XCEL

11:30

In all the recent chaos, something else Kinuka Amibari had forgotten was that today was Sunday.

The bustle of the Yorusada shopping mall hit the two girls the moment they stepped through the automatic sliding doors. Though not the biggest, Yorusada was still large enough to get yourself lost if you weren’t careful. The mall itself was structured like a giant H; outlet shopping of all sorts from technology to makeup was packed into every square inch on both colonnades. A grand walkway bridged the gap between, glass panelling on either side revealing the train line running underneath.

Bittersweet, the sight stung at Kinuka’s eyes. Memories of fleeting outings on days long past came flooding back, one parent holding her hand on either side. They had fun, back then. She supposed it was good they were out of the country on business. Ever since she’d stopped off back home, she’d done her best to push thoughts of them out of her mind. All she hoped is that they hadn’t been watching the news and had their hearts broken assuming the worst.

For the first time since they’d set out, Juusei Kanon was stunned into silence. Said silence was so jarring, Kinuka had to check the girl hadn’t up and disappeared. They had entered on the south side, eastern entrance; the bottom-left corner of the H, topologically speaking. Both girls stepped out into the middle of the aisle as the crowds filed out around them, unseeing. Juusei had taken a few steps ahead of Kinuka, and took to hiding behind a palm tree—the first in a long row—peering up and out at the commercial expanse.

“Are you okay?” Kinuka asked through telepathy. There was no telling whether the girl’s hearing could cope with this crowd. She waited, but no response. Juusei was transfixed.

“This…” At last, words seemed to find her again. Juusei stepped out from behind the palm tree, turning to Kinuka and stretching her arms up towards the ceiling. “This is amazing!”

A few people stopped and stared at the sudden outcry.

Kinuka smiled. “I know, right? It’s great here. I used to come here all the time with my friends.” This—like the train, she reasoned—must’ve been a fresh sight for the girl. Whatever the case, Juusei’s ear-to-ear grin was enough to make her heart melt. Kinuka put a soft hand on Juusei’s back and the two started walking.

“Hey, hey,” Juusei chirped. “Your friends, do you mean that Rin guy?”

“Rin?” Kinuka shook her head. “No, he never hung out with us. I had other friends, back at school.”

Juusei took a look around. “Where are they now?”

“I don’t really know.” Kinuka paused. A shadow passed across her face, soon replaced with a smile. “None of them were hurt in the attack, thank goodness, so I’m sure they’re getting on with their lives just fine…”

“Aren’t friends supposed to always be with you? That’s what Tegata told me, back in the cells.” Juusei looked down at the floor, and punted a stray can at her feet towards a bin. It caught some air, and sailed a clean arc into the open receptacle. “He told me that friends would always be there for each other, no matter what happens,” she continued.

“You know, just like how you all came back for me!”

“I guess that’s true…” Kinuka trailed off. Her smile dampened, a film clouding her eyes a moment.

Juusei seized her affectionately by the arm. “Don’t worry! I’ll be your friend if you like!” She beamed. “Come on, come on. Let’s go to this shop first!” Juusei pointed at and then tugged Kinuka towards a gaudy boutique advertising a certain “gothic” fashion—very American.

Kinuka, startled, let the younger girl lead the way. She’d be so caught up in feeling sorry for herself she’d forgotten the entire purpose of their trip. Who cared what her school friends were doing? She couldn’t involve them in this. No longer bound to that liminal teenage semi-existence, Kinuka knew now she had something greater to do, something with purpose. Her smile extended to the corners of her eyes, and the thoughts were expunged. Today was their day out. They had too many places to go, too many things to try on! Kinuka’s mind was already alight with the heavy black designs displayed in the window, the intricate and yet streamlined stitching that went into mass-produced clothing.

“Alright, then.” She giggled. “Let’s go. Pick out anything you like!”

Juusei let out a double-whoop, darted past a couple leaving the store, and through the open double doors. Kinuka approached and rested her hands on the metal before she could follow on through. Kinuka had often lamented the fact she couldn’t right the world’s wrongs in an instant. Every child with a heart had or will do at some point. Right now, though, she didn’t mind so much. She couldn’t do everything, she knew that, but she could do this one thing, one time, and have it make all the difference to someone.

That was enough for her.

Pushing open the swinging doors, Kinuka found herself adrift in a casual fashionista’s paradise. She had promised Juusei a nice day out, and that was exactly what she was going to have.

* * *

The beach during the winter months was a strangely serene experience. A far cry from the baking heat of summer, blades of biting wind swept across the shoreline, sharp enough to scare away any would-be holidaymakers. Any sun that shone on those rare clear mornings was cold; bright, of course, but cold. The Tokyo bay that morning was calm, still. That wretched cold sun glimmered in the water’s every ripple; blinding daggers from above tore into the eyes of the unprepared. It was a desolate, harsh environment. Lonely, too.

