XCEL

“And you’re expecting me to believe all of that?”

“Hoping, really.”

Nagora Ibuse had long since disposed of his gum. He massaged the corners of his jaw. Anything to ease the dull ache caused by an excess of tense chewing. “Guess I have no choice.”

The air in the police car hung thick with the foul smog of wear, doubt and fatigue from all parties. Rinkaku Harigane slumped down in his seat, his mouth dry. His recount of the day’s events had been as extensive as the fog coursing through his head would allow, with only occasional interjections from the others.

“I’ll cut the recording here.” Ibuse pressed a button on his phone.

Rin’s eyes widened. “You were recording this entire time?”

“I don’t know how else you expect me to remember all that.”

Rin grumbled, but didn’t raise an objection. From his rear-view mirror, Ibuse caught a distrustful glare from the pink-haired boy sitting behind him.

“Don’t worry,” the detective said. “I’m not going to sell you out. I’m on your side here, I promise.”

The glare didn’t abate. Ibuse sighed. It was only natural an escaped test subject would harbour such strong distrust. He wouldn’t press the issue. Tegata Kage hadn’t said a word this entire time. He sat glowering, his arms crossed. The girl, who introduced herself as Juusei Kanon, sat on his lap. She, at least, seemed a little cheerier. She wore the same prison jumpsuit as the boy with blue hair. He hadn’t said a word. Curiously, though, Ibuse didn’t sense the same hostility coming from him as he did from Tegata. The boy didn’t appear to have a name; Harigane had hesitated, eventually resorting to the unimaginative “Blue.”

“I tried to get through to you earlier.” Ibuse gave a humourless chuckle. “I should’ve known something was up from the moment you didn’t answer.”

Rin grumbled something about “… another dimension,” and “no phone signal.”

“So I figured. Anyway, I thought I’d let you know I’ve managed to get the police off your back—at least for now.”

Rin sat up at this.

“Really?” This was Kinuka Amibari, the blonde. She’d been fairly helpful and polite, often correcting Harigane’s commentary whenever the boy’s ego took centre stage.

Ibuse nodded. “I managed to convince the police that neither of you are in Chiba anymore. The three of you,” he pointed to Rin, Kinuka and Tegata, “were spotted on the main Chibadera station platform at half past two this afternoon. For some reason the security feed cut out just before the next train on the Keisei-Chihara line arrived, but when it resumed the three of you were no longer there. The only likely explanation is you’re trying to flee from urban areas to lay low. My jurisdiction extends to this city only, so I’ve passed on the investigation further afield onto a colleague.”

Ibuse grimaced. This wild goose chase he’d sent them on wouldn’t uncover any eggs, golden or otherwise. He’d make it up to them someday.

Kinuka closed her eyes and sighed. Rin put his hands over his face. They didn’t even have to say anything. Ibuse felt their gratitude radiate off of them like the heat from glowing embers. He smiled. He couldn’t imagine just how much of a weight that’d take off their shoulders.

“Why are you doing this for us?” Tegata Kage’s accusatory tone cut through the relief. “I still don’t trust you.”

“Hey, stop being so stubborn—” Juusei pleaded with him. “The detective’s trying to help us!”

“It’s alright.” Ibuse looked Tegata in the eyes. “I don’t blame you. I don’t expect anything from you, from any of you.”

“Then what’s your goal here?”

“To find out the truth. That’s why I became a detective to begin with, why I started working for the police.” Ibuse’s eyes sparkled for a moment with a certain youthful idealism, one long since stamped out. “I lost my way, but—” The white outline of a clock face then etched itself into his right iris— “I met someone not long ago. They helped me understand my role in all of this.”

Did Harigane and the others know about the apocalyptic future Toshina had shown him? Was it his place to say? Ibuse had no clue. The poor kids already looked exhausted. The last thing he wanted to do was bombard them with yet more distress. He’d done his job for now. He was here; the right place, and at the right time.

This seemed to have convinced Tegata Kage. “Rin trusts you; I trust his judgement.”

Ibuse nodded. That seemed about as good as they were going to get. He turned back to Rin. “Any ideas where you’ll go next? I’m afraid this is as far as my support goes; I can’t house you without attracting suspicion. I have a family too, you know.”

“I have a place,” Tegata offered. “It’s not the biggest, but it’ll do.”

“No!” Rin’s sudden cry startled everyone. He sat up and cleared his throat. The weight of five alerted stares made his skin crawl. “I mean— That place won’t fit all of us; we can’t go back there. Besides, it’s impractical to access.”

