The love of my life will die in three and a half months.

Whoever said writing one’s worries would lessen them was an idiot. It did not work. Boba crumpled the paper he wrote on and tossed it.

An old man caught the crumpled note with an outstretched hat. Despite his greying dreadlocks and bone like figure, Empe proved an agile mentor.

“Boba, Boba,” sang the man as he held out the parchment. “What a terrible ting ta write.”

Boba caught his reflection in Empe’s black glasses. The miniature Boba was tall, slender and topped with a dark ball of curly hair.

“You didn’t even uncrumple it ya old goot.” complained Boba.

The happy elder ‘tisked’ at the young man and swaggered by a collection of iron machines in the shape of animals. There was a lion, a hippo, and the head of a mechanical giraffe. The constructs lined one wall in the workshop. Tools and spare parts spilled over in the corners of it and a mess of clay pots and ancient texts hugged the other three metal walls. It was a spacious place considering it housed life sized constructs, and while Boba considered it home, others knew it as the place where spirits were put into machines.

“Witch doctors can read wit-out uncrumpling, Boba. We only need listen ta what da spirits be whisperin’. Lately, dey whisper of a broken heart. Ain’t no apprentice of mine be bearing such a busted ting. Cause if ya are, I’ll be leaving fa da spirit world ta look fa da flowah dat cures all hearts.”

“The Boba?” Boba scoffed. He had been seven when he learned why the other children laughed at him. ‘Boba’ was the name of a mythical flower that cured all hearts and a popular girls’ name when their parents were children. His mother told him that his uncle had survived an awful curse of the heart the day Boba was born, and to commemorate that, she named him Boba.

“Magical flowers and spirit worlds?” continued the apprentice. “Folktales, master. Besides I need only learn the basics.”

“And what of Ayo?”

Boba rolled his eyes at the white suited man. His suit appeared excessively bright against their shared dark skin. Boba much preferred the full body black ponchos he and Ayo wore. “What of Ayo?” he mumbled.

“She’s da sistah of ya beloved.”

“And she’s your apprentice.”

The door clicked and Ayo stumbled in. She bowed to the witch doctor, but opted for a smirk at his other apprentice.

Ayo had a long bowl cut. Her bangs covered her eyes, while she made a habit of tucking her hair behind her ears.

Her voice tended to squeak like a rusty joint and rasp when it didn’t, “If you’re wondering about my sister,” she said, “she’s doing fine. She’s grown her hair and she’s been wearing the new dress mother made her.”

Boba could not help but smile dumbly as she said that. He could already picture the angelic Nakato with her flowing black hair and caramel skin.

That image dissipated as he spotted her much shorter variant, Ayo, now stifling a laugh.

Her voice cracked, “You know, I can tell when you’re daydreaming about my sister.”

“Huh, fool.” retorted Boba. “I’m always daydreaming about her.”

“Which is why I can tell.”

Boba was about to mess her hair in his ever famous ‘Boba attack’ when a growl stole their attention. He held his breath. The lifeless mechanical lion had come alive. Between its metal sheets, oiled bearings, and whirling gears, a blue light swirled about and nestled in its eyes.

Ayo had been scribbling in a red notebook that she always carried around, while Boba took to circling the beast.

It stretched like a housecat.

“Incredible.” said Boba. “Oi, master, what spirit did you infuse in this?”

The old man snickered. The blue lights twinkled in his specs, “Oh not’in, just a bit of love is all.”

“Love?” said two voices in exceedingly different fashions. Boba glimpsed at Ayo who had spoken the word with more of a bated breath.

Boba smiled and ruffled her hair.

“Oi.” she cried out.

“What? I know what that was. The way you gasped. That was an ‘Ayo’ism.” he leaned towards her, saw her ears flash red. “Who is it? Dakarai? Obasi? Chike?”

Ayo broke free from his relentless head shuffling, “Chike’s a woman!” she argued.

Boba shrugged, “So what’s stopping you?”

Ayo puffed as she straightened her hair. She was always peculiar about her bangs, “Why must you tease me when your own love life be no good?”

“I only have eyes for your sister.”

“And have you even talked to her?”

Boba tried to protest but he hung head low when he realised he could not, “We have something different, Nakato and I. I love her from a far and she…”

“Doesn’t even know you.” finished Ayo.

Boba stood straight and determined, “She will when I cure her!”

The room went silent. Nakato’s illness was a troubling subject. Their master was well aware of it, so he opened the door and beckoned them out.

“Go you two and grab old Empe some spare parts.” the master asked. “I need two size eight bearings, some steel sheets, and machine oil.”

Ayo and Boba bowed, “Yes master Empe.”

The two stepped out to the rush of morning savanna wind. In Embasi city where sand ships docked and traders flocked, there lived a bustling population of living creatures and mechanized ones. The mechanized portion served the living and the witch doctors crafted the servants.

Boba strode forwards with his hands held behind his neck. His long and slender shadow seemed strange against Ayo’s smaller one.

He pouted at her, “I’m serious ya know.”

“I should be serious. I’m her sister. I became Empe’s apprentice for her.”

“Perfect. I’ve done the same. Double the efforts no?”

“What I’m saying, Boba, is that you should focus on becoming a real witch doctor. Not be distracted by my family.”

