“You’d think after the fifth time of calling her name, she’d get the hint.” Rin scratched behind his head, exasperated. “Honestly, so noisy.”
Kinuka pinched his ear. “Be kind, she’s hard of hearing.”
Rin blinked. “You’re joking.” He looked at Tegata, then Ruri, then Granny: all returned gazes of pity. “Really?! Why am I always the last one to find out?”
“You’re about as emotionally intelligent as a wet tea-towel.”
“Oh, sure, because that’s a real nice thing to say.”
“I’m always nice. I get a free pass occasionally.”
Rin glowered. “Yeah, and that’s just so fair, isn’t it?”
Kinuka giggled behind her hand. The cold nipped at her fingers, so she cupped them in front of her mouth and attempted warming them up with her breath. As she rubbed skin on skin to generate a little friction, the excess moisture condensed in a weak silvery plume, rising to dissipate among the sky.
“Don’t blame her for being excited.” Tegata nodded. “I think everyone’s a little glad to have some fresh air.”
Ruri nodded and smiled. Between them, Granny’s stick clacked a little louder on the pavement. “You all make it out like I’ve had you interned in some kind of prison camp! Honestly, how ungrateful!”
“Suddenly,” Kinuka whispered to Rin, “I’m starting to see where you get it from.”
“You think?”
A heavy aura descended on the pair. Granny loomed behind them, eyes glowing a menacing red. Two harsh cracks of bamboo later, and she, Tegata and Ruri left the pair behind, collapsed at odd angles with large lumps protruding from the tops of their heads.
They’d been walking for a fair while now—something Granny had insisted on, despite the fact they could have easily taken the car into the city centre. The December evening whipped at their heels, but didn’t dare breach the warmth of Kinuka’s handmade coats. Their walk underneath the starry skies had been punctuated with odd reminiscence of the week just past, observations of the ordinary as they left the suburbs behind and ventured further into the domain of the hi-rises. The light pollution grew steadily more intense as they were soon lost amid the haze and bustle of the burgeoning city, advertising everything under the sun—well, the moon now; the sun had set a while ago.
They took a series of turns down a few winding side-streets before Granny’s pace began to falter. Ruri stopped alongside and laid a concerned hand on the woman’s shoulder.
“Everything okay?” Kinuka asked. Rin stopped and raised an eyebrow. Tegata touched a finger to his temple and fired a quick psychic ping at Juusei to grab her attention too. A few metres ahead, the energetic girl stopped dancing the merengue with a parking meter and looked back.
“Oh, yes dear. Yes, everything’s fine. I just…” Granny’s brow furrowed as she looked around at the streets. “I suddenly don’t recognise this part of the city. Oh, I’m terribly sorry, everyone. I thought this was the way…” Her tone drifted off as she placed more weight on her stick, turning to get a better grasp of her bearings.
Everyone shared tense looks, teeth exposed in slight grimaces.
“How old is Granny again?” Kinuka’s telepathic voice resounded in Rin’s head from a meaningful glance.
“Hell if I know! Aren’t you not supposed to ask a lady her age, or something?” He shifted awkwardly on his feet.
“Some grandson you are…”
Rin’s eyes widened in outrage as his mouth flexed in exasperation. Dragging a hand down his face, he took a deep breath. “Everyone’s a critic,” he murmured, then checked their surroundings. “I mean, we passed through Miyako-cho not long ago, right? Then again, that was a fair while back that way.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “We’ve made a couple turns since…”
“I’m afraid I don’t know this city very well,” Tegata folded his arms. Ruri shook their head regretfully. By this time, Juusei had also traipsed back over. Her arms crossed behind her back, as she peered at them all, curious.
“Wait, if that was Miyako-cho…” Kinuka postulated, “then that building we saw a couple streets over must have been the museum of art, right?”
Rin snapped his fingers. “Yeah! Good catch. That means we’re… So, next we need to—” His face fell. “Oh, forget it. I have no idea where we’re actually going. Granny, you didn’t tell us. Where is this card house of yours?”
Granny hadn’t been paying attention. She stared off down the street, her mouth slightly open. Everyone caught sight of her expression, and a chill flashed down their spines. The lines in the woman’s face had etched themselves an inch deeper, and her lips started to crack. There had been a fair few others out that night, but none they’d encountered had been too noteworthy. Five or so metres further down the street, an older gentleman shuffled along toward them with an irregular gait, more of a stumble than a proper walk. A tweed coat tugged taut at the shoulders, desperately shielding from the cold. His back had curled inwards with age. A peaked cap tucked low over his face wasn’t enough to hide the reflected glare from mirrored spectacles. His black hair went grey around the ears, with further salt-and-pepper streaks coursing through like veins. His thin mouth curled up at the corners, and he had the same crook to his nose as Rin.
