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Kimizuki is earth. Steady, grounded, but still a mountain with jagged edges to warn strangers away. Those few who are brave enough can learn to find solace in his depth, in his unshakable roots that so few are granted the privilege of. Except his roots are feeding off of sickness instead of water, and they will hold strong until breath remains in small, vulnerable bodies, but. But, wait, no, no, his roots dig deeper than that, because he is not the only brother out there, not the only child sworn to protect. Twin blades are raised because if the price of his family is murder, then he will kill them all.
Yoichi is air. Swaying with the strongest opinion, soft and healing like a mother's touch, trusting in the direction that the universe takes him. Often warm like a chinook, because even after watching the life drain out of his last remaining family he does not hesitate to love. A soldier with no armour over his heart, but instead a radio transmitter that can seep through the chinks in everyone else's. His shield and sword are love itself. Except. Have you ever heard the wind roar when it seems like the universe has chosen its time to get angry? Close your ears, because if you hurt those most precious to him, he will make them bleed.
Mitsuba is fire. Couldn't you tell? Loud and crackling like her knuckles before a fight, blood running hot because she can't afford to let it cool. A lineage of executioners should have manifested in frost, but she has too much rage to freeze over. Oh yes, she has been blessed by a family who loves the idea of her, caressing a battle axe instead of soft hair with incantations of strength and protection, and isn't that enough? Her volume will resound with everyone around her, a war cry meant to deafen, because she will be heard, dammit, if she's truly enough.
Shinoa is water. Essential, because her personality demands nothing less. Always moving, always strong, except when it's not. But no one ever taught her that she could be enough, so instead she is always too much, unfazed by the ripples others cause and slowly drowning everyone around her with a demure smile on her face. If she smiles hard enough, the clack of her dull teeth reminding her that she does not require blood even when she craves it, she can convince herself that she's not suffocating with the rest of them. Besides, if she has to drown in a storm of her own making, she will drink the life out of her enemies as she sinks.
Yuu is darkness. He's never wanted to be. That's the reason he's thrown to the wolves so carelessly, with spitting words like monster and demon and no child of mine. So now he refuses to be anything other than right there when you need him, because so what, if he once needed a childhood and received fists and dark cupboards, or the brand of a slave and a cold underground city in its place? So what. Everything around him seems to fall to ash, but he will be damned if he lets the light drain out of anyone before they get a chance to shine. He is the Hell Prince of salt and shadows, the angel who hungers for the bones of sinners, and yet. Yet everyone who looks at him can't help but see the sun.
Mika is light. The greatest irony of all, because now the sun's rays scorch if taken too lightly, and the daytime brings more fear than it does hope. He had so much love once, (who had shown him where to find it is a mystery). What a shame, that it's now buried under his hatred for every species, sitting side by side with his lost humanity as they both laugh at him for having the audacity to breathe. No one's quite sure just exactly what runs through his veins but it doesn't matter, it doesn't matter, so long as he can keep the people he loves safe. Humankind will remember his name, because he is the one who defies his nature to protect those who can't protect themselves. He is the White Knight cast from divinity, and his feathers may be bloodied, but not even Heaven can take away his wings.
Alone, they are uncontainable, each their own blooming tempest. Alone they are merely tools of elemental destruction. But bound together, they are the stitches that span the fabric of the universe. They will stretch themselves to their limits and far beyond because they have found their family, and they will fight tooth and nail until the rest of the world can find the same.
These are the children of catastrophe who will either save the world or bring it to its knees. It is hard to say, after everything, which one would be worse.
"Stupid kids," Guren mutters, not for the first time. He watches the squad as they return from an unsanctioned suicide mission, triumphant, but teetering on the edges of gravestones.
"Hush," Shinya says, noticing the limps, gashes, adolescent bodies knitting themselves back together, "We weren't much smarter than them, once,"
Guren can’t disagree. Shinya sighs, shakes his head with a pleasant non-expression only Guren can decipher.
"Are we really going to be redeemed by two royal deserters and a handful of angsty orphans?”
Scoffing, Guren looks away from the approaching child soldiers, and instead focuses on the red of the decaying horizon.
“They’ll burn the world to ashes before they get the chance,”
But Shinya knows Guren better than he knows himself, and so he says what his comrade will not.
“Ah yes, they will bring us to our knees first,” He smiles, and it is as sharp and as cold as death, “Only then will we deserve to rise again.”