After what seemed like a long time of sitting and watching the desolation, the broken refugees walking by, some holding the mutilated bodies of loved ones, Hinote asked, "So you know how to get to Toshiko?"

I exhaled. “I should be able to get us there. I hope.” I remembered the breeze I’d felt from the window in the little slanted room.

“You hope?”

“Yes. I hope. I think Ai may have placed more faith in me than I have in myself. But I think I’m our best bet,” I said.

Hinote clicked his tongue. We all turned our heads as a woman in a tattered dress with red, wind-blasted cheeks carried a boy of maybe six who was missing his left leg at the knee. The boy screamed and cried, flailing in the woman’s arms. She did not look at us as she passed, and I didn’t think she saw where she was going, only that she was going.

“Aight, then,” Hinote said.

“You ready?” Shun asked.

“We head east. Probably no better time than now, though we should get to a road. If you two are seen in the trash with these outfits on, anyone from Andalaf will suspect us, and if they see me …” I cut a hand through the air. “And after the initial shock of the bomb settles, the people of the Meek may not take kindly to any of us if they see us alone in the trash.”

Hinote stood up and took one more long look at the burning Meek. It was silent but for the distant crumbling and smell of burning plastic and trash,

“They want us to believe … everyone to believe, that this was the Sun-Seekers’ fault. That we made the sky fall. They want me to believe that shit too. Blame myself for the death and the destruction of my home. Give up. Move on. Maybe fuckin’ kill myself. Just another cog gone loose and needs replacin’. But it ain’t me. It ain’t none of us,”—he looked at me and Shun, his eyes intense and shining, the fire in the background a visual chorus to his speech—“it ain’t you. Or you, Shun. It’s fuckin’ Andalaf. All Andalaf. That shit-eating Andy Andalaf, sittin’ high up in that tower breathin’ fresh fuckin’ air, probably sippin’ Sachi juice, watchin’ this shit on an endorphinscreen, laughin’ at how clever he is. He believes he used us, but we brought down two of his towers. We got out. And here we still stand. Sun-Seekers.”

“Well, they did get my blade. So, they win in that respect. I’m working with knives now.”

Hinote smirked. “Let’s go. I’m ready now. You gonna need me to pay you for helpin’ with the Meek?”

“No,” I replied, and surprised myself by saying, “I kind of like the title ‘Sun-Seeker.’ I suppose that makes me the … captain? Shun?”

“Hm?” she said, smiling at me as she took the first steps east toward Meek Pox.

“You’ll be my second in command.”

“Got it, Captain,” Shun said.

“Man, what the fuck?” Hinote said.

“Sorry, Hinote. You heard the news reports, I’m sure. If I’m the face they’re blaming, I should get to take all the credit, right? After all, it’s me they’ll come after. Really, I shouldn’t be apologizing. ‘You’re welcome’ sounds more appropriate. Yes. You’re welcome, Hinote. You can be my third.”

This actually got a chuckle out of the man, and it was infectious, as it usually is with big men who scowl often. Everyone wants to laugh with the muscles.

The chaos of Meek Alfrendil’s destruction kept us mostly un-fucked on the trip to Meek Pox. When we made it out of the trash, refugees lined the road, too downtrodden to give attention to the likes of two tattered Andalaf infantrymen and me, the face of the terrorists. Hinote handed me his hat after a while, saying I needed it more than he did. I tucked my hair inside it and thanked him.

We came across a traveling vendor who, at first sight, I hoped was selling Sachiblades, but he was unfortunately dealing mostly in trash stock—though he did carry some usable weapons, including an endorphingun and bullets that I bought for Hinote.

“You come from Meek Alfrendil?” the vendor asked. He had a nose like a plumb and a hat that sat over his eyes. His jacket was green, and behind him was a wall of metal objects with prices scratched crudely in charcoal onto the wood beside them.

“You oil that jack?” I asked, counting out the money for the gun. “And why are you worried about it?”

