XCEL

“181 wins again. That makes over 100 consecutive victories,” noted Dr. Zuisaya Nori through thin lips, glaring down through the two-way mirror. Jotting down one final note, she sucked on the tip of her pen and turned to an associate dressed in suffocatingly sterile laboratory detail. “This will conclude this phase of testing. Record that, and draw a line on their files.”

The scientist nodded. “This is enough tests to eliminate observation bias, or the influence of chance,” he noted. “Ordinarily, 150’s Specialty should render any other psyche user unable to even use psychic energy reinforcement to aid their physicality. She should win outright. Yet,” he flipped back through another few pages. “150 has the lowest win percentage of any subject to date.”

Nori tutted, nostrils flaring. “Her training data shows exemplary effort, to the extent it is causing noticeable harm to her physiology. Her overexertion despite our strengthening methods have caused maximum oxygen capacity to diminish by twenty percent. Skeletal muscle function also seem to have diminished. Her body is tearing itself apart.”

Her associate hummed. “Why have we not disposed of her yet?”

“The fact remains that her Specialty is one of the most potent we have ever manifested. It is vital we preserve her for Mr. Ishimatsu.” Nori’s glare intensified. “That Hakana ingrate showed interest in recruiting her for his executive division.” She placed the name under mocking stress. “Initially, I thought 403’s Superposition had that same potential, however its activation conditions remain far too inconsistent to be useful.”

Another scientist looked up from his console, bright eyed. “What about 557?”

An exposed nerve shot across the room and stabbed directly into the man’s neck. “Speak when spoken to,” Nori hissed, “and not a moment before.”

Bones cracked from sudden impulse, tendons snapping like rubber bands. The man stood bolt upright against his will, twitching all over. A vile gurgling emanated from his throat, froth gathering at his lips, skin turning steadily purple, before his neck violently snapped itself sideways. Teetering, the fresh corpse collapsed backwards, head smacking against the wall.

A colleague looked sideways with disdain, shook her head, then motioned beyond the door. Another faceless guard dragged him from the room. Soon, the vacancy was replaced by another.

“I cannot abide by apes who do not do as they are told,” Nori continued, pressing one bony finger to her temple, eyes flitting shut. A spike in her psychic energy, and immediately Tegata Kage lost consciousness, keeling over and falling face down next to his opponent. “Take them away,” she spoke into a transmitter in her ear. A door opened, and another pair of faceless guards emerged, seizing the test subjects and hauling them out of the chamber over their shoulders.

A knock came from the door. Nori’s gaze snapped towards it. The hulking, slouched silhouette of a man lay beyond the glass doors. Nori glared at him much as she did everyone else. “Let him in.”

“Evenin’, Wicked Witch of the East.” The man was burly and middle-aged, with shadowy, heavy-lidded eyes, a permanent stubble and black hair in a messy fringe. His black pullover and jeans were stark contrast to Nori’s biologics staff dressed all in white. Two fearsome black metal arms hung from the shoulders down, hundreds of intricately shaped metal plates rolling in on themselves to create a single, smooth surface.

“Mr. Tekkori.” With only a slight twitch in the eye, the woman acknowledged him, only barely. “You took your time.”

“Got carried away with final spec checks,” Danjiro Tekkori rolled his eyes, vaguely apologetic. “It’s ready, the modular psyche prosthesis you ordered. Made a new model tailored to the psyche profile you sent over, that poor girl.” Several more black-clad men entered the room, carrying two large sleek boxes. “Custom-made to order, as promised. Hope you like ‘em,” he mumbled, “because there’s no refund policy for psychopaths who enjoy ripping the wings off butterflies.”

Tekkori’s men placed both packages on an empty desk.

“How dare you speak to me so casually!” Nori seethed. “Who do you think you are?!”

