XCEL

Every point in Kinuka Amibari’s life had been marked with fear. She came into this world afraid; she’d been sure she’d leave it that way, too. The most prevalent thought in her mind, present from the start, was the fear that the very next moment, everything she'd ever known would suddenly come undone.

Despite endless trepidation, Kinuka quickly realised her input didn’t matter. No matter how scared she felt, life moved on without any of her say. She had no control, so she kept quiet. Nothing had gone wrong yet, after all, so perhaps it was best to do what others expected of her. They hadn’t yet been wrong, after all.

Kyoto had been a lonely place. Kinuka’s memories of the city were fractured by youth, and so what little she remembered of it consisted mainly of home, and the daycare. Neither parent had the luxury of forgoing their career, even with an infant: her father was an upmarket tailor by trade; his wife, and her mother worked as a sales representative. This meant every weekday, both their hands were tied—quite literally. So, every morning, her mother would hand her over to the kind ladies at the nursery not far away.

Kinuka still remembered the playroom’s interior, even now. All of it: every shelf, every toy, every poster, every fleck of paint on the wall. She’d know; she spent every day at that place huddled in the same corner, playing with the folds of her shirt. The second she was ushered carefully into the room, all noise ceased. Eleven pairs of horrifying, childishly fresh eyes stared knives into her skin. “Blondie!” cried one boy, and Kinuka burst into tears. She fled into the corner. It became her solace from that point on. There, she resolutely stayed put. The poor attendants tried everything under the sun, but no amount of toys, sweets or faux-motherly charm did anything to soothe.

Kinuka kept a quiet, careful watch from that point on. The other children had been curious to begin with, but with every approach—no matter the intent—the girl would bleat and whimper and cry some more. Soon, they got bored and simply let her alone; no longer the new exciting thing to gawk at, the scared little girl simply faded into the backdrop. She watched them all play, laugh and fool around with one another. Painful, helpless tears slipped down her cheeks at the agony of her self-imposed isolation.

One evening, Kinuka remembered the room completely empty, and far too quiet. Normally, she comforted herself that there were at least other people around. They were always nattering among themselves, bustling around with some activity or other. Slowly, however, the noise had begun to filter out one by one, as parents came and went, their dear children in tow, until only she remained. Every time a shadow crossed the threshold of the door, Kinuka instinctively looked up only to see another face that wasn’t her mother. Eventually, she stopped looking. Her mother didn’t seem to be coming that night. Her cheeks soon grew red, hot and wet. The loneliness grew a little too painful for her to bear. All she could do was hug her knees a little closer to her chest, and hope the gnawing would go away.

Pain flashed through her head, and she screamed. For that brief instant, something was tearing her face in two. The attendants came rushing in from next door to see the girl unharmed, and very confused. The pain had subsided as soon as it began, in no small part thanks to the skeletal hand cradling her forehead.

Kinuka gazed up in wonder through glistening eyes at the one person the others couldn’t see.

Her ethereal angel was dressed in flowing silver shawls, concealing her eyes. Her face was gaunt, but kind.

“What troubles you, child?” Asked the angel. Her voice was cold and sobering, yet gentle like the silk she wore. “Why do you weep?”

Kinuka sniffed, and wiped away the tears. “I was lonely…” She reached a hand towards the angel.

“How precious.” The angel cradled the child’s hand in both her own. “And your name?”

“Kinuka…”

The fading angel smiled, and Kinuka found herself smiling back. “Be at ease,” it said. “I am the Seamstress. The time hasn’t come quite yet, but until then I will watch over you. You needn’t ever feel lonely again.”

* * *

Walking Chiba’s wintry streets, everything seemed normal—except them. It was hard for Rin and Kinuka to blend in dressed in their school uniforms. Rin swapped his school blazer for a hoodie in his bag. His shirt sleeve was torn. That would only attract attention. Every time he heard a police siren, his heart nearly stopped.

Kinuka tapped Rin on the shoulder. “Where are we going?”

They had been walking for quite a while, turning left and right every so often. Rin looked like he knew where to go, so Kinuka had just followed. In reality, Rin just wanted to get as far away from the school as he possibly could.

“I don’t know. Somewhere.” Before long, Rin spied a promising looking shop sign. “Over here.”

The pair wove their way through the mid-morning crowd. Situated on the corner of the street, the cafe boasted large French windows on either side. Behind them, rows of faceless consumers lined up on bar stools. Others sat at low coffee tables. Pushing open the double doors, Rin froze when the bell rang overhead, but Kinuka pushed him forwards.