“‘Course I did! And I was gonna say, if you did come from Alfrendil, that’s half off, soldier,” the vendor said, nodding to the gun. I looked down to the burned remnants of my red infantry uniform, and beneath that was a Chudo suit.

“Um … yes. That is where we came from. You’re sure?”

He nodded his head, scowling. “You three just sacrificed yourselves for our good Twelve Meeks, protectin’ us from the terrorists who made the sky fall. I never would have said I was an Andalaf man before today, but I damn sure am one now. Half off. And here, take some Sachi powder. Nothin’ fancy in it. Just pale-yellow standard, but it might come in handy.”

“Thanks,” I said, looking over at Hinote. His mouth was in a tight line, and I think I could see the hint of a tremor going through his body. I put back half of the credits in my suit.

As we walked on, away from the vendor, I heard his horse whinny as he whipped it into motion in the opposite direction from where we were heading.

“Here,” Hinote said, handing me the gun he stole earlier. “Leader needs a gun.”

“Man, I was just kidding back there. I’m not in charge. You are.”

Hinote smiled but didn’t respond. I took the extra gun, and he plugged the receptor into his Sachi ear. I couldn’t imagine what it must feel like, the metal attaching to your nerves up top like that—my spinal was where the endorphinguns ported in for me, but I tried to stay away from them when I could, regardless. It always gave me the spooks, the shit hooking into nerves. The Jonnys were pieced together that way: Sachi, metal, endorphin funnels, and flesh. I suppose Hinote was used to it. He loaded the gun up with bullets.

“What do you think they want the Sallis-Faint for?” Shun inquired after we had walked for a longer period of time, and it appeared that we would not encounter anything other than encouragement from the vendor.

“They started looking for them after the Great Northern Sachi War. So, it’s gotta have somethin’ to do with that,” Hinote said. “Ai said somethin’ ‘bout wakin’ up, or—”

I said, “I heard Morfran talking about it before. Right around when he,”—I looked at Shun, who kept her eyes forward—“changed. He said he had it inside of him. ‘Pieces of what they wish to awaken,’ is how he worded it. I think it’s the same thing. After hearing Ai talk about it … I don’t know, it just seems too similar.”

“Maybe we can ask her dad when we get there?” Hinote said.

I shrugged. “Maybe. That might be the last thing he wants to talk about after his daughter’s just been taken by Andalaf, though, after all of the time he’s spent protecting her from them.”

I swiped another red outfit from an infantryman nodding off on the road, tossing the hat to Hinote before pulling the suit on over my Sachiarmor. The Andalaf presence was strong when we entered Meek Pox, and I guessed the others would be like this as well—no doubt a plan thought out well in advance by Josh Baker and Andy Andalaf. Have the troops ready to go straight into the Meeks to show the people just how safe they are in the hands of Andalaf when terrorism threatens to destroy their homes and families. There was a soldier at nearly every door, and I even saw two Chudos walking with long Sachiblades.

The people here were not on house arrest like those in Meek Alfrendil, and the Andalaf infantrymen and captains were very patient with questions, treating the people of the Meeks as comrades and equals. I heard snatches of conversation as we passed.

“God, it’s awful,” said a woman. “Will they be alright? The poor people. And damn those awful Sun-Seekers!”

“Yes, it’s quite the tragedy,” said the black-outfitted captain. “We have several units on the scene in Alfrendil, saving as many of the people as they possibly can.”

“Will they strike again? Will they come here next? I mean … how did they even get that bomb in the bell tower?”

