Karl’s heart raced in his chest as he crept through the endless corn.

His heart broke as he heard Fink whinny in agony. A moment later, from somewhere in the fields, the oni let out a roar of rage, and a spout of fire geysered up in the distance.

Karl ran faster.

He kept trying to do as Dr. Rathpalla had said, but he couldn’t figure out how. He couldn’t remember the words to make the windows of light appear. In his panic, he could remember everything else, but not that. He was accosted by details, first in his head, then in the corn.

Soldiers of the future, firing beams of fiery light from their incomprehensible guns.

Abominations of warped flesh.

Running zombees.

Geoffrey’s death throes. His screams. The sounds of his crawling flesh.

The crunch of Bever’s bones as they melted into his body.

Hyperphantasia, Dr. Rathpalla had called it. The apparitions weren’t real, just like everything else in this impossible place. But they didn’t need to be real to scare Karl out of his mind.

Up ahead, the silver-eyed Norm reared up. Crowning over the corn, it breathed out its clouds of green death. The corn blackened and crumbled. Karl scrambled backward and screamed, cowering in terror.

But then the silver-eyed Norm screamed. A cataclysmic sound. It rose up, like a Mewnee’ priest’s staff, twisting and twining, raking its claws through the air.

Karl looked up just in time to see the four-armed demon’s blazing katana curve around the Norm’s body as it sliced upward. The Norm’s arms fell away.

The red demon leapt up, bare chested. Running up the Norm’s back, he jumped at its head, swinging his sword with all four of his arms.

The Norm’s silver eyes lost their light as its head toppled over and fell, severed from its neck. Tongues of blue flame lapped at the edge of the wound.

The red demon whirled around as he landed. He swept his katana in a wide circle, slicing the corn away from around Karl, leaving Karl totally exposed.

Behind the demon, the Norm’s headless body crashed to the ground with a mighty thud, crushing its silhouette into the corn.

Karl fell to his knees and pressed his head onto the ground, pleading for his life as the Mewnee did.

“Please, don’t kill me!” he cried.

Karl still didn’t feel he was worthy of life. But Fink was.

And if my life can give Fink back his, then that’s something worth protecting.

Friends helped one another, and Karl was forever in the horse’s debt.

Daring to raise his head, Karl looked up to see the demon’s two-toed feet stepping toward him. His socks were as black as Night.

“What have you done to me?” the demon yelled.

Karl lowered his head again. “Please don’t kill me!”

The sliced corn stalks crunched beneath the demon’s feet. “Answer me!” he yelled.

Karl looked up.

The demon loomed over him, four-armed, skin blood-red skin, his lips curled back in a fierce, fanged snarl. Blue sparks crackled along the length of his sword, as if the weapon was about to erupt in flame.

“What have you done to me?” the demon said. “What is this? Where am I?” He pointed his blade at Karl.

“I-I thought you said you were going to kill m-me,” Karl whimpered.

“Answer me!” the demon yelled. His sword trembled as it pressed against Karl’s neck.

Karl stuck out his hands, pressing them onto the dirt. “I don’t know! I don’t know!”

Stomping his foot by Karl’s head, the demon snarled. “Liar!”

“It’s not a… a lie!” Karl pleaded. “If it’s my fault, I don’t know how I did it! I don’t!”

Narrowing his eyes, the red-skinned demon bared his fangs. “You made me into a monster!” Reaching up, he curled his fingers around one of his horns. “You turned me into an oni.”

Karl lifted his head. “D-Dr. Rathpalla told me I… I control what happens here,” Karl explained. “This place is shaped by my thoughts.”

“And so you thought me into a monster?” the demon asked.

Karl stammered. “W-Well…” he gulped. “You are! You Mewnees have done awful things. Awful awful things!”

The demon clenched his lower pair of fists. “A soldier without inner calm is nothing more than a brute with a weapon. Lord Uramaru taught me that.” His sword-arm trembled. “And he taught me to be better than that.”

He sighed.

“There is a difference between killing and murder, but your people—you Tsurentu savages… in your Holy Angel’s name, you murder women and children. You seed our homes with plague.” He nudged his sword toward Karl. “I saw you in soldiers’ clothes. What crimes have your hands been stained with, I wonder?”

“P-Plague?” Karl said.

A day ago, Karl would have risen to the Angel’s defense in response to these accusations. But, now? He didn’t even know if there was an Angel left to defend.

He’d failed his family, he’d failed his comrades, he’d failed Fink, and Dr. Rathpalla, and Fink again, and had dared to hope he could hide away from the creature he was becoming by living in falsehoods inside his head.

Karl sunk his hands into the dirt, feeling the grains beneath his nails. “You’re right…” he said.

He felt misery building in his gut.

“I am a monster. I’m turning into one, even as we speak.” Karl rose up to his knees. “This,” he looked at his hands, “this is just a lie.”

He pictured what he looked like, out in the real world. What he saw made him shudder.

“Why did you flee?” the demon asked.

But Karl wasn’t paying attention to that. Instead, he was focusing on the feelings coming from his body.

He groaned. “No… no…”

Karl wrapped his arms around his stomach.