The delightful aroma of fresh coffee lit him up momentarily. Caffeine was a cruel mistress, but how else would he stay up so late at night with his thoughts? He had far too many ideas to plan out and design to waste valuable time sleeping.

“Would you like me to—” Kinuka gestured towards the counter, about to offer, before Rin tutted and cut in front.

“I’ll do it myself.” He scowled. “What do you want?”

“Oh—” Kinuka took half a step back. “Just water, please.”

Rin didn’t look back, slouching up to the counter. Kinuka watched him go, before she sat herself down at one of the low tables. She’d been trying to be nice. Rin clearly wasn’t having it. Why was he being like this? Had she done something wrong? He looked so on-edge. Kinuka couldn’t deny she felt the same way. Despite the cafe’s cushy atmosphere, Kinuka found herself looking over her own shoulder twice a minute. The paranoia wasn’t all; ever since she’d woken up, fragments of new memories had started stabbed at her mind. Everything was happening at once, and fear’s icy fingers gripped once more at the back of her neck. She shivered.

All she wanted was for Rin to look her in the eye. Why didn’t he?

She raised her right hand, eyes once again tracing that fated red path. Still, the thread ended with him. It always had done, after all.

* * *

A month following her meeting with the Seamstress, the Amibari’s tailoring business was forced to relocated to a city Kinuka had never heard of. The car journey to Chiba had taken a long time—not that Kinuka was aware of the fact; she'd been asleep for nearly all of it. The move had been laborious, but the worst was now over. Their new house—a modest offering in the suburbs—was still littered with boxes, but those would all be dealt with in time.

Even with the Seamstress’ reassurance, the prospect of meeting the neighbours frightened Kinuka to no end. New people would forever be scary, she was convinced. They crossed the monumental distance between their house and the one next-door, coerced by her mothers’ guiding hand. The house was identical to theirs, with a name stamped on the door. Kinuka couldn’t read it; the kanji was far too complicated. Her father rang the bell. Kinuka yelped and dashed back to hide behind her mother. The woman ran a hand through the girl’s hair.

“Just coming!” A woman’s voice rang out from beyond the door.

“Who is it, Kioku?” A man’s followed soon afterwards.

Kioku Harigane opened the door; she had a solemn, thin face and almond eyes. She dressed modestly, an outfit otherwise easily forgettable. Further down the hallway, her husband approached. A young boy traipsed along behind, hiding behind the man’s leg.

“Please excuse us, Harigane family.” Kinuka’s father—a stout man with dark hair in a closely-cropped fringe—bowed. “We’ve spoken over the phone already, I believe? We’re the Amibari’s. We’ve just moved in next door.”

“Welcome!” Kioku Harigane [鎍(はりがね) 記憶(きおく)] smiled. “We were just about to invite you over!”

“Nice to finally meet you in person.” Katsuro wore a polite smile. The man’s hair hadn’t yet gone so grey, his face not yet so lined. His tone was a lot more subdued than his wife’s.

“The pleasure is ours.” Kinuka’s mother—black haired, imposing and regal—ushered the blond child forward. “Say hello, Kinuka.”

“Nice to… Nice to meet you.” Kinuka squeaked.

“Oh, what a darling.” Kioku spied the little girl, crouching down to her level and waving delicately with one hand. “Hi Kinuka! Lovely to meet you.”

Kinuka waved back, her face beet red.

“How old are you?” Kioku asked.

“… Four years old.” Kinuka held her hands behind her back.

“Really? That’s wonderful! So is our little boy.” She turned to look at the shy child, hiding quietly behind his father’s leg. “Be friendly, Rinkaku.”

The boy shook his head.

“Don’t be shy,” reassured Katsuro.

Rin took a reluctant step forward and, determined to stare nowhere else but the ground, said, “…name’s Rin. Nice to meet you.”

He and Kinuka were the same height, more or less. Rin, even back then, had long black hair that touched the back of his shoulders. Kinuka couldn’t help but shrink back.

“Why don’t you and Kinuka play in your room?” Kioku asked her son, gently holding the boy’s chin.

Rin mumbled something but eventually said, “Alright.”

“Go and play with Rinkaku, dear,” she encouraged Kinuka, helping her through the doorway. “We’ll be just downstairs talking to your parents if you need them, okay?”

Kinuka hesitated, before giving her mother a hug.

“There, there.” A quick pat on the head. “It’s all alright. Run along now,” she gestured towards the stairwell. Rin sat halfway up, bored.

