Chapter III (3)- Homecoming
They left the Elite’s station with little ceremony. Kizu noticed a few glares and as many bemused glances, but, other than that, nobody made any note of their departure. They just let Kizu’s parents pass through and out of the building.
Surprisingly, they didn’t just jump home. Instead, they kept walking down the street and into the city of Daitoshi. Kizu didn’t complain about it - it was interesting to see so many people walking about, doing simple things like buying groceries or running errands. The sheer volume of people overwhelmed him. He hadn’t seen more than a dozen people at a time for the last decade. It surprised him that most people appeared to traverse the city by foot. He saw the occasional horse and about as many people flying above with enchanted gear, but they were the exceptions. He wondered why so many were content just walking from place to place. The crone barely ever bothered with it. When she didn’t just jump, she’d often grown wings and just flown wherever she wanted.
They soon left the corporate sector, entering the market district. If the shift in architecture hadn’t given it away, the merchants would have soon enough. Kizu saw one man hocking his enchanted wrist watches, which supposedly could keep one safe from time manipulation. Another lady peddled incense which created vivid hallucinations. Next to her, an elderly man with a crooked back claimed that his vibrant rugs could dispel summoned monsters with a single touch.
His stomach rumbled as they passed by street food stalls. Kizu had to swallow down his hunger and force his feet to keep walking. As if the aromas of the street weren’t enough, visually, he saw miniature troll heads being roasted on a skillet, multicolored eggs popping as they fried on a pan, thick noodles endlessly spiraling in a pot, an animated leafy vegetable attempting to hop out of reach of a cook, a different cook using dandelion seeds as seasonings over a plate of yellow, burbling soup-
“Here,” his father said, picking up a spiky gray fruit from a stall. He flicked the vendor a coin that glinted as it flew. “Eat this, Kizu. It’s good for the heart. Helps it pump blood back into your system. You must be feeling drained after that little stunt earlier.”
Kizu took the fruit, careful not to let the large spikes spear his palm. He eyed it. Nothing like it grew down in the basin.
“Go ahead,” his father urged. “Bite it.”
He peeled back the spiky skin with his fingernails and bit into the meat of the fruit. Juice ran down his chin. The chunk in his mouth tasted slightly sour, but not overwhelmingly so. It took a while to chew before he managed a swallow. The seeds of it got stuck between his teeth.
“Wipe your face,” his mother said, passing him a clean handkerchief. She seemed to have an unlimited supply of them.
Kizu obeyed. As the fruit settled in his stomach, he realized the hunger he felt was only an echo from Mort. Staying still in his satchel, Mort was quietly fasting.
“Do you mind if I grab a banana, too?”
“We’ll be eating dinner out tonight, to celebrate your homecoming. And I don’t want you spoiling your supper,” his mother chided him, like he was still a six year old.
“It’s for Mort.”
“Mort?” his father asked.
“My familiar. Did the Elites not tell you about him?”
“A familiar!” Finn burst. “You wouldn’t even let me get a dog last year. And he gets a familiar? How is that fair?”
“Finn, you’ve already embarrassed me once today,” their father warned. “Don’t make it worse by asking idiotic questions. Now, son, nobody told us anything about a familiar. What kind of creature is it?”
“An owl monkey.”
“A monkey!” His mother’s eyes widened. Kizu thought she might faint right in the street.
“How bonded are you?” Kizu knew his father’s real question was, ‘How hard would it be to break the bond?’
“Extremely. I feel his hunger right now.”
His mother groaned piteously.
“There’s no helping it for now,” his father relented with a sigh. “In a few days he’ll be in the dorms anyway and not mucking up our house.”
His mother stopped and, for a second, Kizu thought she might lash out at her husband. Instead, she gestured at a building. “Here.”
Mort did not get his banana.
Kizu’s mother herded them all into the small building. Immediately, all the unique incense and spices of the market were wiped from the air as they stepped inside. Instead, replaced by a clean sterile scent. Some sort of enchantment, Kizu guessed. He wondered if it was just on the doorframe, or if something insulated the entire building to keep the scents out.
His mother exchanged meaningless pleasantries with what Kizu assumed to be the owner, a thin scarecrow of a woman wearing a dress that hung loose on her. He paid no attention, instead examining the bland paintings on the wall. They were landscapes of rice fields. He wondered what exactly the purpose of this room was.
Then the lady surprised him, walking right behind and tugging on his hair.
“Ouch!” Kizu yelped involuntarily.