“I’ll let her maple eyes distract me any day.”

She sighed while he laughed.

His own eyes rolled to the distant mechanical albatrosses making deliveries to the main Embasi center. He envied those birds. Empe’s shop was on the far end of the village, so travel was tiring.

“Ayo,” he started as he glanced at her, “You’re an idiot.”

She frowned.

“But I’m a bigger idiot.” he added. “Not just because I’m taller. We’re idiots in different ways you and I. I’m dumb yet I learn quick because I want to help your sister. You’re smart and yet you insist upon doing the dumbest thing you can do, that is, being around me.”

Ayo giggled, “You’re right about that.”

Now it was Boba’s turn to frown, “You were supposed to disagree.”

“I’m a proud Embasi woman. I’m not supposed to do anything unless I want to.”

“Ah, what a progressive world we live in.”

Ayo crossed her arms and smiled, “Truly? Well, Nakato loves empowerment.”

“Did I mention how much I love the world?”

He said that as they reached a hill that overlooked all of the savanna and the endless creamy dunes that surrounded it. Hills of yellow grass rippled through the immediate outskirts, while spots of green trees and shrubs dappled it. Embasi sat like an iridescent spec amongst it all. That spec grew as the duo trekked towards it.

Large ships from the desert ocean docked on the edges of Embasi. While the city itself was a mosaic of tin walls and fluttering fabrics. Embasi proved a place of every color. It was a sea of houses, short and tall. And all of it culminated around one monstrous center.

“The spirit tower.” said Ayo, her eyes practically skywards.

Boba did the same. The spirit tower was a spire of mud, one as wide as three sand galleons and ten times as tall. Their ancestors worshipped it before the time of machines, when spirits still roamed with bodies of their own. Of course it still played a major role in Embasi society. It was both the place for funerals as well as weddings.

Much had changed since those ancient times. Now spirits were confined to mechanical bodies, mostly of animals, yet sometimes people. They assisted in everyday acts. Scrap collectors had steel hyenas to scavenge for them, while mechanical giraffes let construction workers reach the places they never could.

Boba eyed a mechanical giraffe amidst a construction site, and gleamed over the bare-chested workers who directed the thing. Everyday now more and more buildings were commissioned and more work animals with them. His and Ayo’s work would only grow.

Much unlike the shorter Ayo as he spied at her. Scribbling in her favorite red book, he thought she’d stay short forever.

“What ya scribbling in there?” he asked curiously.

“Observations,” she mumbled, tilting the book away from him. “Things are different in the market then they were yesterday.”

The market was a cluttered mess. Louder still. Street drummers panged on metal drums, while straw clad performers danced behind ritual masks and garb. It smelled of incense, iron, and smoke.

“I think you’d make the better witch doctor, Ayo.” said Boba.

She paused her note taking, looked up at him. From the light that swept in between the overhead fabrics, Boba caught the first hints of maple in Ayo’s eyes. He looked away.

“I mean you’re always wanting to learn more.” he said.

“Hmpf,” she grumbled. Even without looking at her, he could tell she was pouting. “If I’m the better witch doctor what does that make you?”

“Taller.”

“Be serious.”

“The better lover,” he grinned at her. This time she shied away. She shut her book after a breath and quickly paced ahead.

“Love’s not all about wanting to help you know!” she shouted, drawing the attention of workers and merchants.

“Oh then what is it about?” called back Boba.

“Wanting to be helped!” she bellowed.

“Help!” both of them focussed on where the voice came. Ayo stared on, while Boba turned, but only momentarily.

A mechanical hyena shot past them and the people ahead jumped to let it through.

An old man puffed, stumbling to where Boba was, before pointing meekly at the furthering creature, “Help, somebody. Catch dat ting!”

Boba nodded to Ayo, who returned the gesture, and the two began down the winding streets.

They hissed apologies as they pushed by the traffic. The Hyena was fast ahead of them. Boba glanced at Ayo a few steps behind. He had a chance of catching it, but not Ayo. He smiled. Her legs were too short.

The creature tumbled around a corner knocking a cart down and Boba, quick on its trail noticed Ayo rush straight ahead instead of turning.

“What are you doing?” he called after her while running on the spot.

“Love is also about trust!” she echoed back.

Boba shook his head. Sometimes the things Ayo did escaped him, just as the hyena did now. He reignited the chase, bounding his legs apart for longer strides.

The panic and the shatter of pots told him where to find the now out of sight beast. So he ran, faster and faster. Red and orange and blue fabrics blurred into each other. Turns led to turns and his heart became a hammering thing.

At last he saw his mark at the end of a dusty decline with houses hovering over..

The beast had stopped at an intersection, its blue eyes racing as it struggled to decide its course.

“Got you,” said Boba with a start.

Chasing runaway spirit constructs was nothing new for the two. It was a service to society that often ended in a meal or some parts. Bits of blue appeared at the tips of his fingers as he got closer and closer. Any moment now. Any moment and the beast was his.

Boba reached out. The beast lifted its head. It noticed him before he got there and jumped. And he had run too fast to stop. Pots and chimes clattered. A cloud of dust wafted about. And every part of him stung.

