Hiiro

I hadn't seen Treu since my debriefing four long weeks ago, and that was about the only good thing I could look back on since then. Truth be told, I hadn't seen much of any of the Shadow's mercs except Chop and Gidget, and that was only because us three were working ourselves to the bone in the garages, preparing for the outfit's counterattack. I probably would have gone insane if I'd been left to my own devices but, lucky for me, it seemed like there was always a car that needed fixing or testing or some other busywork that only I could handle. No matter how busy things got there was always something that needed my attention, so long as it was far enough away from everyone else that they didn't think I could hear their whispers.

I usually couldn't, but I heard enough to fill in the gaps.

Work was my solace, it kept me sane— as sane as any other man who periodically burst into flames could get. Breathing seemed to help, with the sanity and the fire, but the main thing was working. I needed to be distracted, focused on something else. I needed to be too exhausted to even think of what I was capable of doing, because once I started down that tunnel there was no end to it. If I ever stopped and tried to figure all this scat out by myself, I'd be constantly going in circles trapped inside my head. I needed someone to talk to but who the hell would understand what I was going through!?

"Sir?"

Looking back on my time as a conscript, I was never lonely. We were a team, we did everything as a unit, many bodies with one purpose. Now, the mercs around me were doing just that and I was strung along on the outside. As a criminal I'd been too busy living the high life instead of just surviving; I was too drunk on freedom to notice my solitude. Even when it did surface from my rampant materialism and hedonistic joys, there was always that unknowable warmth inside to reassure me. The fact that I'd ever found this murderous fire inside me comforting nearly sent my mind spiraling again. I needed to work harder.

"Sir?" Someone repeated, their tone forceful but politely differential.

"Can't you see I'm busy!" I snapped.

My weld bubbled during my lapse of attention. Now that I was actually looking at my work I realized I'd need to redo the entire panel. My mind had been wandering and so had my hands. I lifted myself clear of the engine bay I was reinforcing and saw one of the palace's maids— the only person on this planet that seemed immune to my outbursts.

The sight of her white frilly dress trimmed with black accents made the grimy garage a little brighter. She was about average height, which meant she only stood a few centimeters taller than me in her work heels. Big brown eyes, a small nose and straight lips all filled out her oblong face. Her straight chestnut hair was pulled up tight into one of those little caps that all the palace maids wore, but instead of the usual white customary to the 'serving girls,' her's was the sandy tan adopted by Celio's up and coming battle maids.

"Zoe-Esther," I said, letting my exhaustion overtake my frustration. "I thought I told you I wanted to be left alone."

"You did Sir. But you haven't ate anything today and you missed dusk meal."

I lifted my welding mask, blinked the spots from my eyes and connected some dots.

"Put it over…" I started, pointing to a workbench that still had an untouched lunch platter on it. "You said dusk. How long have I been working this time?"

"Nearly thirty-nine hours, Sir. It's currently an hour past high moon."

I was tempted to throw something at Zoe to drive her off but it was pointless; she'd just fetch it off the ground and return it to me with a stiff smile on her face. She was prim and proper on the outside but that girl had a heart of steel. She must've, since she was the only person on this planet brave enough to risk attending a human firebomb.

"I suppose you're here to drag me off to bed then?" I said teasingly, knowing she'd do just that after I'd worked myself into a further stupor.

"You need your rest." She answered, somehow noncommittal, motherly and deferential all at once, the very image of diplomacy. "Though you should eat first."

"I suppose I should." I agreed, discarding my tools in a heap to be dealt with later. "Honestly, what would I do without you?"

"Honestly, sir?" Zoe whispered under her breath.

It wasn't something she did often, but whenever she did, it reminded me of Tengoku. The palace walls had ears, as I'd learned during my witch hunt of a debriefing. Zoe didn't even risk glancing around her, the act alone would have been too damning if witnessed. I took the offered lunch from her and nodded ever so slightly.

"I suspect you would be a very lonely man who'd work himself to death, Sir." She whispered.

"Thank you, Zoe." As much for the meal as for her thoughts.

She curtsied by way of reply and set to task cleaning up my mess while I started on lunch, which was delicious. I knew better than to try helping—or stars forbid cleaning up after myself—apparently that just wasn't how things were done here. The maids clean, the warriors don't. It was that simple, except for the niggling detail that Zoe-Esther was one of Celio's up-and-coming home guard. Apparently the idea of women fighting was as foreign to the locals as men cleaning was, but trying times tended to test traditions.

