Kwazhak and Suruj walked quietly along the streets of Kapori, enjoying the ambiance of the dry wind sweeping through, the sounds of buggies churning in the distance. The heat of the elliptic orbital month continued on into the night, as giant fans whirled around endlessly day after day. For a while, they refrained from talking to each other. Their scheme was making progress, but Kwazhak knew there wasn’t enough time.

“You been drinking?” Suruj started the conversation, mindlessly kicking a rock forward.

“Oh, I thought I had hidden it well,” He replied, surprised.

“My dad loved his alcohol, but he pretended that he wasn’t drinking them.”

“Your father? I’m quite intrigued.”

“Well…” The boy slowed down, “He rarely visits us, but Buhanggilog doesn’t allow divorces.”

“I see…” Kwazhak cleared his throat, “Adults are strange creatures.”

“But you are an adult.”

“Precisely. I’m a strange creature.”

“...”

Kwazhak sighed before asking him another question, “We’ve lost a lot of people, haven’t we?”

He read the report back in Wakoku. There had been two lives taken during the extraction of candidate Suruj Zundui. Rosa and Koi Zundui. Kwazhak didn’t know about the boy’s father, but he dared not to press him for such information. Although in a sense, Suruj Zundui had lost his entire family.

“Yeah. It seems like we’re losing everything we came here for. But my meaning in this world, the one L had bestowed to me, I will never forget it,” Suruj responded with conviction, swearing over his chest.

“It seems to me that thou art the only one completely composed in our predicament,” Kwazhak commented, putting his one arm in his pockets. Suruj folded his arms as he turned his face away.

“I… I’m just tired of people dying. And now that everyone I loved dearly is gone…”

“Not everyone is ‘gone’,” The prince corrected him, “We’re still alive. Jose and Niktar are alive. Saya is still alive.”

“... Shunji betrayed us. I won’t forgive that traitor. Now that Al-Wa and the tournament have taken the lives of many, I have no regrets,” Suruj curled his fist into a ball, as his black bracelet immediately zapped the saharic particles that were surrounding him. “Has anyone tried to go past this city’s borders?”

“There’s soldiers armed with firearms at present at every gate, due to anti-Kazaàd demonstrators trying to enter the metropolis. There’s a high probability that they wouldn’t let their muqatil escape, so our chances are low.”

“Tch… The barrier is almost broken. If we could possibly escape from there, then the problem is how we’re going to leave this city,” The boy concluded, looking up at the arching turbine in the sky.

“Yeii no Matsuri special fresh karaage! Hashara karaage!” A street vendor cried out from an alleyway entrance. As they got the attention of the two, Kwazhak noticed a sign on the bottom of the man’s stand. He decided to go to the food stall, and Suruj followed suit.

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“Peace be with you, valued custo-” The man noticed the black bracelet on the two of them. “M- Muqatil? Why, it is my greatest honor to serve you Azu-Tasdahan delicacies!” He changed his demeanor and quickly got on his knees to prostrate. “You may have anything you desire from me, but please don’t take my food ingredients!”

“There’s no need, I want to support thy family and business,” Kwazhak dismissed him and pointed to the man’s sign. “Suruj, let’s buy this good man cooking ingredients.”

“What? Why?”

“You muqatil have no reason to help a lowly peasant such as I,” The man rejected his offer. “Azazeru no Mikoto has praised you-”

“Enough. Let’s go,” Kwazhak turned around, leading them three together.

“Huh? Hold on!”

Ignoring the poor man’s words, the man notified them of a nearby bazaar in the area. Taking a public rickshaw for free, they managed to head to an unnamed flea market that happened to be open in the evening. It only took a few minutes before the sellers recognized Suruj and Kwazhak’s status.

“Muqatil? The muqatil are here!”

“Have they come to bless us at the matsuri?”

“This looks similar to the palengkes I see back home,” Suruj noted, as the people gathered around them.

“Oh sacred muqatil, what has become of your presence here?” The host of the bazaar made way, before lowering himself to his knees. “But I ask of you, please don’t rob us of all our products and goods. But so be it, we will offer everything in the name of the Baraam no Mikoto.”

“Don’t fret, faithful men and women. I have come only for one thing,” Kwazhak seamlessly played his role in their religion, while Suruj stared at him. He had something already thought of on the way to the bazaar.

Kwazhak arranged for everyone to give up two boxes worth of flour, basic cooking ingredients, and vegetable oil, while hiring a buggy to transport the goods. In accordance with the people, this way Kwazhak did not take from one person, but rather from every vendor proportionally.

It took a couple of hours to haul everything back to the man’s stall in the alleyway.

“Oh, praise to the matsuri! Praise to Azazel! Words and prayers are not enough for your good will,” The man thanked him, clasping his hands together.

“If I may ask,” Suruj questioned, “What was your previous job before ending up here?”

“I was a turbine technician for the Al-Fuhsya Turbine, but recently I was laid off… but that doesn’t matter. How am I going to repay you for your kindness? Oh… Perhaps…” He went back into the passage. After voices of arguing he finally came back out, this time with a petite girl. “You can take in my daughter.”

“Oi, wait, papa-”

“Karam, if you get associated with a muqatil then your life will turn out for the better…”

“Okay, that’s a little too much,” Suruj interjected, backing away.

“I agree. I would never consent to an outlandish exchange such as this,” Kwazhak shrugged his shoulders. “Besides, we-”

Usually his process of thinking fired off from his head like a bullet, recognizing opportunities and acting on them. If he took the man’s word that his profession was a turbine technician, then he would make a brilliant asset to guiding their escape. But the weeds of doubt already rooted in his brain.

“Mr. Laoyuang… you oughta know the fine line between friendship and manipulation. Because no one will ever put their trust in you.”

“I apologize, but we do not consent to this. However, one can take this,” Kwazhak took out a broken device from his hanfu, and dropped it into the daughter’s hands. “If you really are a technician, then as payment I request that you convert this to broadcast the news from outside Tasdaha.”

“I am capable of that, but sir-”

“That is thy payment for us muqatil. Well then, we will depart at once.”

Leaving immediately, Kwazhak paced himself away from the scene, as Suruj took effort to catch up with him. For the prince, he could feel fatigue pull weight on his legs and a throbbing headache.

“Kwazhak… What did you give them?” The Buhang boy finally caught up.

“I gave them the hologram recorder that Jun used during the battle with Thiệu,” He brushed his hair back, letting it flow in the wind. It was set. But to Kwazhak, his job wasn’t done. Even if the technician was going to repair it, he couldn’t just buckle down and wait. He knew that tomorrow was going to be the vital part of his promise.