“Hm, I could change it, certainly. Black, I assume? Like the rest of you?”
“Yes,” his mother replied. “Though any color would be preferable to that sickly shade. It’s just vile. Like vomit.”
The lady jabbed two fingers into Kizu’s scalp. After the initial jolt, he felt a warm trickle from her fingers. Then she grabbed a chunk of his hair and leaned in close. He felt the heat from her breath next to his face.
“Hm. I changed it, certainly, but it won't stick.”
“What do you mean?”
“Here.” The lady tugged the chunk she held. “I already see it reverting in the roots. It repels external magic. You see this sometimes, rarely. He has instinctual defenses up and they’re reverting my spell back to his own self-image. A lucky little defense against simple hexes, but not so helpful for my line of work. I assume from what you told me earlier that he doesn’t know how to drop those defenses?”
His mother held her face in her hands. “You can’t mean we will have to present our son like this? Looking like a bog witch? What did I do to deserve this?”
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
“In Tross, everyone dyes their hair,” his father said. “It’s considered scandalous to walk outside with your natural hair color. Akin to walking around naked.”
“We’re not in Tross, Kubou. We’re in Hon, where clowns dye their hair to entertain children. Not respectable people. Takako will never let me hear the end of it if he’s seen like this, not to mention Hana.” And on she continued, listing off all the women she knew who might laugh or mock her.
Kizu, grateful that they wouldn’t be able to alter his hair without his permission, zoned out of their conversation and dropped a hand down to his satchel. It held the half-eaten fruit. He wasn’t completely certain if Mort could eat it, but he thought maybe he’d have Mort give it a nibble.
Whether because of Kizu’s own trepidation or because of an innate instinct, Mort pushed the fruit to the side, refusing it. Kizu sighed. Maybe for dinner they’d eat something vegetarian.
His hopes were dashed.
The dinner his parents brought him to served exclusively seafood. He tried to pass off a piece of seaweed to Mort, but again he rejected it. His parents continued to talk, telling him all about their latest trading ventures and about a successful shipment of silk to Edgeland last week. They spoke at length about different strategies on expanding business in that area of the world. He’d somehow forgotten they were merchants. He filed away the information and continued picking around his rolls of food with his chopsticks. Back with the crone, he’d only ever eaten with spoons, forks, and knives. Even before that, he couldn’t dredge up any memories of eating with sticks when he’d been six.
He watched his brother intently. Finn ate with chopsticks with absolutely no issue. He raised the food to his mouth with ease and seemed to follow along their parents’ conversation attentively. When he noticed Kizu’s staring, he glared at him and then pointedly went back to listening, ignoring him.
Eventually, when no one was looking, he popped one of the fish rolls into his mouth with his fingers. It tasted pungent. Unlike the river fish down in the basin that he grilled, this tasted raw and cold. But he swallowed without complaint. He repeated the process whenever his family appeared too distracted to notice him. No point in starving just because it was different than what he was used to.
His father paid the bill and spoke loudly and graciously about how delicious the meal had been. Then he spoke about his fortuitous day and the return of his heir. The restaurant all applauded before returning to their meals. Kizu hadn’t considered the fact he was now next in line for inheriting his family’s business. That had always been Anna’s responsibility. He decided to make the conscious effort not to think about it.
Outside, a carriage drawn by a giant lizard waited for them. Kizu could still not understand why they didn’t simply jump wherever they wanted to go like the crone did. Sure, it was uncomfortable, but definitely faster than relying on an animal to tow you around.
“We certainly are fortunate you arrived back home when you did,” his mother said. “A few days later and you would have missed the beginning of the new semester.”
Kizu said nothing to that. He had the impression they simply wanted him out of their sight so their lives could return to normal. They hadn’t exactly been attentive to his needs before the crone stole him.
After a bumpy ride full of his mother and father’s talk about business deals and accounting, the carriage drew to a stop.
He pushed back the window’s curtain and looked out at the massive house. He was surprised to find he remembered the sight of it. Dozens of dark windows spread across the pristinely polished walls. The gardens around the estate were primly cut and all the bushes trimmed neatly. Despite how objectively pretty the building and grounds were, Kizu couldn’t help a shiver going down his spine. The lack of people made it feel creepy and empty.
As they stepped out of the carriage, the footpath leading up to the front door lit up, and lights flickered on in the building’s windows.