Ever since Celio's community outreach the vigia and the maids had been different, not better or worse, just… different. The vigia kept the mercs at arms' length and I got lumped in with them by proximity. While the men got cold feet, the women stepped up. The battle maids trained harder and longer, some even shadowing wounded mercs as personal attendants or gophers— which is exactly how Zoe had come into my growing shadow. The regular maids didn't slack off either; the palace was their battleground and they dominated it every day at all hours. Some of the other mercs had grumbled about them being underfoot, but Zoe and the other maids were a godsend to me in those early days of my recovery.

I wasn't quite back to myself yet. I was a freak in the eyes of modern medicine and God, which Gerald made sure to remind me of every time our paths crossed— something that was gradually happening less and less. I'd only lost the tip of my left fourth finger and two toes to the frostbite that should have made me a quadrupole amputee. Similarly, my mass was still coming back but it wasn't as balanced as it used to be, the combination of steroids and physiotherapy lending me a muscular yet starved physique. Between the burns and scarring any hopes I'd held onto for a full head of hair were distant memories now, so I kept the unruly patchwork as cleanly shorn as possible.

"Is it normal for welding to look like that?" Zoe asked, inspecting my work as she tidied the last of my scattered tools.

"No. Well, yes sometimes. It's shoddy work, that's all." I explained. "I'll fix it tomorrow."

Zoe just nodded her head once, committing my scraps of wisdom to memory. In that regard she was worse than a dry sponge, she just soaked up everything I told her and tucked it away for later. Given another month, there was no doubt in my mind that she'd be a better grease monkey than I was. Even her soldiery was creeping up to the level of a green recruit. Zoe wouldn't turn a losing battle or fight to the last, but she'd keep her nerve when the lead started flying and seize the moment when she spotted one. She wasn't nearly as curious as Bim though…

Bim was another topic I tried to steer clear of thinking about— I just never could. There was something magnetic about her, always inexorably drawing my mind towards her like the fatal attraction a black hole has on the entire universe. I didn't know what to think about her or how to feel and I always had this nagging impression that I was forgetting something important about her. The incident had changed things between us. Hell, it had changed us. Not just us us, not that I was even sure if there was an us in her mind, but rather neither of us were the same since the incident. I was everything Leeroy had feared I'd be from that first meeting when I'd woke aboard the Stalking Shadow. And Bim…

She'd always been spacey, her mind swimming through existence at a different pace from the rest of us humans, but things had changed. It was like she was in a waking dream, lucid only for ephemeral gasps of reality before submerging back into her unknowable depths. Before, it was like everything was a museum and some things were worth more attention than others, but now she walked around looking at everything like it was the first and last time she'd ever see any of it.

The mercs whispered about her too; 'the lights are on but that haunted house is empty.' Some part of me wanted to protest, to defend her honor like the cowboy I'd once been likened to. I didn't. I couldn't. What if my condition reacted? What if the scorching words I let loose did more than just smart someone's pride? What if I exploded?

Round and round and round, my thoughts circled like thick oil draining through a partially clogged valve. It could have been minutes or hours before gravity tugged the silver platter from my cramped, numb fingers, scattering what was left of my meal to the floor. I would have sat there all night, my meal half-picked and rampant thoughts spiraling nowhere fast, had Zoe not finished tidying my workspace and cleaning up my most recent mess. She didn't utter a word, always the proper maid first and foremost. She just stood there, stone silent and unmoving until I came back to the present.

"Sorry." I mumbled.

"Shall I drag you off to bed once I've finished here, Sir?" Zoe said, her voice adopting a motherly air unbefitting a girl at least a decade my junior. Damned if it didn't work though.

"I'm sure I can manage alone, Zoe. I'll see you in the morning."

I shambled from the garage and found the pre-dawn sky just beginning to warm the undersides of distant oceanic clouds. The sight should have stirred something in me, after a dark night a new day always came. It was poetic or some such scat. The march of time was supposed to mend all wounds but it seemed to be taking its sweet-ass time about fixing me. The killing heat inside throbbed like a dull ache, the primal reds hearkening back memories of the apocalypse I'd set raging in an instant of terrible power. I'd come from another world seeking answers only to bring Hell to this place with me.