There was mumbling and cheers as Boba staggered up. He had bounded into an old woman’s front porch. Railing decorated the front, leaving a convenient gap where Boba had tumbled through and slammed into a mess of pottery and metallic chimes, though luckily, not the old woman who sat a foot away.

“Ya okay, mambe?”

“Yes mam,” groaned Boba rubbing his head.

The woman let out a rickety laugh, “Eh, good ting ya got so much hair, mambe. Even betta ya friend’eh be ahead of ya.”

“Friend?” he started. “Eh?”

Suddenly the cheers made sense. A crowd had gathered before a calmed hyena and a smiling Ayo overhead of it.

They led the Hyena back to its master to rounds of applause and thankful whistles. While Ayo waved back happily, Boba could only hold his head low in shame.

“Oh don’t beat yourself up, Boba,” said Ayo. “Why the fall seemed to do that for you.”

“Ha. Ha. Laugh at me why don’t you? I would’ve had this beast had I not… uh, tripped.”

“Tripped?” she grinned, “Really?”

“Really.”

“You found him!” the surprisingly light footed old man pranced to the two and patted the hyena once he got there. “Tank ya,” he bowed to them, gesturing them to follow. “Come, me shop’s not fa from here.”

Ayo nudged Boba when they got to his hyena pen a few blocks later, making him wince as she pointed at a parts shop nearby.

“Where we need to go,” she said.

“Think they got parts for the ones I’ve broken?” asked Boba.

Ayo smiled back at him and entered the pen to the creak of its gate, “I don’t think they can replace your head, no.”

Boba frowned. Had it not been for the promise of a reward he would have maintained that expression as the old man directed them to a steel bench seat and shut the gate. At least five hyena roamed the open space, which seemed about as big as two of the witch doctor’s huts in size. A small shed sat in the back corner and clotheslines stretched overhead, connected to patchwork buildings that fenced the pen.

“Sit, sit,” insisted the man. “Me goinna give ya someting betta dan money, even food.”

The two leaned in as the man carried a stool to a place ahead of them and plopped it down.

“Better the money?” asked Ayo.

“Then food?” gasped Boba.

The man nodded, flashing his crooked teeth, “Oh yes, very much yes! A story.”

Boba leaned back while Ayo produced her book.

“Dis one,” he continued, “Be about when old man Ipo lost his wife. Da witch doctah who made me my dogs told me dis story when she delivered dem to me.”

Boba rolled his eyes. Every story every Embasi’ke knew was about old man Ipo. No one knew the man personally, though some claimed they did. He was more of a mythical figure who snuck his way into everything. Sometimes Ipo was a rogue who stole from the rich and gave to the poor. Other times he was a powerful witch doctor who invented all spirit constructs. And most often, he was just a man who had lived his life in series of conveniently placed parables.

Boba crossed his arms and rose lazily to an upright seat. He wondered what kind of tale the old man would spin for him today.

“Ya see,” said the man, “Ipo’s wife was dying of a cursed heart, sa da old goot went ta look fa da Boba. He tread inta da spirit world, faced da trials, talked to da ting no-one-be-knowing-da-name-of and he got it wit no short of stories fa uddah Embasi’ke when he get back. Problem be, Ipo’s poor wife had already kicked da pot.” The man drew a line across his throat with his hand and ducked his head. He looked up a moment later and smiled. “Ipo cried fa tree day and night. But no crying could bring back da love of his life, nah. Sa Ipo, being Ipo, made a new wife. He crafted her wit wood and wooden joints. Fa days during dis construction it was said his visitors became entralled by his creation. She be a fine ting ya see. Uhm-mm-mh! Not very round, no, but still flattering, heh, if ya know what I mean.”

Ayo shut her book. By her slight frown and not-so-slight agitation, Boba could tell she was trying her best not to smack the man there.

The old man laughed, “Woah now, mamle. Me not meaning like dat. In fact, if ya wanting me to skip dose parts, I can. Just imagine a beautiful woman, ya?” He scratched his scruffy chin before continuing. “Short, a bit frail, but charming. Much like yourself, mamle.”

“Oh,” said Ayo in Boba’s favorite ‘Ayo’ism yet. She pushed her hair behind her ear and Boba grinned dumbly as he gestured the man to continue.

The man leaned forwards, “Sa, he craft dis woman, ya? Beautiful, ya? Den came da next da part. Focussing on his love fa her, he cast a new spirit inta da body. Bam! Zap! Thwap!” said the man in a series of hand waves. “His new wife came alive.”

Ayo had been scribbling things down again. She stopped briefly at the part where the man said ‘alive’ and tapped her quill against the paper.

“How did he do it?” she asked. “Was there a sequence or—or did it just happen when Ipo thought of his wife? What part of ‘love’ did he use?”

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

The man shrugged, “You tell me witch doctor. Dat your job no?”

Ayo sighed and nodded, “Yes…”

“Well, his wife be living ya? But not quite.”

“Not quite?” asked Ayo.

The man nodded, “Da part Ipo infused not be her, da woman he loved, but his feeling of love fa her. Includin’ da loss he felt when she passed while he was away. Sa da woman, dough in a woman’s body, spent all her days searching and searching,” the man pointed behind him at the hyenas doing just that, “Da witch doctor told me dats how Ipo invented da hyena constructs. Fa every hyena construct made, dere be a grieving heart.”

