile. He wouldn’t be killing anyone, but in his daydreams he would enjoy strangling the annoying little fire. “There’s no need to go easy on me.” He forced his leg to bend, ignoring a renewal of the pain though it was thankfully unlocked. It would work, just not at full capacity. “You’d regret it if you did.” And maybe he would come to regret challenging him, but he was going to go through with it and enjoy being able to thrust a sword at him without creating cause for alarm or suspicion.

[HIRO JUN MIZUSHIMA]

By the looks of it Hiro got the reaction he wanted. His aim was to piss off Mickey and it seemed to work. This wasn't good. The way he was going at it with Mickey was not something the new Hiro did. That side of him was reminiscent to the type of person he used to be. The one that would bully without regret or hesitation. I was a side of him that he reserved for only the people despised and deemed worthy of it. Although he tried to avoid it and normally had better composure of himself, but when it came to someone like Mickey then he tended to loose it.

One question made Hiro raise an eyebrow. Hiro had grown up being groomed into being the perfect heir to his family's name. This included going through many different lessons and such. Hiro never complained about. In exchange for all these lessons he did get to live a rich lifestyle so there wasn't really any room for him to complain. The question that had Hiro intrigued was how long Michaelangelo had fencing? For all he knew it could have been for just as long if Hiro had to guess he'd highly doubt that. Hiro would like to believe that he had the advantage of more experience. There was also the question of Mickey's leg. When Hiro was first walking by it looked like Mickey was quite in pain from it and Hiro highly doubt that that pain when away in an instant. So he had that to his advantage as well. If all adds up to him winning this little sparring session then he didn't care. This was getting bad for Hiro.

It would have just been a lot better if Hiro had just moved on, minded his own business, and not even acknowledge Michaelangelo. In all this the memory of why Hiro even liked picking on Avery was returning. Part of it was because of how easy a target Avery had been. The person everyone knew now as the school nurse doctor hadn't always been this outgoing, flirtatious guy. Quite the opposite. He too had made a drastic change in his life but at the time Hiro didn't miss a beat when it came to harassing him. With Avery being a water that automatically made them rivals. The added ammunition came with the fact that Avery had been known for his drinking,drugs, and partying habits and although Hiro didn't the reasons behind it he didn't care. That was wear Michaelangelo came in. Where Avery was the victim and Hiro was the villian, Michaelangelo was the white knight, at least at the time. When Hiro would pick on Avery, Michaelangelo wouldn't be far behind to save him from the big baddie. That's what made it so much fun. Seeing this wind standing up to him, giving him a challenge. Hiro got a kick out of it. Then Michaelangelo disappeared and stopped saving Avery and it just wasn't fun anymore.

Although times had changed since then, his dislike of Mickey had not gone away. So now here he was standing in front of the wind with a not extremely dangerous sword. This would not be ending good. Hiro smirked. "I'm glad. It wouldn't be very fun if you didn't even put up a fight." he said in a condescending tone. "Then I'd just be wasting my time again and I would rather not." he said turning. He swung the sword in his hand a bit to get the feeling going as he walked a couple steps. "Believe me. I have very little I regret." he said with a smirk as he turned to face Michaelangelo. "Now, if you're ready." he said pointing his sword at Michaelangelo. "Unless of course you've changed your mind." he said mockingly. Now Hiro was just asking for it.

[MICHAELANGELO DONATELLO GRACE]

Michaelangelo refrained from violence when he could. He knew that schizophrenics could be quite prone to it due to the various forms their hallucinations took, though his own had been incredibly benign in that apartment. The only voice that might encourage him to harm was Braedon. Chann and Audley were more likely to subtly suggest suicide. That was just the thing. They were violent, but not always in regard to other people. They were equally violent to themselves. According to some statistics, schizos were a third more likely to commit suicide than an unaffected person. He hated statistics. He wasn’t suicidal. Sure, he got depressed sometimes—mostly when he missed Dr. Jellycut or when he thought too much on his own school years or when he was reminded of other nasty little things from his past. Otherwise, he was normally just grumpy. Sure, he could be pleasant. That was just rarer.

When being pleasant was rare, being pleasant with someone he damn near despised was almost impossible. He’d managed civility so far, but he felt it was mostly because Hiro hadn’t shoved him for information on Avery and why he’d disappeared. Why had the white knight hung up his armor and let the princess be attacked by the dragon? They were in their own little fairy tale. Calling Hiro a dragon was far too appropriate. He wasn’t the majestic sort, either, the kind you saw in movies that people ooh’d and aah’d over. No, he was a slimy little lizard-like dragon who just happened to be way too big and capable of expelling fire from its lungs for whatever purpose. It’d be quite an amusing picture to see Hiro breathe fire actually, though it would be an unfair advantage if he heated one of their swords. And this time ‘round, there was no princess to protect. It was just an age-long grudge to battle out.

