After getting off the tram number seven, Okimoto looked to his right, watching the passing cars.
Across the lane was a special place tucked under an old imperial post office. “Mage’s Paradise,” read the sign held up by a Neafuma statue sitting along the banister. When a big enough gap in the passing traffic came, he darted across and down the steps and through the door, a bell dinging upon entry, his eyes jumping from one paraphernalia-stocked shelf to another in search of the potion he needed.
There was a soft-looking northern Coronatian boy at the counter who said, “Good morning, sir, how may I help you?”
“I’m looking for a potion that dissolves my blood.”
“But that would kill you, kind sir.”
“I mean, after it leaves my body.”
“The potion section is down on the first underground level. Don’t be afraid to ask for assistance if you have trouble finding what you’re looking for.”
Okimoto smiled at the boy, then looked around some more.
There were pointed hats here, magical utensils, and standard ritual manuals.
Descending a spiral staircase in the corner, he came upon the first underground level. On one side, there were bottles of condensed ether with the lowest density being two septules, the highest density being ten, starting at one thousand shingles per bottle. Totally Shambolic, these prices.
Taking a deep breath, he turned to the other side, where the potions were housed in thousands of varieties. There were potions for enhancing vision, enhancing strength, and for faster healing. There were potions for enhanced cognitive functions, cleansing potions for curses, and detoxifying potions. There were even some potions for foresight, costing a cartoonish two thousand shingles.
It didn’t take long for him to spot the potion he needed tucked away in the corner, recognising it immediately, having seen it in female dorm rooms a few times in the past when tending to nightly matters.
He squatted to examine it and eye the price tag.
“Blood evaporation potion.” The label read. “Once consumed, blood exiting the body will evaporate to prevent nasty stains. Intended for women experiencing menstruation.”
Four hundred and eighty shingles. Okimoto had just about enough for one bottle. While menstruation wasn’t something he was burdened with as a man, it was helpful in case he was attacked again. At least the effect would last for twenty days. Before then, Aunt Yohanna would receive her caretaker’s allowance.
He sighed, not liking having to rely on her for financial support. He’d immediately start his job search after this.
Returning to the counter, he handed over the money to the boy, who gave him a bizarre look.
Before the boy could give him back his change, Okimoto slipped off the lid of the bottle and was about to drink before it—
Next thing he knew, a dagger was arcing towards him, wielded by a hand suspended in mid air. He flipped backwards, dodging the attack and darting away from where the shards of glass and crimson splashes of potion were cascading onto the floor. He closed his eyes, noticing a disturbance in the ether hurdling towards him, like an invisible man running through smoke.
He saw the dagger emerge again, the ether slipping out behind it from what appeared to be the inside of a sleeve. They were wearing an invisibility cloak!
The dagger made a stab for him, and he side-stepped, grabbing the invisible arm, immediately snapping it.
A man’s scream shook the walls.
The boy behind the counter snapped out of his shock and began mumbling something, his ether swirling as a ritual began to form.
The attacker dropped the dagger, and Okimoto pulled him closer before attempting to snap his neck. He resisted and managed to jab a finger into Okimoto’s left eye. Okimoto kicked him hard, sending him hurdling down the stairs.
Turning around to collect the dagger, Okimoto saw it get sucked into the shadows, vanishing.
Thinking fast, Okimoto held his breath, snapped his fingers twice, then dashed out of the shop to the steps, and leapt up to station himself atop a lamppost on the street.
This caught the attention of some pedestrians who kept their distance, backing away from the building.
“My goodness!”
“What’s going on?”
In this state, Okimoto could hear the heartbeats of every passerby, taste the smog in the air, and smell the piss odor slithering out from all the nearby alleys. With his senses enhanced by shapeshifting, he was now much more prepared to deal with this situation.
The attacker had struck the moment Okimoto was about to drink the potion. He understood this could only mean that they knew his blood was the key.
Closing his eyes, he saw that the boy had activated the shop’s defense ritual. Inside, the ether surged through the floorboards, causing sharp branches to whip where the attacker seemed to be. Okimoto could only barely make him out with the cloak on.
The real question was where the shadow crawler went. There was already no point in trying to search for the bastard.
Okimoto planned his next move carefully. The shopkeeper appeared to be handling the situation. Perhaps he could go to another part of the city and buy the potion there? He remembered the four hundred shingles he spent and canceled the thought as quickly as it came.