Thinking of it as 'The Incident' help me distance myself from what I'd done, but gazing at that budding crimson dawn there was no denying it. The whole thing had been so surreal, more akin to a movie or a nightmare than the actual, factual events. I could barely believe that I'd done it. Maybe Treu, it'd be plausible enough for that freakish demi-god, or Bim, she was an alien so it was within the realm of possibility; but not me. I was just me back then and I was a hell of a lot less me now.

Just knowing that I had that much hate and rage and pride and fire inside of me was nearly enough to make me lose it. The killing heat within me was crashing against my crumbling resolve, just begging to be unleashed. It was such a seductive prospect. Fire and forget. All I had to do was open that valve one more time and I could let it all out. The flames would cleanse my soul, burning away my shame, terror and doubts; they would consume everything and I would be free of all the woes of life. Everything I was, am and ever will be would fuel the glorious flames for a single shining instant. The lip of the sun crested the ocean and warmth flooded my body.

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All I had to do was stop fighting the power inside of me.

But I couldn't.

I knew I couldn't just give in. I was NOT a slave to this damned power! I wasn't that frozen monster who'd trade it all for a few seconds of heat. There was a reason I was alive, I knew there had to be. I fell to my knees and I screamed. I scream like a cursed man clinging to the last vestiges of his slipping sanity with broken, bloody nails. I scream a mad wordless challenge to the rising sun.

The sun gave no answer, which was probably for the best. I don't know what I would have done if it did. The thought might have made my past self laugh but I was a different man these days and the idea of a talking star was a little too close for comedy.

My fit didn't do much to right the world or clear my head, so I gave up on it and headed to bed. On the way back, I spotted two things. The least alarming was that my clothes were smoldering and pockmarked as if I'd had a basket of hot coals dumped on me— they weren't the first clothes I'd ruined and I seriously doubted they'd be a last. The second, was the Bim was watching me at a distance. A sizable minority of the palace occupants were watching too but I couldn't care less what they thought of me at the moment.

Could Bim even understand what I was going through or was I just another interesting specimen making noise as I danced about? Why had she been avoiding me since the incident, was she just as terrified of what I could do as I was? Was I just not cute enough to merit her attentions now that I was scrawny, half-melted and ugly? I always knew she was too good to be true. Too good for someone like me. Damn it! Why didn't she just cut me loose already and tell me I wasn't worth her time any more!?

I slammed the door to my room, spending the better part of an hour tossing and turning while these thoughts repeated. Exhaustion took its due, dragging me down into a dreamless slumber that passed in a blink. At some point my fitful sleep tapered off to the smell of a hearty breakfast.

When my eyes opened, I could have been waking into another man's dream. A full meal held in the arms of a beautiful, hardworking girl. An opulent bedroom that would have made my old condo—flush with the fruits of my ill-gotten gains—seem like the very image of a poverty-stricken hovel. Not for the first time, I couldn't believe that this was my life now. All those years I'd wasted on Intatenrup waiting for something to happen; never knowing that all this was only a few planets down the star chain. My dreams—the ones that weren't a burning hellscape of my own creation—couldn't find any luxury to tempt my with. How could anything be better than this life of plenty I'd ass-backwardsly stumbled into?

The only thing detracting from it all were the plethora of flame suppressant devices everywhere; my room alone had enough stored chemical extinguisher to put out a small star and I still wasn't sure if it would make a lick of difference if the worst happened. That and the fact that the mercs I was supposed to trust with my life if push came to shove had already signed off on my death sentence. 'When the time comes,' 'You'll know it when you see it.' What the hell could I do that was any worse than my little incident? Just like that, reality shattered the idiotic facade I'd so stupidly constructed. That fleeting happiness, the life of luxury, it was all just a beautiful mirage trying to distract me from the real world.

"Sir?" Zoe-Esther asked timidly.

"I keep telling you to just call me Hiiro." I countered snappishly, starting up our morning ritual.

"And I shall keep declining that offer, Sir." She finished with a slight bow.

"I know. Sorry, I didn't sleep well."

Zoe glanced down at the floor instead of saying what we both knew she was thinking. I could see it on her face. You never sleep well these days, Sir.

"I think I could sleep for a full month and still wake up tired." I complained, half-jokingly. "I wonder if that's just a side effect of being a freak-"

Zoe sharply drew in a breath, as if she was about to protest my self-abasement. Yet propriety would never allow a serving girl to countermand her charge, it simply wasn't how things were done. She was so straight up and down, hiding her thoughts behind a porcelain mask while her heart wept on her sleeves.