Fortunately, the little fencing foils weren’t liable to do much damage. They weren’t built for that, not in recent years, anyway. He knew, in old times some hundred years ago, they used real swords in duels and that, quite frequently, it was a battle to the death. They weren’t fighting to the death. What were they fighting for then? Until someone fell down and didn’t get up? Until someone started bleeding? Until they decided enough was enough and they were both beat up? Or until someone else intervened and made them stop from killing each other in a fist-fight, once they dropped the useless weapons and just jumped at each other like caveman. Supposedly, fighting with fists was fighting like a man, but Michaelangelo had always found it a bit uncivilized. At least sword provided some hint at craftsmanship and obvious skill. Fists could just land you a lucky shot, and were too reliant on physical strength. Besides, a fist-fight would probably get them both fired. While he didn’t give a flying fuck or a rat’s ass about Hiro’s job, he didn’t want to lose his own.

He lifted the sword and slid into an awkward position, knowing that his knee was hurting and at risk of locking up again, knowing it would only give Hiro an advantage and that he himself would probably end up being the one who regretted the challenge. “I’m ready,” he agreed after a moment. Better start this sooner rather than later, before his knee actually did fuck with him. “You ready to get your ass kicked?”

[/color] Oh, yes, provoke him with a childish little offer. He wanted to roll his eyes at himself for bothering to ask the question, but his temper was getting the better of him. The fact that Braedon was egging him on, and Katiyn was excited about the “action scene” didn’t much help. He’d just as soon strangle the voices as he would Hiro. Except neither would be happening. He was just poking the latter with a metal stick. Fun, wasn’t it?[/blockquote][/font][/justify][/size][/blockquote]

[HIRO JUN MIZUSHIMA]

Hiro wasn't a violent person. Let's rephrase that. He wasn't that violent a person anymore, especially compared to back during his high school days. Back then he didn't care if got into a fight. Of course when he had become the fire leader he had to behave just a bit more. He wasn't about to loose that title. Another thing that gave him bragging rights. Of course he was never fond of those leader meetings but he managed. Since then he has toned down a lot. Of course he still had his temper but he wasn't such a hot head like before. He had a much cooler demeanor about him. That wasn't to say that he couldn't loose his temper but a person had to be able to push the right buttons to really get a reaction out of him. Even then though he used his words more than his fist bu don't be surprised though if you did see his fist coming.

This wouldn't be counted as violence though right? Yes, he was about to lightly fight someone he really didn't like with a not so sharp sword for a bit but would that really count. Hiro didn't think so. They were just going to spar some. No one would get hurt. Much. It would be fine. No one's life was in any danger so there was nothing to fear. Hiro could blow off some steam and besides it didn't seem like Mickey here was in his best condition so Hiro would probably have to hold back some. Although the thought didn't sit well with the fire but oh well. This was more a game if anything. The goal to see is who could out do the other. At least that's how it always felt with Hiro. Everything he had ever done, fight with Mickey, pick on Avery and others, it had all been for Hiro's own entertainment. Hiro always got a kick out of it.

Hiro could help but smirk and chuckled a bit. "You were never able to do that before. I really don't think adding a sword is going to make much of a difference." he said mockingly. This was just adding to his enjoyment. Hiro really did think he had the upper hand here but Mickey's confidence only made it that much more fun for Hiro because it would make it that much sweeter when he'd break it. Thinking back to that time they never really fought. They exchanged death glares and words but not fist. Mickey had only ever come to save Avery, at least at first, but by then Hiro would have gotten his fun out of Avery so anything from Mickey was just bonus fun. "Let the games begin." and took the first swing.

This how it was for a while. Then just striking at each other. Hiro dodged and blocked a few but there were times when Mickey hit his target. Lucky shots in his opinion. Hiro continue to strategically attack. He could feel the sweat trickling down his neck. Of course this had started as a simple sparring session but anyone walking by would not deny the fact that both men were growing with intensity with each strike. At this point it was rather unsure how it would completely end. Probably in exhaustion for both.

[AVERY JUNNOSUKE KAEL]

Avery wouldn’t exactly say he enjoyed resting on weekends. He much rather preferred working, though his shifts were only on weekdays. That didn’t stop him from actually coming and visiting the Academy, though. Avery was the type of person who liked being surrounded by people so this wasn’t unusual for him—in fact he nearly visited every weekend. It sure as hell beat his empty apartment. And so he wandered, seeing familiar faces in the halls and smiled at them as they blinked at him in surprised. It was probably weird seeing the nurse outside of his office—let alone in normal clothes—but they greeted him nonetheless, obviously still a bit shocked. Avery was told more than once that he looked younger than he really was (27, to be exact) and he took that compliment as an ego booster. Could he pass off as a high schooler? … Okay, maybe that was a bit farfetched. Maybe a college student? That sounded a bit better. Just a bit.

