XCEL

The more she walked, the easier she found it. Each step was a new sensation. Even now, halfway down the stairs from outpatient discharge, the tingling, the pins and needles shot from the tips of her toes, up both legs, her spine, and light sparks of light through her synapses. She felt new. All her pains from ago—the trapped nerves in her arms, the residual tension in her shoulders, the bruises on her shins—had all vanished. In essence, her body was new. She had taken herself apart, and put herself back together again. Somehow, the true extent of such a feat hadn’t fully dawned on her yet.

Kinuka Amibari’s eyes were clear. Her pupils had adjusted to the intense light. Her face relaxed, serene. The air of the hospital was filtered, stagnant. Traces of rubbing alcohol stung the back of her nose, the part where the nasal cavities join the throat. Her left hand drifted along the banister. She couldn’t help the prickles of anxiety stabbing at the back of her mind. What if she were to trip and fall? They descended the stairs one after another. Slowly. Deliberately.

Her right clutched a steady, reassuring arm. Rinkaku Harigane had his eyes closed, mouth wired shut. A muscle in his jaw quivered. Kinuka could sense the shivering fluctuations in his psychic energy. His movements were stiff, so tense: he had been so ever since he’d offered his arm, but why? She wanted to reassure him, but somehow couldn’t. A tension exuded from him, nothing she’d ever seen. A gigantic spring had coiled inside him. The closer she held him, the tighter that spring became. She wanted to ask him what was wrong, but fear killed the words in her throat. If he coiled any further, the spring might snap, rupturing something crucial inside. She relaxed her grip on his arm, and felt a measure of tension lift.

Perhaps, he would only begin to decompress when she let go.

They descended a few more stairs, and Kinuka’s right hand fell to her side. Rin cast her a wide side-eye.

“I’m okay.” She smiled. “Thank you.”

Rin nodded. His mouth didn’t move, but the corner of his eye creased ever so slightly.

He’d been like this for much longer than she cared to remember. Rin always had a plan; several, if you gave him so much as a second to think. His arrogance was comforting. Always so cocksure of himself, his grandiose self-assurance was as irritating as it was reassuring. All that bravado, however… Once you crossed a threshold, it evaporated. Rinkaku Harigane was seldom so muted. No longer required, his left hand retreated into the pockets of his hoodie. Kinuka felt herself instinctively reach out again. She wanted to caress his arm, his shoulder, to hold his hand. What was he so afraid of?

She held herself back. If she forced contact on him again, that would only make things worse.

She tried not to even look his way. Something told her he might prefer it that way. Nevertheless, she couldn’t help her eyes wander to that black lipstick mark burned into his cheek. A sharp twinge in her stomach made her draw breath. She forced herself to look away. That wouldn’t help anything right now.

* * *

Voices drifted up from the lobby, as the rounded the final flight of stairs. An older girl’s voice, one she didn’t recognise, was among the few she did. She and Rin kept their pace. The boy stayed by her side. His eyes were open now, but refused to see much of anything. Once they’d reached the bottom, a pair of voices called her name. Juusei bounded over and practically threw herself at the girl, knocking them both back against the wall. She had bandages all the way down her arms, wrapped tight around Kinuka’s waist, and several stitches across her cheeks—cheeks contorted in a giddy grin.

“I’m so glad you’re okay!”

“Me too.” Kinuka chuckled, and ran a hand through the girl’s dark hair. “Aren’t you full of energy?”

“I’m raring to go!” Juusei let her go. “Yeah, it sucked being up there! They kept me in bed for SO long, I was so bored! They kept saying useless stuff like ‘you’ve gotta stay still, or your wounds will reopen’ when I was all better! It was so unfair!”

“They had to extend your stay by a whole day because you split half your stitching.” Rin knocked her on the head with a frame. “You should try doing what people tell you.”

She pouted, stuck out her tongue, and stamped hard on his toe. Rin howled and jumped around on one foot. Granny’s voice caught her attention next, as their catfight continued in the background.