A distortion had opened up in Kawarajima. An opportunity had presented itself.

Hideyori Hakana never wasted an opportunity.

His work for the time being was done. The scene was set. All it needed was the catalyst. He’d earned himself some time alone.

He didn’t know quite why he had come to this particular beach, but he had certainly wanted to be on his own. Not alone, mind. There’s a distinction to be made: to be alone is a fate worse than death; to be on one’s own is a choice, a choice the man hoped he could still make. Tilted slightly forwards, italics-style, the man was a wide-brimmed shadow outlined against the pale blue morning, protected from the wind by what the Glass Eyes affectionately called his “Capone Coat.”

Hideyori took in a lungful of marine air—as much of one as his chronic emphysema would allow—and pulled down low the brim of his hat. This little stretch of beach in Mihama Ward was no escape from the city—the irksome roar from the great urban machine reached him from yards away—but it would do. A little peace of mind went a long way, or so he hoped.

Hideyori Hakana hadn’t had much of that lately. Not for a while, not since he’d gone from being on his own to being alone. He lit a cigarette. Not because he wanted to, or because he felt like one, but to give his hands something to do. Locking the filter securely in with his teeth, Hideyori had to shield the flame lest the wind get in the way of his habit. Soon, the familiar acrid plume rose to pollute the clear blue sky. The tingling in his hands began to subside. It didn’t go away—it never did—but at least now he could do what he needed.

Still with nic-stick held fast between his teeth, Hideyori coughed into his sleeve and clicked his fingers. Another moment, held still by the fine motor control he’d managed to wrestle back from his vices, glinted softly in the cruel morning sun. The murky ink inside the marble rolled over itself, swirling the mystic tide. It had only been days ago, but even after nights’ worth of relentless and caffeine-fuelled deliberation, there was still more he needed to see.

Hideyori gazed into the orb, and his third eye opened. A familiar rush, and his consciousness left his body. In an instant he had returned to the space between mind and matter. The sky was jarring and purple; the concrete of the JPRO facility provided no respite. Hideyori saw another of himself stood opposite a girl, Kinuka Amibari. The two were frozen in a deadlock, enemies of the a war neither could fully understand—not even him.

Hideyori, the observer, glid silently across the floor. The toes of his brogues only just brushed the floor, his heels lifted a few inches above. There was no contact, no friction. Here, he could move as he wished. He was lord and god in this realm, his realm. The laws of physics didn’t dare protest in a world where they lay subordinate to the facets of the imagination.

Hideyori Hakana’s power was special, even among JPRO’s miscellany. It had no offensive power, the only specialty entirely focused around the creation of barriers. Not physical impasses like Harigane’s Framework, but metaphorical barriers. The creation of an entirely new reality conflicts with the outside world—the objective reality. Thus, a barrier was made to separate the two, to stabilise them. The glass wasn’t a very subtle metaphor, he lamented, but fate had never been particularly subtle with the hands it dealt.

Those moments were Hideyori’s means, and that enabled great ends.

He could record any moment he wished and save it to be replayed like a tape. He could cast his mind quite literally into the scene and observe from any angle. As he approached, Amibari didn’t react. How could she? She wasn’t real. None of this was real, only a projection. Hideyori was glad he chose to capture this one in particular. Something had been bothering him for far too long. He peered down at the girl’s face. The height difference forced him to stoop slightly, and so he knelt to save his back the trouble. It wasn’t as though he were getting any younger. Brushing some hair from in front of his good eye, he tucked it behind his ear. Hideyori brought a hand up to the girl’s face, stopping just short of tracing the contour of her jaw with one finger. It was similar, and yet…

No. That was impossible.

Hideyori stood abruptly and turned his back on Kinuka. He was imagining things; the rampant delusions of a man in denial. Meguru Yoha’s latest attempt to rile him had been better than the last few, he could give him that amount of credit at least. The cigarette in his mouth had long since burnt low. He’d spent the last minute sucking dust through the filter. Clutching it in his fingers, it crumbled to ash when he clenched his fist. Brushing his glove on the inside of his coat, Hideyori clicked his fingers and the scene within the moment dissolved into an inky fog once more.

He couldn’t afford to stray onto dangerous tangents. He didn’t have much time left.

* * *

The thick, crackling mists that enshrouded Kawarajima Park was nothing compared to the psychotic maelstrom that awaited within.

Rinkaku Harigane and Ruri Karakusa pushed their way past the distortion’s event horizon and into the depths of chaos. The park had always been large enough, flush with enough space and greenery for all to enjoy. The distortion had warped and magnified this space into a broken archipelago. Jagged rifts of psychic energy tore the ground asunder, creating fragmented islands of varying elevations that each carried a warped fragment of what each space once was. A constant thunder boomed as a dark stratus blanketed the darkening sky.

