XCEL

Rinkaku Mandala 麟閣曼荼羅

“You had better explain yourself. Right now.” Rin faced off against his mentor in his further plane. His gaze, steel-hardened; his voice, calm—unreasonably measured.

“That man, Nagora Ibuse.” The Architect’s arms were folded. He glared back at his inheritor, eyes hidden by his helmet. “You cannot trust him. He has been blessed by the Nine. Toshina, Phenomenon of Time, has begun to directly meddle in your affairs. The phenomena seek to use humanity solely to expand their own influence. When the time comes to fulfil your dream, that man will only stand in your way.”

“I’m not sure you understand, Architect,” Rin seethed through gritted teeth. “That man is my friend!” Rin roared, nostrils flaring. “I gave you permission—I trusted you with my body—to kill that bastard Meguru Yoha. That was all! I did not give you permission to kill the one ally I have outside the group, the one who’ll be instru-fucking-mental in proving my innocence, and completing this whole mission to begin with!”

The Architect didn’t respond. The corners of his mouth warped into a deep scowl.

“Are you my ally, Architect?”

“Our contract was thus,” the man clarified. “I would ensure your ascension by stabilising your connection to the Eye, and lend you my power. In return, you would cultivate my power to help achieve your dream of building a better world. That is all. I will use whatever means necessary to fulfil my end of that contract: that involves eliminating anyone that would stand in your way.”

Rin maintained his stare a few moments more, before taking a deep breath and turning his back. “That’s a funny way of saying no.”

He surveyed his further plane once more. No longer the desolate concrete expanse; gone were the featureless, grey pillars. The both of them stood someway up a tower, strange and winding. Rin didn’t know how far up they were. He walked to the edge and peered over, but couldn’t see the bottom anymore. A sky of deepest blue beckoned him upward. The top of the tower lay miles beyond his depth of field. This tower wasn’t alone. Many jagged spiral stretched from figurative floor to ceiling all around, but all conglomerated in the same central spire eventually, piercing those cerulean heavens. Winding staircases lined the outside of each tower, stairs he climbed night after night. He returned here every night in his dreams, eternally fascinated by the world inside his own mind. The landscape never remained the same. Even now, the nebulous material that the tower was constructed out of shifted. One moment, it gleamed like marble; the next, it shone like chrome, stood steadfast as concrete, then glittered like glass.

Now that his conscious and unconscious minds had merged, he could freely explore this world, and build to his heart’s content. On the many floors he had climbed thus far, he could still see the remnants of his past construction projects. Extensions to the tower, whole new buildings in themselves: it had become the perfect playground to experiment with Framework while his physical body rested. Even so, he found himself continually drawn to those stairs. He had to climb them, to see what mysteries, what puzzles awaited him on the upper floors. Perhaps, one day, he would reach the top. How long that would take, he had no idea.

“Do you plan to scorn me, boy?”

Rin looked over his shoulder. The Architect hadn’t moved an inch; the man’s face displayed not one single iota of remorse.

“Yeah, probably. I mean, you did betray my trust and all. Contracts aside: trust is, like, the number one thing you need in order for this kind of arrangement to work, you know? First was that stunt you pulled right at the beginning—don’t think for a second that I’ve forgotten—and now this? I’m not stupid, Architect.”

“I act only in pursuit of our dream.”

“We both know that’s a lie.” Rin turned back around. “I don’t imagine for a second you don’t have an agenda of your own. I mean, you said it just there.” He pointed. “Just now, you said our dream. Before, you only referred to my dream. You’ve got stakes in this conflict too; you haven’t even tried to be subtle about that so far, so why bother mincing words now?”

He strode back up to the Architect.

“I still don’t know where the hell you came from, what you’ve been doing until you appeared in my head all of a sudden. You’ve been unbelievably cagey about it, to the point where I know practically nothing about you. You’ve got something to gain out of this arrangement, something you need me for. Why bother making a contract otherwise? You could’ve just left me to die. You’re no altruist; contracts are transactional by literal fucking definition. I’ve been listening, and you’ve been pretty damn careful about your wording so far.”

“Do you think I’ve been lying to you, boy?”

