XCEL

On the first night of her freedom, Juusei Kanon had been made an enemy of sleep.

Restless at the best of times, the girl had spent hours turning every which way without success, only to end up staring, unblinking, at the ceiling.

The four walls around her were comforting, but she felt enclosed. Sealed. Granny had taken them in with no questions. She seemed kind. Why, then? Why was she still not at ease? This wasn’t like the prison. She could leave at any time, she knew. But she didn’t want to! The fatigue was one thing. Every part of her ached. Her body desperately craved rest, and the mattress was just soft enough to let her muscles sink into blissful oblivion. Yet the flashes of light behind her eyes never ceased; the moment she closed her eyes, the bright of the facility was blinding. Her ears rang even now: a storm thundered away in a sealed room, the voices of the faceless men in white coats; lightning struck her eardrums, every single shot from her gun.

She was deaf to the noise by now—it had been there most of her life—but she wanted rid of it all the same. The sound of silence, the symphony of void. Would that be a worse hell than the present cacophony?

Juusei rose from the bed, an unconscious action. She stood and swayed a moment, before tiptoeing across the wooden floorboards. Six feet away, Kinuka Amibari lay peacefully on her side, one arm curled under her face. Kinuka had a kind face, a nice face. She had been the one to break them out of the Warden’s nest, and had greeted her afterwards with a smile. A warmth spread through Juusei’s chest. Even if she couldn’t fully hear everything the girl had said, that smile had meant so much. She was a stranger, yet she had placed everything she had on the line to rescue her. Juusei carefully crossed the threshold, desperate not to wake her.

She looked back once the door was open. Ruri Karakusa had taken a futon, and lay deathly still on their back near the far wall. They’d decided to split the sleeping arrangements by gender for privacy’s sake, but Ruri had been a nebulous case. His tall frame and defined face gave off a masculine impression, but that was flimsy evidence at best; they hadn’t spoken a word since their first appearance, or indicated much of anything. Eventually, they’d decided to let him sleep where he wished. The girl’s room was much more spacious; it was no surprise that Ruri chose to join them.

Across the landing, lit by a series of dim shaded lamps on the walls, the door opposite was slightly ajar. A shiver ran the length of Juusei’s spine. She flattened herself against the wall. They were watching her again: the walls, the ceiling; they had eyes. But as she listened in for the familiar pinpricks of psychic energy, the eyes of the facility she had cowered from, she felt nothing. Her chest rose and fell, relief washing through trembling legs as she took gradual steps towards the boys’ room.

Perhaps it really was okay now. Perhaps she really was safe here.

She would never go back to that cell, no matter what it took. She wouldn’t let any of the others get taken back, either. That was her resolve.

Gently leaning against the door, Juusei crept inside. On her immediate left, Rinkaku Harigane had managed to construct a fort from pillows and blankets, hunkering down for dear life. No part of him was left visible. The only evidence he was there at all was some heavy breathing. At the far end, silhouetted against the moon, a long-haired shadow sat on the windowsill. Juusei approached slowly, and the boy turned his head.

“No rest for the weary?” Tegata Kage asked.

Juusei looked at the floor, and shook her head.

Tegata allowed himself a soft chuckle. “You’ve got to get your strength back. You fought really well today.”

Juusei shook her head again. “I can’t sleep.”

“Have you tried?”

Juusei pouted. “I don’t want to sleep just yet.” This wasn’t helped by her next action, a yawn.

“Sure, sure.” Tegata sighed. “Just what are we going to do with you?”

Juusei giggled, then asked, “why aren’t you asleep?”

“Keeping watch.”

“For what? It’s nighttime,” she responded flatly. “You can’t see anything.”

“Better safe than sorry.” Tegata looked away. No longer caught in the shimmering gaze of the moon, his face descended into shadow once more. “My birds are out on reconnaissance. They’ll get upset if I’m not there to receive them on their return. Something bothering you?”

“Can we… talk?” She asked. Even in hesitation, she hadn’t found quite the right word. The emotions had a vice grip around her windpipe. Breathing itself wasn’t the easiest right this moment.

“Of course.” Shifting his long legs from their precarious balancing act on the sill, Tegata gracefully got to his feet. Lowering himself onto the bedframe, he shuffled up to the head and sat with his back against the wall.

Juusei smiled, crawling onto the bed and curled up against Tegata’s chest, catlike.

Tegata ran a hand through her hair. “Are you alright?”

She shook her head, and clutched a handful of the boy’s shirt. “Scared.”