Again the book shut. Ayo stood after it and made for the gate without as much as a bow. Boba started after her, but when she got there, she only glanced back.

Smiling sadly, she said, “Then I think I ought to make a hyena to.”

Boba reached for her, “Ayo…”

The gate bounced a couple times behind her as she paced to the parts shop and vanished. Boba whirled to the old man.

“Oi, what was the point of that story?” pressed Boba.

The old man snickered, “Do stories be needing points? Well, if ya be insistent dey do, den me tink it be wit da feeling ya infuse in ya animals. Ipo tought ta infuse his new wife wit da feeling of his love, but what he failed ta realise was dat love be made of many feelings not one. Ya get me, witch doctor? Dat is da lesson.”

Boba saw Ayo leaving the parts store with the goods Empe had asked for and he glanced low. “I think so,” he said, waving the man a farewell, “Thank you.”

Catching up to Ayo had been easy, speaking to her, not so. They walked in silence. Boba spent the entirety of the trip back thinking of what to say. Because no matter what he said, the subject at hand was a difficult one.

If Nakato did pass, and Boba dreaded the day she would, she would not be the first. He watched Ayo as they made through the cluttered streets and up the grassy hills leading to the workshop. Upon those slender shoulders, she carried the burden of not one but two lost sisters.

Nakato was Ayo’s older sister. They came from a family of two pairs of twins. Ayo’s twin passed to disease, while Nakato’s twin passed later to heart failure. Nakato and Ayo were the surviving sisters. Though unlike Ayo, Nakato was cursed the moment her sister, Ebele, died. It was a curse of balance, a spite upon the heart.

“Ayo,” he spoke finally with the hut bobbing into a view.

“Yes?” she muttered after some steps.

The two kept walking, the distance between them constant. “Do you remember,” he said, speaking after her, “the night we first met? The deal we made?”

“That?” Ayo puffed, her ears flashing red. “Why would you…? Of course I remember. You said you’d become a witch doctor. And that when you did, you’d marry…” she shook her head, “point is, I wasn’t sure if you were just stupid at the time, but now I’m certain of it.”

“How’s about a new deal?”

The girl stopped. She glanced at him and then swiftly away. From the way her hands moved, he could tell she had been playing with her bangs. “I’m listening.” she hushed.

Boba turned and captured the tower in his sights, “Whoever cures your sister first wins her hand in marriage.”

Dirt scrapped as the girl spun to him.

“Huh!?” she blurted. “I’m her sister.”

“Then you better let me win.”

Ayo rushed ahead to the hut and leaned forwards with her hands on her hips, “You know, Boba, as someone who’s talked to Nakato more than anyone else, I’d bet I’d make better spouse than you.”

“Oh?” taunted Boba. “I knew you were that kind of girl.”

“I am not!”

He smiled after she made it into the hut. It was moments like those Boba treasured the most. Moments when Ayo was happy, or flustered, or mad—just not sad. Not sad the way Nakato’s illness made him whenever he thought of her, or as sad as Ayo must have been. She was right after all. Nakato was her sister before she was the love of his life. He remembered that dutifully as he went in after her.

…

They spent the summer nights learning of Empe’s philosophies on spirits. Come morn, they trained in basic mechanics, noon on spirit control and by dusk they went out for errands.

It was night when the duo returned. Ayo had insisted in picking up flour, eggs, and goat meat for supper, which saw them travel to the far side of Embasi and back.

Ayo had an impeccable taste in ingredients, though she was a terrible cook. Boba, on the other hand, was skilled in the culinary arts. His parents were both chefs after all. He roasted the goat and served it with freshly baked bread. Empe would regale them of stories as they ate. Sometimes the stories were of Ipo and others, if they were lucky, of the fabled spirit world that all maps lacked.

Spirit calling practice always happened before bed, then Ayo and Boba would stay up for hours chatting by the flickering flames, especially about Nakato. When Ayo would drift off before him, Boba would lay on his back and count the stars and the lightbugs that played their imposters. They slept outside in the summer while it was breezy but preferred the workshop as the nights turned frigid.

When the fall came and fewer ships docked in Embasi, news spread of another who passed due to a spite upon the heart. Ayo became uneasy, insisting day after day that Empe find a way to cure her sister. But Empe refused in the way Empe always did, in riddles and proverbs. The man would ask Ayo and Boba to look for what they truly wanted and only then would the answer come.

Ayo pressed one hand against the metal hippo head. Boba yawned as he watched her. She had been at it for hours. Nothing had happened. He thought nothing would. Then, the machine flickered blue.

Ayo gasped, “It’s working! It’s…”

It vanished as soon as it came.

“Still no huh?” sighed the witch doctor. He glanced at Boba. “If she can’t do it, ya definitely can’t. Enough spirit infusion fa today. Practice ya rituals.”

Ayo shook her head, “It’s getting late, and I’m to see Nakato before dusk.”

Empe nodded, “Yes of course.”

Ayo bowed her head to him and waved to Boba before departing.

Once the door shut, Empe lumbered to the hippo and ran his hand across the smooth plate, “I suspect bot ya hearts be broken,” he said. “It is why ya be lacking a connection to da spirits.”

“Is it Nakato?” asked Boba.