“Strangely enough? No.” Rin shrugged his shoulders. “Occlusion of the truth isn’t the same as a lie. That doesn’t change the outcome, though. I’m not gonna sugarcoat it: I don’t trust you, Architect. I've read enough law for fun and, unfortunately for you, I know how contracts work. I can’t fulfil my end of the contract to the best of my ability, if the other party is unwilling to cooperate. I’m not being unreasonable. I want to work with you to achieve my dream, Architect. I’ve done nothing but put in effort, and all you’ve done is criticise. It’s a factor outside my control, which is not the same as my reneging on my end of the deal.”

The Architect remained silent.

“I’ll ask you a very simple question. Can I trust you, Architect?”

A muscle in the man’s jaw clenched.

Rin cocked his head a little. “Seems like that’s a no. Pity.” He turned with a dismissive wave over his shoulder, walking back up to the next set of stairs.

“Where are you going?”

Rin paused on the second step. “Up.” He didn’t bother looking back. “It’s very simple. If you’re not going to work with me—if I can’t trust you—I’m just not going to use your power at all.”

Rin was inches away from taking the next step up the stairs, when he heard the Architect take one towards him. Rin looked back, eyebrow raised. “Ah, you don’t like that, do you? Well, if you want this power of yours cultivated, you’re going to have to think of something soon. Framework’s not the only thing I have going for me. I’m not alone in this, either. Before you know it, I’ll have reached my dream without you. It’s your call.”

The Architect watched him go. Before long, the boy had disappeared around the winding set of stairs. The corners of the man’s mouth twitched upwards. He chuckled softly to himself, the chuckle of pride. “He’s learning.”

* * *

11:55

“Harigane! Can you hear me?!”

Rin woke to the back of a hand gently slapping against his cheek, and a hurried voice roused his consciousness from the depths. Rin instinctively seized the man’s wrist.

Nagora Ibuse knelt beside him, deep concern etched into the lines around his eyes. “Oh, you’re awake. Thank god.”

Rin let go of his wrist and grimaced. “Don’t thank god. The bastard’s actively trying to get me killed.” Rin shuffled up onto his elbows, holding his forehead. “Damn migraine.”

“That’s more like you.” Ibuse sighed in relief. He helped the boy to his feet, then brushed the dirt from his own knees. “It is you, right? Not, whoever that was…” His blood pressure hadn’t quite returned to normal yet, not after he’d been shocked to the core by that chilling stare from moments ago.

“It is. Trust me, I’m not happy about it either.” Rin stuck both hands in his pockets. “I haven’t been in control of my body for the past ten minutes. The one who threatened you, was the Architect.”

“I remember that name.” Ibuse scratched his chin. “He’s the one responsible for your powers, right? Your Further Spirit.”

Rin nodded. “Turns out, he’s not your greatest fan.”

“No kidding.”

“Back when you first confronted me in my dad’s office: I practically attacked you on-sight, didn’t I?”

“I don’t blame you. You were cornered and skittish. It’s only natural for a—”

“No—I mean, you’re right—but that’s not my point. I attacked you because the Architect told me that you were an threat.”

Ibuse paused. His brow furrowed. “Why?”

“Beats me. I didn’t question it at the time.” Rin shrugged. “Does the name Toshina mean anything to you?”

Ibuse’s eyes widened. “Yeah. I knew there was more to all of this.”

“Go on.”

“Toshina is the reason I’m here right now. He appeared out of nowhere, and gave me his blessing; since then, I’ve begun to perceive the psychic world. That’s how I was able to track you down.”

Rin ogled him. “No third eye at all, huh? That’s crazy.” He approached the man and peered up at his face. “You’re the same as Meguru, then.”

“How so?”

“The Architect called you both Blessèd. If you have the blessing of the Time Phenomenon, then his patron phenomenon must be Consequence; would make sense for it to be another one of the Nine. That makes sense; you’re both very strong, so—”

“I’m flattered.”

“Not flattery,” Rin corrected. “I don’t do flattery. I gave it my all, but Meguru Yoha wiped the floor with me. Not even the Architect could kill him, but you managed something neither of us could.”

“I only grasped my Specialty properly on the way over here.” Ibuse took a pause. “I can open the door to this corridor, which lets me travel through time. While the door’s open, time stops. I can’t hold it open for very long; a few seconds at most.”