“They were professionals, ma’am. Ningyo was a Chudo soldier before she and her buddy Morfran went mad with power. But there’s nothing to worry about. She went down with the Meek. Must have been her plan all along, to die where she grew up, with—”

Shun put her arm on my shoulder, breaking formation, but right then, I didn’t care. I felt the leather of my gloves creak as I tightened them into fists. How could I be compared to Morfran, as if I would sink to his level of bombing my hometown or killing children …

But I did, to one extent or another. By taking this job, I agreed to be a part of something. I killed anyone working in those two towers. Fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters, daughters, sons, all dead because I didn’t care, because of my own pain, because I wanted Morfran dead, and I wanted—no, needed to bring that death to him. It was either this: find Morfran and drown in Sachi as I did it, or truly go mad with grief over my dead son. Our dead son. I looked at Shun. All I could see was her mouth, which smiled slightly at me, almost sadly. I wanted to kiss it, but was that just another distraction? Someone who could share in the grief with me?

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I supposed all three of us were doing that. Hinote had Toshiko, poisoned by the Sachi and dying. Shun, stepmother to Asahi—no, mother, to Asahi, I mean, she knew him from the time he was two until he died at six. And after Asahi’s real father, Yami, died when he was two, well … Shun was with him day and night, especially when I was gone for work with Chudo. With Morfran.

I should never have been so foolish as to bring them to Clafendlin with me. Back when Morfran was a friend, a brother, a father.

I saw the familiar telescope of Meek Pox.

“It’s not far up ahead,” I said. I wasn’t sure how, but I remembered my way, coming to the little bridge with the trickle of water running out of the large pipe underneath it.

We walked down, and Hinote was having some trouble in the pipe due to his size. We had a name for guys like him in Chudo. Our training specifically stated we train for lean muscle, not hefty like Hinote. We called them “trips” because they’re so strong, but it does no goddamn good if you trip over all that muscle.

When we stepped out into the little glade of plant life, mirrors, and overhanging cliffs of trash, Shun gasped, and I heard Hinote’s clunky steps come to a halt.

“This is where Ai lives,” I said. “Or lived. They built it together so she could still have a life she enjoyed when she had to stay at home for safety.”

Shun said, “It’s so …”

“Beautiful,” Hinote finished. “How?”

“The mirrors. They reflect the light from the openings near the Meek Pox tower. The one we blew up,” I said.

“It still … Did we fuck that up?” Hinote asked.

“No. It was still getting light when I was here, and that wasn’t long after we had destroyed it. Come on. We’d better take these hats off so we don’t spook Akio.”

“Her dad?” Shun said.

I nodded. We all removed our red Andalaf hats and approached the house.

The purple, pear-shaped door opened, and Akio looked at us sadly, his blue eyes seeming an ocean of withheld tears.

“She told me you’d come. That was part of her bargain, you know. Leave you three alive,” Akio said. He pointed as if counting, “Shun, and … Hinote?”

“I know,” I said. “And yes, this is Shun and Hinote. I suppose we don’t need the password?”

“No,” he said. “I remember you, Ningyo. She tried to bargain for more, to help the other members of your crew. She ended up with you three, me, and Toshiko.”

“Is she … inside?” Hinote said. He tinkered with his endorphin receptor nervously.

Akio stepped aside. “Thank you,” Hinote said as he rushed through the pear-shaped purple door.

“Daddy!” I heard from inside. Akio beckoned me and Shun forward, giving the outside world a good long leer before closing the door behind.

Toshiko held tight to Hinote, who pulled her tight with his forearm. Her legs dangled as he rocked back and forth in a semicircle.

I walk past Akio’s little workshop on the right and into the kitchen, leaning against the wall.

“Please, sit,” Akio said, pulling a chair out from the kitchen table for himself. I saw that Toshiko had been busy drawing pictures. Shun sat down next to Akio, followed by Hinote and Toshiko.

“I’m afraid if I sit, I won’t get up again,” I said. “And I don’t think I can afford sleep just yet,” I noted that the endorphinscreen was off. “Have you been watching anything?”

“Up until you were caught setting the bomb,” Akio said.

“You believe them?”

“I believe many things. Do I believe you’re innocent? No. Do I believe you’re the actual leader of this organization? I’m not sure, but if I know Andalaf, it’s a better story if it’s you. I believe they’re liars. And I believe they set the bombs. But I am curious … what were you doing up at the Meek Pox drill tower? Was that staged too?”

