Mxls: An Aura Story

The rain thundered down hard that night in Mixopolis. Cars were covered and streets were barren as buckets and buckets of water poured down onto the streets, as the flash of lightning and roar of thunder struck as the storm hit right above the town. The wind blew through the buildings, whistling all the way. An umbrella would not save anyone in this kind of weather!

Thankfully for the Mixels, every single one of them was tucked away safely inside. Be it their homes or their buildings of work, the Mixels were staying warm and safe in a night like this. And this didn’t just apply to the main of Mixopolis, even the outskirts were affected by this…especially in the areas where the easy access to the tech of the city.

---

Even though the suburbs of Nindjex are a very modern part of Mixopolis, some remnants of the past still remained. Old stands, old shrines, and, in particular, an old temple that had been converted into not just a dojo, but a living space to three Mixels.

---

At this time late at night, the only two sources of light that illuminated the dojo was the lightning that flashed through the thin paper windows in a strobe-like fashion, but also a small candle illuminating the room of Mysto.

His martial arts robes and sedge hat were replaced with a much simpler nightgown and sleeping cap, as he sat on his sleeping mat, writing down something on a sheet of paper with an ink pen. Engrossed in this work, he did not see the two silhouettes moving in the halls of the dojo, the two figures lit up further with every flash of lightning, as they slowly crept into the room, each dragging something behind them, setting them down in front of Mysto and sitting down on them. The old leader did not even have to look up, even with the two figures being as quiet as they were.

“My pupils.” Mysto said, still writing down on the paper. “What are you doing up at this time of the night?”

The two figures, now illuminated by the candlelight, were revealed to be Cobrax and Spinza, the two of them also in pajamas, and sitting down on their own sleeping mats, which they had dragged into the room.

“S-sensei.” Both of them nervously said, bowing in respect as they sat, as an unexpected flash of lightning, followed by a rumble of thunder, shook them to the core.

Still without looking up, Mysto finished writing down on the piece of paper, and then formed one of his aura vision scopes. He set the piece of paper into the candle, as it burnt to ashes and the smoke collected into the aura sphere, forming a new memory into it. Meanwhile, Cobrax and Spinza quietly bickered between each other through whispers, as they argued on who would talk first. A single look from their master shut both of them up.

“I can sense that the two of you are troubled.” Mysto said, as the two of them tried to contain their nerves as another split of lightning broke the sky.

“We…we…” Cobrax nervously started.

“We want hear the story of the first memory in the aura sphere!” Spinza nervously blurted out, as the thunder shook the room again.

“Hmm…” Mysto said, as he quickly flipped through the various memories in the sphere. “A sudden request, but fitting for a night like this.”

Finally, the images stopped at the very first one, and Mysto began…

---

Many years ago, back when Nindjex was much more rural, it was a hub of so many things. Warriors, fighters, shopkeepers, you name it. The elite lived in beautiful palaces, the lower in small shacks. It was a simple location, though you could easily lose yourself if you weren’t accustomed to it.

Throughout the busy marketplace, a lone Mixel walked through it. A sedge hat strung behind his back, a bo staff bolstered behind him, jet black hair in a topknot with a matching short, yet wispy, mustache and beard…this was Mysto, far younger than he was now.

Mysto was known for a few things, mostly infamous things. He was a loner. He situated himself in an abandoned temple, crumbling at its roots. He rarely spoke with anyone. Some knew him as a rebel that bested them in fights purely to win money to sustain himself with. Others found his mysteriousness and coolheadedness almost charming, yet he rebuffed everyone that attempted.

And to others, he was number one on their list. One wayward group of Nindjas, vagabonds, you could say, would regularly come through the marketplace, or put their own into the betting rinks of the battles. And every time still, Mysto would defeat them, without a single care, which was infuriating to one Mixel in particular…

She was the leader of this Nindja clan, her insect-like body and four wings gave her the name Dragabond. She was steely-eyed, she was cunning…but most importantly, she was petty. She wanted to get even with Mysto…but how could she? He had little of material value, and he always won back any money he lost, so that was pointless. One day, she’d fine the perfect way to get back at him…

---

Later that night, the storms had come in. Even though it was late at night, Mysto still was awake, attempting a hidden art. He had formed an aura sphere in the air, but no matter what he tried, the memories would not connect, leaving the sphere as blank as he started with. It was thanks to this that he was able to hear, though the thunder, wind, and pouring rain…two faint screams?