The wooden struts underneath of the demon’s sandals scraped along the dirt as the demon stepped back.

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Karl’s body was changing. He couldn’t see it happening, but he could feel it. He felt his legs shrivel and his torso lengthen. Muscles bulged in his arms and hands as his fingers merged, growing talons that sank into the soil with their panicked flexions. Spines burst from his back, ripped through his clothes as they

“Y-You!” the demon yelled. “What are you!? Monster!!”

Karl fumbled with his tail, thrashing in the dirt, knocking down corn, unable to make it stop.

Just like with everything else.

And then he broke down and wept.

— — —

Wanting a place to sit—both for himself and Ichigo—ee-chee-go—the four-armed red oni—Karl managed to conjure up an exceedingly large log to fill that need. Unfortunately, sitting on it proved to be far more difficult than Karl would have anticipated. He blamed it on his half-Norm body’s lack of hips. After slipping off and scraping himself multiple times, Karl gave up and simply wrapped himself around the edge of the log, in a horseshoe shape, laying down with his chest and crossed arms pressing down on the log.

For someone who’d transformed into a wrathful oni, Ichigo turned out to be a surprisingly good listener.

Karl tried to return Ichigo to normal, but without much luck. He tried doing what Dr. Rathpalla had said—he tried visualizing what Ichigo had looked like before—and he had no trouble recalling Ichigo’s human appearance in perfect detail. Whenever he did, Ichigo’s body would flicker and twitch, giving Karl a glimpse of Ichigo’s human form, only to settle back into the four-armed oni form.

When Ichigo asked him why this kept happening, all Karl could say was that sometimes his thoughts had more control of him than he of they—and that this, unfortunately, was one of those times.

For what it was worth, after Karl had explained the situation to Ichigo to the best of his ability, Ichigo had become more temperate.

“Lord Uramaru would tell me at length about the importance of accepting that which was beyond my control,” he’d said, only to turn to Karl with a flick of his bone-white hair and say, “and I would counsel you to do the same.”

Having already begun opening up to Dr. Rathpalla, it was relatively easy for Karl to continue sharing his experiences with Ichigo.

It was nice to have someone to listen to him, Mewnee or not.

Karl sighed. “And that’s why I’ve always preferred animals’ company to people’s. There are more kind animals than there are kind people.”

Ichigo crossed his upper pair of arms. “How can an animal be kind?”

He sat with his dark, bell-shaped trousers pressed against the log. His katana lay against the log, with its hilt in the air and his blade on the ground.

“Kindness is easy,” Karl explained. “Anyone can do it, even an animal. It is cruelty that is difficult.” He looked down at the ground. “In the summer, there are wasps that will sting beetles. I’ve seen them. The mother wasp stings the beetle—or maybe a big spider, or a fat caterpillar—and then buries it in the ground. Days later, the wasp-maggots hatch and feast on its flesh. The beetle isn’t dead, just immobilized. I… I dug one up once. The wasp-maggots ate it from the inside out.”

Ichigo grimaced. “That’s awful…”

Karl nodded. “Yes it is. But… it isn’t cruel.”

“Yes it is,” Ichigo said.

Karl shook his head. “No it isn’t.”

He tried not to start crying again.

As much as it shamed Karl to admit it, being a crybaby had saved him. For all his wrath, Ichigo was not comfortable cutting down a weeping foe—

—Even an inhuman monster like me, Karl thought.

After the initial awkwardness, Ichigo had introduced himself, and then one thing had led to another, and they’d struck up a conversation.

Karl cleared his throat as he explained his reasoning about the wasp’s lack of cruelty. “The mother wasp doesn’t bear her victim any malice,” he said. “She never takes more than what she needs, and she always uses everything she takes. New life comes from the creatures she stings. Always.”

Karl looked at their surroundings.

The cypress trees were nearby, though one had burned down under Ichigo’s flame. Fink’s corpse lay somewhere in the fields beyond, fallen where Ichigo had killed him.

The log sat in the middle of the small clearing that Ichigo had made when he killed the Norm. The serpent’s pieces lay off to the side, strewn across the cornfield, steaming with sweetness and warmth.

Ichigo stared at him, a white fang protruding from his upper lip. “How is that kind?” he asked, referring to the wasp.

“She leaves all the other critters alone,” Karl answered. “Think of all the pain she could bring, but doesn’t.” He shuddered. “Once, I had a nightmare where she laid eggs in my chest. The wasp-maggots ate my heart and then burst out of my skin and took flight. The rest of my body lay there, useless and dead.”

Ichigo grimaced.

“Imagine if the mother wasp did that to you. That would be horribly cruel.” Karl smiled softly. “But… she doesn’t. She could, but she doesn’t. I think that makes her very kind.”

The oni lowered his head. “I… I see…”

Karl nodded. “Animals are simple in that way. Give them what they need, and they will be happy. And as long as you are kind to them, they will be kind to you, except for the ones that are never kind to anybody. That’s why I like them. I have, since I was little.”

Karl lowered his head.

“My best friend, Fink, was a horse,” he said. “You saw him when we arrived in this era.”

Ichigo nodded. “It was a fine animal.”