“I am too.” He exhaled through his nose. “Don’t worry. We’re safe here.”

“How do you know?”

“I’m afraid I don’t. All I can do is have faith.”

“Then…”

“I’ll protect you, I swear by it. I won’t let them take you again.”

A few tears leaked from the corners of Juusei’s eyes and into Tegata’s shirt. She clung a little tighter. “Thank you,” she murmured, “for coming back.”

“I said I would, didn’t I?”

“I didn’t know whether you had even made it out of the facility alive.”

“Have a little faith in me, no?”

“Yeah, you’re right. Sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for.”

“I just wanted to see you again.” Juusei sobbed a little more. “I wanted you to be okay.”

“I’m alright.” Tegata wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

“Are we going to go back?” She asked. “For Tsushin.”

Tegata didn’t respond. Juusei looked up, but couldn’t see his eyes. The boy’s scarred muscles trembled a little underneath her. His whole body tensed and shook.

“Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to— It’s just that you said you—”

“Don’t apologise,” Tegata said at last. He took a deep breath, and relaxed. “You didn’t say anything wrong.”

“But you saw her back in the facility, right? Her eyes, and how she attacked us with Hakana—”

Tegata cut her off. “My resolve hasn’t changed. I’m going to save her,” he swore through gritted teeth. “I’m not going to be just a survivor anymore.”

“I’m helping.”

“Juusei, please. I can’t—”

“No!” She struggled to keep her voice at a whisper. “I won’t let you do this alone.”

Tegata bit his lip.

“Let me help you.” She smiled. “It’s my turn to help out.”

Tegata returned her smile. “You’re right. I have you and the others.”

Juusei looked over at where Rin slept deeply. “Do you trust these people?”

“I’ve never had the luxury of trust before…” Tegata faltered. He shook his head, perhaps to banish a thought. “But that’s in the past. I’m certain of it now; I trust these people with my life.”

“Why?”

“I think you already know.”

Juusei looked up, and Tegata wore a small smile.

“They risked everything to come and save me,” she said. “Just like you. You’ve always been good at reading people.”

“The shadows never lie. I believe both of them are good people.”

“Rin seems really mean…”

Tegata chuckled. “He suffers from pride, that’s for certain. Even so, actions speak louder than words. Do you know why he’s doing all this? Why he’s fighting JPRO?”

Juusei shook her head.

“To save his father. JPRO kidnapped him, and are holding him to ransom for the other fragment of the Ascension Blade. He speaks about his grand architectural dreams, but I know what he truly wants. He’ll never admit it, but I’ve touched his shadow.”

Juusei’s gaze lingered on the pillow fort concealing the boy a little longer. A pang of guilt stung her heart. She’d judged him almost immediately, on appearance alone. She hadn’t seen anything close to what Tegata had. The guilt bubbled into shame, and uncomfortably burned in her cheeks.

“What about Kinuka?” She asked, changing subject. “What’s she really like? She’s pretty; has a nice face,” she iterated.

“She is one of the most beautiful people I’ve ever seen,” he remarked.

Juusei gave him a look.

“Not in that sense. You know I don’t care for that. Her soul, I mean. It’s unclouded by lies and deceit, unlike everyone else in this world. She truly is as nice as she appears. That aside, I owe her a debt.”

“How?” Juusei shuffled a little closer. “What did she do?”

“I fought Kanekuda Yoshine on the way to the holding cells. By the end of the fight, my legs had been completely shattered. I was in a pathetic state,” he cursed, gritting his teeth. “I thought that was it for me; but Kinuka? She didn’t give up on me; refused to. She insisted on staying by my side. Her specialty, it’s amazing. She painstakingly reconstructed my legs stronger than before. They’re a little heavier now, the bones have been replaced with metal. They had to be.”

A shot of nausea flashed through Juusei at the thought. Her grip tightened.

“Easy, easy.” Tegata calmed her with one hand. “I’m alright, don’t worry.”

“That’s really kind,” she agreed. Lifting her head, she peeked back out through the doorway, catching a glimpse of Kinuka’s hand falling over the side of the bed. “Do you know why she’s been helping?”

“Not yet,” Tegata murmured. “I just can’t figure it out. It’s as I said, there’s no deceit in her soul. She and Rin have a history, that much is clear, but her resolve is far too strong for it to be just for his sake. Feels weird to say, but I truly believe she wants to help.”

Juusei looked out across the landing with a smile.

Tegata added, “she caught you, you know? Rin and I were fending off the warden, she held you in her web, and hoped you’d open your eyes.”