“We were wondering how long you’d take to wake, dearest.” The old woman beckoned her over. Ruri was stood nearby and waved, wearing a soft smile. Kinuka found herself beaming back at them both.

More commotion ensued behind her. She checked over her shoulder to see Rin and Juusei flailing like tasmanian devils, separated from each other by two exasperated hospital staff.

“Thank you for making the effort to come and see me. I’m sorry for the trouble.” Kinuka bowed. She snapped back around with a yelp when Granny pinched her earlobe between her nails. “Nonsense. You mustn’t apologise for doing nothing wrong. If anything, it’s my fault for letting you get into this mess to begin with.”

Kinuka shook her head, before noticing the distinct absence of one other. “Where’s Tegata? Is he okay?”

Granny pursed her lips. “The doctors have said he’ll be under care for a little while longer.” She looked over to where her other two grandchildren had been incarcerated, and sighed. “They’re with me. We’ll be going now.”

Granny slapped Rin for “retaliating,” before grasping Juusei firmly by the hand, and leading her and Ruri out through the door. Massaging his face, Rin made several rude gestures to her retreating back before his attention was detracted by a giggle from nearby.

“Oh, you mustn’t! That’s so naughty, Rin!” The owner of the unknown voice approached. She was pretty. Good god, was she pretty. Taller and curvier, the girl had long and wavy salmon hair in a long braid that fell forward over one shoulder. Her perpetual bedroom eyes—soft, dark voids hidden under heavy lids—all but swallowed up the harsh intensity of the hospital lighting, and made it almost bearable. That black lipstick, and those odd heart-shaped birthmarks on the corners of her mouth. The corners twisted up ever-so-slightly as the two made eye contact. Kinuka felt her teeth clench.

“Give me a break,” Rin rubbed his head gingerly. “Granny gives me enough shit for existing already.” Catching sight of Kinuka’s expression, he added, “Oh yeah, Kinuka—remember that girl from before? The one from Kawarajima. Yeah, uh—” He made some half-hearted jazz hands. “Here she is. Surprise.”

“I remember.” Kinuka murmured, deadpan. Her gaze didn’t lift. “Hi.”

“Lovely to meet you!” She smiled, and bowed. “Rin’s told me about you! Sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude. I was just in the area doing research for my dissertation, so—”

“You’re fine.” Her tone stayed surprisingly level.

Rin scuffed his shoe on the ground and grumbled at Aiko. “What the hell do they put in your lipstick, anyway? Permanent marker? Kraken ink?” He glowered. “I’ve been trying for three days and it still isn’t coming out!”

“Sorry!” The woman giggled. “That was so thoughtless of me, wasn’t it?” Aiko made a clueless, can’t-blame-me-if-I’m-cute expression. “But I was so scared back there!”

A prickle ran the length of Kinuka’s spine. Her eye twitched.

“Who’re you with?”

Her interjection was met with confusion.

“With? I don’t think I…” Aiko blinked, looking between the pair. “Did I say something wrong? Or…”

Kinuka glare at Rin. “Who’s she with?”

“What, apart from me?” His sly grin shattered when she jabbed him in the side. “Ow! Joking!” He side-eyed Aiko. “Don’t get any ideas.”

She raised both hands in innocence.

“Answer the question, Rin.”

He turned back to Kinuka, brow furrowed. “What’re you talking about? She’s just a civilian, wrong place wrong time. You can feel it. She doesn’t have any psychic presence.”

Kinuka focused, and listened, but she sensed no distinct ripple. Her psychic signature mirrored everyone else, save for Rin’s and her own. She had the exact same idle buzz and disconnect about her as everyone else; completely normal, in other words. She looked inward, a little disgusted. What was wrong with her? Why was she acting like this? A shiver passed over her skin, and she shook her head.

