XCEL

The lone tree was a nice respite from the sun.

Kinuka Amibari stood underneath its fading coverage of yellow and gold, eyes closed, the tails of her coat flapping in the breeze. Occasional spots of winter sun danced longingly across her face.

In the back of her mind, she could hear a flute, a lovely tune. She didn’t care where it came from, or where she was; she could scarcely remember being so peaceful. No more running, no more fighting. There wasn’t anything. It was just her, the meadow, the tree, and the wind. She took a deep breath and felt it circulate. Her hands were limp by her sides. Bliss, until the red thread tugged once more on her heart. Kinuka clutched at her chest. The sensation was fleeting. She couldn’t see the thread. Was she just imagining things? The voice she heard next definitely wasn’t her imagination. It called her name.

A young man faded into view some way away. That messy black hair could only belong to one person. What was more, that red thread had always ended with him. Kinuka smiled, and left the oak tree behind. The swaying grass brushed past her legs as she ran. The flute’s orchestration delighted in every step she took.

“I was calling for ages.” Rin had his hands in his pockets, sharing her easy smile. “You’re in a world of your own sometimes.”

“Says you!”

“Are you coming or not? We’ve been waiting.”

Waiting? For what? A warning resonated from somewhere. Her smile began to fade.

Rin’s brow arched. “Are you okay?”

Kinuka’s reply died in her throat. The flute in her mind began to intensify. As she stared at him, Rin’s face blurred for the smallest instant. She took a step back.

Rin, alarmed, reached for her arm. “You’ve gone pale.” His fingers glid down her forearm and gripped loosely at her hand. “Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”

She wanted to say yes. She wanted to go with Rin, go wherever he was going. Whatever they were doing was fine by her. Rin always had such good ideas. He was never confused, or afraid; he always knew where to go. What was more, the thread had always ended with Rin. She looked again, and the thread was gone.

This person wasn’t Rin.

“Stay back!” Kinuka yanked her hand out of his, and stumbled away.

“What’s going on with you?” Rin’s voice trailed off. His lips carried on moving, but the words weren’t making sense.

All Kinuka heard was the shrill tones of the flute, louder still.

“Let’s just get going already, okay?” Rin’s face blurred another moment. “You’re being so weird today…”

Gingerly, Kinuka took a step forward. Rin’s newfound niceties aside, this whole atmosphere was wrong, somehow. She was forgetting something crucial, something the comforting breeze and sunlight were both trying very hard to suppress.

“You trust me, right?”

Kinuka felt herself smiling back at him. Of course she trusted him. Rin would lead her right where she needed to go. He always had done, after all.

What was she saying?

Kinuka’s smile vanished. In what felt like a lapse in consciousness, she was inches away from taking Rin’s hand. She stopped. Rin’s face then blurred, his features lost definition, and his voice began to distort. His smile had warped into a grin.

“Just take my hand already!”

Rin lunged forward, locking her wrist in a vice grip and yanked her closer. Kinuka felt the cool edge of metal on her skin, and looked down at the cuffs that had materialised onto her wrists! Kinuka cried out, and pulled away. Rin cackled and held fast. The sounds of the flute in her head rung louder still. It was maddening. Rin’s form, the grass on the field, and even the sky was starting to shimmer in a heat haze. The cuffs broke the skin, cutting deeper into her wrists. Rin’s distorted smile widened, and the tranquil landscape around her began to melt away.

The pain brought Kinuka right back to reality. Her ambling ceased. Rin, the sunny meadow, and the cuffs on her wrists were gone. All she saw was the back of Sasuki Yoshine, her very own Pied Piper, and the harsh, twisted metal corridors of the JPRO facility. The flute music stopped, and Yoshine turned around, eyes narrowed.

She had broken free from his music, but how?

Kinuka took ragged breaths and started to tread backwards. She looked around. Her surroundings weren’t familiar. She had been led to a different part of the facility. The arrangements of the cables snaking along the walls weren’t what she remembered.

“What the hell did you do to me?!”

The sharp pain in her wrists made her wince. Blood trickled along her forearms. Kinuka used Threadwork to repair the cuts on her wrist.

“It must’ve been the pain,” Yoshine mused. “I didn't intend that. You must have wounded yourself, yes? An injury inflicted by the heart is a very real injury indeed. It all looked so real, didn’t it? You poor dear. Your mind may think otherwise, but your heart believes it so.” Complimenting this pompous speech, he put a mocking sincere hand across the front of his suit. “Music is such a powerful tool. It can move the hardiest soul to tears, and toughen the vulnerable. Beautiful, wouldn’t you say?” He didn’t give her a chance to answer. “My music is true beauty; my music sways the heart. Your heart is what led you astray, my dear. I merely compose the backdrop for the trance of your desires.”