Tegata reluctantly agreed.

“I have somewhere else in mind,” Rin said. He turned to Ibuse. “I’ll give you the address. Can you drive us there?”

Soon they had left their smouldering getaway car to burn itself out in the alley, driving off in police transit with Ibuse behind the wheel. It wasn’t long before most had fallen asleep. Night had fallen, and the day’s strain had taken its toll.

“We’re heading out of the city,” Ibuse observed. “Where are we going?”

Rin shuffled in his seat and mumbled something. Ibuse shook his head and kept his eyes on the road. A sideways glance revealed the discomfort on the boy’s tired face. This was his last resort. The city’s evening lights cast fleeting passes of yellow through the car’s windows. They passed through the heart of Chiba and out of the main city. Traffic tonight was fairly calm. Ibuse hadn’t checked his phone recently, but his department had issued a general stay-at-home warning in response to all the commotion. It made sense why there were fewer cars on the road.

It wasn’t long until they’d reached the outer suburbs. Rin kept nodding off, but managed to direct Ibuse through a series of interlocking streets. A large house came into view, separated on the street corner. A tiled wall guarded the house and garden, ornate flagstones paving their way to the main doors. All the other terraced housing seemed pitifully plain by comparison. Three storeys of traditional wooden machiya design and decoration, complete with sloping tiled roof, had been fused with a modern, symmetric eccentricity. Ibuse had never seen anything like it. It resembled an artist’s concept, an art piece; not a functional residence.

“This is the one.”

They pulled up on the street by the garden wall. It didn’t take too long to wake the rest. Once they were all out, Ibuse bade the group farewell and restarted the car. Soon, his tail lights turned the corner, and the hum of the engine faded.

“Where are we?” Kinuka stretched her arms up over her head and yawned.

“The only place I knew would be safe.” Rin hesitated before the flagstone path. He stared ahead, forlorn. “This is my grandmother’s house.”

“Rin. You’re shaking.”

“Am not! Be quiet!”

“Why the hold-up, guys?” Juusei asked. “You’re creeping me out here!”

“Rin’s frozen,” observed Tegata. “It wouldn’t be right for us to approach his grandmother ahead of him.”

“Can I shoot him? Will that get him moving?”

“Juusei…”

“I kinda get why.” Kinuka stepped a few paces ahead. “This feels like a temple. I feel like we’d be trespassing by simply walking up to the door.”

“Watch me commit a crime, then.” Rin crept up the path. The rest followed, approaching a set of sliding doors. Rin knocked, to no response. He raised his fist to knock again, and a frail voice creaked out from between the cracks in the frame.

“Oh, how long has it been?”

Rin cleared his throat. “Granny, it’s Rinkaku.”

The doors flew open to reveal a terrifying old woman, a silhouette against the light from the hall. No longer frail, the voice that followed was shrill and cut like a knife. “Wrong answer!”

The sudden thwack of bamboo on skull rang out, and Rin fell to the floor. Everyone winced.

“Far too long! That’s how long it’s been!” The battleaxe glared down at him, the end of her walking stick cracking down on the floor. “Next time, come back with an apology!”

The door slammed shut. For a second, no-one moved.

“That’s your grandmother?!” Juusei was horrified.

Rin rolled around on the ground, clutching his head. Kinuka, ever the first to rush to his side, helped the boy to his feet. Rin grumbled a string of curses under his breath.

“Were you expecting that?” Tegata raised an eyebrow.

Rin glared. He made a series of angry pointing gestures from Tegata to the door, a silent dare for him to try instead. Tegata took a deep breath, and knocked. A second later, the door opened gently to reveal the same old woman, no longer shrouded in vengeful darkness, smiling up at him.

“Yes, dear?” She gazed up at him. “Goodness me, there are a lot of you. How can I help you?” She wore a plain black yukata, with short chain-links dangling from both ears underneath grey hair tied back with a long hairpin. Her face was lined, but kind.

Tegata froze, clearing his throat and gesturing to the group. “I’m sorry to intrude on you at such a late hour, ma’am. We have nowhere to stay, and—”

“—Granny,” Rin interrupted. The woman’s gaze instantly reverted to its previous frigidity. Rin flinched for a hit that never came, then hung his head. “We need—no, I need your help.” His tone, too, had shifted. The rest had never heard it so polite before.

The old lady’s expression softened into a smile, and the corners of her eyes creased. “Why didn’t you say so to begin with, you silly little boy?”

Rin’s only reward for his candour was a tight hug that damn nearly crushed him. The others stared on with disbelief, awe and horror.