Empe patted him on the shoulder, “Not quite.” he hummed. “Ya may not realise it now, but I know ya will befa its too late. Befa…”

“Master?”

Empe paced to their lone wooden counter. A red notebook sat on top.

“Ayo’s book.” said Empe as he picked it up. “Wll ya deliver it, Boba? We can continue lessons latah.”

Boba accepted the outstretched thing, “I will. Spirits know she’ll go mad searching for it.”

The man nodded and gestured at the door.

Boba left immediately. As he jogged along the setting savanna sun, he could not help but think that Ayo had planned for him to meet Nakato. He smiled to himself. He wondered if Nakato remembered how she helped him rekindle his friendship with Ayo. During that time, when Ayo wallowed in grief, it was Nakato who convinced Ayo to let Boba console her. He would have lost his best friend if not for her.

Nakato’s kindness was a special thing. It was not just him she helped, but everybody. He loved that about her. Embasi, being as big and populated as it was, was as much of a home to the rich as it was the poor. It was Nakato who made it her mission to help them. And not just the poor, but the elderly and dejected children to. She was a beacon who had held everyone close to her. Yet the older she got, the greater the rift between them grew. He would always be a child to her. He thought he could catch up, he thought that one day he would grow into a proper man and then he would confess. Yet when Ebele died and Nakato was diagnosed with the curse, suddenly the ever distant ‘one day’ became a fixed ‘that day’.

Boba slowed as he entered the hospital. The nurses told him where to go. Second floor, first on the right.

It was a quick trip up the spiralling steps. He nearly opened the door before he heard it. It was Nakato’s voice.

“Take it back.” said Nakato.

“Sister I--”

“Take it back. We saved you didn’t we? Do I have to remind you, Ayo? Ebele and I took half the curse you got when Ife died. Then Ebele passed and I got all of it.”

Boba pressed close to the metallic door. It felt cold against him, stinging. Nakato wept.

“I don’t want to die.” pleaded Nakato. “I told you to continue living only if you had a reason to, but you don’t, do you? I hear ya spend all day training to be a witch doctor for me, but ya get nothing done. Nothing.”

Nakato’s sobs subsided when Ayo spoke, “Do you have someone?”

“I do.” she uttered.

The door swished open and Boba rushed in with tears in his eyes, “Nakato I--”

“Dakarai. I love him, Ayo. I love him so much it hurts. We had planned to wed. But when Ife died and I found out I would die, I told him to find another. Do you know what he said?”

Ayo gripped her sister’s hand tightly, “No I--”

“He told me he would not. He told me he’d never love another. I can’t have that happen. I can’t. I lived all my life helping others and not once asking for anything in return. But now I know what I want. I want to live, Ayo. So will you help me? Will you take it back?”

Ayo struggled to answer. When the door shut by its own, she gasped up and turned to find Boba standing at the door. “How much did you hear?” she asked breathlessly, her face pale.

His throat clicked. The book he held out towards shook in his hand and he tried his best to still it. “Enough,” he said.

She staggered to him with defeated step and accepted the book he had held out. “Thank you,” she hushed.

“Ayo,” started Nakato. “Who’s this?”

Ayo nearly dropped her book.

“A friend.” said Boba, moving into the hallway. “A friend of Ayo’s.”

Ayo shook her head madly, reaching for him but failing, “Boba, wait!”

He was too far. His leather shoes squeaked as he rushed down the hospital hall. Everything became a blur. The stairs, the perturbed nurses, the swinging hospital doors. With long strides, longer than when he had chased the hyena, he ran as far as he could from the dome shaped building. He made it a block away before he surrendered to sniffs and gasps. Thunder crackled above. Tears welled in his eyes. His heart had broken just as Empe predicted. He did not know what was worse. Nakato looking frailer than ever, or Nakato not remembering him. After a while, he decided neither. It was Nakato asking for help that bothered him most.

“I cannot help you,” he mumbled.

The sky crackled again and little by little, droplets fell from the murky clouds. A few wood paneled windows rattled open and people celebrated the first rainfall in weeks. The light rain became headier downpour. Boba sniffed amidst it, raindrops rushing down his cheeks and chin. He felt cold, defeated.

Steps splashed behind him. Then a familiar touch warmed his wrist.

He found Ayo there. His shoulders slumped.

“Ayo, she’s forgotten me.” he sniffed. “Worse, she’s fallen for someone else.”

“She won’t wed him,” cried Ayo, fighting against the roar of the downpour.

“What?”

She glanced about with her head soaked, and pulled him into the rafters of a nearby building. The rainy static turned to panging thumps.

“Because I’ll wed her first.” she explained. “Remember our deal?”

Boba laughed. Ayo always knew what to say. “How could I not?” he said. “Though I think… yes, I think we ought to change that deal. She gets Dakarai if I win. Like she wanted. Empowerment and all.”

Ayo’s hand shifted from his wrist to his hand. She gave him a shake, “It’s a deal.”

For the first time in a long time, the two fought to cure Nakato with a renewed effort. In between the errand runs and dinner, they spent long, taxing hours in the Embasi library.

While Ayo dutifully scanned hundreds of books on the subject of heart illnesses, Boba trudged through a couple easier-to-read works. Those sessions would end with Ayo prodding Boba awake and the two wading back to the hut in Embasi’s rainy season.