“Granny? Hello? Can you hear me? Do I need to change the batteries in your hearing aid again?” Rin leaned in closer, tapping the old woman on the shoulder.
The boy had his back to the approaching geezer, so hadn’t noticed. Nor had the geezer, for that matter. He hadn’t acknowledged their group at all. The old man was humming to himself, a strange and distant tune. The rhythmic clack of another walking stick on the ground gave him an odd three-step cadence. Either he was blind, deaf, or both. But with every step he took, an eerie chill—set completely apart from the wind—settled into their bones.
Juusei flinched. Her jaw clenched, eyes widened, shoulders hunched, and hands folded together. Every inch of her was set to high alert: a coiled spring.
“That old man…” She murmured, nudging Tegata with her shoulder.
He placed a hand on top and squeezed. “I know what you mean, but—” His third eye twitched— “I don’t sense anything irregular.” And it wasn’t just him. The air was absent of ripples aside from the faint signatures of their own. Tegata bit down on his lip.
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The air had taken on a new chill, as though they were each being observed from beyond those mirrored spectacles. Every clack of the walking stick sent a sharp pulse through the flagstone pavement and into their legs. It was surely just their imagination. Ruri’s shoulders drooped, and sweat beaded down his face. His chest rose and fell a little heavier. The rest felt it too. The air had thickened into jelly.
Juusei raised her hands halfway. “I want to shoot.”
“Don’t shoot.”
“I want to shoot.”
“Don’t shoot.”
She lowered her arms.
He shared a wary glance with Kinuka. What on earth was this sensation?
The man had nearly reached them now, still shuffling. Ruri stepped to the side to let him pass. Tegata did the same on the opposite side, tugging Juusei along with. Rin still hadn’t noticed, too busy peering over at his grandmother. The old woman had a hand reached out, motionless. Her expression had been petrified in grotesque mourning. Kinuka reached out with one hand to grab a fistful of the boy’s coat, but it was too late. There was a momentary lapse in their perception, and everyone stood still. The oblivious old man glid past the lot of them, and collided with Rin’s inside leg. The splintering crunch of bone made the windowpanes ring. Rin crumpled into a heap. A gasp tore through their company, as the gentleman just shuffled on by.
“An attack?” Tegata’s eyes steeled over, flashing to where he had just passed them by. “Hey, what did you—” Arm outstretched, he faltered.
There was no-one there. Not anymore.
The crack of gunshot made everyone jump. Juusei had one hand clutched around her finger gun, but both arms shook. Her misfire had torn a chunk out of the pavement, and the residual crackling smoke leaked from the tips of her index and middle fingers. Her eyes boggled, cheeks textured with goosebumps. She stared ahead, horrified at where she had just seen the old man dissolve into thin air. “I swear he was just…”
“Rin!” Kinuka dropped to his side. His breathing was short and choppy, and he clutched his thigh with another agonising yell. His left leg lay splayed across the ground, bent at a horrific angle. It didn’t look much like a leg anymore. Several inches of bloodied femur protruded perpendicular to the skin, piercing straight through his jeans. The boy twitched, panted and gasped, his face white. Blood dripped and pooled from his broken leg onto the pavement. Every footstep sent a ripple through the crimson puddle.
“How…” Tegata blinked, then clenched a fist. “I didn’t sense any psychic energy.”
“Ruri, help!” Kinuka bleated up from the ground. “Help me with Rin! He’s seriously hurt!”
Face contorted in shock, Ruri helped Kinuka lift the ailing Rin off the pavement and into the eaves of an adjacent park. Laying him down on a bench, Ruri held the boy up in both arms.
Be calmed.
Rin’s breathing softened, and he stopped thrashing. Ruri’s large hands gripped his shoulders and held him still. The giant closed their eyes and buried their chin into the crook of their chest.
The sleeves of Kinuka’s long coat tore themselves apart and rewound further up, exposing bare forearms. Her third eye opened, and a controlled flow of psychic energy danced in circulating waves beneath her skin. Carefully, deliberately, she brushed her hands along Rin’s injured leg, and gripped tight just above the knee.