“We was bombin’ the shit out of it. And I’m the actual leader here. Of the Sun-Seekers, anyway,” Hinote said.

Akio shared a look with me.

“What?” Hinote said.

“It’s true. My daddy started it,” Toshiko said, her excitement inspiring a coughing fit.

Akio smiled at Toshiko, but his eyes seemed to come to an understanding. Now that they were next to each other, I saw that Toshiko and Akio had the same dark brown skin, but Toshiko had the slight yellow pigment of someone suffering from Sachi gas poisoning.

“I don’t doubt it,” Akio said. “Tea?”

“Yes, please,” Shun said.

“I’ll have some,” I said.

Hinote stared at the man for a moment.

“Tea?” Akio said again.

“Sure. Why not?” Hinote said. “But I wanna know why you actin’ like you know somethin’ we don’t, man. It’s givin’ me the creeps.”

Akio turned away from his work at the counter, getting water and turning a burner on. “We’re all entitled to our secrets, Hinote. Why’d you bomb the drill tower?”

Hinote looked to Shun and then me for some sort of support.

“You’re the leader, Hinote,” Shun said, giving me a smile. I smiled back, but my heart wasn’t quite in it. My thoughts were on Suzume and Kaito. Fuck Daiki. That fat fuck deserved what came to him.

“For the same reason they did that backward shit to us tonight, to our home. To our friends. Two members of our crew died because they were fighting for what was right. For what’s good, and—”

“Which is?” Akio said, bringing cups to each of us, though the tea was not ready yet.

“Tryin’ to stop Andalaf poisoning us,” Hinote said, looking at Toshiko. “Our air, and—”

“By killing the people in the drill tower? The people from the Meeks? The people you claim you’re trying to help?”

Hinote opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again, then remained silent.

“That’s not what we wanted,” Shun said. “We didn’t see any other way. The towers had to go, that we could see, but we were too small to do a big operation like evacuating an entire drill tower without announcing our coming.”

“And what’s your reasoning, Shun? Why do the towers have to go?” Akio said. He brought the steaming pot over to the table. It smelled like berries and cinnamon, and my stomach grumbled. As if in answer, Akio then went to the fridge and brought out jam, butter, and a loaf of bread.

“Well—thank you—um … they have to go because Andalaf doesn’t care about anything,” Shun said. “We rely on Sachi, but it’s not actually a necessity. We could live just fine without it. The over-harvesting of it pollutes the planet, and the gas poisons those who breathe it, specifically those of the Under-Cities. Then there’s the bigger issue: Andalaf goes out to find more Sachi, more people to lure into it with promises of power and money and glory that they never fulfill. I wonder how many people of the Meeks are still waiting on their big payday. How long before every city in the world has a giant plateau over the top of it? You know Man’naka used to be one of the biggest in the world? One of the most successful? The people here agreed to help construct the plateau. Andalaf builds the cage, gives the keys over, and leaves the door open, but no one ever leaves. Why? Because they are promised they can get through. One day, we’ll all get through. We’ll all be big Sachi-drillers like Andalaf, own our own plateaus and our own worlds. That’s the dream, right? That’s the fucking chain.”

Shun’s face was red, and she drank from her tea as if it would save her from the upset she had just summoned from the depths.

Akio nodded, then looked at me. “And you? Why is an ex-Chudo going around bombing? Ai said you’re a mercenary, right?”

“That’s right,” I said, accepting my tea. I took a sip. “There’s honey in this.”

“Yes. You like it?” Akio asked.

“Very much. Thank you,” I said.

“It’s good shit,” Hinote said a bit begrudgingly, his voice muffled by the rim of his mug.

“So?” Akio said, walking back over and taking his seat. He raised his eyebrows as he took a sip of his own tea and looked at me.

“So what? Yeah, I’m a mercenary. I was in it for the money.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” I lied.