But the burly man took no notice, lumbering out of the room before she’d even finished speaking, murmured to himself, “though I’m just as guilty. Oh well…”

“I will never question Mr. Ishimatsu’s choice of personnel, of course, however, the fact that I am prohibited from punishing or experimenting on those two oafs is infuriating.” Nori commented through gritted teeth, tendons in her throat under sinewy skin straining as she fought to keep composure. “Nevertheless, they do their jobs. Tekkori: not only is he living proof of his own work, but the prototypes he developed worked well in preliminary testing, enhancing subject physical capability and psychic energy conductivity by an average of two hundred and fifty percent.” Her gaze flashed to her associate, having made up her mind. “A change of plans. We’ll restart testing tomorrow. Take 150 to the Operating Theatre. Let’s see whether the engineer’s philosophy is worth its weight in flesh before we consider restitution in iron.”

* * *

Tegata awoke slumped against the metal bars, alone. The Warden’s deep red gaze loomed, and the Drain started to take hold. Instinctively, he extended a hand towards the other end of the cell. Tsushin would be waiting, her own hand outstretched, a frail smile twisting the corners of her thinning mouth. Jammer usually cut out the majority of the Warden’s influence, buying them a little peace. The halogen bulbs hanging from the gangways cast a humming, faint orange glow through the bars. The weak shadows flitted in-and-out like candlelight. Tegata shaped them into small bunny silhouettes.

They surrounded and comforted the pair the best shadows could. They cried to one another; they held one another.

“Will we ever be free of this place?” She had asked, curled up to his chest.

“We will. We won’t let them break us.” Tegata found a smile in her eyes, and wore it proud. “No matter how many times they make us fight one another.” He cradled her in his arms. The bunnies nestled together into a makeshift blanket. “We’ll find a way out together. I’ll save you from this place.”

She returned the smile. Cupping a cheek in her hands, their lips brushed softly past one another as she whispered into his ear, “and I you.”

Their mutual embrace allowed both respite amid all the desperate screeches of their subconscious, a small rest in this ocean of stone.

Tonight, a distinct absence greeted him instead. Tegata’s breath hitched in his throat. The boy lay down on the stone floor and curled inwards on his side, fingers closing in on themselves, deprived on the sole comfort that had kept them both sane all this time: each other. Many went mad in the cells or simply gave up, slipping into perpetual coma. A chill prickled his skin. What was left of his strength began to slip through his fingers, draining into the stone itself. The heavy white static rang in his ears, shrouding every square inch of subconscious in a dense fog. His eyelids weighed heavier with every second. Whenever he closed them, however, the insides of his retinas were blasted with constant strobelight. Tegata winced, twisted and turned, suddenly aware of his own skin clinging to every part of him. He wanted to tear it all off, every single dermal layer. He didn’t want to feel anything anymore. As though responding to his wishes, his mind and body began to succumb to the artificial fatigue.

A guttural shriek rang out from across the hallway. Tegata snapped awake, eyes wide, shuffling back against the bars. The hulking Warden at the centre of the complex unearthed a trembling growl; the force of the Drain intensified. Tsushin Techukara, breathing choppy and sharp, tilted back her head and screamed in agony, thrashing against the grip of her captors as they forced her up the stairs. Prying open the cell door, they tossed her back inside. The girl crumpled into a sobbing heap, clutching at one of her wrists.

“Tsushin…” Brows arched, Tegata shuffled forward, reaching with a comforting hand.

A slab of metal slugged him across the face, slamming his head back the wall. Lights popped behind his eyes as his skull bounced off the stone.

“You did this to me!” Tsushin screeched. Each breath came in seven or eight staccato bursts. Every dissonant tone from her vocal chords was accompanied by a vicious pulse from her third eye. The corners of her eyes had started to bleed, staining pale cheeks. Her pupils rapidly contracted, limp black hair framing a face contorted in agony. “My hand!” Her grip tightening around her right wrist. “They took it off! I can’t feel my hand!”

Tegata recoiled but couldn’t look away, stomach turning. The flickering lamplight glinted from the sharp vertices from her shiny metal prosthetic, grafted to a wrist covered in blackened, cauterised scar tissue.

“Tsushin, I—”

“Shut up! Just shut up!” She drove her metal fist forward with a clang, leaving a dent several inches deep in the stone next to his face. “You— It’s all your fault!” She gasped, eyes wide, the weight of her words finally dawning. “No, I didn’t mean that! I—”

“It’s okay.” Even in the prison’s darkness, his face had taken on a deeper shadow still. “I’m sorry.”

