XCEL

KINUKA'S FURTHER PLANE

絹華曼荼羅

The tangled abyss stretched ever far, into distances she could neither know nor see. A comforting half-light permeated this place. Muted colours formed an omnidirectional tapestry, spanning the entirety of this endless web. On first awakening, Kinuka found herself suspended in a bed of cloth. A finely woven cocoon embraced her lovingly in mid-air. It unravelled at her thought, let alone touch. Once released, she didn’t fall but instead glid, suspended on an invisible trapeze. The elastic ground, cross-hatched into a series of netted platforms, decompressed under her weight, cushioning each footfall.

A thin woman in ethereal white veils gazed out over this convoluted space, pensive.

“Seamstress, is that you?” Kinuka reached out a hand.

The veiled woman turned, floating always a few feet above the ground. “Have you slept well, little one?”

Kinuka nodded, examining her limbs. “My body put itself back together.”

The Seamstress floated towards her, cradling her face in one skeletal hand. “You showed such resolve during that bout. Without the slightest hesitation, you took yourself apart completely to allow your dear friend the opportunity of victory. You’ve heeded my words, and embraced your own choice.”

Kinuka sighed. “Still, I feel so ashamed.”

“Why so?”

“That reject overwhelmed me completely. It used me to hurt her, to watch Juusei bleed.” Her breath caught in her throat. “I hope she’s okay. She looked in so much pain.”

“Then you would have also seen the fire of resolve that burned within her eyes. You did nothing wrong, little one.” The Seamstress’ other hand, fingers deft and sharp like scissors, gently enclosed around the girl’s head, holding her close. Her voice was a whisper on the wind, chilling yet soothing. “You had already exerted yourself greatly. I watched you incapacitate all those possessed by the smoke without harming a single one. You should know: the threads of their lives, every single one, all remain intact. The kindness woven into your actions shall never fray.”

Blush rose to Kinuka’s cheeks. She allowed herself to be held, though could not return the gesture. Every single time her arms reached to close around her Further Spirit’s back, her fingers ghosted straight through the veils, and the nothing that lay beyond.

“May I ask you a few questions, Seamstress? There’s so much I just don’t know about you.”

The embrace didn’t last for long enough. Without a sound, the spirit drifted away and did not look back.

Kinuka waited for some kind of reply, but chose to press on when she got none. “You’ve been with me for as long as I can remember, always watching over me. You came back to me and lent me this power. Why?”

The Seamstress’ flowing gown rippled in the ethereal draft that ruffled Kinuka’s hair.

“Not only that: Rin’s Further Spirit—the Architect—seemed to know you. He addressed you with a name I couldn’t hear. Yet, you scorned him. Why? I’ve often wondered: why can’t I touch you, Seamstress? Your shawls are so pretty. I want to study the fabrics, but whenever I try and hold them, they slip through my fingers.” The sudden wind of dissuasion swept through the woven nest. Kinuka felt the shiver of death ripple down her spine, yet still she refused to falter. Her voice rose. “Why do you evade me? And why can I never see your face?”

“Little one—” The Seamstress’ tone turned icy, a warning— “Take care not to stray too far from the centre of your loom. If you unhook one errant thread, the whole garment will come undone. I will not be there to catch you when you fall.”

Kinuka felt her balance upset. The sharp twang of snapping threads filled the air, along with the horrific, dissonant echoes of friction: a chamber quartet, except each violin had been replaced with someone dragging cheese wire across a handsaw. The tightly woven ground beneath her feet abruptly loosened and fell apart. The air left her lungs in a sharp yelp, and the girl tumbled backwards falling through the endless recesses of her subconscious and into the light.

* * *

A shrill, intermittent sound cut through the absence.

She didn't remember setting an alarm.

Kinuka Amibari woke to the gentle lightbloom phasing through her eyelids. The pale morning sun filtered evenly through the shuttered windows of the hospital ward. A rubber seal clung to the skin around her nose and mouth, strapped tight around her head. Her chest rose; a rejuvenating breeze flowed down her throat, soft tickling against her skin. Her chest fell; a slight mist fogged up the inside of the oxygen mask. She shifted against the pillows. Something moved further inside her arm. A cannula protruded just below her left elbow, thin tubes leading to a glimmering drip above her head. Her threadbare gown, cheapest polyester composite, was nobbled and made her skin itch. A shiver erupted goosebumps along her arm. The tissue-thin bedsheets concealing her from the chest down barely weighed a thing.

