This time, Elsie kept her motorcycle running at a low speed, barely faster than someone could run. With good reason too, Yuriko supposed, since the path they took went through narrow alleys littered with trash, excrement, and bodies. She figured most were alive since she could see their torsos moving as they breathed, but her perception was still hampered by the presence of so much ‘chronian gear. It was annoying, she knew, but she could bypass that protection simply by pressing harder. But it would become obvious, not just to anyone watching her but also to the one being scanned. She had little reason to do that, and the one time she did, her perception penetrated past clothes, ‘chronian gear, and skin. Not all that pleasant, but perhaps she should hone that skill so she could be accurate and precise. Who would she practise against though?

Elsie was right in front of her, but Yuriko wasn’t comfortable experimenting like that with a possible friend. Certainly, Elsie could be considered an ally at the moment, so anything of the sort wouldn’t be done without express permission. But still, her Anima perception might touch off something, so better to practise with clear enemies.

She shook her head as the motorcycle entered another short alley that led into a cul-de-sac if one created by the walls of several buildings could be called as such. The space was in shadow and probably would remain as such unless the sun was directly overhead. The space was laid out in such a way that from the entrance, only a bit of it could be seen, and once they entered, the rest of it unfolded within sight.

The cul-de-sac was the entrance to several buildings, and there was a small community right here, hidden from the rest of Junktown. It was roughly two hundred paces long, and about fifty wide. The entrance was at one of the corners.

Laundry lines crossed the space, complete with drying clothes. How they expected anything to dry in the humidity and lack of direct sunlight, she didn’t know. Several barrels were sporting fires, and there were puddles across the cul-de-sac. The laundry was dripping wet…ah, that’s what the fires were for? To create warm drafts? But wouldn’t the cloth smell of smoke? Well, considering the stench of the place, perhaps it didn’t matter to the residents.

At the other end of the space was a small group of children, half a dozen, all just about to become teens, or at the cusp. They were in a line and were slowly performing katas. Unarmed, slow, and deliberate. Full of errors, obvious even to someone who didn’t know the patterns, yet with every movement, every twitch of the muscle, every shift in balance, was filled with eager sincerity. Yuriko’s breath caught in her throat. These boys and girls had taken the first steps towards touching a martial Ennoia, and their instructor was immersed in it.

A man performed in front of his audience, moving with the same slow rhythm, except every stance, every shift, was honed to perfection. Well, not true perfection, but as perfect as those movements could be, considering all of its limitations.

Elsie was silent as they walked towards the group. Yuriko continued observing and compared the children with the instructor. The oldest kid wasn’t the one with the most proficiency, strangely enough, it was actually the youngest. Perhaps even more intriguing, or perhaps disturbing, was that the kid had ‘chronian gear for arms and legs. Not the full leg, but just at the knees. But the arms were completely ‘chronian from the shoulders down. Yet she was the one who was the most skilled. Her movements mimicked her teacher’s, and more impressive, her Anima was awake.

She was too young, maybe ten or eleven years old. Yet her ‘chronian gear was infused with more Anima especially compared to the adults. Even Elsie’s Anima was barely a thin branch creeping down her arms. This girl’s Anima completely suffused each mechanical limb. It wasn’t thick by any measure, barely denser than Yuriko’s perceptive aura. But it was in the shape of the limbs. A clear distinction.

Every other kid who had ‘chronian gear didn’t have the same advantage, though none of the others had anything more than ‘chronian eyes and neural links. Their teacher, however, was a work of art.

His upper body was bare and his pants cut off below the knees. But what he showed was not flesh sculpted into a warrior’s. No, his body was completely made up of ‘chronian gear. From the neck down, as far as she could tell, and even so, his eyes were ‘chronian, and he had forehead and neck plates, too.

His Anima suffused every part of it and it spilled out of his body into a barely visible aura. In truth, Yuriko would not have been able to see their Anima since they would have been concealed by their bodies. But the katas they performed made it shine brightly. No one without an awakened Anima would be able to see, however, so probably, no one else in the cul-de-sac could.

The slow kata slowly sped up and became a bit more acrobatic. Yuriko and Elsie stood a dozen paces away, respectfully waiting for the practice to conclude. The teacher saw Elsie and acknowledged her with a short nod, but when he looked at Yuriko, his movement had stuttered for a split second, though he quickly recovered his rhythm.

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Seeing her patiently waiting allowed the man to regain his aplomb, but the kata practice still sped up anyway. Or perhaps it was the normal pace after all? Doing somersaults and flying spin kicks wouldn’t be possible if they were slow after all.

The kata ended with the teacher and the kids landing on the ground after a somersault kick, down on one knee and a fist on the ground, head bowed. It was an impressive display, but Yuriko found it had a bit too much flourish, too much aerial movement for a landbound martial art. What was the purpose of the acrobatic manoeuvres? Was it for a display? A show? It was only the teacher and the youngest student who were able to gain enough height with their standing jumps to perform more than a single rotation or flip.