Closing up the aura sphere, Mysto stood up and walked towards the front of the temple, where he opened up the wood rotten door, only to find two baskets…each containing an infant bawling their eyes out. In a panic, without realizing what he was doing, he grabbed onto the baskets and ran back into the temple.

---

He hastily placed the two baskets onto the floor of his room, getting a closer look at what he was suddenly dealing with. Both of the babies had the distinct orange and black coloration of the Nindjas and were each bundled up in a blanket. One of them had three distinct legs and a squat body. The other was a cyclops snake neonate, a small snake making up his tongue as well. Respectively, the words “Spinza” and “Cobrax” were written on a damp and ink-smudged sheet of paper, and placed onto the blankets. It was only now that Mysto noticed that the blankets were wet, not from the rain or self-soiling…but with the unmistakable oily redness of Mixel blood. Even worse, the two babies were unharmed, so it was not the blood of their own.

The weariness of the night setting into him, all Mysto could do was let these newfound infants sleep as well. The closest thing he could find to a suitable sized bed was his hat, which he slowly placed the infants in. The touch of another Mixel slowly quelled their crying, as a fresh blanket was tucked over them and the hat was slowly rocked back and forth, lulling the two of them to sleep. The suddenness of the situation drained Mysto of his own energy, as he slowly slipped into sleep as well.

---

The next morning, the holes in the window fabric let the sun beam through it, onto the face of Mysto, who stirred in discomfort. The rain had subsided, though the drips of water on everything still remained. With a yawn, he slowly sat up, stretching. As his eye grew clear from their initial morning grogginess, he heard cooing near him…unfortunately for him, those infants weren’t a dream, and they were reaching out to him. All Mysto could do was sigh. This was going to be a long day, wouldn’t it?

---

That day, Mysto was forced to go into the marketplace, not for his sake, but for the sake of the two infants that had suddenly been thrust into his care. Using a sheet like a double sling around his shoulders, the two babies were laid down on it, protected by the sides of it. Two other small cloths were wrapped around them as fresh diapers as well. Mysto was wearing his hat and using his staff like a walking stick, anything to disguise himself from anyone noticing him. However…

“Ey, Mysto!” Another Nindja Mixel called out of him. He was the owner of a local bar, more specifically, the one that held the illegal fights that Mysto competed in. Suddenly, he noticed the two babies in the bundle, who happily cooed and tried to reach out at the new person. The barkeeper couldn’t keep a straight face when he saw this.

“I was going to ask if you were contributing in the next brawl, but I see you’re a bit busy right now!” He said, trying to hide a cackle. “I don’t think you’ll need any drinks from here for a while, maybe head to the dairy stall?”

As Mysto angrily stormed away from the bar and the owner started to crack up, all the babies did was pull at his mustache and gleefully giggle; unaware of the physical and mental pain they were causing him.

---

Throughout the week, Cobrax and Spinza were making Mysto’s life a living hell. No longer could he go to the bar to fight, as he was forced to take care of these annoying infants. They did everything to get on Mysto’s nerves. Climbing on things, crying for food and diaper changes, pulling on his mustache and beard, forcing him to spend money on their basic needs, the whole lot.

In only three days, he was sleep deprived, cranky, and ready to get rid of these two babies. Grabbing the two baskets he found the little brats in, he was about to ship them off to the nearest orphanage he could find. Now, all he had to do was put them in the baskets, bundle them up, put them on the stop, and walk away, no problem, right? But first…he actually had to FIND the two of them…

---

In anger, he searched around the temple, searching through every door to find the two infants. Looping around the entire one-story building twice, he finally found the babies in the place he least wanted to find them, along with in the state he wished to not see them in…

Spinza and Cobrax had climbed to the top of a few-tier drawer, containing overturned bottles of ink, which the two babies happily sat in and splashed, leaving inky splotches on their skin and the just shrieked in glee.

