11 likes Kesrock city's northern sector a lot.
She likes the quiet of its streets, the empty feeling of its warehouses and steel factories. She likes the river too, and how its free-flowing form slides so close to the footpath that every few steps or so, she feels cool droplets of water lapping up to touch her ankles.
The Ryugon River, she remembers Aralyn calling it. A befitting name. Seeing it from the satellites, 11 can trace the winding body of water from her current position all the way to the sea.
The night air is a mixture of salt and the musky scent of iron that’s been heated up too hot from the summer sun. 11 runs a hand along the iron railing of the footpath. Even after sunset, they still feel warm.
The road is unevenly paved and poorly maintained; a characteristic of the state of the northern part of the city. Here, the buildings are many and the people few. It is worse further towards the gate, with the footpath being little more than dirt.
Yet, it is precisely in such a desolate place that 11 found the perfect place to build her coffee laboratory.
The two-story brick structure was in utter disarray when 11 stumbled on it. Nothing much remained of the once residential house but mold and decay. Perhaps the owner ran out of money to complete it, or perhaps they realized what a terrible idea it is to build a house between massive warehouses and a fast-flowing river. Regardless, 11 cannot ask for a better place to set up a hidden greenhouse; both far away from curious eyes and spacious enough to allow some serious work to be done, it was perfect.
Yue’li will be happy to hear of this, she thinks, still with her hand on the railing. I just need some basic materials and I'll be germinating Arabica in no time.
Without warning, a shudder zaps through the iron, shocking through 11’s fingers. She recoils from the railing as if been bit.
What was that?
Staring at the iron bars, she wonders what it is she just felt.
It was almost like someone pounded on it.
She glances down the dimly lit pathways to each side, seeing nothing but shadows and an empty dirt road.
Maybe I’m just getting tired.
It is true. She’s spent the entire day running after adventurers and doing odd jobs. It turns out a Grunt is little more than a bag-carrier for whoever can pay, and having been classed as one of the highest-ranking Grunts means 11 also gets handed the most physically demanding tasks the Guild has to offer.
However, it didn't take long for 11 to discover it isn't the work that tires her, as much as having to fend off against horny young adventurers and exploitative employers.
I can totally see why Yue'li joined a gang.
11 amuses the thought for a little while before continuing back towards the heart of the city, to her home in the western district.
Home.
The concept is strange. 11 never expects to have a place in this world she can call her own. But she does now, and she even has people waiting on her at the end of each day.
“Home.” 11 tries the word on her tongue, tasting it, savoring its foreignness. “I have a...”
A queer smell stops 11 in her thoughts. She stops, turns back down the abandoned streets, and sniffs at the air.
Something is burning.
Then, the heat; a steadily climbing, pulsating energy. It floods the air in waves, washing over the rows of decrepit buildings around 11. She pivots on the spot, trying to work out where the energy is coming from. She knows it is close and just when she is about to ask Mother, a brilliant flash lights up a patch of the northern sky.
11 gasps, turning. “Mother-”
A thunderous boom claps through the ground. 11 flinches with hands pressed against her ears. It sounds like someone has let loose a cannon a street over, shaking the buildings with their force.
11 draws her swords, expecting enemies, just as a gust of scalding wind bellows past her, nearly knocking her over. All around her, shattered glass rains down like a shower of stars.
Magic. The word rings clear in 11's mind. That couldn’t have been anything else.
She sheathes her weapons, finds a nearby building and leaps to the top.
There, she spots it; a thick column of smoke rising into the night sky, like a twisting vine reaching for the moon. 11 starts running, leaping across the rooftops.
Something blurs past her. She skids to a halt. Tiles snap under her boots.
What was…?
She backtracks until she sees it again.
Is that...?
11 slides down the roof, and feels her heart grind to a stop.
“No!”
There, in the middle of the unpaved road and shrouded in shadows, lies the body of a silver-haired girl with a heart-shaped face.
11 is beside the little girl in an instant, scooping her up from off the ground. The girl is naked and badly burned, but just when 11 has shrugged off her cloak to wrap around the girl, she is stunned to see her wounds already beginning to heal. Bits of charred flesh seem to absorb back in on itself, and patches of broken, bleeding skin are knitted together with invisible thread, right before 11’s eyes.
She heals as quickly as I do.
11 pushes away the urge to run scans and tests. Don’t think about it, she reminds herself and bundles the girl up. If you do, you’ll never stop.