He looked outside a hallway window, leaning against it as he relished the small stream of sunshine that peeked through the clouds. Fall was his favorite season, with all the leaves changing color and the weather transitioning into chilly winds. Avery didn’t mind cold weather; in fact he preferred it over hot weather. He hated the feeling of being all sweaty and besides, it was easy to warm up than to cool down. At that thought he rubbed his arms, a small chill running up his spine, causing him to look down for a moment—and that’s when he saw the gleam and clashing of silver. For a moment he froze, trying his hardest to peer into the blurry glass. Avery couldn’t quite make out the faces, but he knew one thing for sure. Those things were swords. Were they sharp? He wasn’t about to do nothing and find out.

So Avery rushed down the hallways, running down the stairs as he was careful not to fall or trip but swift enough to get to the ground floor in a quick manner. Where were the teachers? Oh, right. It was Saturday. Most of them probably weren’t even around, and if they were, they were probably in their classrooms grading papers or something redundant like that. Avery just knew that things like this happened a lot, and most people got hurt. Badly. He knew, he was the effin’ nurse at this school. And if he was given the chance? Avery would prevent them. All of them. He knew what it was like to come out of the wrong side of a fight. But at least it didn’t involve pointy objects. Finally reaching outside, he leaned against a wall, his breathing somewhat uneven as he searched for the place he saw the two fighting it out. Avery’s eyes scanned the grounds, his eyes catching the same silver gleam as it did upstairs. “Hey! You two—” he started to shout, but he quickly shut his mouth, swallowing thickly as he got a closer look at the two faces.

Mickey.

Hiro.

His ex-protector and his ex-bully. Both in the same place.

Without thinking Avery took off again, his mind desperate as he got closer. The determination and intensity in their eyes—it scared him. Scared him so much thinking that either one of them could get hurt and so Avery flung himself into the middle, his arms outstretched and his eyes shut tight. “Stop!” he shouted, biting his lip as unwanted memories started pouring back. “Please. Stop.” Avery’s voice now was barely above a whisper, swallowing thickly again as he peeked open his eyes, turning his head to face his protector, again to face his bully, and he collapsed onto his knees in exhaustion from all the running.

But this scene…

It was all too familiar.

[MICHAELANGELO DONATELLO GRACE]

He heard the shout, which made his head twist, his body freezing so he wouldn’t topple over or hit Hiro in the face. As a result, he felt the point of Hiro’s foil hit him in the shoulder. He cursed and slashed his own toward the ground, a movement more frustration than attempt to cut off Hiro’s leg. There was enough space that they didn’t hurt each other anyway. Who’d be stupid enough to interrupt a sparring match with potentially dangerous weapons? His eyes narrowed as he tried to recognize the face, and he glared at the approaching man as he did. “God damn it, Avery! You made me lose the point. I thought medical professionals were supposed to be more cool-headed in possibly dangerous situations.” Besides, the interruption could seriously have hurt one of them if the other hadn’t been paying close enough attention. Why would be so…. He cut off in his thoughts, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes for a moment.

When he opened them again, Avery had as good as fallen between them, looking as though he wanted to be turned into some sort of kabob and speared by one of the swords. He blinked at the nurse, confused. He sounded…. Hopeless. So hopeless. Michaelangelo didn’t understand why. It wasn’t like they were rolling around intent on knocking each other’s brains out. It wasn’t dangerous. It could be, but it wasn’t. They were both good enough to prevent it from being dangerous, even if he hated admitting that Hiro had some serious skill. He was curious if Hiro would show him a few moves, as there had definitely been a few that he hadn’t recognized and would be interested in learning. It was easy to shove aside the dislike just in consideration of learning. He had a feeling, if Hiro consented to lessons, that they would endlessly butt heads. That’d be fine, though, as long as he got some new moves out of it in the process. And they weren’t literally knocking heads. That would probably be painful.

Noticing that the nurse was breathing heavily, he hobbled over to the duffel bag. Hobbled because his knee was still being disgusting, the and fencing position hadn’t helped it. He was just waiting for it lock or give out. He bent and grabbed three of the water bottles, then headed back over to them. He handed one bottle to Hiro, though a bit grudgingly. It would be amusing if the fire elemental got dehydrated. Only appropriate for the element itself. With Avery, it was more along the lines of irony. A water elemental doesn’t have enough water. He nearly snorted. He tossed the remaining two bottles into the grass in front of Avery and hoisted himself down, keeping the bad knee locked on purpose but making the trip downward a bit awkward until he finally found his ass on the floor. He grunted softly as his knee complained and reached his empty hand to massage it for a minute. “Drink, idiot,” he ordered Avery. “You sound like you ran a marathon.” There were too many reasons for him to be in a foul mood right now. Especially considering the following address to Hiro, “Considering the interruption, you get this one. You’re a point ahead anyway thanks to the doctor here.”

