The waning embers carried by the returning winter wind had all but left their minds later that day. And the words uttered by the hound, in Sato’s mind, clawed at her psyche, giving her a terrible headache. It shot painful pangs through her cranium. She rubbed her temples as they approached the clinic Ryosai had mentioned.
It was a shoddy yet clean place. It was barely any better than a random backstreet doctor’s office, but it was much more comfortable than one. It seemed to be half-clinic half-house, both a living space for him and a place of rest. It wasn’t much different from the Iteration 7 offices in which they worked, after all. Just as they had the living space and the Writer’s desk in one room, they also had their bedrooms just a few steps away. As if to mirror their occupational lives, Ryosai had his desk near the front door as well as a tiny kitchen to the right. Down the creaky, claustrophobic hall mounted with endless portraits led to a slightly open living room of sorts. It was still quite cramped and the overly large plaid furniture didn’t help to make any more room. Pretty, hand-sewn designs lined the fluffy throw pillows, footstools, and sofas. An oaken coffee table sat in the middle of the tranquil chaos.
With her head still in her hands, Sato led them all to the room in question as if she perfectly knew the way and took a seat on the closest sofa. The respite was quiet save for the rustling of all their clothes and the ticking of a grandfather clock in the corner.
“Thank you, sir. For inviting us to your home.” Tien gave her thanks to the wizened doctor with a warm smile.
Ryosai waved her worries away. “Do not mention it. You are friends of Sato, yes? How could I not invite you all as well? Now, I’ll go make some tea. Feel free to relax.” Following his words, he took his hands out of his large coat pockets and retraced his steps back to the kitchen area.
Tien placed her suitcase on the coffee table while Ma’at looked down at Sato. After a while, she crept around the clutter and took a seat next to the raincoat-wearing woman.
“How are you feeling? Any better now?”
Sato shook her head, then winced as even that sent bullets of pain through her spine. “Did either of you hear it too? That hound.”
“I heard it, alright. I’m sure half the city heard its cry,” Tien said with a twinge of snarkiness. She put her suitcase on its side and took a seat on a tall, cushioned chair.
“No,” Ma’at said. “There was something else. I thought I heard it… talking. Like Rosaline. It was much harder to hear this time, though.”
“Not for me.” Sato slowly raised her head to meet her compatriot’s eyes. “It felt like someone was screaming in my ears. Unlike Rosaline, there was a second where I thought I was going to be… lost in its words. For a moment, I lost myself like a child would accidentally drop a toy. It was terrifying.” She let out a labored sigh.
“What did it say?” Tien asked, brushing brown hair out of her face.
Sato deliberated in silence, then came to a decision in her mind. “It doesn’t matter. Similar things as Rosaline. But people tend to shout lies when they’re angry… or when they’re scared. I don’t think we should linger on an Enigma’s words.”
Tien, barely noticeably, narrowed her eyes. “Okay. But if they do become relevant, tell us. Personally, I want to know just what the Union of Isles is planning. Why gather all these random Enigmas? I’m sure they want us to think they’re attempting to revert them back to humans, but I doubt it. Something’s fishy.”
Ma’at contemplated. It certainly was suspicious, there was no doubt about it. But was it really any of their business? Vroque wasn’t some startup business here in Reville, but it surely wasn’t a conglomerate big enough yet to dissuade the Union’s actions. And, really, what was it to them? Low-Class Vroque mercs had little to no sway in the violent storm of rich folk whims.
“I’m sure you both are curious about the Doctor,” Sato broke the momentary silence. “He’s an old family friend.” As she said it, it felt wrong somehow. It felt as if they weren’t her own words but ones she was reciting.
“Sato…” Ma’at started to say, but Ryosai’s sudden entrance closed her mouth promptly.
“Here we are, green mountain tea for you all.” Ryosai set the drinks down softly, then took a seat in the farthest chair. It was old and brown with checkered patches all across its rough exterior.
“Thank you,” they all said quietly in unison.
“None for you?” Tien inquired.
“No, it’s fine. It was the last of it, and even so, I much prefer to smoke.” He chuckled dryly, then reached back into one of his coat pockets and procured an ornate smoking pipe. It was mostly wood but with iron accents that had been created by a talented hand. He sprinkled a faint powdery substance into it, then reached over and picked up a match in his other hand. He struck it, lit the pipe’s contents, then puffed and started to take drags from it as if he had done so countless times before. Violet wisps began to push out from the tiny flame and linger in the air. “My own advice be damned, I suppose. Haha.”
Ma’at instantly recognized the smell of the plant-turned-powder. “You smoke Tranquility?”
Ryosai took another drag from his pipe, his lungs filling with its mystical contents, then let it out, purple fumes escaping from his mouth. “That’s right. It’s a curious herb. I’m glad I didn’t find it much earlier in my life, however. It is quite addictive. Though, I’ve been told by some that it didn’t sprout up from the ground until a few years ago. Strange, how the world works sometimes.” He smoked again. “But that doesn’t matter right now. I’m quite happy to see you, Sato. How long has it been?” He smiled, faint wrinkles around his mouth appearing as he did so.