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11 stands, lifting the child into her arms. Through the rough cloth of the cloak, the little girl feels even thinner than she looks. Her bones seem almost to be protruding from her skin.
Like I’m holding a skeleton.
The girl opens her eyes then, two brilliant rubies in the darkness. They snap onto 11, who nearly screams.
“Are you going… to bring me home or not?” the girl whispers, a corner of her red lips quirked in a half-smile. “I’m not getting… any warmer out here.”
11 swallows the lump in her throat. “O-of course,” she says and scans the surrounding buildings. There are no traces of life in any of them, but 11 isn’t sure that will remain true come morning.
“I uh, live in a bakery,” she offers when it seems nowhere else is safe. “We have a lot of food. I don’t think Abetah uses any garlic in her cooking either, so you should be fine.”
The girl chuckles soundlessly. “You’re funny, Ai-nee.”
“I’m really not trying to be.” Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it.
The girl sighs. “I know. That’s what I love about you.” Then she goes to sleep, right in 11’s arms.
11 makes it three steps in the direction of the western sector before realizing what a bad idea that is. Bringing home a strange, naked girl – who may or may not be a supernatural predator – can only mean trouble and complication for everyone involved.
I don’t know who might pose to be more dangerous, Yue’li with her questions or my little sister.
11 shocks herself with that thought. She looks down at the girl in her arms.
My little sister?
The words had come to her so easily, as if they’d been there all along.
"No, no no." 11 shakes her head. "I’m not… that girl." She keeps her eyes averted from the river, fully expecting to see the angry brunette’s sharp face reflecting back from it.
“I am a God Gier,” 11 whispers. “I am logical above all else. And the logical thing to do right now would be...” she trails off, unable to finish that sentence.
The little girl breathes softly in reply.
11 makes a decision then. She turns and starts heading back the way she had come, back into the deeper parts of the northern sector. She can feel the heat in the air as fire licks across the rooftops behind her, but she trusts the city can take care of itself.
Right now, I just need to get to somewhere safe. And then, I’ll figure out what to do next.
The girl stirs as 11 sets her down onto the wooden floor. She moans, opening her eyes to stare up at the starless sky. “Where am I?”
“My secret base,” 11 says, pulling off her shirt and tucking it under the girl’s head. “It’s an abandoned building I found deep in the northern sector. Now tell me what you need. I’ll get it for you.”
The girl turns her head to look at 11. Her injuries have noticeably improved since 11 found her, but she looks exhausted. Her breathing comes in shallow huffs and her lips look bled of their color. Her skin is even paler than before. 11 kneels and places a hand against the girl’s forehead.
She feels ice-cold. Like I'm touching marble.
“What I need,” the girl breathes, “is flesh and fresh blood.” She lifts a finger up and pokes at 11’s chest, at the place where a normal person's heart should be. “Too bad you no longer have either of those things inside of you.”
The back of 11’s head starts to burn like a too-bright light being switched on. She takes the girl’s hand in her own, squeezing those tiny, cold fingers.
“Should I swipe a stray cat off the streets or something?”
Laughter leaves the girl in wisps. “You’re terrible.”
“And you’re a vampire.”
11 goes over to one of the holes in the walls, scanning the streets for anything that moves. The smell of smoke is strong. She spots embers breaking into the sky a few blocks over. The thought of helping crosses her mind, but she can already hear horse hooves beating down the dirt road.
Let the humans deal with this one, she thinks. They've fared well enough without me for so long already.
“The new world uses a different term for vampires,” the girl says when 11 returns with a hissing three-legged stray tucked under one arm. “Though all the same, death is a luxury that I neither have nor deserve.” She shakes her head when 11 offers her the animal.
"I don't like the taste of unwanted things," she explains while glancing around the molding, windowless walls. “Your secret base is a dump, by the way.”
“I’m going to upgrade it into a greenhouse,” 11 shoots back, defending this place she’s basically just found earlier tonight. She places the stray onto the floor, and the animal rockets off through one of the holes in the walls, unhindered by its missing limb.
"It doesn’t need to be comfortable for me, just for the coffee trees I’m going to grow." 11 then finds herself over-explaining the details of her master plan and stops, reminding herself that not everyone shares in her enthusiasm for all things coffee. “It’s mostly because I can’t afford my own place yet,” she concludes.