The lamppost he was on shifted from side to side. Opening his eyes and looking down, he saw ether surging up it towards him and leapt just in time to avoid a thorny vine that erupted from the top.
Landing, he watched as the vine whipped around as if trying to feel the air for him.
The pedestrians flew into a panic, clearing the immediate area and receding around corners.
Mage’s Paradise and the imperial post office were one in a row of eight to ten-story buildings lining the street, facing west. Not quite noon yet, they were casting shadows that subsumed the lampposts placed at the edges of the sidewalk. The shadow crawler was playing it smart, not daring to come out and face him.
In one mighty leap, Okimoto was across the road and in the sun’s embrace.
He closed his eyes again, seeing the ether within the shop return to normal, indicating the second attacker was no longer there.
But Okimoto never saw him leave; even without being able to see his ether, he would’ve still seen the impression of him, as before. This meant that the shadow crawler had pulled him under.
Okimoto couldn’t get his money; returning to the shop would only get him attacked again. He first had to deal with these two scum.
Something hit his shoulder. Okimoto spun around, but there were only confused pedestrians.
Something hit him again, this time in the back, then came the sensation of hot water trickling under his clothes.
A realisation hit him much harder next when he realised he was bleeding. The bastards!
He tore off his fur robe and waved it above his head, a reflective barrier forming, followed by the sound of two bullets ricocheting.
The pedestrians began to flee, except one who stepped forward, a man who threw off his own coat before manipulating it to fly in a circle around the two of them.
Starting to feel the pain and gritting his teeth, Okimoto snapped his fingers thrice, ready to kill this third bastard, before holding that thought when a second barrier erected itself around his own.
The man squatted and smiled at him while keeping an eye out. “Are you okay, lad? Do you need help with the bleeding?”
Just a random mage? Okimoto felt some mild relief but didn’t forget his priorities.
Not answering the man right away, He weaved his fingers to stitch his wounds closed, then began to stress over the drops of blood on the ground. There weren’t many, but how would he get rid of them before his assailants got the chance to sample blood from them?
“The top floor of that building across the road.” The man said. “That’s where the shooter was. I believe he’s gone now.”
Stolen story; please report.
Okimoto nodded, eyeing a dried leaf nearby. It was within the barrier the man had cast, but outside his own. He needed this leaf to make a fire to burn away the blood with.
He didn’t feel safe letting his barrier down; the attackers could just be biding their time.
“Can you watch my back?” He asked the man.
The man nodded, his long white hair dancing off his shoulders. His rosette was cloud-shaped, and he had a scar crossing his lips and beady black eyes, but was otherwise a decent-looking chap with a trustworthy face.
Okimoto let down his barrier and walked over to the leaf. Suddenly, a prick could be felt at the nape of his neck.
His body seized up, and he fell flat on his face.
Before he could even process what had just happened, the man dragged him into a nearby alley, his precious face rubbing up on the vile, greasy grime crusting the cobblestone.
The man removed whatever he had pricked him with, then kicked Okimoto onto his back, then squatted over him.
Okimoto felt royally taken the piss out of.
“You really are a spoilt Toaddorian brat.” Mocked the bastard. “Had you any street smarts, you would’ve never trusted me, mate. You’re going to tell us the trigger to mature the caterpillars with, or else I’ll pluck your fingers off one by one and scar that pretty boy face of yours.”
He unsheathed a knife the size of a forearm from his brown coat to threaten.
“I fucked your mum.” Okimoto said.
“Get my mum out of your mouth.”
“Trust me, I’ve been trying to wash her taste out all day.”
The man resheathed the knife and took out a needle, presumably the same kind he had paralysed Okimoto with. He pricked Okimoto’s cheek with it, causing him to lose total control of his body, no longer able to speak, only move his eyes, and breathe. The man then removed his hand and retrieved a flannel cloth, which he used to blow his nose. He then forced the repugnant thing into Okimoto’s mouth.
“We'll take you straight to Oddon, have him decide what happens to you.”
“That’s not a good idea.” Said the shadow crawler, leaping out of the shadows with the other attacker, both their hoods pulled down, exposing their ugly thug faces. “Oddon made it clear that we’re not supposed to bring him to the mansion if we find out what the trigger is.”
“And you know the trigger?”