Warmth surged through Juusei’s veins. “I don’t remember, but I believe you.”

The smile Kinuka had first greeted her with came back into mind. Her face was so tired, her posture drooping from exertion. Yet, that smile had made her feel instantly welcome.

Why?

Juusei laid her head on Tegata’s chest. Even as she drifted off to sleep, comforted in his embrace, her mind turned itself in knots over that one question. Why?

* * *

One final loop, and that should do it—

Kinuka Amibari abseiled upside down from the roof’s steel rafters on a rope made of her own leg. Touching down with both hands, her unravelled leg whipped down from the ceiling and began winding itself back into a limb. Kinuka hobbled over to the railing and transmuted a section of the metal into a length of wire, which she coiled around her shoulder. Suspended from the ceiling was a gigantic net, in which lay the struggling bodies of the possessed. The mass of bodies were nearly crushing one another under their own weight, struggling in a desperate attempt to free themselves, but the net held fast.

Kinuka hadn’t wanted to hurt any of them. Whatever the smoke did to them, they could still feel pain. So, she’d spent the last however long in an elaborate game of cat and mouse. The more she tried, the better she’d become at turning herself into thread. Weaving her through the crowd, sustaining only minor scrapes, she’d led them away to one end of the bridge before doubling back. This gave her some time.

What lay in wait was a trap. Both hands on the floor, and with a little concentration, Kinuka managed to extend the range of her Threadwork’s transmutation. Psychic energy danced across the tiles, selectively transforming an entire layer of the flooring into threads and winding it into diamond-patterned rope. What came next was an elaborate, impromptu trapeze act. All the while, Kinuka felt the strangest sensation: a kind of “flow.” As she began to hyperfocus on her goal, her psychic energy began to thrum in a steady rhythm, coursing smoothly throughout her body like a gentle sea. The result was an efficiency in her specialty beyond what she’d ever experienced. Without that flow, she would have exhausted herself, slipped up somewhere, and fallen to her death.

She needed to attach all four corners to stable points in the ceiling. Using her own limbs to form elastic fibres, she managed to scale the thirty feet needed to access the glass ceiling’s framework with surprising ease. Unable to reach her, the grey mob stood directly underneath. They pushed and trampled over one another in a futile attempt to converge on their target. It was right where she wanted them. Looping all four ropes around the centre bar to act as a pulley, Kinuka grappled down to a secure point on the bridge and pulled. Just her own weight alone wouldn’t be enough. The strain on her arms felt like the elastic was going to snap. Just before her limit, she managed to tie the rope down to the bridge.

Her pursuers ensnared, Kinuka had a little time to reconstitute her body. Her arms now bore stitching scars running lengthwise from how many times she’d taken them apart, and hastily put them back together again. She’d have to fix her arms properly later, and work on her reconstruction technique.

The perpetual tingling in her fingers told her she’d managed to trap a nerve, or several.

Kinuka’s next thought was Juusei. She was so reckless, she heard a chastising voice ring in her mind. What was she thinking? The sound of repeated gunshot made her ears ring, but it was reassuring that the girl was still kicking. With her own aggressors out of the way, Kinuka could finally help the girl restrain the rest. That plan was scuppered when the smoke around her ankles abruptly thickened. A wave of smog rushed up the stairs on either side from the ground floor, slowly converging. The figure rose from the smoke, made of the smoke. Red eyes gleamed under the outline of a fedora. The silhouette was striking, and unfortunately familiar.

“Hakana!” Kinuka cried. Her psychic energy flared. The metal wire she’d just procured leapt to life, binding itself into a razor whip. “Let me guess, come to collect your trophies?”

“You speak of Hideyori Hakana…” The ominous silhouette had a faded voice, missing the mobster’s Kansai drawl. “I owe a debt to that man.”

Kinuka faltered, but kept up her guard. The smoke, thicker now, attempted to wind its way up her legs. She kicked it away. “Who are you, then? A reject?”

“Do not lump me in with those mindless drones.” A swift reprimand. “I am not like the others. I am Defined.”

That much was obvious, Kinuka decided. For one, it could talk. Something else that stood out was its pride. Narrowing her eyes, she repeated her question; each syllable, punctuated. “Who are you?”

“I am a plague. I kill millions of people every year. My name is Kemuri, and you, Kinuka Amibari, are my target.”

The figure leaned forward a moment, before a pulse of psychic energy crackled through the cloud. Kemuri’s body disappeared as torrents of smoke gushed forth. All Kinuka could manage was a scream, before she was devoured by the abyssal plume.