“O-okay,” Kinuka waved goodbye to her mother and father, before moving as fast as her little legs would carry her across the carpet and up the stairs.

“Why do you have blond hair?” Rin wasted no time at all in asking the pivotal question.

“I don't know…”

Kinuka had taken to the corner of the boy’s room. Crouched down on the floor, she tucked both knees toward her chest. The comfort of the Seamstress’ presence on her shoulder was the only thing holding the tears and fears at bay.

Rin perched on his bed a couple feet away and stared down at her, a vulture inspecting carrion. “Isn’t that supposed to be super rare?” He shuffled a little towards her. “Are you, like, a foreigner or something?”

Rin was a lot more outspoken now they were alone.

“I don't know,” was all she could say.

Rin tilted his head to the side, studying her. “And why are you sitting on the floor like that? I’m not scary, you know.”

Kinuka averted her eyes, but heard the Seamstress’ voice in her ear. “You needn’t be afraid of this one. Look closely.”

She did.

The Seamstress touched at a thread that hung between the two. Impossibly thin. Brightest red. The sensation echoed through her soul, and made her heart flutter. Tied around her right fifth finger, it traced effortless, floating loops through the air, and wound itself around Rin’s. Kinuka tugged at the thread, and felt it yank at her heart once more.

“This connection is a special one. Treasure it, until the very end.”

Kinuka looked up at Rin in a new light. The thread ended with him. It always had done, after all.

“Do you have any friends here yet?” Rin continued his barrage of questions, oblivious. “You just moved here right? Yep. I bet you’re lonely.”

“I’m not lonely!” Kinuka interrupted.

Rin raised an eyebrow, an impressive feat of muscle control for someone his age.

“I have the best friend in the whole world!” She turned to the Seamstress hovering over her shoulder. The gaunt angel smiled, and Kinuka pointed. “Look, look! Can’t you see her?”

Rin stared blankly for a moment, then blinked.

His lack of reaction made her face fall. “You really can’t see her?” Kinuka mumbled and shrank back. Everyone else she’d told about Seamstress had looked concerned, or worse. Rin, however, wore a wide grin.

“You’re a strange one, you know that?”

“Really?”

“Yeah! I like that.”

Kinuka felt her cheeks tingle. The corners of her mouth twitched into a smile.

“Come on—” Rin’s encouragement didn’t stop— “Get up off the floor! We’ve got so many cool things to do!” He sent a disparaging glare at the door. “Grown-ups always talk about really boring stuff. I do really cool and interesting things instead! ”He pointed over to the window. A set of model buildings—a model city—was displayed on a table nearby. Kinuka couldn’t take her eyes off them. She thought they were incredible. From the way they cast shadows from the afternoon sun, they reminded her of the gigantic Kyoto tower.

“What do you think?” Rin looked very pleased with himself. “Built all these myself—drew all the plans too!” He pointed over at a desk supporting a messy stack of papers. “Soon, I’ll have built the whole world! Isn’t that cool? Want to help me?”

He extended a hand down to Kinuka. A moment of hesitation followed. She then took his hand, matching his ear-to-ear smile. “Yes, please!”

She had never looked back since, not since meeting the first person in a strange new place to make her truly smile.

The thread ended with him. It always had.

* * *

“Kinuka. Oi, Kinuka.”

Rin was about to speak for the third time, when Kinuka snapped out of her daze. He stood next to her, holding a drink in each hand. Kinuka murmured something and shook herself awake.

“You drifted off.”

“Really? Sorry…”

“S’fine,” Rin mumbled, placing down the bottle of water in front of her. “Got you your drink.” He sat back down, and sipped at his coffee.

Kinuka noticed something beside the water: a paper bag. Opening it, she pulled out a freshly-made dorayaki. The fluffy pancake warmed her paling fingers. She could already smell the sugar baked lovingly into every bite.

“You remembered!” Kinuka smiled, holding up the pancake.

The boy paused mid-sip, looking back from the window.

“These are my favourite! You really didn’t have to get this for me!”

“What’re you talking about?” Rin raised an eyebrow. “You asked for one, didn’t you? Yep. I definitely remember you asking for one,” he lied, taking another defiant sip. “Anyway, do you want it or not? You need to eat, or it’s going to get cold.”

She didn’t complain, taking a bite of the dessert. This was followed by another, and then another. Before long, she had demolished the entire thing. She could still taste the sweet tang of the red bean paste on her tongue. It made her cheeks hurt slightly. She looked back at Rin. He, it seemed, was determined to look anywhere else. He lounged with his head hung over the back of his chair, staring listlessly at the ceiling. His coffee, much like her dorayaki, was already long gone.