“It’s his blood,” Wheezed the other attacker, clutching his arm in pain. “Thank goodness you paralysed him, he’s way too bloody strong, the bone’s sticking out of my fucking arm.”
He was bleeding from under his cloak sleeve.
“How do you know it’s his blood?”
The shadow crawler answered. “It’s because he went to buy a blood evaporation potion and seemed in an awful hurry to drink it. I’ve just collected some samples from the sidewalk.”
“I think we should take him anyway.” The white-haired man said. “The evidence is weak; let’s not take our chances. Raven, you’ll pull him under and take him there.”
“I feel lightheaded.” Said the one attacker, clutching his broken arm, a pool of blood having formed underneath him.
He was utterly powerless, a prodigy overcome by simple deception. What a fool he had been. Still, he had options left; the fight was still not over. Even if Odiggan became famous, it would only increase the royalties Okimoto would win when he got sued.
“Shit, he must’ve severed an artery.” Said the shadow crawler. “I can’t take the boy now, I’ve got to get Drimeio to a place we can help him.”
The shadow crawler grabbed his partner and sank away, leaving Okimoto and the white-haired man alone.
He looked at Okimoto, scowling. “Even though we can't kill you, I can’t let you get away with insulting my darling mother like that.”
He kicked Okimoto in the stomach, then kicked again and again and again. He spat on Okimoto and began to beat him relentlessly, until Okimoto started to cough up blood. At least the pain took his mind off the filth in his mouth. With each blow, another nail was being hammered in the Orion family’s coffin.
“Oi, what’s going on here?”
“What do you think you're doing with him?”
Some police officers came to inspect the alley.
The attacker threw a bag at them. “Here’s one thousand shingles. Keep it moving.”
The officers looked at each other. The officer who caught the bag opened it to inspect it. Then they fucked off while laughing. He’d sue the police department, too. Feeling the slimy, pissy, musty moisture of the alley beneath him, he’d be sure to throw a lawsuit the city’s way, too, for not cleaning up.
“You must have poured so many hours into breeding those things.” The attacker laughed. “You probably thought you were special. Turns out you weren’t, and just like everyone else, your ambition crumbles in the face of an unfair life.” He squatted over Okimoto again. “I want you to remember this day, when you see Odiggan shining like a star, basking in the money you’ll never have, while you're sorrowing in hardships he’ll never meet. It’ll be hard for you. Knowing the Orion family, they’ll black-list you from all the major guilds, leaving you to scavenge like a rat in the streets. And trust me, you won’t last a second out here, especially with that mouth of yours. You don’t ever talk about another man’s mother like that; to do so is to spit on his honor. I find it only fair that you no longer be a man.”
He began to strip Okimoto, taking his coat, his shirt, his pants, his shoes, and his boxers.
He then left the alley and returned minutes later with a traditional woman’s dress and a pissing red wig.
“There we go.” He said, sitting Okimoto up on a garbage bin against the wall when he was done dressing him up in drag.
Laughing, he turned and walked away.
Unamused, Okimoto focused on his body, having regained control over his eyes and mouth.
He moved, first his fingers, then his hands, then his legs.
He snapped his fingers three times, leapt from the garbage bin, and aimed at the back of the wankers head.
He fired, but the man was gone suddenly, and then he was devastated by one blow after another, coming from nowhere.
He was thrown against the wall, sent tumbling across the floor, and finally restrained by the arm.
The man said. “I’ve never seen anyone overpower the needles that quickly. Your aptitude is something I should’ve watched out for.”
Before Okimoto could squeeze a response through his grimace, the man broke his arm, sending shards of broken pain through his body. Still, Okimoto did not scream, nor fall to his knees.
He fired a massive air bullet from his broken arm, curving it in mid-air through his sheer hate for the man who released him and vanished again.
The air bullet hit the wall to the right, exploding and clogging up the alley with dust and debris. In the dust, something blasted Okimoto in the upper back, his entire left side going numb and cold instantly. The point of a blade was poking out through the bust of his dress, blood dripping from the tip, then tens of dozens of pricks sprinkled his back and shoulders. He fell face down on the ground.
“Y’know, throwing around raw power like that is very stupid.” The man said. “All you're doing is wasting ether.”
The man grabbed the knife, and a blue flame engulfed the blade as he ripped it out, searing the wound shut upon the blade's exit. Now, Okimoto did scream.