Akio laughed. “Well, you’re the most fucked up of the whole bunch, then, aren’t you, Nin?”

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” I said, lowering my cup.

“Nevermind. It’s not important. You’re all lying. I’m not overly concerned with your decision to kill innocent people of the Under-City. We all make choices, and usually, they will have a negative effect one way or the other and probably a positive one as well. You may have set Andalaf back. You may have given another group in the future the inspiration and confidence to pull off such a job more efficiently to actually deal the finishing blow to Andalaf. You may have just planted the seed of revolution. Many people died. Many people were saved by the revolution. Who knows? The tides turn. Every single thing we do is aggressive, whether we like it or not. A plant’s roots dig through soil and invade it, sometimes killing other plants in the process, but grow life, possibly life that will sustain another being such as ourselves. But that’s another form of aggression. In order to stay alive, something considered good by most, we must kill, which most say is bad. So we say, ‘Well, these things on this side are alright to kill, and these are not over here because these are good.’ I don’t care about morality because that’s not what this is about. Now, please. Tell me why. Each of you. Then we can fucking get on with it, and I can tell you my reason, but I won’t until you tell me.”

I remembered Ai saying something similar to me.

Akio took one long draw on his tea mug then set it down on the table and folded his arms.

The room was quiet. Still, it seemed to whisper: Asahi. Asahi.

“My son is gone,” Shun said in a small, curt voice, nearly startling me out of a small trance. “He was … taken from me by a bad man. Someone created by Andalaf. And I want to hurt them and him in the same way that I've been hurt.”

A tear rolled down her cheek as she scowled down into her tea mug. Akio nodded, his face turning from skeptical and knowing to sorrowful. His eyes shone, though no wet spilled down his face.

Hinote looked at Shun for a quick moment before turning to Toshiko.

Asahi. Asahi, the silence whispered.

“Toshiko’s sick,” was all Hinote got out before he buried his face into his hands, shaking. This giant of a man, a “trip” as we called them in Chudo, babbled, his breaths tearing out of him in harsh gasps.

My will broke. That’s all there was. Akio was right. Between these poles of morality was a parent with a sick kid.

I buried my own face in my leather gloves, unconcerned with the hot tea that spilled over my pants and onto the kitchen floor. I turned my face away, into the wall, trying to escape this truth, this reality, the only reality, my pain was demanding my attention.

There was no ringing in my ears, no redness in my vision, no physical pain, no hunger, just my healthy, unabashed, unavoidable grief. The room no longer whispered his name; it screamed Asahi, and I screamed with it, sobbing the same as Hinote.

“His name was Asahi,” I said, my back sliding slowly down the wall, my mouth open, and spit spilling down my chin. “Asahi.” The name blew out like a baby’s breath and pounded on repeat within my skull.

There was no quarter. I felt as though I’d been cornered, pinned against the wall, pushed down to the floor, my mouth forced open to let out the monster, to let it come and do its work on me. I couldn’t work my way out, fuck my way out, love my way out, snort my way out.

A hand, one trembling, soft, gloveless hand, drifted down to my face and caressed it. I looked up through a thick gel of tears to see Shun, her face a reflection of my own twisted inner experience. I shook, and then I reached my arms up and pulled her down to me. She crumbled in a ball on top of me, and we shook together. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Toshiko and Hinote embracing in a similar way, and Akio had his own head buried in his hands.

We lay there for who knows how long, holding each other in a true embrace to replace the intimacy we thought we had before bombing the Meek Pox Tower. We did not kiss. I was not aroused. We melted into each other there on the floor, our powerlessness the driving current of our waters. It had shaped our banks and found the path of least resistance directly to the center of us. It babbled “Asahi,” as the room did before, but now it beat in both of our brains at once. It seemed our pulses even synced to show we were not alone in this impossibility, this management of such a behemoth of anguish.

Toshiko’s sick.

And my son is dead.