Collapsing inwards with a broken sob, her new hand clinked against the stone, sparks trailing from the fingers. She sat back between her legs, sobbing into her chest. “Tegata, it hurts…”

His hands had grown cold, but still they found their way around her shoulders. Tegata pulled her closer, and held her tight. “I know, and I’m sorry.”

Nori wouldn’t stop there. For every ten matches Tegata won from that day forward, another part of Tsushin would be replaced. Cottoning on immediately, he started throwing the matches: anything to make this stop. Each act of disobedience wrought with it flashes of unimaginable agony, each somehow worse than the last. He’d push through. He’d push through it all so she’d never cry because of him again. That night, she had spoken without thinking, but she’d spoken true. It was his fault. Yet, no matter how many matches he yielded, no matter how many punishments he endured, nothing seemed to make any difference. Over the next two years, the wrath of metal gradually encroached more of Tsushin’s extremities and into her very core.

At what point did she cease to be?

With every piece of flesh gone, a part inside her broke as well. Slowly, she faded: Tsushin progressively shrank into that shell, until her living, breathing body regressed to mechanical cadaver; a cage. The last thing of all to die was her smile. Despite all the pain, that smile persisted till the very end. Listening to her heart that night, Tegata no longer heard the thump of muscle, only the ticking of quartz.

* * *

One day, they were parted for good. The guards had marched into her cell and seized her by the arms. Tegata expected them to come for him, too, but he was left to rot. In the distance, he spied Hakana’s orb. That was the last he’d see of her before the infiltration. Gus Ishimatsu had dangled her before him as he lay on the floor, crushed by the weight of the man’s psychic energy. He’d reduced her to a puppet, a limp prop to taunt him with.

The night before, she had spoken her final words. Her voice was already far away, echoing from within a cavernous chest. Every breath she took rattled through eviscerated lungs like dilapidated air vents.

“Tegata.”

He was at her side in an instant, cradling her face in both hands, that porcelain face remained all that hadn’t yet succumbed to steel.

“I miss the moon.”

Tegata’s breath hitched in his throat.

“I can’t see it,” she whimpered. Her lifted one limp arm, and stretched toward the ceiling.

Tegata held it there. He saw his pale face reflected in those deep, black eyes.

“I always liked the moon,” she continued. “No matter how cold the night; by reflecting the light, the moon reminded me the sun would rise again soon.”

Tegata sniffed, holding her hand to his cheek. The metal chilled him to the core. “Tsushin, I—” Even as he fought back, hot tears splashed pale cheeks.

“Why are you crying?” She wiped away his tears, and smiled. “The sun will rise again.”

“It will?”

“It will. Once we’re free of this place, we’ll dance under the moon all night long.”

“I’ll get us out. I just need to find a—”

“Tegata!” Her eyes widened, voice quiet and shrill.

“I’m here.” He held her close.

Metal fingers tightened around his neck, pulling him closer. “I love—”

Tegata waited, and waited. He may as well have waited for the sun to rise within the walls of that prison. The metal grip around his neck loosened, followed by a clang. The metal hand hit the stonework, and the dim lights behind Tsushin’s eyes faded. His chest began to heave, chin dropping. Tears fell freely once more, tears he wished would rust away those prosthesis and reveal her beautiful skin underneath.

The sun will rise again.

Tegata looked to the roof and hoped that, just this once, it would open up, and he could see the moon.

The sun will rise again.

* * *

If the sun had risen that day, the clouds had been even more determined to keep it hidden away.

Tegata, head tilted back, stared up through Yorusada’s glass ceiling. Tears left sticky tracks down the sides of his face. Not even the cries of his jackal alerted him in time. Tsushin’s right hand, metal glinting something wicked, pierced through his gut. But his hands were already raised, arms coiled into that slender shape. The shadow had already been cast.

Asp

蝮 Mamushi

Tsushin winced, whipping around to see the shadowy fangs already deep in her leg. Those black, broken eyes flickered like lightbulb filament, before the girl crumpled into a heap. Mechanical legs provided no hindrance; the Asp didn’t inflict corporal venom, but psychotoxin. Its fangs could penetrate anything. After all, it wasn’t real: only a silhouette of the creature it had once belonged to.