The man left, and Okimoto was alone, for hours, and hours, and hours. The foul-smelling moisture of the alley was sucking him in, seeping into his skin, dirt mixing with garbage slurry to infect his pores, his soul. Even breathing through his mouth couldn’t stop the stench from clawing at his nose, and each breath rattled his left side with pain. It was maddening.
Just three days ago, he had envisioned himself being heralded. Life never went as one expected it to.
At some point, it started raining. At some point, the rain stopped. At another point, darkness fell.
Only when the lights of the night parades could be seen in the corner of his eyes, when the music of the night performances was dancing in the air atop cigarette smoke, was he able to stand up. This city was a different place at night. He tore the dress off himself and used shapeshifting to create artificial clothes on his body.
The entire wall of the building had collapsed, as if struck by artillery.
Weaving his fingers, he stitched together the bones in his arm and stopped the internal bleeding in his left lung.
Stepping clumsily over the rubble barefoot, he came out the opposite end from the main road. Here, there was a stone path by a canal, nightstands set up on platforms that poked out over the water, and tens of dozens of passersby, women dressed provocatively, men drunk and high.
He crossed the crowd and went down the steps to the water, where he submerged himself and performed various rituals to cleanse himself of grime.
Drying himself off with another ritual, he ascended back up the steps, crossed the crowd, went back through the alley, and across the road and tram tracks back to Mage’s Paradise.
The boy’s twin sister, or something, was there now; hopefully, her brother had told her of the day's events.
“Ah, yes, kind sir, I haven’t forgotten you.” She—no, he said!
“Do you wish to have your money back? Four hundred and eighty, yes?”
“Hold on,” Okimoto said, descending to where the potions were and returning with a healing potion.
“I won’t charge you for that. I can see they messed you up pretty badly. Here’s your money.”
After taking the money and drinking the potion, this one, fortunately, not exploding in his face, he thanked the boy, smiling, and was gone.
After getting on the tram, he sat with his feet dangling from the open doorway, feeling the chilled air brush past his toes. Sparks crackled above from where the pantograph met the wires.
“This is the wrong tram,” Christopher said, sitting beside him. “You know that, right? This is tram route thirteen, it’s gonna head north at the diamond junction coming up.”
“I know.” Okimoto sighed. “I’m going to the best wine merchant in town. I need to get drunk right now, probably high too. Just something to calm myself down. Never miss out on a moment of relief amidst the chaos, right?”
“Y’know it’s only a matter of time now,” Christopher said. “I’d give it maybe five days until we see Odiggan on the news.”
“I feel incompetent,” Okimoto admitted. “Maybe if I had taken things more seriously, this wouldn’t have happened. I trusted him blindly and made a fool of myself. How would I have managed on an actual combat mission?”
“It’s not the end of the world. Just focus on the case being built.”
“I don’t know, I can’t say I have much faith, with the country being so corrupt and all.”
“Well, there’s something you can do on the side to boost your chances of success.”
“What’s that?”
The tram made a turn northward at the diamond junction, the steel wheels shrieking around the curve.
“What I suggested the other day: making an improved sprite. Odiggan might be able to surprise the world with what you made, but he’s not you. He doesn’t have your mind, your ingenuity. He won’t be able to improve upon or recreate what you’ve made, but you can. That’s the key to winning. You should shape up your combat skills, too, so you don’t get humiliated again like today.”
Okimoto frowned. “Y’know breeding sprites is expensive.”
The tram stopped, and Okimoto shouted, nearly plowed off from where he sat edging the door, the stupid cow having hurriedly leapt past him, clearly not mindful of where she swung her massive hips. She landed on the tram stop beneath. Now below eye level with him, she turned and said, “I’m so sorry, dear. I hope I didn’t hurt you.”
Leaning to the side lazily, Okimoto laughed. “Yeah, well saying sorry won't snap my shoulder back into place, darling.”
The young lady had a round and pretty face with strange outer eyelashes that were like whiskers extending up to her temples. They accentuated the slant of her upturned eyes. Her rosette was circular and her black hair was a little short for a woman. He had seen her somewhere before, he was certain of it.
After being scolded by him, she apologised non stop until the last of the travellers had either boarded or gotten off. She then crossed the car lane, crossed the sidewalk, and then, as the tram started on its way, she crossed a small park with rustling dark trees, entering through the double doors of a large cathedral, its torch-lit roof like a thousand swords stabbing towards the stars.
He thought, then suddenly realised,