Kizu looked back and realized that a cliff fell immediately behind the carriage. No road led up here. The giant lizard licked its eye, then drew the carriage over the edge. Kizu watched in fascination as the wheels of the carriage stuck to the side of the cliff and slowly dropped down below. He had felt nothing odd on the ascent. There must have been an enchantment on the carriage, so the occupants never noticed the change in gravitational pull. Absolutely amazing.
The other three had walked away while he stared after the carriage, and he had to jog to catch up to them. Nobody seemed to notice that he lagged behind as they entered the mansion.
“You remember where your room is, surely?” his mother asked as they hung up their jackets. “You’ll find it unchanged. After you left, someone threw a fit when I mentioned repurposing it. Now, it’s completely blocked off. There’s an enchantment so that only you can enter. Everyone else gets turned into a pig.”
“A waste of talent,” his father grumbled.
“So don’t complain to us about the dust. We tried hiring curse breakers, but they all proved incompetent.”
“Um,” Kizu said. “Which door is it?”
His mother huffed. “Finn, show your brother where to go.”
Finn, who had been walking away, sulked at the command but obeyed. He turned and walked the other way, not bothering to check and see if Kizu followed him.
“And, Kizu,” his mother called out behind them, almost as an afterthought. “I know this is all extremely overwhelming. But we’re all very glad to have you back. Welcome home.”
Finn glanced over his shoulder at their mother and frowned, but made no comment as he hurriedly walked away with Kizu trailing behind.
“So,” Kizu eventually said, “Are you excited to move into the villa? Right on the beach, with tidepools and everything.”
Finn didn’t respond.
“What do you like to do for fun? Do you play any sports?” Kizu tried again.
Again, no response.
“You like dogs, right? Down in the basin we had these little fox-things called jungle dogs. They-”
“Stop,” Finn said. He turned to face Kizu, glowering. “I don’t want to talk to you about dogs or sports or anything else. Just leave me alone.”
And so, they walked the rest of the way in silence. Random objects sparked fragments of forgotten memories. The carvings in the dining room table, the piano in the corner of the studio, the painting of an old man hobbling down a mountain. It was like plucking threads of memory from the quilt of his childhood.
Kizu was used to disdain. Most of the crone’s associates had disliked him on sight simply due to his gender and took any opportunity available to belittle him. Witches apprenticed other witches. Not boys. And, as far as he knew, the crone had never told a soul why she had decided to teach him. So their resentment had sort of made sense once he understood the reasoning behind it. Finn, on the other hand, loathed him from the moment he’d laid his eyes on him. Kizu wondered if he’d done something to him as a child and forgotten. He almost asked, but then a familiar doorway came into view. Finn waved at it without slowing down and then kept going without looking back.
After pausing in front of it for a moment, Kizu took a deep breath and pushed open his bedroom door. He stepped inside the dark room and blinked a few times, letting his eyes adjust. Thankfully, nothing triggered and he gained no hog-like features as ever as he paced around the room.
A plume of dust rose as he sat down on his tiny bed. The room’s furnishings were clearly child-sized. Still, in comparison to the cupboard by the fireplace in the crone’s hut, his old room seemed massive.
His mother hadn’t lied. Everything remained exactly as he’d left it ten years ago. He saw old toys and picture books. He picked up a model sailboat that lay on the ground. Anna had helped him build it and they’d tested it out on the beach together. As he gingerly set it down on his bedside table, he noticed a letter. Curious about what kind of letter a six year old would be sending, he picked it up and sliced it open with a finger.
Two sheets of paper slid out. It appeared to be utter nonsense written in a swooping script, until the final line, which was signed simply - Anna. And there, beside the signature, an ink stamp with her name. He flipped to the next page, which was a colored drawing of the two down at the beach. Anna was kneeling with her arm around him. Both of them looked wet and tanned with sand sticking to their feet.
A glance in the mirror told him that they’d have looked remarkably similar, now. Only a few years younger in the photo than he was now, she looked just like him. They both had the same jaw and identical hairlines. If they swapped faces, nobody would be likely to notice. They even had the same crooked smile. The chief differences between the two of them were the color of his eyes and hair. Naturally, his eyes would have been like hers, but his bond with Mort had lightened their pigment to a bronze. And his hair, of course, was now a vibrant green. It had already reverted from his mother’s friend’s attempt to ‘normalize’ it.
Kizu tucked the painting and note away into his satchel. As he did so, Mort crawled up his arm and perched on his shoulder.
Mort hummed, cocking his head at him.
“You’re right, let’s go scavenge some food.” Kizu opened the window and the two of them climbed out into the night.