The crack of a whip cut his monologue short.

“Finished grandstanding yet?” Kinuka growled. She had unravelled her arm into a wicked rope.

“I haven’t even begun, girl.” Yoshine scowled. “You may have broken free once, but don’t think you’ll be so lucky again.” He raised the flute to his lips, and the music resumed.

Kinuka lashed with her whip, but the rope phase right through him! Her eyes widened, watching as the man’s form shimmered like Rin’s had during her trance.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you, girl!” Yoshine stood on her left as though he had been all along. Kinuka couldn’t react in time. The man smacked her across the face with his flute, sending her flying sideways. Kinuka hit the ground hard, and scrambled back to her feet.

“So insolent. Stay down and know your place,” Yoshine cursed, flecks of spit flying with every last word.

“Make me, you fucking murderer.” Kinuka stared him down, defiant. The side of her face stung from the impact, her skin starting to bruise.

“Shunji Masahiko didn’t deserve the air he wasted!” Yoshine trembled with rage. “His death was the merciful end to his stain of an existence!”

Kinuka readied her whip. A resolve burned in her soul like a fire. She lost herself in that moment, consumed with hatred. She lashed at Yoshine. The strike tore open a line along the front of his suit and the skin of his chest. He winced horribly, his cut spotting blood all over the painfully white floors. The whip cracked over the steel and concrete. Kinuka lashed out again and again in her rage, but her attacks soon became too predictable. The killer narrowed his eyes, and began parrying the strikes with his flute. Psychic energy burst around his heel, a skilful jump putting distance between them.

“My orders were to take you in alive, but if you refuse to submit, I have no choice but to slay you here!” Sasuki Yoshine’s eyes lit up with a cruel blaze, and he struck up a frenzied tune.

Kinuka unleashed another slash, but the man faded from view. She whipped around to see where he’d disappeared to, but felt a wave of heat ripple over her skin. The music this time was frantic, harsh. Her vision began to swim. The temperature of the air soared, but It wasn’t just the air. The next instant, her entire body caught alight. Flames roared in her ears—hellish knives, piercing her skin. Kinuka screamed. The inferno was all-consuming; the pain, unbelievable. Desperate, Kinuka threw herself to the floor. She tried to turn the floor into thread, weaving it into a blanket to smother the blaze. However, the moment she unravelled anything, the threads all caught fire.

“Agonising, isn’t it?” Yoshine’s expression twisted into grisly exuberance. “Music can make the blood boil, inducing a furious rage. The heart holds power over the body, and my Flute sways the heart. For if the heart believes you are burning, you will burn!”

Kinuka screamed and reached for him with a blackening hand. The man laughed.

“Enough, you say?” Yoshine tilted his head a little. “Very well. I’m never one to deny the wishes of my rapt audience.”

The man struck up another tune, and it started to rain. Even inside the building, the heavens opened above Kinuka. Soothing water doused the flames that ate away at her skin and clothes with a hiss. The balm eased the pain away, but that wasn’t all.

The rain wouldn’t stop.

Torrents of water burst from the pipes on both sides, and started to flood the corridor. Kinuka jumped to her feet. She’d worked it out. Illusions. That’s what all of these were. Even now, she could hear him play his flute. By hearing the music, he tricked her into imagining all of this. The pain she felt was real, no doubt, but it was self-inflicted. If she could just stop him playing, the illusions would also cease. Then again, any time he appeared could be just another mirage. She looked down. The water had since climbed to hip level and rose further still. She whipped around. The real Yoshine could be right behind her.

As the water reached Kinuka’s throat, she felt herself sinking. The ground beneath her fell away. She started to struggle furiously, anything to stay afloat. Kinuka inhaled a lungful of water and spluttered. She lost to the tides, and began her descent into a dark, watery abyss. The rest of the corridor had fallen away too. On all sides, there was darkness. A sole light remained at the top, one that only grew further away.

The water was crushing her alive. The pressure squeezed in on her head, her chest. Her lungs were burning. She tried to force herself to calm down, but her body moved against her will. Her arms and legs thrashed wildly, struggling to regain lost ground. Her vision grew dark. She was rapidly running out of air. Even if this was an illusion, she could still feel the water weigh her down. Even if this wasn’t real, she could still very well drown.

There was no hope anymore.

Kinuka felt her arms go limp. The last bits of air in her lungs escaped her lips as a stream of bubbles. She lost herself into the depths, with one last reach up into the light. Faces flashed before her eyes. Rin, Tegata; they were counting on her. She couldn’t give up here.