Karl stared at him. “Yes, and now he’s dead.”

“I…” Suddenly, Ichigo’s eyes widened with realization. “Oh…” he said. He let head hang low. “I… I’m sorry. I would not have slain him had I known.”

“You don’t think it’s unbecoming for a young man to have a horse as his only friend?”

Ichigo shook his head. “Better a horse than no one at all.”

Much to Karl’s astonishment, Ichigo was being as sincere as could be. There was no pity in his eyes.

“Th-thank you,” he said. His voice broke as he lowered his speech to a whisper. “When I was little, I wished I could be a horse, rather than a person.”

“Why?” Ichigo asked. He looked genuinely concerned.

“At least, as a beast of burden, I would have value,” Karl explained. “My father thought better of the horses in his stables than he ever did of me. The horses didn’t get boxed in the ears for being shy or clumsy.”

Ichigo shook his head. “I don’t understand.”

“What?” Karl asked.

“You aren’t a warrior,” Ichigo said, “are you? When you suddenly appeared, you stood with Tsurento warriors.”

“I’ve trained,” Karl said. “I can fight.”

“Kudos,” Ichigo said, with a scoff, “but training does not make a man a warrior.” He narrowed his eyes. “Least of all a man like you.”

“G-Geoffrey showed me how!” Karl said.

“Geoff… ree?” Ichigo said, tilting his head in confusion.

“Of House Athelmarch,” Karl explained. “He helped guide me when no one else would. Geoffrey, Bever, Morgan, Duncan, Geren, Will, Eylon. They all did. And now… they’re gone, and it’s all my fault.”

“How is it your fault?” Ichigo asked.

Karl bit his lip. Though he’d told Dr. Rathpalla that he blamed himself, he hadn’t told him why.

“Fink ran ahead into the portal that brought us into the future, and I chased after him. Geoffrey chased after me, and the others followed. That stranded us in the future. Now, only I am left.”

Admitting that broke Karl’s heart all over again. “I failed them. Did I truly learn anything from Geoffrey and the others at all if I’m so hapless without them? Look at me,” he said. “Even here, where I have the powers of God, all I can do is run and hide.” He stared at his claws.

“Skill at arms is only half of a battle,” Ichigo said. “A warrior needs a keen mind and clear spirit. But, most of all…” he paused, “he must know the ties that bind.”

“The ties that bind?”

Ichigo nodded slowly, crossing his lower pair of arms. “The comity of his allies. The passions of his foes. Lord Uramaru explained it to me thusly. A fighter is a lone wolf, but a warrior is a hound in a pack. A warrior knows his role, and trusts his comrades. He sees himself in relation to others, and he values those ties to the fullest.” Lifting his gaze to Karl, Ichigo sighed. “In a way, Tsurento-jin, you are how I was, before Lord Uramaru showed me the errors of my ways.”

“What?” Karl asked. His tail rustled across the fallen corn stalks.

“Do you have any elder brothers?” Ichigo asked.

“Yes,” Karl said, nodding glumly. “They’re my father’s pride and joy.”

“As were mine,” Ichigo said.

“I mean,” Karl said, “they were.” He shook his head. “They’re long gone, now.”

“I was always in the shadow of my father’s regard,” Ichigo said. Clenching his fist, he stuck one of his arms up in the air. “To earn praise, I had to soar like an eagle.”

He let his fist hang there for a moment before lowering his arm and shaking his head. “Anything less, and I fell beneath my lord father’s notice.” Ichigo scowled. “I learned to trust no one, and expect no favors. I had to rely on myself, and myself alone. I wanted to make myself into the greatest warrior the land would ever know. Instead, I made myself weak. ‘Stretched thin and overspent,’ as Lord Uramaru told me.”

“What does that have to do with me?” Karl asked, touching a claw tip to his chest.

“You are thick and underspent,” Ichigo said, with white-fanged grin. “But the end result is the same. Like I was, you are alone. But where I was alone because of my foolishness, you are alone because of your cowardice.”

Karl bristled at that. He felt the spines on his back stiffen. “I am not a coward!” he said, raising his forepart.

Ichigo had to look up at him, white hair dangling down.

“Your best friend is a horse,” the oni said. “You fear closeness with others because you do not want to be hurt, just as…” Gulping, Ichigo lowered his head.

Karl lowered himself back to the log.

“…just as I had,” Ichigo said. He cleared his throat. “You are with others of your kind, correct?” he asked. “Other… Norms?”

“Yes,” Karl said, nodding, “out in the Thick World, as Dr. Rathpalla explained to me.”

“Then make them your companions. Speak to them. As a much wiser man than I once told me: you have nothing to lose, but everything to gain.”

“I’m not worthy of their companionship,” Karl said. “I’m not like Geoffrey. I’m not a great man. I’m not even a good one.”

“You are far better than your other countrymen, who used darkpox to kill Mu-jin they could not best in battle.”

Karl stared at him. “W-What?”

Ichigo grimaced in confusion. “Your people used the plague against us. You…” One of his eyebrows raised. “You didn't know that?”

The next thing Karl knew, he was back in the garage, in the flesh, screaming for someone to hand him a console.