“That’s your grandmother?!” Juusei repeated, somehow even more shocked than at first.

“Did Rinkaku never tell you about his family? Oh dear.” The old woman released Rin. Free from the boa constrictor’s coil, he bent double and wheezed. She turned to Juusei and clasped the girl’s hands in both of her own. “My name is Shibaru Harigane. You must all be friends of his, yes? Friends from school?”

Rin and Tegata shared a look. Before either could say a word, the old woman had already trotted back off into the house. “Come in, all of you! Don’t keep standing there; you’ll catch a cold.”

“Wow.” Kinuka blinked. “How come you never mentioned her before?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Rin, still hoarse, hadn’t yet recovered from having his lungs forcibly emptied.

“She’s quite the character.” Tegata smiled. “Must run in the family.”

“You don’t say.” Rin rolled his eyes and pointed at the door. “Get in already, or else she’ll cause more of a fuss.”

Rin slid the screen door shut behind him, the last one to enter the foyer. The inside of the house was just as grand. A wide staircase sat immediately in front of the doorway. Dimly lit wooden rooms, separated by more screen doors, lay on either side. Stranger still, five pairs of slippers awaited them. Granny lived alone. Why did she have so many pairs arranged and waiting?

“So pretty.” Juusei stepped forward into the hall. She gazed around, starry-eyed. Almost everyone else had similar reactions; Rin skulked forward, unfazed.

“Welcome, welcome.” Granny emerged from the kitchen, now apron-clad. She beamed at her guests. “Dinner’s almost ready. Oh—” Now in the light, she caught sight of them all and gave a pitying sigh. “You poor things. You’ve really been through the wars today, haven’t you? Come, hurry on upstairs and run yourselves a bath. There should be enough clean clothes waiting.” She clapped her hands. “Chop chop.”

The rest, too afraid to raise even the slightest hint of complaint, bounded up the stairs one after another. Rin was about to follow, but a hand on his shoulder held him back a moment.

“Not you, dear,” Granny said. “You can join them later. Sit with me a moment.”

She guided him over to a low table, and sat down on one side. Rin crouched down opposite as per his usual fashion, perching on his heels.

“Sit properly!” She barked. “So vulgar. You look like a bird.”

Rin nearly fell over. “Sorry.” He bowed his head, sitting down and crossing his legs properly. It felt so strange. How long had it been since he’d sat at this table, sat in the correct way? An approving nod from the woman made his shoulders droop.

“Three years, Rinkaku,” Granny continued. “It’s been over three whole years since you last came to visit.”

Rin rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, about that. Sorry.”

“You’re not, though. Are you? Don’t bother lying, Rinkaku, you’re terrible at it. Always have been, just like your father. If you had wanted to see me, you would have come. So, don’t waste your breath.” She didn’t look the least bit angry, nor disappointed; only the slightest tinges of hurt stung the corners of hardened eyes.

Rin couldn’t bear to look at her.

“What is this all about?” She asked. “You look like you’ve been attacked, you wretched thing.”

Rin’s clothes were cut, torn and covered in dust. His skin sported bruises, and his hair was knotted and tangled beyond belief. Rin cleared his throat. Placing both hands on his knees, he finally found the courage to lift his gaze off the table. “It’s about dad.”

“That gormless idiot.” Her eyes narrowed, nostrils flared. “What has he done this time?”

“He’s been kidnapped.”

“Oh, my poor boy—” The woman took a sharp, shaky breath, clutching both hands over her chest.

“This will all sound ridiculous, but please bear with me.” Rin knew he deserved none of her kindness. Still, he had to try. She was his final hope.

Granny nodded. “I’ll always listen to you, dear. Always.”

Rin took a deep breath, then launched into the same recount he had given Ibuse. He took more care here to moderate his language, for fear of the consequences. When all was said, Shibaru Harigane looked entirely unfazed. She hadn’t said a single word throughout. Rin was scared she’d fallen asleep halfway through.

“That all made sense to you?”

That, to him, was far stranger than what he had just lived through.

“Oh, yes. I’ve already experienced that world myself, you know.” She parted the grey hair that fell across her forehead, and Rin’s eyes widened to see the slit of a third eye carved into the middle.

“No!” Rin stood immediately. His hand went to his pocket, for his wallet of frames. “Don’t tell me JPRO got to you as well!”

“Don’t be silly. Sit down.”

Rin sat. “Please explain.” He bowed his head. When was the last time he had truly bowed in earnest? Likely the last time he had sat at this table.