Kinuka wondered whether she really had asked for the treat after all. Her eyelids grew leaden the moment she sat down. Attempting to stave off fatigue, she took a sip of water. A twinge of pain—another fragment of memory—rippled from the centre of her forehead. Kinuka winced and gingerly rubbed at the makeshift bandage, tracing the new, tender slit in the skin.

* * *

The Seamstress’ appearance hadn’t been a comfort to everyone.

What started as a comment or two about an imaginary friend soon turned into a genuine worry for both her parents. The little girl abruptly became far calmer, far happier. In isolation, that’d be a good thing. The stark change worried them. Kinuka would constantly talk to herself. When questioned, the poor girl was convinced there was a spirit watching out for her, one that never left her side. Her insistence on this, and subsequent upset when confronted with reality, was what drove their concern to action. They were afraid of—but didn’t want to exclude—the possibility that their daughter was haunted.

Which was why, Kinuka—aged five—soon found herself sat in front of a child psychologist. Notably, one that had the same colour hair she did—or, close to it, anyway. The psychologist’s hair had a more subdued colour than hers; more ashen than blond. A vertical slit was carved down the centre of her forehead. Other details of the scenario had faded over the years, but the sharp, clinical stench of the whole office and the bright white lights still echoed painfully in the back of Kinuka’s mind. She’d seen men in dark suits already deep in conversation with one another—and her psychologist—in the clinic’s wings before the appointment. Then again, the memories were hazy. It could have just been the frightening shadows on the wall taking shape once more.

One of the clearer details was her psychologist’s name—Kiyosumi Sakazuki [盃(さかずき) 清澄(きよすみ)]—She had a kind face, though maybe a little tired. Her eyes were glassy; the way she spoke sounded automated, no real feeling behind any of her words. They conversed—if you could call it that, what with the crippling fingers of fear pinching Kinuka’s vocal cords tight—until the topic of the Seamstress came up.

“Do you talk to her often?” Dr. Sakazuki asked.

Kinuka nodded. “She’s my best friend. We always talk.” The spirit’s presence over her shoulder calmed her just enough to keep her lip from trembling.

“Is she nice, this spirit?”

Kinuka beamed. “She is! I make sure to be nice to her, too!”

Sakazuki didn’t so much as blink. “And you said no-one else can see her. Has this spirit caused any strange things to happen? Anything you can’t explain.”

Kinuka hesitated. “I don’t think so…”

The men in suits outside the room had stopped their conversation.

Kinuka gripped her knees, feeling their stares from across the room. She and the Seamstress exchanged a look. The spirit put a finger to her lips and glided over towards Sakazuki. Tracing a slender finger down the slit on the centre of the psychologist’s forehead, a shot of life reinvigorated the woman, and her pupils abruptly came back into focus. A shudder passed over her skin, then a look of understanding.

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong here.” The woman gave a graceful smile. “You must be frightened, all these scary white rooms, no?”

Kinuka nodded.

“Don’t worry.” Sakazuki motioned for Kinuka to stand up. “You’ll be okay. Soon, this will all seem like a dream.”

Tentatively, Kinuka approached. Sakazuki placed her palm on the little girl’s forehead and smiled. Hot flush rippled over Kinuka’s skin; strangely comforting, she couldn’t help but giggle.

“Thank you,” she made out. Suddenly, the walls were less white, less blinding. The shadows on the walls remained just that. Her breathing slowed; the beating of her heart also.

“Little one,” said the Seamstress, hovering behind Sakazuki.

Kinuka looked up.

The spirit rose further into the ether, fainter with each passing second. “We will meet again, little one.” The spirit’s cool voice whispered faintly through her mind. “You will forget about me, but your time will come.”

Kinuka inhaled sharply, reaching out a little hand towards the fading spirit.

“Do not reach for me again,” the Seamstress warned. “Treasure everything, little one. Treasure your choice.”

* * *

“And now,” blared the television, “an update on the attack that took place at Senketsu High School yesterday.”

Rin and Kinuka both snapped to attention, staring at the screen. The morning news showed video footage of the school’s damaged exterior viewed from the school gate was displayed next to the newscaster. “The Chiba City Police have issued a statement to the press, detailing the incident as an act of domestic terrorism committed by one of the students. The report we received stated the perpetrator rigged explosives at key points around the school, detonating them at half past three yesterday afternoon.”