A delayed reaction; Tegata coughed up another spray of blood. The wretched tick-ticking in his ears grew deafening, masking the rapid footsteps. He wouldn’t die here. It wouldn’t allow. Swaying, he clutched at the railing. He lowered himself to pick up Tsushin by the shoulders.

Dentaku Bango flew out of nowhere and drove a spearkick in the side of the head. The impact made a fresh crater into the wall, shattering nearby glass.

“I can’t manage the both of you.” Bango looked over his shoulder and cursed. Harigane was gaining. “I had hoped that kick was enough to take you out; seems your tenacity exceeded all parameters, Kage.”

Tegata limped towards him, glaring with fury. Bango gave him a respecting nod, hoisted Tsushin over his shoulder, and made to leave.

“Don’t you dare!” Tegata screamed, eyes bulging, veins outlining a face in utter desperation. “Give her back! Tsushin!” Vicious claws of shadow raked at Bango’s heels, but the boy jumped out of the way, reaching the rafters just out of his reach.

“I’ll come for you another time.” Bango’s lip curled. Raising a fist, he shattered a portion of the ceiling with a Powerstrike. “At this rate, better to cut my losses.” Another burst of psychic energy, and the boy was gone.

Spire Crane

山鶴 Yamatsuru

Before the shadow creature had even finished rising from the ground, Tegata leapt onto the bird and made haste to follow. The crane stretched its wings and flourished a mighty gust, soaring into the air before—

Box Technique: Cocoon

囲箱技「繭」 Isōgi・Ken

—the transparent cube stopped Tegata dead in midair. Spire Crane no longer had the space to operate, and broke apart. The boy crashed into the inner boundary, and hammered at it with his fist. He called Tsushin’s name again and again. Each fist struck more feeble than the last.

“Give it up.” Rin glared, breathing heavily. “In your state, you won’t break through that box no matter how much you try. Take it easy, Tegata.”

Bango’s diversion had bought the little bastard just enough time. Rin cursed. Even with Framerate, he couldn’t quite prevent the escape. He still couldn’t repeat it consecutively; his new technique still had a long way to go.

“Let me out, Rinkaku Harigane!” Tegata roared. “Let me out right now! I need to go after her!”

“Idiot. You’re bleeding everywhere.” It was true. Both of Tegata’s wounds had leaked a sickly trail of crimson all over the gangway, and now gathered at the bottom of his impromptu prison. Rin squinted. “How on earth are you still alive? You look like you’ve been impaled. Twice.”

Tegata had no intention of calming down. Throwing himself against the walls of the cube over and over, he cried Tsushin’s name until his voice broke, and even then he didn’t stop. Eventually, he’d exhausted every last ounce of strength, collapsing into a broken heap onto the floor of the box.

“You used Framework again,” chimed the Architect, fading into view nearby.

“Oh, give it a rest.” Rin bat away the apparition. “Tegata was going to get himself killed. Besides, I’ve already proven my point and then some.”

The spirit grunted indignantly. “Boy, look around you.”

Rin did. The numerous unconscious bodies strewn across the mall floor notwithstanding, a certain inertia hung about this place. Sparks of unease started to creep down his back. “Something seems off, like the space is just about holding itself together.”

The Architect held his chin a moment. “Indeed. I fear another distortion is on the brink of formation. There has been too much psychic energy released here in too short a time. The fabric of reality cannot cope, and will soon tear. Devastation the likes of which you know all too well will then spill forth.”

Rin took a sharp breath. “There must be some way to prevent it, right?”

“Yes. You must construct another Cornerstone.”

“That gigantic tower?” Rin stared, incredulous. “I could try.”

“Just this once, I will bestow upon you the blueprint.” The Architect floated closer, placing the pad of one finger on Rin’s third eye. “Behold.”

Both Rin’s eyes rolled back in his head. The boy stood rooted for a moment, jaw hung open, before snapping back to consciousness. “It’s crystallising, the design…” Constructing a complex frame between his fingers, he spun the miniature hexagonal tower around in his hand and peered at it. “Oh, I see. So, it’s like that, is it? Wow. The geometry on this thing is insane.”