What she'd seen in the Further Plane was true. Her body had woven itself back together automatically. She gingerly lifted each leg an inch off the mattress, and could even wiggle her toes. She sunk back against the pillows with a slight sigh. When she had willed herself to unravel, she had left a tiny part of herself intact. Her “Divine Thread Reconstruction” had become almost a reflex. She could execute complicated series of transformations to her body from without even needing to consciously think about each individual thread. In that moment, she had sent a pulse of psychic energy through her own body and pictured the holistic shape. From there, the rest of her began to wind itself back into shape.

A surgical blue curtain sectioned off the ward to her left but didn't extend all the way around. Kinuka's bed stood next to the wall. At a squint through the partial shutters, she could make out the final few leaves that refused to fall from the maple tree outside, branches swaying in the winter wind. Save for the heart-rate monitor—the world's most ineffectual alarm clock—the room was eerily still. The LED panels overhead sterilised everything under their glare. Everything was positioned perfectly, so balanced, so precarious. Kinuka felt part of a doll's house. She dared not move, lest she upset the intelligent design.

And then there was Rin.

Feet to her left, the boy lay draped over an uncomfortable metal chair like a sopping wet towel. His head lolled over the back, black hair dangling like ink-soaked willow. Kinuka couldn't see his face, only the pits of his nostrils and the shadow of slight stubble underneath his chin. His baggy crewneck did a poor job of concealing the "shrimp" conformation his spine had taken as he sunk further into the chair. His limbs dangled over the frame at odd angles, an avant-garde sculpture left to rot. She watched him for a good ten seconds, but didn't see a hint of movement. She was starting to suspect he might have already expired, before the boy's chest abruptly heaved outwards. An almighty snore rattled the chair, Kinuka's bedframe, and all loose implements in a five metre radius.

She couldn't help but giggle.

This—somehow—was what finally roused him. With a curt snort, the boy's head jerked upward. Rin winced, massaging the sharp crick the metal had dug into his neck. Groggy, shadowy eyes forced themselves open, and he stretched himself out over the chair, free from the clutches of his catnap.

“Find something funny, sleeping beauty?” He grumbled, dragging a hand down his face. “You kept me waiting a while. If you're well enough to start laughing at me again, then—”

“Is she awake?” An unfamiliar male voice rang out from behind the curtain.

“No, I'm clearly talking to myself!” Rin shot back, rolling his eyes.

The reproachful nurse, clipboard clutched to his chest, strode over and glared at Rin. “Enough of that attitude, or I'll revoke your visiting privileges.”

“You'll try!”

“You're a pest.” The nurse hit him with the clipboard, turning to smile at Kinuka. “Good morning. How are you feeling?”

She beamed. “Everything seems to have wound up back in the right place.”

“I'm glad.” He sighed with relief. “For the longest time, we weren't at all sure what to do with you. Your vitals were stable, but your body was split into this... pile of string? The head doctor explained the situation to us, but...” He scratched behind his ear, utterly bemused.

“It's okay!” Kinuka raised her free hand. The sight must have been overwhelming to those unfamiliar. "I'm in control of that, so you don't need to worry."

“I see. I won’t pretend to understand, but all metrics say you’re safe and well, so I won’t pry.” He checked his clipboard, flipping over a few pages. “Your bloods have just come back with no irregularities; I'll do a final round of checks, then get you ready for discharge.”

“Thank you, and, Rin—” The boy had been busy glaring a hole into the nurse's back— “Have you been waiting here for me this entire time?”

Rin ogled her, before he broke out in peals of laughter. “You'd like that, wouldn't you?” His face dropped. “No.”

“Oh...”

“Quit that.” The nurse hit him again. “He's been sitting here ever since we let him out of bed two days ago. Got downright violent when we tried to tell him to leave.”

“No-one asked you!”

