Lion Army was different without Tom. More lonely. And in the mess hall, where they dined, Tom seemed to steer clear of Soup, as if he was ashamed. Or maybe hiding. Tom wasn't one to hide, though.
There was Fly Molo to talk to, but he was often rude and fond of pointing out inconsistencies in stories. There was Wu, but she was solitary and kept her own company. So Hot Soup was alone once again.
They had another battle a few weeks later. Soup was getting better. He stayed alive through most of the game and scored a few hits. He kept close watch on the soldier efficiency list, watching his rank rise and fall. It rose more often than it fell.
He was moved to C toon, then to B. Wu was in B, too. They made polite conversation, and occasionally competed in the arcade games. She beat him pretty badly every time. He discovered a weird retro game, entitled "Minecraft" for some reason he'd never fully understood, that he was fairly good at. He liked both exploring the strange worlds on his own and fighting with her in virtual arenas. Sometimes he could even inflict some damage on her.
Felix Bardon was graduated. There wasn't much fanfare. He'd been neither popular nor unpopular among the majority of the students. They got a new commander. Yuri. His second-in-command was another girl, Petra. It was all just part of the game, the endless shifting of the ranks at the Battle School.
One day, Hot Soup had finished his dinner early and was examining the efficiency list on the wall. Tom had somehow managed to get to 11th. He was now one of the elite. But it said he was in Phoenix Army.
"Tom, why are you in Phoenix Army?" Soup asked boldly, though he feared he knew the answer already.
"Oh, I got transferred," Tom said airily.
"From Spider to Phoenix?"
"No, first I got transferred from Spider to Fox, and then I think to Condor, and then to Phoenix. Why?"
Hot Soup looked at him strangely. "Tom. Why do you keep getting yourself transferred?"
"Dunno. I lose my temper. I am very temperamental." Tom looked away.
The conversation moved away from that topic, but Soup realized that for some reason, Tom had changed. He wasn't as jokey as before. He was quieter, a little more reserved in talking to his friends. Was it the endless transfers that was doing it? Soup wondered. Was it simply his temper, taking over the rest of his life?
"Soup. I have something to tell you." Tom stood up, pushing his plate away.
"But…we're still eating," Soup said.
"I'm not hungry anymore. And you're finished, or else you wouldn't have come over here."
True. "Okay. What do you have to say?"
Tom walked to the corner of the room. It was darker there, shaded by an overhang, and away from most of the talk and flurry of the mess hall.
He took his hand and raised it to his cheek.
"Tom…"
Tom brushed at the pale skin of his cheek…and it came off. Not peeling, but it was as if there had been coloring or paint on it that he'd just rubbed off.
Underneath, it was black. Blacker than black. Blacker than night. Blacker than darkness. Blacker than light-absorbing metal in space, being drawn into a black hole.
And suddenly it all made sense.
[Does it make sense to you now?]