One day, after weeks of attempting Ayo’s suggestion of visiting the library, Boba took to the streets and completed as many small tasks as required in exchange for tales on old man Ipo. He’d catch the odd mechanical chicken or assist in pickup errands, all for the hopes that one stranger might know how to cure the curse of twins.

“The curse,” said Ayo, reading a book as Boba attempted to bring the mechanical hippo to life, “Is a spite upon the surviving twin’s heart. It is said to happen once every hundred cases.”

Boba eyed Ayo where she sat on her metal stool and puffed, “I can think of two exceptions.”

She teetered on her chair. “Did the woman you helped yesterday with her dinner say anything useful?”

Boba’s hand curled and he touched his chin before speaking, “You sure you want to know?”

“If it helps Nakato, yes.”

“Well, she said that the best way to please a woman--”

“Stop.”

“What?”

Ayo pulled her bangs down and held her book so it covered face. Her voice sounded muffled behind it. “If it helps Nakato. That’s what I said.”

Boba shrugged and leaned against the hippo, “You’ll need to know this when you wed her I think.”

“Anything else?” she sighed.

“Ok well, uh, the couple who I fixed the mechanical cat for. They said the best way to fix any heart is with the--”

“Boba,” said Ayo. “Sometimes, I think you’re not really in love with my sister.”

He stood up, offended, “I am!” he beamed. “I am…” he repeated. “It’s just that, besides finding a flower that doesn’t exist, I’m not sure I can.”

She lowered her book, dipping her chin with it, “I’m not sure either.”

The two stood there in an air of melancholy. The soft lights of gaslamps flickered as rain thumped against the tin walls.

“There was one story,” began Boba, hoping to dispel their misery. “The time when old man Ipo tried to cure three hearts with the Boba. Think of it as a continuation of hyena man’s story.”

“I remember that, yes.”

“Well, old man Ipo had three patients one day, each with a spite upon the heart. There was a young boy, a middle aged woman, and an old man. Ipo told them he could make three drinks out of the Boba, but only one drink would work. When they asked him why, he said that Boba could only cure those who truly used their hearts and that two there were unworthy. He gave them a day before he would administer the drink.”

Rain tapped outside. Ayo’s slight scribbling intermingled with it. Somewhere in the back, Empe could be heard packing his things. Boba leaned against the hippo.

“So,” he continued, “the three set out on how to best use their hearts and prove themselves a worthy candidate. The young boy ran around the hut with Ipo watching. He argued his heart was strong and young and that he would use it for far longer than the other two. The woman brought a photo of her family. She, who had already lived half her life, argued that she had used her heart to live as well love her family. Then came the old man. He did nothing. He said that he had lived his life, loved who he wanted. If it was a choice as the other two made it out to be then he would gladly give up his diminishing life so that those two may live.

As the old man suspected, it was a choice. Come the day of the drink, Ipo gave all three of his patients sootleaves to poison the others’ drinks. He did this for all three without each other knowing and said it was their trial.”

“Sootleaf,” said Ayo. “Yes I know the one. One dose is poisonous, but two neutralizes the effect.”

Boba snapped his fingers, “Exactly! The boy, thinking he should live, poisoned the woman’s and the man’s drink. The woman, thinking she deserved it most for her family, did the same for the other two. So when they went to take the drinks, the woman and the child died shortly after.”

Ayo shook her head, “But why would Ipo do that? Why would he give them poison, knowing they would use it? Doesn’t that defeat the purpose of saving them?”

Empe’s laugh came from the back. It was a crooked and telling thing, “Oh, a good story ta hear, hmm? Heh, well it be even betta ta listen to.” Empe stood up from the back with a large pack tugged behind him. He sauntered forwards in long, lazy steps and tipped his hat when he stood between the two. “I know dat story. Oh yes I do. Ya old man Ipo switched da drinks wit a spell. Na poison in da end. Dat drink da tree of dem be drinking? All Boba drinks.” Empe drank from an imaginary cup and let out a satisfied breath.

Boba shrugged, “That is how I was told it to. Ipo switched the drinks before any could drink the poisoned ones.”

“So then, Boba is poisonous?” asked Ayo.

“Only,” said Empe. “To dose wit busted hearts.” The white suited man twirled to the door and clicked it open. He stepped out with a swagger and grinned at the two of them. “Well now, well now, old Empe be heading out. Long journey ahead of him. One week, two, hopefully tree? He don’t know how long fa sure, but he be back, don’t you worry.”

Ayo had leapt from her chair. The metal thing rattled a bit as she shook there. “You’re heading out? Master, but what of my sister? Who will cure her if not you?”

“Eh now, you know just who be curing her.”

“Who!?” puffed Ayo.

Empe smiled and the door shut to the tip of his hat. When Ayo rushed to the door and wrenched it open, Empe was gone.

“Spirits.” she cursed, pacing about. “Spirits! Spirits! Spirits!”

“You think he’s gone out for the Boba?” asked Boba.

“A magical flower that doesn’t exist?”

He bobbed his head to that, “You’re right. Probably not. We trained with him for over ten years and we never seen one.”

Ayo quit her march and stifled back a laugh, her voice cracking.

“What?” he asked.

“I’ve seen one,” she said facing him. “Albeit a really big and dumb version of one.”