Sato stared into the doctor’s clouded lenses. “Ten years or so.”
He shook his head in disbelief. “Already so long. It feels as though I met you and your mother mere weeks ago. Hm. Time is a curse for weary minds.”
“How exactly did you know them?” Ma’at asked.
Ryosai lowered his pipe and examined the Sirithisian in thought. “I was their family’s doctor for a time, back when most families shared a doctor. It was a long time ago, when Reville was an infantile city state. Its current shine and chic, the machines and technology, none of it was here. It was a poor city for poor folk who had come from poor countries. Many of us were from an oriental island at the end of the chain… in the back corner of the world. Nima was its name. It was home, for a time, but we eventually had to leave and come here.”
“Do you miss it?” Tien asked.
Ryosai pondered the question, then nodded. “Yes, sometimes. When I close my eyes, I can still see the blooming pink blossoms. The devil flowers. They are imprinted on my eyelids like sunspots. And the smells, too. When I am alone in my office with the wind blowing in through the window, that nostalgic scent still finds its way to me despite all these years since.” He paused. “But there wasn’t much choice to be had at that time, and we were the lucky ones. Besides, I am content now in Reville. Say what you will about the Union, but they have removed many of the problem groups that used to plague this land.”
“Problem groups?”
“When we had originally come to Reville, many from Nima brought with them traditions I couldn’t stand. But, that isn’t a pleasant topic. I’d rather talk about something else.”
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“Yes, let’s.” Tien leaned forward, escaping from the bulky chair’s clutches. Her hands fell on its arms tensely. They were lined with orbicular studs that ran up and around the front of the chair and down to its wooden base and frame. “You said that man- err, beast, was your patient, correct?”
Doctor Ogata Ryosai nodded again, calm as a saint in his temple. His home, his clinic was as tranquil as his own heart and mind it seemed. Beneath the occasional blinding glare of his glasses were eyes bathed in age and kindness. However, further within, one could glean that the man had seen gut-wrenching things in his youth. It was only natural given his occupation, especially when he had been in the business for a large portion of his earthly existence. “He had come to me with a horrible heartache and a strange case of pneumonia. Well, I’ll admit it wasn’t quite that strange. He said many times that he had been wandering the streets at night… in the winter, no less. You can imagine what I told him then. He did not listen to me, yet came to visit my clinic again and again regardless.”
“Do you have the patient’s record or any kind of medical memorandum?”
The bespectacled man sighed, a faint plume escaping his mouth. “I’m afraid not. As I explained to that pompous duelist, my operating room which resides a block away was reduced to ashes. The record too, I’m sure.”
“You don’t know? Surely there’s a chance it wasn’t burned in the fire.”
Ryosai chuckled, then plummeted into a mild coughing fit as he choked on the Tranquility smoke. “Of course there’s a chance, miss,” he said, regaining his composure. “But when I say ‘reduced to ashes’, I am not spewing hyperbole. There was truly nothing left but myself.”
“What was his name?”
He struggled with an answer, the question obviously forcing him to dig deep into faint memories. “I honestly cannot recall his name. I don’t think he ever told me, even when I asked.”
The pitter-patter of rain soon sunk into the doctor’s welcoming abode. The Vroque women sipped their tea, and Ryosai continued to smoke until the powder had all but burnt away. He raised the nearby window with some difficulty, then scattered the remnants into the wet soil below. The solemn sound of unceasing rain then permeated the home for a short while until the aged man finally closed the window once more and sat back down.
“Well, it has gotten quite late. You are all free to spend the night if you wish. I have more than enough bedding in the ward and many blankets. A walk through the rain does no one any good. Drives a person mad,” he said with a barely-noticeable smirk.
“I haven’t heard that saying in a long time,” Sato replied with a somewhat dour expression. “Mother used to say it a lot. She told me that back in Nima, many believed in evil spirits. There was a myth that they hid in falling raindrops and tranquil droplets, waiting for someone to touch them. If they did, there was a chance they’d be possessed and sink deep into melancholy.”
Tien smiled. “Was that how they explained feeling moody during bad weather?”
“Hm. Probably. There were many outdated traditions and ways of thinking there, apparently. But it is an interesting thought.” Sato studied her umbrella leaning against the table, then turned to Doctor Ryosai. “If you have the space, we don’t mind. If we aren’t a bother, that is.”
“No, Sato. You could never be a bother. Give me a moment while I go and set everything up.” He stood from his long rest, put his pipe into his right pocket, and left the room promptly.
“Sato,” Ma’at suddenly whispered.
“Hm?”
“What you asked Raphael earlier, about a Union doctor. Does he work for the Union?” She tilted her head toward the back ward where Ryosai was making the beds.
Sato pursed her lips, restraining a response.