“Sorry.” She forced a laugh of her own, scrunching up her eyes against her will. “I guess I’m just a little out of sorts. The doctors said I should be taking it easy. I ought to listen.” Another artificial giggle. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Aiko looked unnerved, but smiled to save face. She met Kinuka’s eyes, and the blonde saw a tinge of fear hidden among her deep and dark. Oh, what had she done?

“If it helps at all, I know about all of—” Aiko hesitated, and glanced to her side. Rin affirmed with a nod. “Well, everything, really. I was caught right in the middle of that—distortion? Rin caught me up to speed a day or so ago. I’m still a little lost for words, to be honest. It’s so horrible what they’re doing, JPRO.” Her gaze sunk to the floor. “I don’t really know how I can help…”

“Don’t stress about it.” Rin had taken a seat nearby, slouching forward and resting both forearms on his knees. “No-one’s expecting you to do anything. You’re just another victim.” Tegata’s prophetic words came back to haunt him: “Soon, everyone will have something to do with it.”

Aiko lowered her tone, as though ashamed. “I’m in his debt, really. Rin, he saved my life—did he mention that?”

Kinuka wasn’t sure what she wanted to say. The way she said his name. It did something. She couldn’t put her finger on it. Caught between so many angles and stretched so taut, she could only stand there, smile and nod.

“I heard all that, you’re not slick.“ Rin waved it away, rolling his eyes. “And don’t you even start. You just got lucky I happened to crash into a rock five feet from you, is all.” He stood and ambled off towards the automatic doors at the foot of the hotel lobby. “Don’t treat me like some kind of hero. I was fighting for my life against a goddamn lunatic.”

“There you go again!” Aiko chided, following. “You’re impossible, Rin! You never take any credit where it’s due. God, what’s with you?”

“Oh, shut up.”

Rin was just about to saunter through the doors, when he looked back over his shoulder. “Kinuka, you coming? Tomorrow would be nice. Granny said she’d take us out for something to eat on the way back home.”

Kinuka snapped out of her trance. She realised she’d been standing there, mouth marginally ajar, one hand extended softly in front, reaching. She blinked, and her arm fell to her side. “Coming!”

* * *

TEGATA’S FURTHER PLANE

手潟曼荼羅

“I was so close.”

The boy stood upright against his will. hung his head. Hair, once an ironic, striking pink, hung limp and mauve over his face. His eyes could only stare down. His pupils were so heavy. The pitch dark fluid lapped against his ankles. The lake was so vast, but had no bank. The water was only a foot deep, but such a volume when spread out enough, could have filled the ocean basin. The clouds had since rolled in, but forgotten to roll out again. Heavy and black, they held no silver. They had hung in the gloom for too long, and had congealed and flattened into an ever-shifting mass: a firmament that stretched into the horizon, as did the ink-black lake. Perhaps, if he stared into the abyss for long enough, she might stare back.

“I will remind you at every turn.” A distant, weary tone faded into earshot. “It is not, and has never been your fault.” The blurry humanoid mass of shadow, a silhouette against the bleak, grey sky, was clothed in heavy robes, a cloak that covered his face. Stringy, limp dark hair fell out from underneath the cowl. The spirit was suspended on gleaming strings of red, tied tight around his wrists and throat, all three elevated against their will.

“You’re wrong, Marion.” Tegata’s despondency sunk further still. “She was within my grasp, and still I couldn’t save her. The others: their goals, their attitude, they exude such courage. I thought I could— I thought I was strong enough to— and yet, with her only feet away from, I froze—” His breath hitched in his throat. “I let my guard down. She’s still in there. I saw… something, but I couldn’t— No, I didn’t reach her in time.”

“It pains me, Tegata. You are not a saviour, only a survivor,” Marion chided, grumbling in unease. “You must abandon these expectations. You will only drown yourself further into despair.”

“No, Marion. You misunderstand,” Tegata looked up at the spirit through strands of hair. His eyes were red, unfocused. “I failed to save her once. And again. And again.” His voice lulled into a soft, almost delirious melody. “There is nothing for me but this.”