“Given the timeline of what you’ve lived through,” Granny explained, “it seems I awakened to these powers the same instant you did, two days ago.”

“How?” Rin narrowed his eyes. You weren’t stabbed by the Ascension Blade, were you?”

“I think there’s more to this power than you realise, Rinkaku. At the time, I felt a sudden force ripple through my very soul. Something, someone was calling me. I fell unconscious but, the next time I saw myself in the mirror, I had one of these third eyes.”

“I still don’t understand—”

“There’s a lot you don’t understand.” Granny shook her head. “Since I awakened along with yourself, might it be to do with our blood? Perhaps, in the world of psyche, there’s a link that exists that connects the souls of those bound by blood.”

Rin’s eyes widened. “Then, dad might have—”

“Yes, my son could have awakened to his own powers as well. What use they’ll be to him whilst incarcerated, I do not know, but there is hope.” Granny fixed him with a grave stare. “You must save him, Rinkaku.” A tear then stained her cheek. “Please. Please save my son.”

The lump in his throat made him wince. Rin nodded.

“I will support you,” Granny continued. “I always have done, just like when you were little.”

“Thank you.”

“You were such a sweet child, too,” Granny reminisced. “It was such a shame that woman had to—” A shrill whistle from the kitchen interrupted her. The kettle. Granny rose, distracted. “Oh, please excuse me. I must get back to cooking. I’m sure you’re in far too much pain to listen to your boring old grandmother run her mouth the whole time. Come here, Rinkaku.” She beckoned to him with open arms.

Rin rose, but didn’t approach. He looked away. “Yeah, I should go join the others—”

Granny pinched at his cheeks before he could get another word out. It hurt. “Look at you,” she cooed. “There’s still that sweet little boy in there, underneath all that foul moodiness. Good.” She began fluffing up his hair with both hands, and Rin froze. His breathing grew shallow, eyes clamped shut. After far too long, she stopped.

“Off you go.” Granny made her way back over to the kitchen. “Take a bath, put on some clean clothes and check in on your friends. Supper will be ready in twenty minutes.”

Rin stood there a moment more, breathing heavily. He shivered, his skin prickling. Memories flooded back behind his eyes. Confusion. Fear. A vat of uncomfortable feelings rolled over in his stomach. He grit his teeth. He really did not have the energy to deal with this right now.

* * *

Rin would never take showers for granted again. The hot water sapped him of every last inch of strength, but made his skin glow with a comforting radiance that set his weary mind at ease. The throbbing in his head still hadn’t ceased—too much psychic energy expended, he reasoned—but it had done a number on his sore muscles and joints. His hair—matted with the blood, sweat and dust—took a while to untangle, wash, and even longer to dry. Rin had no idea just how much dirt it had clung onto over what in hindsight seemed like no time at all.

The scar on his stomach was still there, and it hurt to touch. Not physically, mind, but every time he so much as looked at where the reject’s fist back in the café had torn through his midriff, he felt the sensation over and over. He felt sick. Then again, he was still alive, wasn’t he? Kinuka’s Threadwork had healed it completely. Only a circular scar remained. The same went for his leg and side of his head—where he’d been shot—not to mention the many smaller cuts he’d sustained over time. If it weren’t for her, he knew, he would have died long ago. Did the Architect know this when he performed the ritual on her? Try as he might to get an answer out of the surly man, Rin knew he’d just be wasting his breath.

Granny’s promise of clothes hadn’t been a lie, either. In a room on the second floor, clean underclothes and an off-white patterned kimono lay in wait for him. The fabric glid over his skin, filling his nose with the scent of his grandmother’s favourite laundry detergent. Many years worth of overnight visits and weekend stays came flooding back, but Rin tried his best not to remember. He was trying his best not to think at all.

Kinuka met him on the landing. She was also dressed similarly, her kimono a pastel blue with flowers to match. She wore a threadbare smile that extended to weary eyes.

Rin blinked twice. The way the light danced off her hair, the gentle twinkle of her eyes. Lost for words, he wondered how long he’d been unable—or rather, refused—to see. “How are… things?”

“Better, and you?”

“Tired,” and by god he looked it, too.

Kinuka giggled. “You even washed your hair.” She tugged softly at a lock of the stuff. “That’s a first.”

“Oh, shut up.” Rin lightly slapped her hand away.

“I’m kidding. You look lovely, Rin.”

The boy mumbled something and stared at the floor.