"You were going to ask me what my plans are for the day, right?" I prompted, steering the conversation onto sturdier roads.

"Actually…" Zoe started hesitantly, deviating from her usual prim and proper professionalism. She found an interesting spot on the floor at my bedside and fixed her attention there.

"Zoe, I'm not your slave driver. I'm… well, I'm not really sure what our working relationship is, but I'd like to think we're friends. If you want to ask me something, ask. The walls may have ears, but I'm done giving a damn what they think of me." I said, cutting into meat of my continental breakfast. "It's not like their opinions could get any lower."

"…It's not a question. More of a request really." She said, voice small, her entire body preemptively flinching as if she was expecting my heavy breakfast tray to come flying her way.

"Ask away." I said around a mouthful of citric fruit.

The tension across her body worsened to the point I almost thought she was about to lock up and topple over. She didn't, but she wouldn't meet my eyes as she whispered her request.

"We, err I mean, I… my first pay was yesterday, so we- I mean I, was hoping that you might allow me to… have the day off?" She preemptively flinched again, her entire body trembling.

"Sure thing."

Zoe whipped her head up, cracks threatening her mask of servitude. Somehow a day off was more incredible to her than any of my parlor tricks. In a half-second the cracks resealed and she was staring at the floor again, smothering the hope that had momentarily overwhelmed her for something so trivial.

"You want a day off to go into the city and spend your money with your friends?" I asked, my calm tone neutral to try and ease her mind.

She kept her face down turned, unmoving and unwilling to speak.

"Zoe-Esther, look at me." I commanded, putting some steel into the words.

Her brown eyes met mine and the heat inside of me throbbed in sympathy. Zoe was terrified. Not that I'd burn her or kill her or use her. She could stand that, endure all that she must from under her false veneer of feminine resolve. No, what struck her clean through to her core was the idea that I'd dangle hope in front of her just to snatch it back for my own amusement. Did she really think I'd do that? That it was even a remote possibility in her mind was enough to stoke the furnace inside of me. It was the same back on Intatenrup, and Tengoku, and now here. Everywhere I went, I found these damned tragic women wrapping their hearts in chains. I clenched my sweltering fists around my silverware and focused on breathing while I waited for her to answer.

"Y-y-yes, Sir." She whispered.

"Okay, you've more than earned it. Have fun."

"B-But I couldn't!" She cried dismissively with a bashful wave. "I really shouldn't have mentioned it. It's better if you forget I said anything at all. A joke like that is in such bad taste-"

"Zoe-"

"After all, who would cook your meals or attend your needs if I wasn't here? You're still recuperating, you need me by your side! I don't know why I'm always so selfish, I shouldn't be thinking about myself all the time."

"I can cook my own meals, Zoe."

"No! If the other maids saw you in the kitchen, it would be a scandal by zenith. The macante doméstica—the house girls—they'd never let me hear the end of it. It's already hard enough just keeping up with my duties as a guerreiro doméstica. If I slack off for a day, I'll never catch up!"

"Zoe-Esther de Terra!" I barked, slamming my red-hot silverware onto the tray.

She silenced herself and adopted subservience in a heartbeat. I was sickened that this is what she responded to, but I pressed on.

"My wardrobe is in desperate need of some clothes that aren't pocked by cinders. You're coming with me, I'll have no protest on the subject. I'll need some extra hands to carry my things too, bring whoever you want to help you. I'm sure no one will object to getting me clear of the estate grounds for a day, but if anyone does, come tell me immediately and I'll have a word with them. Have I made myself clear?"

She stood, head bowed, in a stunned silence instead of her usual. I'd never known that different types of silence could sound so distinct from each other.

"Zoe-Esther, have-"

"Yes Sir! Perfectly clear." She answered with an excited little bow that reminded me just how much younger than me she was. "I'll… go gather my helpers then. And… thank you, Hiiro."

"I'll get a car ready in the garage once I've finished up with this, meet me there." She blinked at me in puzzled amazement. "What? You didn't plan on walking all the way to the city did you? Now go— and pick your jaw up off the floor before you do."