“What?!” Rin cried, outraged.

The programme continued, “seventeen people were killed in the blast—fourteen students, and three members of staff. Many more were left injured. The bodies of all the deceased have been identified, but two students remain unaccounted for.”

Rin’s jaw dropped and Kinuka suppressed a gasp. Their likenesses were now displayed on screen—the same photos taken for their student ID.

“Kinuka Amibari, eighteen, and Rinkaku Harigane, seventeen, remain missing. The latter is suspected by the police as having been responsible for the attack. They request that any sighting of either person be reported to the police.”

Rin instantly flipped up his hood, looking around. Kinuka lowered herself in her seat. Thankfully, no-one else in the cafe was looking in their direction. All were too absorbed by the broadcast.

“A terrorism incident at a school?” One woman gasped. “Senketsu… That’s so close to here!”

“How depraved do you have to be to blow up a school?” A gruff man in a suit stirred his coffee. “What the hell is this country coming to?”

It took all Rin had to stop him shouting the truth right back at him.

“Look, boy,” the Architect pointed up at the television, acting like he had been here all along. “That’s you on the glowing rectangle, isn’t it?” He sounded slightly confused. “What trickery is this?”

“Thanks to you, you ancient tool!” Rin looked like he was about to throttle the man. Realising he couldn’t, he grimaced instead, pulling the drawstrings of his hoodie tight. “Thanks to you, I’m now a fugitive on the run from the law, wanted on charges of terrorism and seventeen counts of manslaughter!”

“Am I supposed to be impressed?”

Rin buried his head in his hands and groaned.

Kinuka still couldn’t see who Rin was talking to. She watched the exchange, amused. Rin had absolutely gone mad, she deduced. “Keep your voice down!” She hissed. “Do you want to get yourself caught?”

Rin looked at her through his fingers. “You’re included in this too, you know.”

“Yeah, but at least I’ve been labelled as a victim rather than a perpetrator.”

That shut him up. He slouched even further in the leather seat, shooting pointed glares her way. Rin could still hear the broadcast going on in the background. He wished it would just be over already. The reporters were talking more and more about the incident, and it made his stomach churn. At this point, he just wanted to curl up and die.

* * *

A couple hundred metres away from the cafe’s location, two men stood on a rooftop overlooking a crowded shopping street. Despite the previous day’s tragedy, the city’s bustle stopped for nothing. In any case, no-one paid the two inauspicious agents any mind.

“Boss.” Hideyori Hakana was on the phone. “We’ve traced the boy’s psychic signature; we’re nearby.”

There was a pause.

“Yes. The attack on Senketsu High was a failure.” He bit his lip. “Don’t worry—there was a lot to be learned. All six of the Rejected were destroyed by psychic means; Queen told me as much. There was no possibility that was the boy’s doing alone. He had help.”

Hideyori recoiled, holding the phone a little further away. This evidently wasn’t good news.

“Oi,” interrupted Meguru Yoha [余殃波 巡] “Can’t we just go already? This is fucking boring.”

The other man sat down on an air-conditioning unit nearby, hurling a bouncy ball repeatedly against a wall. No matter where he threw it, it always bounced right back into his hands. He threw it again. The ball ricocheted off a wall behind him, hit several more adjacent surfaces on its way, and into his hand right after. Meguru grinned.

“Two more rejects have been deployed,” Hideyori continued into the receiver. Another pause followed. “I’m going to observe, that’s all.” He raised an eyebrow. “Why? The moment to strike will present itself in good time.” He hung up, then grumbled, “if only I got paid by the hour.”

“Dunno why the hell you needed me here.” Meguru scratched his unshaven chin. The man’s rugged good looks didn’t hide the fact he smelled like too much deodorant. The state his suit was in gave off much the same impression. “Was this the boss’ idea? I thought taking care of the children was your job, Hakana.”

“Just be quiet.” Hideyori folded his arms. He tugged on the brim of his fedora, the wind picking up around them, flapping the loose ends of his coat . “If you’re not going to make yourself useful, the least you can do is sit tight.”

Meguru pulled a face.

“We wait for now,” Hideyori continued, holding another orb in his palm. The view of the street was reflected within. “If you want to retrieve the blade yourself, then be my guest.”

Meguru considered it for a moment, before lying back on the air conditioning unit and stretching his arms over his head. “Can’t be bothered.”

“Then be patient,” Hideyori said. “The moment to strike will present itself in good time.”