Rin cancelled his transportation frame and stumbled to his feet, animated once more.

“Ruri!” He shouted over the chaos. The dry wind was deafening in his ears. “You still there?”

The giant looked back and gave him a thumbs up.

“This is insane,” Rin remarked. The cataclysm was overwhelming. There wasn’t much time to take it in, however, as crowds of drones, all once-peaceful folk enjoying a day’s off, honed into view ahead of them.

“Rejected!” Rin pointed ahead, and couldn’t help but wince. Ruri nodded and settled into a stance, growling like a bear.

Rin let the ambient charge of psychic energy from all around flow through him, and felt electrified. A shocking grin accompanied the dancing arcs of purple over his skin, as he yelled, “show me what you’ve got, big guy!”

The two charged headfirst towards danger. Rin cackled and he seized a chunk of earth in a frame. He compressed and pelted it like a baseball at one reject, followed by another. With a snap of his fingers, the cubes expanded at the moment of impact and both rejects exploded in a shower of dirt.

Furthering his ranged assault, Rin took several nails from his pocket, surrounded each in frames, and left them hanging in the air. Dragging his hands apart like an archer, the frames all elongated until the nails were the size of spears. He shot them forth, impaling another reject with half a dozen javelins. No sooner, another had descended on his left flank with a guttural roar, fists raised. Rin yelped and raised his hands to guard, but felt a hand on his shoulder. That familiar metallic sheen glossed over his entire body, and he was locked in place. The reject threw all its weight into a punch, but screamed as its fist crumpled against the immovable object. Abruptly able to move again, Rin noticed Ruri standing over him, eyes narrowed. Before he was able to thank the titan, he moved Rin aside and delivered a resounding crack into the reject’s skull.

“Damn. Thanks.” Rin took a step back, awed. “What the hell was that?”

Ruri gave him another thumbs up. Another reject charged the boy from behind, but Ruri didn’t react. The metallic sheen glossed over him, too, and the attack was rendered useless. The reject kept hammering away, but not even a scratch. Rin watched as Ruri waited for his moment. The boy unlocked himself and drove a one-two into his aggressor’s midriff, powerful enough to blast the creature back over the edge of the island, where it was atomised by the relentless void below.

“Shit, that’s cool!” Rin couldn’t believe it. “That’s your specialty?! No wonder you were able to block that attack back in the facility. You’re invincible!”

Ruri grunted and pointed behind Rin. The boy whipped around and conjured a shield to parry the punch to the back of his head just in time. “Frame-perfect,” he grinned, driving a punch into the reject’s gut and creating some space. Rin kicked off the ground and soared into the air. He turned a graceful somersault, a brilliant lunar cleaving edge held out in one hand.

Severance Planar

断面 Danmen

Rin blinked to the other side of the reject. A clean line split the beast in two, its bisected corpse disintegrating.

“Damn. Still more of them.” Rin made his way back to Ruri and looked out through the broken sky. Dozens upon dozens of rejects dotted the neighbouring islands, screaming into the void and thrashing at anything in sight, often including each other. Unlike the ones in the facility, these Rejected were random, unorganised, not the unified drone force they had encountered at the facility. They reaped the chaos of this place and revelled in it. This was the natural order, the primordial state. Rin’s brow furrowed.

“I hate this place,” he grumbled. “There’s no order here, no beauty, no structure. I can’t let this stand.” Even through all the noise, he was able to pick out signatures in distress. Most were the agonised drones stumbling blindly around the place. The few that weren’t, worried him.

“Somebody, please! Help me!”

A plea, a cry from the desperate heart of a child in terror, flashed through their mind’s the next instant. Their eyes widened, and they shared a look.

“Where’s it coming from?” Rin drew out several frames.

Ruri focused for a moment, then pointed to a far island.

“Let’s make this a bit easier, then!” Rin finished his last few hand gestures and completed his design. “I’ve been working on this replica for ages.” Expanding and positioning the complex frame, he clapped his hands together.

Golden Gates

黄金門橋 Ōgonmonkyō

The gigantic suspension bridge erected itself between them and their faraway destination. Though transparent, its design—reminiscent of the San Francisco monument, complete with the segmented towers—was faithful to the original, yet clearly stylised. Ruri took a step back, amazed. Rin was able to hold himself upright for a few more seconds, before the weight of exertion took hold. The boy collapsed onto his knees, chest heaving. Ruri reached down and picked the scrawny teen off the ground with one hand. Rin mumbled a thanks and clung to his back, as Ruri took off at a run over the new bridge.

Hang in there, little guy.

His hands and head were aching, but he knew he had to push himself to improve. They’d be there soon. He only hoped it wasn’t too late.