A spark of psychic energy surged through her spine, and her eyes flew open. Her fingers scraped along the sides of her throat, unravelling the skin. She kicked with her legs, as her hands and feet also began to fray. The threads conjoined to form a web. Her throat reassembled itself with three slits on either side: gills. She took in lungfuls of water, and oxygen surged into her blood. She felt more alive now than she had ever. Psychic energy crackled into the water around her, as she kicked hard towards the surface. Water rushed through her hair and past her face as she swam, the light at the end of the tunnel growing ever brighter. She would make it. She would make it in time.

Kinuka broke the surface of the water, and the illusion vanished. She fell to the floor, hacking up her lungs. There was no water. There never had been. The skin on her throat, hands and feet all returned to normal. She had triumphed over the illusion. She had managed to wrestle back control over her own heart.

“Inexcusable.” Sasuki Yoshine looked furious. “Time and time again, you continue to defile the beauty of my composition.” He strode towards her. “You continue to draw breath in ignorance, unable to appreciate the beauty of the strong. You’re just like the rest of them! You are not grateful!”

He kicked Kinuka in the ribs. She cried out, landing hard on her back. It took her a moment to rise. “Why are you like this? Doesn’t it pain you to be so vile, day after day? Were you always like this?” She searching for any kind of reason in the man’s soul. His eyes showed nothing; no remorse, no soul. The only light reflected within was the pitiful glimmers given off by the metal of his instrument. The concern then drained from her face. “No. There’s nothing in you, I see that now.” She paused. “You’re inhuman. I feel sorry for anyone who has ever tried to treat you with the dignity you deprive from others.”

“Do not try and push your ignorant, youthful self-righteousness on me, girl!” Yoshine spat. “There is no good in this world; there is no bad! The weak should admire the strong as the paragons of virtue: the talented, the capable, the beautiful!” He pointed a daggered finger at Kinuka. “Your heart is already mine! My music has captured your soul. This song will conclude our performance, and your life! Behold: the Thousand Virtuoso Parade!”

Sasuki Yoshine put his lips to his flute one final time. A frantic, shrill tune filled the air, and Yoshine charged forwards. Kinuka readied herself to counter, but he wasn’t alone. From behind him, an army of clones, all armed with flutes of their own, streamed out from behind him.

Threadwork.

Kinuka placed two hands on the ground and unravelled a section of floor. She wove the threads into a net and yanked upwards. Many of the clones fell into her clutches, trapped as the net hoisted towards the ceiling. It wasn’t enough. There were far too many. Hundreds more Yoshine streamed out from all around. Kinuka retreated, cracking at the crowd with her whips. For every one she knocked down, however, two more took its place. Soon, she was overwhelmed. The Parade started to lay into her mercilessly, and Kinuka struggled to free herself amidst the pain. This too, she knew, was an illusion, but the pain was too real to convince her otherwise. She was knocked back and forth with every hit, heavy strikes from fist, foot and knee landing all over.

The real Yoshine bore witness to the merciless beatdown, playing on his flute as he bore. The world would soon see and appreciate the extent of his genius. He still remembered the day his life was given an encore. The day Gus Ishimatsu had rescued him and his brother from the depths of despair.

He believed in a world that was rid of the corruption, the strife that had ruined their lives. He would perform to rapturous crowds again. His brother would be alongside him too. It would be glorious! It would be—

His brother. Kanekuda. Where was he?

Sasuki Yoshine froze. His next note died on his lips.

His brother’s psychic signature had disappeared.

The man clutched at his forehead. He desperately searched for his brother’s signal. He had always been able to hear it. Always. They had always lived, always worked together. Sasuki had always stood up for his younger brother, and Kanekuda had always been by his side. Even when their parents passed away, he had taken care of his dear younger brother.

Sasuki Yoshine dropped his flute, and the Parade disappeared. He sank to his knees, head held in both hands, eyes boggling as the realisation set in that Kanekuda was already dead.

A wire then wound itself tight around his throat, stifling a gasp.

“You didn’t finish your song.” Kinuka stood behind him, holding the length of metal thread in one hand, the man’s chin in the other. She didn’t look triumphant. She sported heavy bruises all over, her eyes weary. “I guess… there’s no encore for you, then.”

Yoshine tried to say something, but all that escaped his lips was a choked gargle.

“Do you have any last words?” Kinuka said. “Anything you want to say to convince me to spare your life?”

“P-Please—” He gasped. Limp fingers grasped pathetically at the thread steadily tightening around his windpipe. “Please—”

“Nothing? Shame.” Kinuka’s stare was merciless, even less than he had shown her. The thread around Yoshine’s throat wrapped itself in further coils and tightened. The man’s face turned red, then purple. Finally, the man’s eyes rolled back in his head, and he slumped forward. Kinuka released the thread, and the man hit the floor. She stared at him for a moment longer, forlorn.