Kinuka chuckled. “It’s okay, you don’t need to admit it.” She sat up as the nurse approached with a tray of equipment. Kinuka appeased the scowling Rin with a smile. “I appreciate it.”

“Save it.” He rolled his eyes. “They’re the ones to thank, anyhow.”

The nurse shook his head. “We didn’t do anything either. You were the one who put yourself back together. It’s remarkable.” Having removed the catheter from her forearm, he was just in the process of priming the stitches when Kinuka’s skin instinctively sewed itself back together. “What— How did you do that?”

Kinuka chuckled awkwardly. “It’s simple to explain, but difficult to understand.”

“I see.” The muscles in his face danced in debating whether or not to indulge his curiosity, but he eventually shook his head. “I’ll take your word for it, in that case. If you could just extend your arm for me…” She complied, and he attached a pressure cuff and began to take more measurements. Both teenagers sat in silence as the professional did his work. Right as the nurse had the stethoscope to her chest, Kinuka sat bolt upright, eyes wide. “Juusei! Is she alright?!”

“She’s fine.” Rin waved away her concern.

“Please try to keep calm; you’re still not in any position to be exerting yourself. Miss Kanon is alive and recovering,” the nurse confirmed. “She sustained a concussion and several superficial lacerations, but no deep wounds or organ damage. We still have no idea what she encountered, but the surgeons did the best they could to treat what they could see.”

“Thank you.”

Jotting down a final few notes, the nurse hummed satisfactorily and clipped his pen back into his coat. “That’s you done. Mr Harigane brought some of your clothes from home,” he indicated to a neatly folded pile on a nearby chair, “so I’ll just get your release form processed.”

“Uh, right.” Rin seized his cue, stood and made to leave with the nurse, when a length of thread seized his wrist and yanked his arm back.

“Rin, stay. Please.” Kinuka swallowed heavily, gaze firmly affixed at her lap. She looked up at the nurse. “Could you… please give us a minute?”

Rin shrugged, gesturing at his compromised wrist. The nurse raised his eyebrows, but took no issue. He gave a small bow and made haste to leave, wheeling away the instruments on the metal trolley. He waited until the sounds of the trolley’s wheels had faded into the next room. “You okay?”

“Sit.”

Taken aback, he did as told.

Kinuka’s hand-rope unwound from his wrist and reformed. “You’ve been busy.” She pointed at his face. Her eyes narrowed.

Rin’s face flushed. Aiko's black lipstick was still branded into his cheek. The boy chewed his lip, then hung his head. “It’s exactly what it looks like, I can’t even lie.” He sighed. “I planned on telling you more about it later, but there’s no good time. While you and Juusei were being attacked, Ruri and I were stuck dealing with an incident in Kawarajima Park. I saved this one girl, who then decided to violate my personal space.” He glowered. “Twice.”

“Sure. Real heroic of you,” Kinuka mocked, monotone. “Save the damsel in distress, then proceed to take advantage of the situation. Yeah, don’t worry. I get the picture.”

“Listen here—” Rin’s jaw clenched— “That is not what happened! The crazy bitch did this to me! I’m the victim here!”

“Yeah. Don’t worry, Rin. I believe you.” She did her characteristic ‘I’m believing you’ eye-roll.

“Look at my skin!” The surrounding area was red and raw from friction. “I’ve been trying to remove it ever since, but no amount of soap, makeup remover, or isopropyl-fucking-alcohol will even make a dent! It’s like she kissed me with tattoo ink…”

“I hope you get sepsis!” She cried, a solitary tear soaked into her blanket. The girl folded her hands over her lap, staring down. “You saved me again, didn’t you?”

Rin was still reeling from the outburst. It took him a moment to react. “Uh, not really. I—”

“Why is it always that way?”

Rin averted his eyes with a slight grimace. The café; the alleyway; the prison. “It really isn’t…”

“But it is!” She glared. “Back then, you always defended me. I was always different. Miyoko, Tamaki, their whole clique: they hated me for looking different; they hated me for being nice, for being friends with Sae. You had no reason to, but you stood up for me.”

Rin winced. “Do we really have to talk about this now?”

“When else are we going to talk about it, Rin?” She cried. “Do you think I haven’t noticed? Do you think I’m stupid? You’ve been blatantly avoiding my gaze ever since this all started!”