“Whether or not he is, I get the feeling he’s lying about… something. Though, I can’t quite place it.” Tien stood at their side with her suitcase in-hand. A dress shirt and tie made up her top as she had left the usual oversized overcoat she normally wore hanging from the tall chair behind her.
“You’re right. I can’t trust him fully, but I’m not sure why.” Ma’at peered at Sato with a worried look plain on her face. “Haah… Look, you don’t have to tell us now. But if you’re unsure about something, let us know. We can face it together, just like everything else. Can’t you trust us?”
Sato’s violet eyes almost seemed glazed over amidst the monotonous sound of falling rain. There was sadness in them, yet another color altogether. Conflicted emotions whirled around in a mess of shapes and shades around her irises. “Yes… of course I trust you two.” She stopped and looked over her shoulder. Ryosai had not finished yet. “But… I have to admit something. I’m not here to investigate the origin of that hound. Not that I don’t feel anything for him. I could… feel his emotions after all. No. It’s that I’m investigating another case.” Her voice nearly fell on deaf ears, hushed almost to a complete silence. “A personal case. Suspicions I need resolved.”
“Why are you being so cryptic all of a sudden?” Tien whispered back.
“I just don’t want to say anything to sway you both in any direction. But you can help me. Stay up tonight until midnight. I’ll be awake.”
Confused yet ready to help their strange friend, Ma’at and Tien nodded briefly before finally leaving the living room and finding their newly prepared bedsheets.
And the solemn hand of night tightened its hold… and time passed accordingly.
Hard rain was the first thing Ma’at heard as she stirred awake. It seemed that she had fallen asleep against her better judgment. Pale light wormed its way into her vision. Moonlight reflected off of observation mirrors, pill bottles, vials, and the slender windows at the other end of the sterile room.
“Ma’at… Ma’at…!”
Before she could slip back into dreams she couldn’t even recall, a voice pulled her into reality.
“Wake up. It’s time.” It was Tien, sitting on the edge of the bed. Her tone seemed deadly serious, even more so than she commonly was. There wasn’t even a hint of excitement or intrigue in her words.
Ma’at saw Sato then, the Maiden’s view obscured in shadow. Beneath the dark lines, her eyes danced across the torrent of droplets crashing down onto the clinic’s rooftop.
“So, what’s the plan?” Tien asked her.
“Shhh. Look,” Sato said, pointing out the window. They saw a very odd sight where she had indicated. Unfamiliar people in ritualistic robes carrying talismans and holding bo staves prowled about the abandoned streets. The rain would have drenched them all if it weren’t for the wide, circular-rim bamboo hats they all wore on their heads. They ran down the street in a hurry, yet still took precautions to avoid being seen in the shimmering lamplights.
“Who are they? I’ve never seen anyone dress like them.” Ma’at had left her bed and joined the duo.
“Monks,” Sato replied.
“Monks?”
Sato nodded, her eyes still trained on their forms disappearing in the shower of water. “Monks from the Kirinai Sect. They hold… similar beliefs to my own. They worship our Deus Come Thus.”
Tien turned to Sato. “Did they come from Nima too?”
“Yes, and their petty fights with the Ojurai Clan would leave Reville in shambles every time. I don’t remember much from those days…” She trailed off.
The figures finally turned a corner and vanished from sight.
“Come on,” she suddenly said, donning her raincoat and running to the door. “We have to follow them.”
“Hold on,” Ma’at stopped her. “Is this what your ‘investigation’ was about? Was this what you were waiting for?”
Sato hesitated, then nodded.
“How did you know they were coming here?”
She sighed, then let go of the doorknob and faced them fully. “Do you remember what the Writer said this morning? About the ghost roaming the city.”
Ma’at scoffed. “Yeah? They were just rumors. It was a nonsensical article in that newspaper he loves so much.”
“Maybe. Real or not, I believe these Kirinai monks are here to exorcise the specter. We have to follow them.”
“Why, Sato? Why do you care?”
She fell silent. Her hand slowly made its way for the doorknob again.
“W-Wait, wait.” Ma’at put her face in her palms, took a deep breath, and tried to meet her friend’s avoidant gaze. “You don’t have to tell us now. I’m sure we’ll figure it out eventually. But, at least tell us what makes you so sure. How did you know these monks were even coming?”
“...The hound,” she divulged, turning the knob. “I think… I think it was one of them. One of the monks, driven mad. That’s how I knew. Throughout the screams, throughout the burning pain in my head… I managed to grasp onto some semblance of sanity. He told me they were hired as exorcists. He told me that they would be searching for the phantom at this time of day, at this exact moment. That’s all.”
They both nodded, the logic and its odd sense joining together like puzzle pieces in their minds.
As she relayed the beast’s psychic cries, Ma’at observed, that the Maiden of the Rain held onto her tie tightly. As if she were a sailor amidst turbid waters and her black tie was the rope she held onto for dear life. As soon as Ma’at opened her mouth to comfort her, however, Sato had already swung the door wide open and begun her march into the ceaseless downpour.