A/N: Written for Skyrise over on LiveJournal.

Warnings: Some blood. Odd concepts.

Disclaimer: I disclaim. CLAMP owns everything, except for the frog. The frog owns itself.


The Frog

There was a frog.

A small grey-brown creature jumping around in the grass and enjoying its freedom.

Fūma did not know where it had come from; it did not even matter to him. Perhaps it was living in a pond in someone's garden. Perhaps it was some little boy's pet, now escaped and looking for a body of water to live in.

It was just there, ignorant of his presence and doing all the things frogs do.

Fūma sat quietly, pondering important things and watching the creature with mild interest. It jumped in his direction and stopped a few centimetres away from his feet, and he did not dare to move, not wanting to scare it away. For a long, long time they were just looking at each other – Fūma and the frog.

"I have seen the future, you know," Fūma whispered eventually. "Would you like to know what awaits us in the future?"

The frog turned its head and gave a small croak. It made him smile in satisfaction.

"There will be a new world. A better world. A beautiful world. And I will help to build it."

The frog croaked again, as if in agreement or wonder, or maybe even puzzlement.

"Oh, yes. And you will have fresh water to play in and lush greens to hide in," Fūma confirmed with all seriousness.

The frog croaked, sounding slightly offended.

Fūma chuckled to himself silently. "Of course. It would be foolish for you to hide among greens when you are brown." He looked at the creature carefully, taking notice of the strange patterns on its skin. "I'm sure there will be a lot of places dark enough and good enough for you. And no one will see you, and no one will be able to find you. How would you like that?"

The frog stayed silent and just watched the human talking to her, pretending that it could understand his language, pretending that any odd sound it made was an answer to his words.

If frogs would have a sense of humour, the creature could find the situation quite amusing. But as it was, the frog had none. Also, it was more concerned about finding a nice damp place where to live because it had just escaped from its previous owner – a boy with oddly shaped glasses and a strange wish to carry the frog around everywhere he went.

This particular morning, the frog had had enough of being squeezed painfully tight and stuffed in dark uncomfortable pockets along with shiny bottle corks, metal badges and other odd things little boys like to keep in there. It had had enough of being put on display, travelling from hand to hand, tossed up in the air just to satisfy someone's wish to see how frogs were falling, and forced to take part in frog races (which it always lost, anyway). Now it just wanted to find some nice and quiet corner with some water and a lot of bugs and mosquitoes to feed on, and spend there the rest of its life in peace.

Fūma talked on about the world he had seen in the future; he needed someone to share this secret with, wanted someone to know that it was all for the best. And a silent listener was always a good listener.

Unfortunately though, the frog had had enough of the grass and the sun, and the human. So it jumped forwards and then to the side, turned its back on Fūma and moved on to find the wettest pond of the neighbourhood.

Fūma, realising that he was losing a good listener, fell silent and watched it jump away. His eyes narrowed briefly in displeasure.

"Where are you going little frog?"

The frog did not answer him. It did not even understand that he had asked a question. The brownish creature continued to jump away without a care in this world. Someone should have told her that it was not a good thing to do – leaving like that without a goodbye.

Fūma inclined his head, wondering how far the thing would get, or how far he should allow it to go. "You know, little frog, no one gets away from me unless I want them to."

It was true. But it is useless to say something like that to a frog who cannot understand human language. Not many humans chose to heed a warning like that, so why should it be expected from a frog?

They all, humans and animals alike, want to be free, not bound to a place or a concept. They always want something that they cannot have because, too used to living in a certain pattern, they would not know what to do with the sudden freedom, with the number of possibilities that would open up for them. And it is alluring – the freedom and ability to do whatever they want...

It is better to keep them locked in the environment they are in right now because the majority of them does not deserve anything else, anything more.

It was what Fūma thought, watching the frog jump away. And this frog, as he had decided, did not deserve the thing it was looking for.

So, Fūma smiled and raised his hand just a little, as if to wave goodbye to the little creature.

In the middle of its next jump, the frog exploded in an odd fountain of blood. It rained down on the grass, colouring it oddly and making it stick together.

The frog had gotten quite far and the spatters did not reach Fūma and did not stain his clothes, though he would not have minded even if it had. The scent of blood reached his nostrils and he inhaled deeply. It was a sickly-sweet smell; one that accompanied destruction, death and rebirth. It was the end and the beginning.

"I'm doing everything right," Fūma confirmed once more. This planet needed a new world. One where humans would not be able to wreak destruction; where the nature would be lush and untouched. A world that did not deserve humans – that was his ideal. And if the current system had to be destroyed for that – so be it.

Fūma rose to his feet and headed back to Ebisu. There were some important things that needed to be done before the new world could arise.