Rin cupped the back of his neck. “We’ve had other shit to do, and besides…”

“Stop changing the subject!” Her shriek made the windows ring. “Rin, look at me!”

Rin froze. Finally, he acquiesced. His pupils shrank, terrified.

“Whenever the others tried to pick on me for my looks, my hair,” Kinuka continued, “whenever they’d try and exclude me, you’d always be there. You’d always stand up for me. That was until— until—” The lump in her throat seized the rest of her sentence. Swallowing thickly, she at last managed a weighted, “Why?”

Rin screwed his eyes tight shut, and folded his arms. “I wasn’t the one to save you this time.”

Kinuka took a shaky breath, then sighed, leaning back against the pillows. She raised her knees, and hugged them to her chest.

“Tegata arrived first,” he continued. “I haven’t had the chance to speak to him yet. He was pretty badly wounded, but I suspect he took you both out of the firing line. We found you both out cold in the mall foyer, managed to get there just in time before Bango—”

“Bango?” Kinuka took a sharp breath in. “Don’t tell me he—”

“Unfortunately, yeah.” Rin nodded with a sigh. “Bango was about to take you both back to the facility while Tegata was busy fighting that Jammer girl. I managed to extract you just in time while Ruri and Ibuse kept him busy. Got the car to drive you here.”

“I just don’t understand. Why is he doing all of this?”

Rin chewed his lip, then shook his head. He knew, but— “Hell if I care.”

“You do! I can see it in your eyes!”

“Then stop looking!” Rin snapped. “The guy’s gonna get himself killed, but he knows what he’s doing; it’s his own damn fault. He keeps trying, but he’s missed the point so much it’s pathetic. If he wants to go that far to try and prove his silly little delusion, then he can go right ahead. I’ve got better shit to concentrate on than some sad little idiot shadowboxing himself to death.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Stop putting words in my mouth. I hate it when you do that.”

“Sorry…” Another tear dripped onto her hand. “It’s just such a shame. Bango…”

“Yeah, well, shit happens.” Rin rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ll tell you this—” He snarled— “Bango didn’t seem to have the slightest reservation about handing you over to his bosses, in full knowledge of what they’d do.”

Her face contorted. Her heart twisted in on itself. “Why…”

“You want to know what he said? ‘That was her decision’.” Rin crossed his arms tight. “I don’t know how much more proof you need.”

Kinuka fell silent.

‘That was her decision.’

What was her decision: her choice to involve herself in all of this? Her choice to not avert her eyes, but to instead find out the truth? She couldn’t lie to herself: despite all the strides made, the truth had never seemed further away. The doubts were ever-present; Gus Ishimatsu’s words boomed inside her head.

‘Why are you here? What purpose do you serve?’

The snap of Rin’s fingers came to her rescue. “Oi, look at me.”

She did, and felt relief.

“What happened back at Yorusada?”

Kinuka elucidated in detail, from that awful smoke to those who had been smoked. Rin listened, strangely attentive. Not one off-hand remark left his lips.

“Specialised Rejected? Just like the Warden.” He thumbed his chin, pensive. “I guess that was their next step, seeing as Tegata said Project Theia was doomed a failure. These Defined have all the benefits of a psyche user, with none of the wasted effort of trying to break the mind of a real person. How many do you think JPRO has?”

Kinuka shook her head. “Not many, at least not yet. We would have seen more of them otherwise.”

“True.”

“You distinguished between them and a real person,” Kinuka added, “but I’m not so sure. This ‘Kemuri,’ he talked as though he had a soul. I could hear him while he possessed my body and fought Juusei.” She shuddered. That otherworldly voice had rung from within her own chest, as Kemuri safeguarded his core within her ribcage. “It had a sense of self; weak, but unmistakable.”

He grunted, vaguely affirmative. “JPRO’s list of depraved shit goes beyond anything I even want to consider. Creating artificial life albeit barely and forcing it to live in existential agony wouldn’t even rank in the top ten. Best not to lose too much sleep over it. Either way, sounds like Juusei took care of it.”