The Seamstress then faded into view over her shoulder. “Why spare his life?”

“Killing him wouldn’t help undo any of the wrong he’s caused.”

“It would prevent him from causing any more; to the memory of his victims, wouldn’t it be a mercy?”

Kinuka didn’t answer. She shook her head, turned, and started at a run back down the corridor. “I’m not a killer. That’s about the only thing keeping me sane right now.”

For how much pain she endured, it was a miracle she was still alive.

On examination, Kinuka found the only permanent wounds were the bruises from Yoshine’s Parade. This, unfortunately, she couldn’t fix. Divine Thread Reconstruction—as she’d taken to calling the technique—was best suited for cuts and flesh wounds. That was all she could do for now. Bruising was more complicated. It hurt like anything, but wasn’t fatal. Kinuka ran down the corridors like before, the image of Yoshine’s pleading face burned into her retina. Everything felt numb. Her nerves were still shot after the fire, let alone the water. She was hanging on by a thread, but had to keep moving.

The sight of Tegata’s broken body crawling across the floor made her scream. His legs trailing loosely behind, the only thing keeping him moving were the shadow jackals support him under both arms.

She sprinted to his side. “What happened to you?!”

“My legs—” He grimaced— “Completely shattered. I barely made it out alive.”

“Quit moving around,” she ordered. “Let me fix you!”

“No, Kinuka, I don’t think you can—”

Too late. Kinuka had unravelled the legs of his trousers. One look at their sorry state, and she winced. Both shins were fractured up the middle, and had shattered partway through, sharp fragments of bone jutting from bleeding flesh like shards of glass.

“Don’t bother.” Despite the agony, Tegata pushed feebly against her with one hand. “My legs are pretty much useless now.” He coughed a little and rolled onto his back. His jackals stayed nearby, whimpering. He tried to laugh, but couldn’t quite muster enough strength. “I’m no use now. Go on without me.”

“Shut up!” Kinuka yelled, and Tegata froze. “Please,” she smiled at him, tears in her eyes. “I can’t bear to see you in so much pain. You helped us, and you’re vital to our plan succeeding. Please, Tegata. Let me help you!”

This shut him up. Kinuka unravelled some of the metal piping behind her. She wound the threads tightly together, building up a structure little by little until she had a rod the same length as Tegata’s shin.

“I’ve never fixed something like this before,” she admitted, “but I’m not letting you just lie here!”

To stop him moving, Kinuka unravelled parts of the floor around his wrists, shoulders and waist.

Fixing the rod in place, Kinuka then took apart the bone and weaved it back around the metal rod, rebuilding the structure from nothing. The tendons and ligaments were next, then the nerves and blood vessels.

“I’m sorry. It’s not perfect.” Kinuka couldn’t help but cringe. “I’m still new to all of this.”

Tegata, however, was moving his reconstructed leg in disbelief. “You’ve already done so well. I’m amazed.”

“I’m just trying to help.” Kinuka smiled and sat back on her ankles, loosening Tegata’s restraints. She flexed her hands a little, weary. Psychic energy still crackled through her, but she was tiring.

“Thank you. Really.” Tegata sat upright and put a hand on her shoulder. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“It hurts.” Tearful, Kinuka took a deep breath. “I can keep going. I have to. Lie back down.”

He did as told, and Kinuka got back to work.

“You’re hurt as well,” Tegata noticed. “Who did you have to fight?”

“That murderer.” Kinuka’s eyes darkened. “Sasuki Yoshine.”

“That man’s brother tracked me down, too. His Specialty wrecked my legs and destroyed one of my Jackal, but I got my revenge.”

“You killed him?”

Tegata nodded, and Kinuka bit her lip.

“I understand your hesitation. For me, this is personal.”

“I know.” She did all she could to stop her voice from quivering.

The reconstruction of his Tegata’s other leg was soon complete. Before long, the boy was back on his feet, still in disbelief.

“How do you feel?”

“It’s going to take some time.” Tegata held his arms wide for balance. He took a few cautious steps forward, but didn’t fall. The fact he still had legs at all was miracle enough. “I think I’ll regain the hang of it soon. Let’s keep moving.”

“You go ahead. I’m going after Rin.” She stared off in another direction. “I can sense him nearby, along with some others.” Her eyes narrowed. “I sense Hakana nearby.”

“Are you sure?” Tegata paused. “I can’t detect him.”

“I’m certain. You go on to the cells without me. We’ll catch you up.”

Tegata’s protest withered under her frosty glare. “Okay,” he conceded. “Just, take care. I don’t want you dying. There’s no knowing what that man will do. I’d better see you later.”

“You will.”

Both took off at a run in opposite directions. They’d see one another again, both hoped. Then again, they both knew that was a hope—never a promise.