And while she watched, the students returned to their feet and bowed to their master, before the teacher dispersed the gaggle of playful children.

“Sifu Lao,” Elsie said as she cupped her right fist with her left palm and bowed.

The man, Tiger Lao, returned the gesture. “Student Elsie. You have returned and with a guest.” His mechanical eyes turned to gaze at Yuriko, and they widened imperceptibly. He shifted his bearing, and bowed to her, deeper than his students had to himself, “To what do I owe the honour of your presence, exalted one?”

Yuriko noted the address, saw the glimmers of Anima escaping from his body. They quivered in anticipation, and her Mien connected a thread to his core. The emotions were muted, the bond barely there, but a hint was more than enough to decipher that the man was shaken to his core. She nodded to him, though did not copy their greeting. “It’s good to meet you. I am Yuriko Mishala Davar, and I arrived in this city just yesterday.”

“I have forsaken my name and now call myself Tiger Lao. Well met.” He eyed her warily as she walked closer. “Please…how may I serve?” Elsie’s jaw dropped, and Yuriko sensed that the woman was aghast at her sifu’s meekness.

“I seek knowledge,” Yuriko said. “But that would be gained from my association with Elsie. Perhaps you can give it to me, too, in a similar exchange.”

“I see.” The man shivered. “What do you wish to know?”

“I was merely curious about your practice,” Yuriko said. “I see you are using the martial path to seek enlightenment. One of yours is already awakened.”

“Yes. Young Matsumi is a prodigy,” he said, pride radiating from every inch of his body. Now that she was so close, she could more easily see the details of his ‘chronian body. Everything below the neck was metal. An alloy of steel and something unknown, the very thing that resisted her Anima perception. His body was characterised by bands of metal, each one an inch wide. His form was sleek, though definitely masculine. It was as if he was a sculpture of metal, come to think of it.

His neck wasn’t fully flesh either. It would be a foolish vulnerability, though considering that he had an awakened Anima, he could as easily protect his head with a condensed shield. Well, either he didn’t know how, or all of his reach was focused on animating his body, or perhaps a bit of redundancy was in order. His forehead and skull were protected by subdermal plates and probably his neck, too. Now that he wasn’t practising his katas, his Anima was no longer displayed, but Yuriko noticed an oddity, it was the last thing to fade away, come to think of it, and it drew her attention just like a candle flame in the dark.

There was a mark on his Anima. It was clearly foreign considering that it was an entirely different hue from the rest of his aura. It was also in a pattern that was distinctly hard to remember, and one tended to forget it as soon as the eyes left the mark. It was in the shape of an empty circle, right in the middle of his forehead, etched in silver light. It faded away moments afterwards.

Tiger Lao shook his head and said, “Unfortunately, she is the only one I’ve taught, over the past dozen years, to have succeeded. And I think that she would have, eventually, with or without my tutelage.” He met her gaze without flinching, though his mechanical pupils expanded and contracted slowly. “You…I sense you are awakened, too. I cannot fathom your power, and you look completely organic. You said you just arrived in the city…are you one of them?”

“Who do you mean?” Yuriko asked curiously, though she had an inkling of what it was.

“The Conclave.”

“No.”

“No?”

Yuriko nodded, and the man seemed to wilt. In relief, though, Yuriko thought, not in despair.

“Were they the ones who…?”

“Indeed. Ah, the Brand, of course. And not them, directly, but the subsidiary that Millenium State Conglomerates owns.”

“Can you clarify? Did they awaken you or did they put that symbol on your head?”

“I would say both, but of the first, it was during a Delve. I used to be part of a MilState-sponsored Delve Team, Special Forces, and we were in the 1st Lower Floor.” He swallowed. “There are no other places that resemble despair, suffering, and death than there.”

The lower floor? So he knew how and where to delve the tower? Was it the same place or method to climb? Damien’s memories pointed out that the Eternal Tower could be climbed or delved, ascending beyond the Firmament or descending below the Abyss. He’d never reached that far, or at least, not in the memories she held, but she knew a bit of the distinctions once she unravelled more of the subject.

Delve to gain power, material or otherwise, and ascend to gain knowledge. She needed the latter to devise a way to return to Rumiga. Or better yet, a way to cross the boundless distances with as little time as possible. After all, if an accident brought them to the shores of Arcadia in the blink of an eye, when it would have taken decades to cross otherwise, then there must surely be a way to do it on purpose.

It had only been a day since they arrived here in Dragon Fall City, and she had been lost in exploring its mysteries and culture. She also had no idea where to go to start the trials of the tower, but this seemed an excellent start.

“Can you tell me how to get to that place?” Yuriko asked with an inviting smile, but Tiger Lao simply looked at her.