She nodded. “After I fell apart, she followed through and shot the core. The smoke dissipated. I couldn’t detect its signature after that.”

“There we go.” He clapped his hands. “I consider that a win. At least, until the next one inevitably rears its head…” He groaned and rolled his eyes. “With my luck, I bet the next reject’s going to try and attack me in the shower.”

She giggled. The boy even allowed himself a smile.

“Anyway, you should get dressed. I promised to tell Granny when you woke up. She’s been worried sick about you. I’ll give you some privacy. Come find me outside the—” Rin stood up to leave, but found his wrist seized yet again—

“No!” Kinuka’s voice dropped to a desperate whisper. “Please. Stay.”

His eyes widened.

“I… don’t think I have the strength right now.” Kinuka sighed, defeated. “I’m sorry.” Her hand wound fell limp at her side. She sunk lower on the pillows, fatigue radiating from eyes flitting shut. She gave Rin a hesitant glance, biting down on her lip. “Could you…”

Rin stared, blankly.

“…help me?”

Rin took a deep breath, suppressing a shiver. He shuffled awkwardly at the bedside, before sighing and extending his forearm for support. Kinuka’s hands were soft on his skin. Gently discarding those threadbare sheets, she swung her legs around and off the bed. An earnest attempt to stand nearly ended in disaster. Suddenly unaccustomed to her own body, she yelped, teetering forward and losing balance the moment she put weight down on both feet.

Rin moved before he thought, catching and supporting her on his shoulder. Breathing ragged, Kinuka clung onto him for dear life, both arms wrapped around him, nails digging into his back.

“Easy, easy.” Rin bit his lip. “Not letting you fall.”

Kinuka took a shaky breath. Her grip tightened, affirmative. They stayed that way for a tense moment as the girl fought to remain upright.

“Let’s try and stand, okay?” Rin murmured. “Slowly.”

The girl nodded over his shoulder. Shifting both feet a little wider, Kinuka eased herself upright. Still holding tight onto his arm, she stepped out into the centre of the curtained-off ward. She had her arms wide, eyes closed, her fine blond hair falling partially over her face. With each step, every fine muscle movement, a little confidence returned to her step. Still, Rin watched her stance, hawk-like, dragging closer the chair with her clothes so they were in arms reach.

Kinuka reached and contorted both arms behind her back, fumbling for something she couldn’t quite reach. She let out a frustrated whimper, her fingers feeling around at the poppers for her hospital gown. Rin approached from behind, undoing the first few out of her reach. His fingers then enclosed gently around her wrists, guiding her hands so she could do the rest. The scratchy gown slipped from slender shoulders and drifted to the floor. Her fair skin glowed radiant in the harsh, clinical lights. She faced away from Rin. Though exposed, she didn’t shy. Kinuka raised both arms above her head and stretched towards the ceiling. One breath in, and the subtle outline of muscle engraved down her back wove a ripple of tension through each fibre. Her ankles raised, tendons twitching, until she were almost floating. On her exhale, she descended back down to earth. She swivelled slowly on the balls of her feet and faced Rin, who looked her in the eyes and blinked slowly.

He cleared his throat, but his voice still left a little hoarse. “Do you still…”

Kinuka nodded fervently. She took a hasty step forward, as though catching a fleeting dream. She stumbled, tripping over her ankles and nearly losing balance. Eyes wide, Rin caught her by the shoulders, shrugging off repeated apologies. Her skin brushed against his. An uncomfortable prickle made his eye twitch. This new proximity brought its own challenges; he busied himself with rummaging in the pile of clothing to figure out what to give her first.

“Do you need me to—” He hoped he wouldn’t have to finish the sentence— “Or can you, y’know, use Threadwork to—”

“I think I can manage.”

“Oh, thank god.”

His gaze remained stoutly pointed away. The eerie silence of the hospital ward pressed in on both their ears as he helped her dress in concentrated silence. Everything was so much more of a hassle than he could have ever imagined, they had many close calls. Yet, the grateful way Kinuka clung to his shoulders for support as she used Threadwork to weave each item around her skin, the way her breath sent ripples along his neck: those little sensations twisted a knot in his stomach, and lit hearth-fire in his chest.

He wanted it to stop.