He grabbed her by the shoulders, his eyes racing to find hers. “Where?” he clamored. “If it exists we could use it to save Nakato. We could… We could…” He let go and sighed. “You’re talking about me aren’t you?”

She nodded slowly, her smile wavering.

“Be serious,” he said.

“You’re one to talk.”

“Ayo, if I could give myself up for Nakato I would.”

Her smile faded. “Give yourself up, huh?” she repeated slowly.

“Yes! And if I wasn’t enough I would… I would make a hundred mechanical versions of myself too!”

“Boba,” she said with a shake of her head, “It doesn’t matter how many you make of yourself, you’d never be able to bring them to life. I mean, if you were to do something as stupid as make mechanical shells you’d be better off selling those and buy Nakato help.”

Boba paused, as did Ayo. The two shared a look. Boba raised his brows and gestured them at the hippo. Ayo, he imagined, did something similar behind her bangs. He shrugged. She gasped.

“That’s it,” she said. “Spirits, we’ll do just that! We’ll make machines and sell them!”

It was a foolish, idiotic plan, but it was all they had. Weeks remained until Nakato’s final day. Knowing how valuable spiritless carapaces were, the two constructed a nigh army of unpowered mechanical beasts. They used their own allowances, built machine upon machine and traded them to the few remaining traders in exchange for medicine.

They sought draughts and pellets, charms and trinkets. Anything that would have helped ease Nakato’s condition, they bought for her. But nothing worked.

Boba became impatient, wanting. For everyday that passed he wanted to see Nakato more, so every day Ayo said she’d go to deliver the goods to Nakato, Boba would follow without her knowing. He’d watch from a nearby scaffolding and smile no matter what he saw. Like a painting captured in a small frame, yellow against a dark backdrop, several scenes would play out in the window of Nakato’s room. She’d be there upon her hospital bed, beautiful, composed and sad. Then she’d light up whenever those she loved came to see her. Whether it was Nakato with her friends, or Nakato with her mother, or Nakato with Dakarai, he’d go to see the painting even on the days Ayo did not.

Ayo would ask where he went, why he had taken so long one day and not the last. And each time he would lie. He had to help catch a hyena he would say, or run errands for some nameless stranger. Then one day, distraught and disheveled, Ayo stopped asking. He had been too distracted to ask why. Everyday then had become more pressing than the last.

The last week in particular seemed to stretch an eternity. More medicine, more charms, and still nothing.

Nothing thought Boba as he shuffled to the same spot. It had been particularly cold that evening. Boba and Ayo had traded their ponchos for thicker ones, but up there on the scaffolding the wind had been ruthless. The savanna chill more so. Boba shivered as he searched for the window. He froze when he found it. Nakato was gone.

He panicked, looming closer and closer to the edge of the scaffolding. The bed had been cleaned, the room empty.

His heart beating, he rushed down the wayward supports and stumbled closer to the hospital. The worst possible scenario played in his head on repeat.

She died he thought.

She died

She died

She di--

“I remember you.”

He had been too distracted to hear the steps. Her steps. He found Nakato and Dakarai behind him. Nakato had her arms wrapped around the lean Dakarai’s arm. Dakarai had both his hands tucked in his pockets.

“You’re alive,” said Boba. “And better.”

Nakato gave him a smile, “That’s right. The curse… it’s gone now thanks to you and Ayo. Boba right?”

“The flower?”

Nakato laughed and glanced at Dakarai who smiled back at her.

“You, silly. I helped you get together with Ayo those years ago. Do you remember that?”

Boba blinked. Days ago he had been pacing madly in the witch doctor’s hut concocting a number of last effort plans to save Nakato. Now he stood before her, victorious.

“After Ife died. You helped me console Ayo, I remember,” he said.

“Good, I hope you recall that in the coming days,” said Nakato gesturing down the road. The couple made past Boba as he stood there, stunned.

“Oh and Boba,” said Nakato, making the man turn her way, “thank you and…” she searched for the words, “I’m sorry.”

He watched the two drift down the road and into the hospital where they vanished behind the metal doors. He touched his chin, shook a little.

“We did it,” he said, flabbergasted, “We… we saved her!”

It was near night, the streets darkening. But every light that flickered awake to the coming night, every street side post, every household gas lamp shimmered in his sights like a new born sun. The run back to the hut was the happiest he’d ever known. He wondered which medicine had done it. Clearly it must have been one of the many charms he bought, since Nakato was with Dakarai not Ayo.

Ayo.

The thought of her flustered at losing, the way she picked at her bangs made him rush back even faster. If there was anyone in the world he wanted to share what he felt with then, it was Ayo.

He wanted to see her smile, lose himself in the joy of it. Maybe that feeling could bring to life a machine, maybe that was what the witch doctor wanted them to realise.

He arrived at the hut minutes later and puffing.

“Ayo,” he called out before opening the door. “Ayo?”

He found her breathing hard, back first against the workshop wall with her legs on the floor. Smiling grandly, he assumed she had heard the news before him and rushed back to meet him.

“Boba,” she groaned meekly.

Boba helped her to a seat. Since the workshop had three residents, Empe had insisted on three chairs. Strangely enough, the day after Empe left, a chair went with him. It made Boba think the man had gone traveling with a wooden stool tied to his back.