He rolled his eyes, but his face softened a little as he began to understand the expression on Avery’s face. He looked legitimately worried. Honestly, he thought it was being oversensitive to a ridiculous cause. But maybe he should explain anyway, seeing as Avery had jumped through hoops just to jump to conclusions. Or maybe he wasn’t even familiar with the way fencing worked. Whatever. The professor sighed and held the foil out to him. “They’re not real swords. It’s a touch competition. You thrust. You poke.” He poked the medic in the stomach lightly. “It can hurt when you want it to, but it’s not like we were trying to kill each other.” At least he hoped Hiro hadn't been trying to kill him. The fire elemental had been following the general rules of fencing at least. He rolled his eyes again and handed him the sword altogether, then uncapped his bottle of water and drank a few swallows, massaging at his knee again. Stupid thing. Stupid car crash. Stupid everything that ever was. Yes, he was definitely being pissy today. He didn’t even think it was entirely Hiro’s fault, or Avery’s. No, it was probably split fairly evenly between his knee being frustrating and Hiro having interrupted him. It was probably a good thing that Avery had stopped them, for the sake of his knee, at least.

[HIRO JUN MIZUSHIMA]

Hiro swung at Mickey, a bit harder than he probably should have but when he heard the shot of a familiar he pulled back on his swing. The foil still made contact with Mickey's shoulder while Mickey's own sword slid across Hiro's leg leaving a small stinging sensation. If it had been anyone else he would probably have been upset with the sudden interruption but this wasn't the case since he had instantly recognized the voice and when he turned his head he was met with the site of his best friend running towards them. He backed away a bit as Avery ran in between them, basically out of breath. Hiro heard Mickey's words but his attention remained on Avery.

The water was breathing heavy and had a desperate look on his face. Desperation mixed with what looked like fear which concerned him. His worry only grew when he watched Avery begin to fall to the ground. Hiro sprinted forward, dropping the sword, towards his best friend. He caught Avery before he fell to hard on his knees. "Easy Avery." he said in a soft voice as he knelt next to Avery. Hiro didn't quite understand why Avery was like this right now. Hiro and Mickey hadn't been any real danger. Yes, they were both fighting with swords and it bit more intensely that they should have but swords weren't sharp, they both had enough control that they were able to keep from hurting the other. They weren't fist fighting, they weren't any wounds or blood spattering around. So with all that in mind he didn't see any reason for Avery to have been so worried.

Hiro only took his eyes off Avery for a moment when Mickey threw them the bottles of water. As his adrenaline was beginning to flow away he did begin to feel his throat yearn for the clear liquid. Throughout that entire sparring session not once did he think of taking a break but that was probably because he didn't want to seem tired even if he was. Hiro didn't like the tone Mickey used when he talked to Avery about drinking the water, "Will you give him a minute to catch his breath." he said in a slightly irritated tone towards Mickey. Despite not liking Mickey's tone he did agree that Avery sounded very winded. He grabbed one of the water bottles, opened it up and held it out for Avery. "Here." he said with an encouraging tone. Hiro had forgotten about the score and at the moment it wasn't his top priority but he would admit to himself inside he was more than happy that he was leading and because he had a feeling that that was the end of the session he basically won which was more than satisfying to him but he would admit, not aloud, that Mickey did indeed have skills. Unfortunately Mickey did rather keep Hiro on his toes. "You should be happy that you were able to keep up." he remarked at Mickey.

As everything began to settle down Hiro began to understand Avery's concern. His gaze softened. As his mind began to slow down from the adrenaline rush he got from sparring his mind was able to begin to think about the entire situation. To anyone who had simply stumbled upon the situation and if they knew the history between the two then they may jump to the wrong conclusion. That was probably what had happen here although Avery was different. There wasn't anyone that would be feeling the way Avery because they didn't experience what the water had. After all this wasn't just two people going at it with swords. For Avery this was his ex-protector and his ex-bully going at it with swords. That could bring on stress for anyone when you thought about. Yes, they weren't trying to kill each other but their sparring had intensified as they wore on. "It's true. You think I'd risk my job over him?" he said, trying to lighten the mood and reassure Avery that everything was fine, basically. Hiro looked Avery over. Aside from the general exhaustion which he assumed was a result from basically sprinting to stop Hiro and Mickey he looked okay. "I think you need to get some rest. Do you want me to take you home?"