Shaken Up
Mirror and Image
It was happening again.
Shuu looked down to his offending feet. The tingling was back again. Almost out of habit, he looked around to the other people packed into he subway car. None of them were looking at their feet in confusion, which once again confirmed it was just him. He'd started feeling it three weeks ago; he'd described it to the others as how it felt when your foot was asleep, when circulation is completely cut of and, as you shake it to get feeling back, the prickly sensation of pins and needles attack the infected area.
He'd written it off the first few times, except the odd thing was that it only affected the souls of his feet, the heavily padded area that always touched the ground. It hurt more when socks or shoes were on; but it felt stronger when he was barefoot, especially when he was on natural earth. It was that discovery that made him think it was something to do with his armor, and he had immediately gone to the others.
Their reactions were all typical. Touma claimed no opinion until he visited podiatristss journals and websites to do some research; Shin thought he was just becoming more connected with his yoroi; Seiji thought it might have been a warning, of what he didn't know. Ryo said he hadn't felt anything in his yoroi (neither did the others), but he smiled and said he had every confidence that Shuu would figure it out.
The car started up, finally. He could hear the announcer in the distance telling passengers to get behind the yellow line as the metal snake began to move. Shuu wondered dimly what Naaza would say to that comparison. The tingling sparked again, and he again looked to his feet. They were coming in shorter and shorter intervals now as the Tokyu Toyoko train gained speed. Frustrated, he pulled off his sneakers and put them on the dirty floor of the subway car. Those next to him turned in curiosity, but all the saw was a shoeless man with his eyes closed.
Concentration was easy; focus was always the hard part. The noise of the train, the people around him, the smell of ramen and coffee, the caress of a shopping bag, were all very loud distractions. His brow furrowed, trying to center himself, mentally walking himself through tai chi exercises to open his mind.
When he started to smell the armor, to fell its weight on his shoulders, he mentally looked down at his tingling feet. The tingling, instead of lifting, sank itself further up his feet, stopping just below his ankles. It was like sand, almost. He got the clear picture of desert sand blowing up and burying his feet; each grain was moving, shaking as it continued to blow.
...Shaking?
"My God, it's an earthquake!"
This is a Round Robyn fic we started on a message board we frequent: Samurai Fanservice. Updating will be dependant on how the fic is robined, of course, but it's a cool idea, and we're going to have fun seeing where it goes.