Zoe took off at a bounce, I could tell it was taking ever bit of her iron will to keep from sprinting down the palace halls. It was almost enough to put a smile on my face… almost. Half-faded memories of my time on Tengoku threatened to sour my breakfast but my hunger won out in the end and I cleaned my plates. If this life was the best a girl like her could hope for on this planet then maybe burning it all down wouldn't be the worst thing to trade my soul for...

I took my time dressing in a cream camp shirt, olive cargo shorts with a drop holster for my revolver, and sandals. Lastly I tossed on a bulky battle belt loaded with water, ration bars and actual physical currency. I still couldn't get over the novelty of the tiny metal bars, each smaller than my pinkie and always incrementing in fives or tens. I had no idea how much buying power one P-Chit had, but if they were similar to Yin-Bills back on Intatenrup 200,000 should be more than enough for a day on the town. By all appearances, I was just another merc blowing a payday in the city between jobs— hopefully no one would look any deeper than that.

A trio girls were waiting for me in the east wing's garage when I arrived. They kept their excitement from their posture but every so often it would manage to creep its way into their voices. I couldn't decide if I felt more like a human trafficker or a diligent chaperon at the thought of transporting them into the city unsupervised. I felt more protective than nefarious, though I'd definitely trafficked worse than people in years long past.

"Where's Zoe?" I asked, eying the three girls.

"She'll be with us shortly, Sir. She's helping our last addition get her things together." The leader of the three stated.

"Alright…" Each of the girls had a near-empty sack bag held over their shoulder, causing me to wonder just what 'things' needed to be fetched. "I'd imagine you all have names?"

"Yes Sir." The leader answered.

"… And they are?"

"Khloe-Olivia-Emillia de Terra." The leading lady said with a stately bow. She stood nearly ten centimeters taller than me, had golden-brown hair streaked with lowlights and she was even more straight up and down than Zoe was.

"Ambar-Lucia de Terra." The slim blond announced. I couldn't tell if she was the youngest of the maids or she was naturally petite in all the right places. Her eyes were so green you could get lost just looking in them and something about her reminded me of the scent of vanilla tea with mint.

"Leonor-Sammara de Terra." The chocolate-haired workhorse of a woman on the right said, dipping her square jaw in the least maid-ly bow I'd ever seen. She wasn't burly, but she was damned close and she was handsome despite her lack of feminine grace. Whereas the other girls might look like maids playing soldier, Leonor was the exact opposite.

"De Terra, are you all cousins or something?" I asked. The three of them shared a look.

"We're women of the land." Khloe explained, eyes downcast. "As our mothers were before us."

I didn't really get the full meaning, but I gathered enough from her words to stop prying and made myself busy readying the car for our trip.

"Maldición, voy a teclear eso." Leonor whispered, looking over my shoulder towards the bay door.

"Cállate, toro en celo!" Ambar hissed.

I looked up from the car to the source of their whispers and felt my inner furnace surge at the sight. Zoe had arrived with my final passenger. I knew the curve of her face like a haunting dream, her shimmering white dress tugged at my imagination and those golden, knowing eyes cut me to the core in an instant.

"Bim… Why are you here?" I asked, half-choking on the question.

She didn't answer, didn't so much as spare a glance at me. Bim walked right by as if I wasn't even there and climbed into my car's passenger seat. The fire inside of me didn't falter from her inattention, if anything the indignity of it only stoked the killing heat to new heights. I clenched my scorching hands into heavy fists, beating my temperature into submission with a mental deathgrip on my temper. I rounded on Zoe with more than just scathing words burning on my tongue, but she spoke first.

"Lady Bim invited herself. Apparently, her own wardrobe is in a similar sorry state as your own, Sir."

"And how did she know I was going to buy cloths today?" I asked, knowing the answer already.

Zoe-Esther just curtsied wordlessly and climbed into the car with her waiting friends. I considered calling the whole thing off then and there, but if Zoe was brave enough to pull this on me she would have already steeled her heart for such petty retaliation. If I ran away from this I'd be burning the last bridge I had back to a normal life. I'd be damned before I ran away again.

I steadied myself with a few deep breaths, evening out this burning pit in my stomach. I wasn't about to let a little girl a decade my junior out-man me in front of her friends and certainly not in front of Bim. My opinion of Zoe ratcheted up a few notches, as much for the set of balls on her as for her motherly deviousness.

"This is going to be a long drive." I grumbled under my breath.

Then I manned up and got my ass in the car.