“Your friends fight for their own sake, and your own. Why not you?”

“I am unworthy. I should not have a sake for which to fight. My sins are mine alone to bear. Everyone else…” He sighed, shaky. “They should not have to witness, or bear the weight of my actions.”

“Then why did you enlist their help? Why go so far to rescue those two from prison?”

“Cowardice. I knew I couldn’t fulfil my promise alone. I am too weak. I needed their strength. I was so empty. I needed to feed off their strength to survive, Marion!” His voice warbled. “I manipulated them, I manipulated them both into helping me on a suicide mission. They have their own reasons, I’m aware—and that is what makes them so strong—but they still helped a worthless failure. This mission was my design, an attempt to atone, when all I was doing was running away. By all accounts, we shouldn’t have survived.”

“And yet, you did.”

“The others. Through their courage, their light—every single one of them—they are incredible.”

“And they consider you among them.”

“But I am not. I cannot be.”

“Why not?”

“Because they shine.”

“And you do not?”

Tegata simply stared at Marion. His eyes, once burning gold, had drained to a limp grey, as though this world had robbed him of colour too. No. Rather, it was the other way around. He had robbed the colour from this place. Just as he fed off their strength, their courage, just to take another step in his hopeless, fool’s errand, he drained the colour and the life from this place, too.

If he weren’t here, there would be no sap on their strength anymore. No sap on their life, their smiles. They wouldn’t do contend with his presence anymore. What use was he, treading a path he dreaded and was doomed to fail? In desperately trying to tread the waters, he would only drown them in his wake. Perhaps, it would be better for him to give up. But then he would lose her! She was still in there. He needed to save her, but at what cost?

White flashed behind his eyes, and he gasped. He stared into the depths, eyes glossy, horrified: Rin gurgled and flailed, riling the surface, furiously protesting against the depths; he saw himself put one hand on the boy’s head and push himself up. Rin struggled, but sunk without a trace. Kinuka, too; her beautiful soul was contorted and twisted as she struggled to tread against the weight of this water. He drowned her too. He had to keep moving. Not even Ruri’s strong form could resist the pull of the depths, they had only been next. He couldn’t stop moving. Tsushin’s form flickered on the horizon, and he chased it, reaching out with hands that never drew any closer, ever-more-frantic. Finally, the betrayal on Juusei’s face seared itself into the backs of his eyes. Tegata saw himself stepped on her shoulders and push down to save himself. She reached for him, short-lived bubbles drowning along with her, cast into that same underwater tomb all for his own sake. What would happen to him, when he ran out of people to drown? Would reach Tsushin in time?

“Do you not shine, Tegata?”

“I do not.”

Marion’s form blurred further. His head turned, as though disappointed.

“Wait!” Tegata, alarmed, took a step forward. The waters splashed at his legs, the fabric of his clothes drenched with this ink. It seeped up through his feet, replacing the blood in his veins. “Why?” He asked, more words struggling to form on parted lips. “Why am doomed to only survive, Marion? To save her, it’s all I’ve ever wanted. What am I doing wrong?”

“You must…” A low murmur drifted from the shadow man, “and then… but only if… and then finally…” Choppy sentence fragments faded in and out of comprehension. Tegata continued to stare, brows folded.

Marion sighed. “I see. You will not listen even if told. You would only refute, bury your head beneath the waters. Even as I tell you this now, your mind is blotting out my words to only the parts you wish to hear. It pains me, Tegata.”

Tegata fell to his knees, and felt his skin become sodden like paper. His hands began to sink into the depths, as the water level slowly climbed up his forearms.

“I will hoist you on strings for as long as need be,” Marion continued. “Our contract permits it thus. But these strings can only permit so much weight. If you are so insistent, they will snap, and I will not be able to save you. That is not my role either. For I am no saviour; I, too, am only a survivor.”