Chapter 129 - Reflections: Two Similar Souls

And today, again, he was made to flaunt the curfew because of the beating of today. Warm tears dropped down his cheeks as he shut his eyes.

He was fed up. Living like this was miserable and he wished there was a way out. If only that stupid woman had not come with her stupid prophecy...

Just then, a girl passed by the tree. Niniola, she was. She looked left and right, her eyes squinting into the distance as she placed her hands to her h.i.p.s.

"Where are you Sunday? You ought to be home already... You did not allow me walk you home..." She muttered; a sad look pasted on her face.

Suddenly, she looked to the tree and squinted more. "Sunday?"

"Sunday? Who did this to you?" Niniola gasped as she lifted him to his feet, his left hand over her shoulders.

Sunday pointed weakly to the distance where Wole and Shola were walking in, his finger trembling. At this, Niniola frowned, putting Sunday to rest against the trunk of the tree. She picked a stone and hurled it, her impeccable aim of the stone slamming and shattering against Wole's head.

Wole grimaced and turned around, his angered eyes on the mischievously smiling Niniola. He charged out or rage, followed by Shola.

All what Sunday heard were cries and whimpers for the next minute. And after that, Niniola dusted her hands, coming over to him while the thoroughly battered bodies of Wole and Shola fell to the ground.

"You are strong." Sunday whimpered.

"I know. But I'm sorry they did that. I told you, as long as we are friends, no body can touch you. I am sorry I came late, Sunday. Let's take you home." Niniola replied, placing his arm over her shoulders.

___

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"Heh!" Sunday sighed, shaking his head. "It's nothing. "He lied as he huffed, his face hurting him terribly. 

His face stung and muscles ached. Shola and Wole had done quite the number on him but he was not going to admit it. In fact, he did not need to admit it. The way he caried himself, all pained and grimacing was more than enough to express that and all the details that were involved with it.

However, despite the pain, what kept ringing in his head was that he was late. His curfew had been flaunted and all that was because of the two log heads. For all he knew, they could have decided to come back to beat him another day when he was not that close to breaching the curfew. They had done it before. It was not going to be new. 

In fact, did they not schedule his beating today for later, again? What had stopped them from just hearing him out and scheduling the beating earlier, when he asked for it. He grimaced now, this time, not out of pain but of anger. 'His c.h.e.s.t boiled, his head ached and rage swelled within him so thick that his throat constricted. Veins popped up on the temples of his head and then, his breathing became ragged.

"Hey... Hey…" Niniola slowed down, holding his head towards her with her other hand, the left hand. Her eyes squinting with an obvious expression of worry and sadness. "I told you, I am sorry. I should have come earlier. It is my fault that…"

"It's not your fault." Sunday spat out angrily, looking to the other direction as he fisted his left hand to his side. "Its not your fault. I am a demon in the making so it is to be expected. Do not be…"

"You re not a demon. I have seen what demons are and how they operate. You have a kind heart, Sunday." Niniola said, turning his head towards her again. "Demons lack that attribute." She sighed and then resumed to helping him walk the way.

"We should get home already."

"I am late for my curfew." Sunday sighed.

"You can explain it to him that those guys decided to come and…"

"No, my father would not buy that". Sunday exhaled now. They were walking down the street and as they did, people c.o.c.ked their heads to stare at them.

It was expected. Niniola had quite her history and for the two of them to be walking down the street, the attention was doubled on them.

"Whatever." Niniola just sighed in return. "We should still get you home and maybe get some treatment to fix that face of yours."

Sunday sighed now, again. He replied nothing to her as he felt his face with the free hand. Quite sticky it was, he was bleeding from the temple, just above his left eyebrow. Irunmoles bled Essence, not blood and so what was streaming down from the cut was some trickles of whitish, liquid energy which was the life force of each and every Irunmole. 

How she had been able to just blur away and make a mess of the bullies still amazed him. In that moment, he wished he would ever be strong as her. Perhaps, if he was strong as she was or even stronger, people like Wole and Shola would think twice about wanting to beat him up. 

Basically, everyone would think twice, doubly times to be sure before deciding to mess with him. If he was strong enough, then, His Father would not need to subject him to all that he was being subjected to…

Maybe then, they would even come to enlist his help in the matters of the Ilu. He sighed, hoping against hope that one day, he would be able to wield the rippling energy that Niniola had, even within their young ages as at now.

Still, the fact that she was here, with him, puzzled him. Why would she want to be with someone like him? Why did she not react to him like everyone did? What was her story? He knew she was the same girl who had been banished, back then alright. That was her story. Or rather, what was her motivation that she never discriminated against him. 

In fact, if he dared to hope, then he would say that she seemed so much at ease whenever she was around him.

"Why are you not scared of me, Niniola?" He braced himself to ask.

Niniola scoffed at his words and then chuckled. "What's there to be scared of, Sunday? Someone who gets a daily dose of beating…"

"That's not what I mean." Sunday blurted out with closed eyes.