“Not this seat.” started a weak voiced Ayo. “Move me to the hippo, will you?”

Boba was not fond of moving Ayo. It made him nervous to do so as if she was a fragile thing. He hoisted her up, one arm under her knees and the other below her back. He took her to his chair.

She touched the hippo’s head the moment she was seated. Her eyes fluttered shut. “I think I get it now,” she whispered with a shallow breath.

Blue light sparked about the mechanical thing and little by little power flushed through its lifeless carapace. The brightest blue lights coalesced around the hippo’s beady sockets and there the light stayed. The hippo shook and Ayo fumbled back.

Boba caught her in his arms and watched the beast move. It seemed startled by its own movement, like a newborn pup.

“How?” asked Boba.

Ayo let her head fall back. Her black bangs slid of her face and revealed her maple eyes. She smiled at him, “I think the spirits wanted me to realise something I had longed denied.”

“Which is?”

She poked his bushy head with an extended hand, “A secret.” she whispered.

“I’m no good with secrets.” complained Boba. “A hint perhaps?”

Her ears flashed red. “Come closer.” she urged.

The moment he did, she shoved his face away with her already extended hand, “Never mind, your breath stinks.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

The hippo’s steps intermingled with the clattering of pots.

“Boba.” she began again. “I think I won our deal. Boba, though I-- I don’t think I’ll wed her.”

“Hmm? I imagined you wouldn’t.”

“Not that, you idiot.” she wheezed. “I mean… I mean I took up the curse.”

Boba was slow to catch many things. He never caught a joke until it was too late, never understood a lesson till the day after, and never knew what to say when it mattered. Yet the moment she said what she did, there was no delay.

“Oi, that means you’ll die.” he said.

She paused before admitting it, “Yes, yes it does.”

“No, I won’t accept that,” he said stumbling back. He remembered the way Nakato clutched Dakarai, how they had practically pranced away as if nothing had happened. As if the vile woman had not just damned her own sister.

“Nakato made you take it. An older sister shouldn’t do that.” He made to the door. “I’ll make her take it back.”

“Boba, no!” said Ayo as she fell with a thud.

He glimpsed at Ayo and found her crawling towards him. It would not be long. She had been weakening for at least a week. How had he not noticed? The hippo ventured out before him.

“You’ll thank me later.” he said as he shut the door.

Using the mechanical hippo as a makeshift mount, Boba trotted into Embasi. Atop his lumbering stead he questioned the various townsfolk and learned that Nakato was already at the Spirit Tower. She was plotting to wed there and then.

Despicable.

He convinced himself he was out to stop Nakato not out of spite for his rejection but out of wanting to do what was right for Ayo.

She deserved that much.

He found her at the tower’s base with the lean Dakarai. A long isle led to them. Some of Ayo’s relative asked Boba where Ayo was. He told them she was sick. It was the rehearsal wedding but even then the crowd had gathered, spurred on by woman’s sudden recovery, yet unawares as to how. Ayo had not told them.

Boba would.

He drove his hippo into the central isle and sat straight as he addressed the woman from some feet away. All eyes fell on him.

“Take it back.” he bellowed. “Take back the curse you put on Ayo.”

The crowd gasped. A babe cried.

Nakato yelled back, not once losing her composure, “It was hers to begin with. It is a curse placed upon the surviving twin. When one dies, so too will the other in three and half months. It is just one of the costs for confining spirits.”

“Then what of your curse?” pressed Boba.

“Would you rather have both of us die?” she countered.

Another voice entered the fray. “Is this true?” spoke Ayo’s and Nakato’s mother.

“It is.” confessed Nakato.

The older woman paced to her daughter and slapped her there, “how could you?” she sobbed. “She’s your sister!”

Nakato held her reddening face and clutched Dakarai’s hand tighter, “I did it to live. I have no regrets.”

“No regrets?” spat Boba. “What of Ayo?”

She could find no words. He would not let her.

He slammed his legs into the hippo’s side and willed it forwards. The hippo began a deadly trot. That trot became a cantor. Several feet became few. The happy couple attempted a retreat, yet they would not make it. Nakato would pay. Pinned between the hippo and the spire, she would take up the curse. She had to.

“Wait!”

Ayo’s voice gave pause to the charging hippo. She was on the lion that Empe had fashioned months ago. The feline machine halted behind the hippo, and Ayo fell off. Several of her relatives rushed to aid her as did Boba.

He kneeled low, saw her sprawled and pale. He held her hand and asked, “Why?”

“Because she’s right,” she said squeezing his hand, “I didn’t realise what I had to live for, but she did. I failed, Boba, both her and you. Please, forget me and become the witch doctor you were meant to be.”

“A-Ayo.” He stuttered. Her grip weakened. Ayo was fragile, so fragile. “Don’t say that. You must live. I don’t want ya to go, Ayo. Because I...” his throat clicked, “I lo-”

Her lips parted, “Idiot…”

“Ayo?”

She raised her head, grinning, “We’re idiots in different ways you and I.” She produced a glowing pink orchid from under her poncho.

“Is that?”

She nodded.

His mouth formed a quivering smile, his eyes teared up, and, in his blurring vision, he peered into the distance and spotted what he thought he would.

A man in a white suit had his hat outstretched.