Ten metres away from the bridge, a dimensional crack splintered into being in midair. “Do not dally.” The Architect pointed ahead. “You must project the cornerstone through the crack the moment before it takes root, or else the distortion will spread. The timing is crucial.”

Rin nodded, eyes narrowing. The crack grew wider still. He could feel all the psychic energy lurking beyond the curtain, desperate to break free and flood this new space. He wouldn’t let that happen. He’d save all these people from that fate worse than death, the fate of Rejection.

The crack had developed several major fault lines now, running in all four cardinal directions and splitting off into endless fractals. If it weren’t so treacherous, one might easily call it beautiful. The glass pane of reality had to give. Rin raised his hands, fingers itching.

An endless crackling void awaited once reality’s thin ice shattered. The moment it gave, he was ready.

“Fountains of ichor spring forth, the eastern sky cloudpiercer.” Rin gestured in broad, powerful strokes, fingers dancing madly. “Take this form against your will, and weep.” That totemic hexagonal tower carved itself into the centre of the distortion. The white outline cutting through space itself, bright enough to sear his retina. “Vainglory, ye spiteful sun; behold, seventeen pillars of light. Cicada ring; the bells, they swing. Only in the eve of morning doth the songbird scream.” The tower fortified itself further, symbols carving themselves into every crevice. The segments of the pillar defined themselves, expanded, and lost themselves to that brilliant angular momentum. Rin strained his jaw, thrust forward his hand and clenched it. “Be burned in gold, Cornerstone Mimosa!”

The pillar was actualised in blackened stone. The toll of the colossal bell cleared the heavens. The immovable cloud parted. The midday sun glimmered through the rooftop glass. The inertia-filled crackle of psychic energy ceased immediately. Around the pillar, the cracks in reality faded. No otherworldly matter poured through. Extending from deepest depths, phasing through ceiling and stretching to heavens above, the hexagonal tower stabilised the distortion completely. Everything was still. The chills on Rin’s neck diminished, and a wave of fatigue brought him to his knees. He grit his teeth, pushing himself upright, knuckles against the tiled floors spattered with blood and broken glass.

“Immaculate.” The Architect admired the structure as if it were his own. Rin, floored with such genuine compliment, could do little more than blink until the Architect addressed him directly. “And that makes two.”

“Two of what?”

A shout from behind interrupted any chance at explanation. Scowling at the approaching figure, the Architect faded from view.

“Harigane!” Ruri’s arm over his shoulder, Nagora Ibuse trudged towards Rin and Tegata, straining ever so slightly under the giant’s weight. Looking up at the tower, the detective’s jaw dropped a little. “Jeez. Another one? When the hell did—”

“I built that!” Rin pointed, ecstatic. “Me! All by myself! I built that. Isn’t it amazing?!”

“I guess? You’re asking the wrong guy.” Ibuse shook his head, heaving Ruri off his shoulders and resting against one of the railings. Rin scowled and stormed off, muttering curses under his breath.

“Are you two alright?” Ibuse asked, having caught his breath.

“Tegata’s in a bad way.” Rin jerked his thumb over his shoulder, pointing to the pink-haired boy lying in a heap inside his mid-air cube. “I haven’t let him out of baby jail for fear he’ll go after Bing-Bong again. He’s lost a lot of blood. Luckily, there’s an emergency centre not far away, so he might live.”

“You sound awfully casual about that.”

“No more casual than Tegata is about throwing his own life away on a near daily basis.” Rin shot the boy a glare.

“How about you?”

“Tired, but that’s nothing new.” Rin flexed his shoulder. “I don’t need treatment, if that’s what you’re asking. Can’t imagine you’d care about much besides. How’s Ruri holding up?”

The giant stumbled back to his feet with difficulty, and gave a stoic thumbs-up.

Ibuse turned back towards the entrance. “If I get the car, we’ll be able to—”

“About the car—” Rin scratched the back of his head, sheepish. “I may have already sent it away. Had to take the girls to the hospital. I was planning on telling you at some point; guess things just got out of hand.” He chuckled awkwardly, avoiding the silent glare Ibuse bore into the back of his head. “So, detective. Fancy a walk with some cargo?”

“I was lenient the first time, but now?” Ibuse cracked his knuckles. His face had descended into vitriolic shadow. “You had better start running, kid.”