“This kimono…” Kinuka lifted up the long sleeves for further examination. “It’s so beautiful. Where did your grandmother even get it from? I could never dream of making anything as fine as this.” She sounded wistful, jealous almost. “How did she know we were all coming? Is she a—”

“She is.” He nodded. “I bet she knew everything before she even opened the door.”

“Incredible…”

“Are you coming, you two?” Juusei called from downstairs. “Hurry up! It’s going to get cold!”

The most delicious scent then drifted up the stairs. After one look at the other, Rin and Kinuka practically had to fight their way down. Kinuka beat him by inches, but only by partially unravelling herself past him. Rin considered that cheating.

The rest already sat around the table, all dressed the same way, all looking refreshed and famished in equal measure. Granny sat at the head. Rin and Kinuka took their seats opposite one another, beholding the absolute feast with jaws hung slightly agape. A culinary oasis filled the table, packed with more than any of them could believe.

“It’s hardly for show.” Granny beamed. “You lot must be starving. Help yourselves.”

They did. Plates were stacked high with food, then wolfed right down: the first decent meal the ravenous five had in days. No-one said a word; the only sounds for the next ten minutes were the clinking of chopsticks on china, and mumbles of euphoria.

The frenzy didn’t last long.

“Thank you for your hospitality, Ms. Harigane.” Tegata bowed, then inhaled another spring roll.

“Please call me Granny, dear boy.” The woman still had food on her plate, but seemed to be much happier observing everyone else enjoy theirs. “Please, don’t mention it. Rinkaku here—” the boy wasn’t paying attention, his face still buried in a bowl of udon— “told me about your situation, and the horrors you’ve had to endure.” She looked pained. “My greatest sympathies. Besides, you’re his friend. In this household, that’s enough for me to treat you as my own.”

Tegata smiled. “I can’t thank you enough.”

“Nonsense.” Granny smiled and batted her hand. “That reminds me, I never asked for your names, did I? How rude of me. I apologise.”

Everyone else introduced themselves in turn, all except for Blue. Sat between Rin and Juusei, the large boy ate in complete silence. He’d since put down his chopsticks and looked off towards the window, transfixed. A small glass vase sat on a nearby table holding a cluster of wildflowers. They were Nemophilia: five soft, rounded petals of the most gorgeous blue surrounded a paler centre. A butterfly of the same shade rested gently on one, translucent sapphire wings shimmering in the light.

“Is everything alright, my dear?”

Painfully aware he’d attracted everyone’s attention, Blue’s gaze retreated to his lap: subdued, fearful.

“Poor boy, I’m not going to hurt you.” Granny stood up and walked over to him, placing a soft hand on both shoulders. He tensed, then looked up, curious.

“He’s never said anything to us.” Kinuka gazed in wonder. “Not a word.”

“What was it you were staring at?” Only then did Granny catch sight of the vase, and the butterfly. She approached the windowsill and brought it gently back to the table. The butterfly didn’t start, wings shifting very slightly. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Granny whispered to Blue, setting the vase before him. Blue stared at the flowers. He raised a hand to where the butterfly sat, watching the insect climb onto his finger. At long last, the corners of his mouth turned up into a smile.

“Do you have a name?”

Blue shook his head.

“Oh, that’s no good at all. Everyone deserves a name.” Granny pondered, before plucking one of the flowers from the vase. “Do you know this flower? It’s not originally indigenous to Japan. I bought these from a friend in Hitachinaka; they have a lot of them, near the seaside. The flowers have a lovely name, too: Rurikarakusa…”

“So beautiful.” Kinuka oohed, then touched a finger to her lips. “You know? I think that’d suit you perfectly.”

Blue looked at her, astonished.

“You have such lovely blue eyes.” Kinuka reached across the table, and placed a comforting hand on top of his. Blue blushed, and broke eye contact.

Granny chuckled, tucking one of the flower stems behind his ear. “Well? How do you like it, Ruri?”

He set the butterfly back down on its flower, and nodded with a smile.

“Yay!” Juusei squealed with delight and hugged him from the side. “Look at you go, big guy!”

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Ruri.” Tegata smiled.

Kinuka held back tears.

“And then, there were five.” Rin wore a triumphant grin, arms folded. “I’m not going to force you into anything. You’re free now, Ruri. That said, we—no, I— could really use your help.”

Ruri met Rin’s gaze and held it, before offering a final, curt nod.

The rest of the night proved one of the happiest any of them could ever remember. The moon rose and wove its way through a cloudless winter sky, casting calm and still over the city. There they lay, and there they rested. For three, it was the first rest in days, and for two, the start of their newfound liberation.