The girl gives her a look. “You know there’s already a greenhouse in the library tower, right? You’ve been there.”
“Doesn’t that belong to the city?”
“And this place doesn’t?”
“Well…” 11 trails off. “I guess it does. Shit.”
The little girl laughs, a tiny hiccupping sound. “You really haven’t changed,” she says and looks at 11 with what may be relief in those frighteningly red eyes. She struggles to sit up, grabbing 11’s arms for support.
“You’re hurt,” 11 complains but is ignored.
Once she’s up, the little girl then pulls herself into 11’s lap, nestling against 11’s chest.
“Your body may not be yours,” the girl says, her breath tickling 11’s skin. “But no matter how much they’ve changed how you look, you’re still Ai-nee on the inside; still my short-tempered, caffeine-brained Onee-chan who isn’t funny in the slightest but tries her best anyway.”
The girl lets out a shaky sigh and slides down to rest her head on 11’s thighs. “I’m glad. Because if it turns out I almost went mad waiting for a dumb, soulless machine, I will have probably burned down the entire world.”
In the dim light of the pale moon, the girl’s hair shimmers like strands of spider silk woven together. 11 tentatively reaches down and threads her fingers through it, letting the curls wrap around her fingers.
“Ouch.”
Something pricks against her leg. 11 glances down to find the girl burrowing into her thigh.
“Hey what are you-”
The girl sinks her fangs into flesh, puncturing through skin. 11 yelps and tries to pry herself loose, but the pain changes something inside her.
A flash of memory. A shift. 11 feels it, a gentle tugging from deep within her chest like a balloon being released into the sky. She watches the balloon float away, revealing what's hidden behind the walls of oblivions built by protocol and software.
Brown curls resting against a white pillow. A tiny body wired up to a dozen machines, tucked under a white bed sheet.
A weak, tired smile. A whispered word.
"Onee-chan."
Realization punches the air out of 11. She gasps as memories flash before her, searing their mark into her mind.
“Hikari.”
Visting Hikari in her hospital room.
Wheeling her to the top floor, to watch the sun setting over the ocean.
Telling Hikari about the God Gier program. Watching the surprise and hope light up her heart-shaped face.
11 wretches away from the girl, tearing her leg free. “It’s impossible,” she gasps. “God Giers aren’t… I’m not… human.” She digs her knuckles into her temples, where a deep ache stabs against the walls of her skull. It feels like a jet engine is roaring inside her ears, drowning out everything with fire.
> B-Blockers integration failure.
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> System reboot imminent.
"I haven’t used that name in a long time."
Through the chaos, somehow the girl's words still reach 11.
The noise lessens. Pain starts to dull. 11 feels the octopus inside her head waking, dragging back the rest of the balloons before they can all float away. But more are missing this time, like holes in a quilt.
"I've been waiting for longer, just to hear you say it."
11 opens her eyes to look into her sister’s. They are the colors of withering roses. Red on black on red.
Too deep. Too heavy. Like she’s holding onto the weight of the world.
“You can’t be her,” 11 whispers, wishing it to be true. “Hikari…” She swallows. The name stings her tongue. “Hikari doesn’t exist.”
The girl gives a hint of a smile. “To the people of this world, neither do you.”
She yawns, showing pearly teeth stained with 11's synthetic blood.
“I’m tired. Hungry, too. But I think I’m going to take a nap first. Do you know any bedtime stories? You used to have so many good ones.”
When 11 doesn’t answer, the girl says, “Let me tell you one then.”
With 11 watching wearily, the girl makes herself comfortable on the floor. Overhead, clouds pass, letting the moon breathe once again. It is a warm, secretive light, fluttering down to wrap around the two sisters in a silvery veil.
“I did not come up with this story,” the girl goes on. “But it is one that has been with me for a long time. So please, stay and listen.”
11 sighs. “Sure.”
Finding a spot near the wall, she pulls off her boots and tucks her legs under her. The puncture holes on her thigh have already healed, but the change inside her is irreversible. She wipes away the thin trail of dried blood with the pad of a thumb, knowing she will never be able to look at herself the same way again.
“Go for it.”
The girl begins her tale, and as her light, childlike voice flows out into the cool night, 11 feels her insides unclench as if an iron fist is loosening itself around her. She rests her head against the wall, letting the warmth of her sister’s familiar voice wash over her, guiding her deeper, and deeper into the darkness within herself.