Rin eyes were alight. His suspicions had been right all along. He’d witnessed the fight through the Architect’s perspective, but something still wasn’t adding up. He was still missing something. “When you hit Meguru, the hits actually went through. Nothing I threw at him made a dent. What happened?”

“You’re probably too young to know this—it’s all digital now—but have you ever seen a movie projected from film stock?”

“Oh, those really old films?” Rin smirked.

“It’s not that old,” Ibuse grumbled. “But, you know what I’m talking about. I can heighten my own perception up to the point where it feels like time passes in individual frames on a film reel. I figured something out, Meguru activated his ability to diminish consequence at the moment he predicted the hit would land; that’s important.”

Viewing time as individual frames of motion.

The revelation hit Rin like a freight train. He stared at Ibuse, mouth slightly agape. “You moved yourself back in time by the slightest amount,” he concluded. “On the order of one or two frames. That’s why Meguru’s ability didn’t work. Your attacks landed before his ability could even activate.”

Ibuse winked.

Rin continued to stare, amazed, before he shook himself awake. It took him some time to find the words. “There’s so much more I want to know, but we should do something about this place first.” The once verdant space lay in ruins. The maelstrom had dissipated, but the land was still broken. The void of psychic energy suspended the floating islands. Trees lay bent and uprooted in the the soil, ripped and torn.

“I’ve been meaning to ask.” Ibuse took a few steps towards the edge of their present island. “What happened here?”

“A Distortion.” Rin stepped up alongside. “The physical and cognitive worlds are never meant to coincide. Psychic energy cascades through from the other side—across some kind of potential gradient, maybe? It tears up the land into this travesty, projecting a chaotic storm that swallows up everything in its wake.” The boy scratched his head. “I’ve only experienced one distortion before; nothing nearly as bad as this. The boundary was never properly breached, only weakened enough for us to cross over. What I don’t get, is why this is so different?”

“Something must have torn apart the dimensional barrier.” Ibuse remembered what he’d seen back in the past. “I was there when it started, purely by chance.” He tapped his watch to signify time travel.

“It was localised over there at the centre, but it must have spread since.”

“This distortion won’t be getting any worse.” Rin pointed over to the translucent psychic barrier in the distance, separating this space from the outside. “You see? The border wall isn’t moving. Whatever the Architect did must have worked.”

The both turned to admire the monolithic, ornate and engraved hexagonal pillar that stretched from the depths of the void below, supporting the firmament above. The Architect had followed through on his word; that was indisputable. Rin wasn’t sure how he felt about all that, especially now.

“He made this? Good god.” A floored Ibuse craned his neck to observe the goliath structure in all its glory. “May have stopped the situation from getting worse, but that hasn’t fixed the land. Lord, how on earth am I going to put all of this in a report?” He grumbled to himself. “Do I even bother? I probably should, for consistency’s sake. Who's going to believe me, though? Is that even the point?”

“I have an idea.” Rin chimed up. In the time Ibuse had taken his eyes off the boy, he’d walked over to a rock and perched atop it like some kind of moody falcon, deep in thought. “You ever heard of a Mindscape, old man?”

Ibuse’s eye twitched. “Not in the context you’re talking about, I bet.”

“It’s an advanced psychic technique. You project your own Further Plane into the real world, which increases the range of your Specialty several hundredfold. You said you can move back and forward in time through this corridor, right?”

Ibuse nodded.

“Then, imagine what you could do if you could project that same power into the world itself!”

Ibuse took a deep breath. “Time’s basically lost all meaning for me now; I only learned how to Open The Door what felt like half an hour ago. You really think I can pull it off?”

“I’m certain.”

“Can you do it?”

“Nope.” Rin shrugged. “Not for lack of trying, either. According to Tegata, it’s really difficult—a different process for everyone, apparently.”

“Then what makes you think I can do it?” Ibuse was convinced he’d missed a beat. “You’re much more practised with this psyche nonsense than I am. If anyone’s able out of the two of us, it definitely won’t be me.”

“I’ll bet you twenty-thousand yen that you can do it first try.”

“I’m not making a bet with a kid. Ethics aside, you don't even have that kind of money on you.”

Rin scowled. “Have a go already.”

His confidence may have been entirely derived from conjecture, but that didn’t make it wrong. Meguru Yoha’s cry of Mindscape may have only been a ploy to psyche him out, but Rin had felt the way psychic energy circulated around the man in the moments leading up to release. Rin had the impression that Meguru Yoha was perfectly able to perform Mindscape, but chose not to out of laziness. Ibuse was of the same tier of psyche, but not lazy in the slightest.