“No, no, no!” Mysto hastily ran towards the babies and scooped them up, jostling the drawer back and forth, making it bash into the wall, loosening the already weak shelf, which also held ink. “After I get you two clean, you two are out of here, you hear?!”

As if the fates were listening to him, the shelf broke, sending extra ink bottles crashing down on Mysto, coating him in the same splotches that Spinza and Cobrax were covered with, as the two babies just laughed and clapped at the chaos.

---

This extra work meant Mysto had missed the closing time of the local orphanage. That meant the babies would once again be forced to stay with him. He lit a small fire underneath the oil drum that he had set out on the area of the back porch of the shrine, outlooking the forests. As he let it heat up, he took off any of the inky fabric all three of them had on and attempted to scrub the stains off the babies, which was no small task, as the two of them were much more happy to crawl around in the small bathroom, avoiding him. After he finally managed to remove the stains off all three of them and rinse themselves off, he sulkily grabbed the babies under his arms and sunk down into the now perfect temperature water, a wet washcloth on his head.

As the warm water soothed away the stress he was carrying, he hardly seemed to notice the babies slowly drifting off in his arms, both hugging onto him as they started to fall asleep. As the stars shone in the sky, and the crickets chirped, Mysto sighed.

“Maybe…I’ll let you two stay a few days more…”

---

It had been a full week since the two of them were placed in Mysto’s care, and his funds were trickling down low. Despite the mockery of the townsfolk, he still walked into the bar to place his name in for the next fight. He set the babies down near the ring inside his hat, where they would be safe. Soon, the crowd started to pour into the area, placing their bets on the two competitors: Mysto versus a goon from Dragabon’s clan.

As the crowd grew riled and Mysto was showing to be the clear winner, a quick hand snatched up the babies before anyone could hear their cries and placed a written note on top of it. Soon, the fight was over, the goon was knocked out, Mysto was given his money, and the crowd started to leave. This empty crowd meant he could see his hat as clear as day…without the babies. In desperation, he grabbed onto the note. All it said was:

“BRING THE MONEY AND COME FIND ME IF YOU WANT THEM.”

The only other mark was a stamp press…in the design of a dragonfly.

---

“Ugh, could you shut those two brats up?!”

In Dragabon’s lair, the two babies were bawling their eyes out and squirming like mad, as one of Dragabon’s henchman wrestled trying to hold them.

“It’s harder than it looks, ma’am!” He nervously said.

“They’re helpless babies!” Dragabon snapped. “What’s the worst they can do?”

As if to answer her question, the two babies broke free, jumping up in the air and pouncing onto Dragabon, jumping on her, biting her as much as they could with their gummy mouths, scraping at her with their growing in fingernails, the works.

“Don’t just stand there, help me!” Dragabon demanded, as the henchman scrambled to grab a Cubit, while the two babies latched onto his legs, dragging him down as he grabbed it, sending the Cubit flying into the air…and into the reach of the infants.

Cobrax and Spinza had formed a tiny Mix together! The Mix was shaky on his baby legs, but he angrily kicked and punch and bit at any of the goons that tried to restrain him, eventually knocking the lot out, unmixing as soon as the doors slammed open and Mysto rushed in.

“T-take those little monsters!” Dragabon begged, scooping up the babies and shoving them into Mysto’s arms, where the two hugged onto them. “I don’t know what you’re teaching those babies, but they’re nightmares!”

---

“…And from that day forwards, I knew I had a duty to withhold. I turned the temple into a dojo and started earning a more honest living. But, more importantly, I gained two children to take under my wing as my first and permanent students.”

As the aura sphere closed and the story was finished, Mysto noticed that Cobrax and Spinza were both tucked into their mats, both asleep despite the thundering rains still crashing through the night. Not even trying to mask a smile, Mysto blew out the candle, and placed a hand on both of the foreheads of his students, petting them.

“Good night, my stu--” He started to whisper, but then stopped, still softly grinning. “Good night…my sons.”

As the smoke drifted out of the room entirely and Mysto tucked himself into his own bed, falling asleep, the rain continued to pour.

But even through the heavy storming, two voices could faintly be heard responding.

“Good night…father.”

THE END.