Threadwork
糸織 Itōri
Her hands glowed, and the sounds of torn fabric filled the air. The bloodied denim over the thigh unravelled all at once, exposing the site of the wound. Next, the flesh of Rin’s thigh took on a matted, woven texture, before that too was torn apart in a single slash. Kinuka bit down on her lip, as she exposed and unravelled layers of torn muscle and ligament from where the femur had snapped right down the middle and punctured an exit hole through the skin.
Placing the leg into material stasis, Kinuka’s hands moved quickly and precisely. Fingers deftly looped around tangled bundles of thread, which tore and resewed themselves into their correct places. The snapped bone found itself reconstituted, and the layers of tissue were methodically woven back into place. Her heart pounded in her ears, but her attention gaze did not waver. Soon, the final layer of the epidermis was sealed with a secure medical stitch, and the transmutation was undone. The last fix was the trouser leg. The crackling of Kinuka’s psychic energy ceased, and all three eyes flitted shut.
Tegata and Juusei had stood by in silence throughout, watching her work in awe. Just as it looked like she was about to falter, Juusei seized her under the arms and helped her back to her feet.
“I’m fine…” Kinuka shivered and steadied herself. “Just a little shocked, I guess.” She flexed her fingers. No strain this time.
Ruri helped Rin sit upright. Still in a bit of a daze, the boy gingerly tried his leg on the ground and winced automatically.
“How’s it feeling?” She asked.
Rin didn’t answer until he had found his footing. “You sure I didn’t get hit by a bus?”
“If you’re lucid enough to joke you must be alright.”
He locked her in a sincere stare. “Now who’s constantly saving who? I could have bled out there if you hadn’t acted so quick, damn you.”
Kinuka hid her face and retreated to Ruri’s side. Rin hobbled around on his repaired leg, before swaying on the spot, a little lightheaded. Ruri helped him back to the bench, and a few of them sat beside him.
Juusei peered up, concerned. “Hey, hey. What happened back there? What did he do to you? Really, what happened? I’m so confused.”
“I have less clue than you. Felt like I’d been shot in the thigh with a rivet gun.”
“That old man…” Kinuka shuddered. “You all felt it too, right? I didn’t see him approach until he was only metres away. He faded in from nowhere, it seems.”
“Then disappeared…”
“The moment I saw him, the moment I made contact with those eyes, I couldn’t move.” Kinuka clenched a hand. “No, it was his glasses. If it hadn’t been for them, if they hadn’t been there and I had actually seen those eyes, then—”
The ground pulled on their gazes. They stood, sat, crouched in a circle, staring holes into an uncaring, frozen earth as though it would give them any answers. Tegata was the first to break free from the fugue, and left the others behind. Granny hadn’t moved an inch, still rooted on the pavement, her mind a million miles away. Her hand was still partially outstretched, skin taut around splayed, bony fingers, knocking in the cold. She stared ahead, wistfully, her lips pursed as though in mourning.
Somewhere else, at a time where everything, perhaps, wasn’t quite so bleak just yet, the sun might have been shining. She hadn’t been paying attention that day. She hadn’t paid attention to much besides him for a while now. It’s always easy to say in hindsight, but perhaps she should have. If she’d paid attention to more besides, perhaps she’d remember it all better.
A lanky man with a mop of black hair sloped along the street with the one who had chosen him of all people. He had anxious cheeks and little dimples, and a brow that hung over his eyes like a curtain. A wobbly smile curled a curious path across his face. “You know, I hope there'll never come a day when I see you walking towards me, Shibaru.”
Shibaru Harigane stopped her brisk walk, clutching youthful black curls to one side of her face. “What ever do you mean, Fune?”
"Well, nothing really. It was just a silly little thought.” The limp man shrugged, and combed a hand through the black bangs flopping down over his forehead.
“You know I’ll always listen.”
“It's just... if I see you walking towards me, that’ll mean you're no longer by my side. And that thought, it... it makes me a little sad, is all.”
The man’s face became inscribed with loving penstrokes of black onto yellowing parchment, which crinkled and caught alight from the flame wielded by her own two hands. The ink flaked and disintegrated as all returned to the darkness from whence it came. A voice was calling her name.
“Granny.”
The old woman blinked, and lowered her arm. A solemn, pink-haired boy stood a metre away, arms folded. “You saw something, didn’t you?” Tegata waited a few seconds. “Just now, I felt a spike in your psychic signature—and that look in your eyes… Did you see something?”
She smiled, eyes crinkling. “Just ashes, my dear. Ashes and dust.”
XCEL! Please share with your friends, leave a comment, a follow, et cetera. and I hope you all look forward to next week's installment—the final chapter of volume ix!