The detective closed his eyes, concentrated for a moment, then looked back at Rin for guidance, but Rin smirked and shook his head, gesturing him to give it his best shot.

“You’re crazy.” Ibuse shook his head; it then occurred to him exactly where he was, what he was doing, and what he’d just experienced. If this wasn’t reality after all, he’d likely already be giggling to himself, rolling around on the floor of a mental institution in a straitjacket, observed by the men in white coats. He’d rather be here than there. As much as the conditioning drudgery of adulthood wanted him to deny it, he’d rather have special psychic powers than be declared legally insane.

So, Mindscape, huh? Ibuse thought about the corridor again. The mystical blue pillars; the endless, glossy floor; the eternal sunset sky. Breathe in. Psychic energy arced down his spine. He shivered. The electricity alternated through his nerves like an even tide, soothing every wayward thought. Breathe out. Slowly, Ibuse found himself raising his hands. Facing the centre of all this chaos, he locked both thumbs around one another, the palms held upright, facing parallel.

Rin watched in growing fascination. His smirk only widened. It was just such a pity he was missing out on that extra twenty-thousand yen.

The psychic energy continued to hum in the space around Ibuse, the beautiful flow of the time’s perpetual river. Then came the waterfall’s drop.

Mindscape: Evening Corridor

虚廟: 永暮回廊 Koyashiro: Yūgure Kairō

The bells of the ethereal clock tower chimed, and everything stopped. Rin’s breath hitched in his throat, scarcely able to breathe; the very molecules of the air had ceased vibrating. Either side of Ibuse, the Corridor of Time rose from the ground in all its azure glory. Silver-lined clouds, glowing with the softest hints of orange and pink, dotted the pure blue coat the technique painted over by pearlescent firmament canvas. Within an instant, the bleak, ruined atmosphere the distortion had been left in its wake had been overwritten with such a blissful scene.

The surge of power Nagora Ibuse felt resonated through his bones. Unclasping his hands, he looked to Rin. “I’ve finally cottoned onto your plan. Sorry it took me a while. I’m trying my best.”

Rin gave him a mocking salute. “Do your duty, detective.”

“Such cheek.” Ibuse rolled his eyes. “I’m so glad I never accepted that bet.”

Normally, by traversing the corridor of time, Ibuse himself could travel into the past or future. Harigane had seen his own potential far earlier than he could have ever. All he needed to do was think outside the box. By bringing the corridor of time into the real world, he could move this whole space back in time, back to before this distortion even took place. The detective cast the boy a side-glance. Rin was busy staring around in awe at the architecture of the corridor. He was on a level on intellect Ibuse himself couldn’t even fathom. He’d far surpassed any kind of expectation. All the detective could do was look on and admire.

He’d have all the time he needed to do that later.

For now, he had a job to do.

Ibuse clasped his hands together and willed time to reverse.

The earth beneath them trembled, as the walls of the corridor started to move forward. The corridor itself extended endlessly into the past and future. In essence, it wasn’t moving anywhere; everything else in relation to it, however, was. The man watched in wonder as the broken land started to reform. Currents of arcing psychic energy flew backwards through the air. The storm abruptly returned, then began to shrink. The winds blew backwards, as the purple tempest’s eye grew smaller still. Reversed bolts of lightning created trees from burning stumps, as the corpses of further foliage righted themselves. The islands drifted together; the void underneath began to dissipate. Pieces of fragmented earth joined one another, before the entirety of the ground was reassembled. Throughout it all, the Architect’s tower, the Cornerstone Acrux, stood proud. Its outline gradually faded into the backdrop—invisible, but eternally present.

Soon, the walls of the corridor came to a halt. Everything had returned to how it should have been. The lives of those Rejected, however, would forever be lost. Not even time could reverse such a harrowing fate. By now, however, Rin hoped the souls that were would have painlessly returned to the Well, that they wouldn’t have to live in such tortuous limbo any longer.

Nagora Ibuse drew his hands apart, and the cerulean sky melted away. The walls of the corridor faded. The space had returned to its original state, and the boundary of separation between the outside world and the distorted space was no more.