Chapter 49 - Not Nothing
Myrrh and I didn’t even bother celebrating. Instead, we shared a wordless glance, the silence between us carrying more weight than words could ever express. Myrrh’s towering giant-robot form shimmered, panels folding and collapsing into themselves until she returned to her humanoid shape. With a curt, silent nod, we turned our backs on the arena and strode off campus grounds, our footsteps echoing faintly against the quiet air.
Pulling out her phone, Myrrh opened an app and called for a ride-share. A sleek, autonomous car hummed up to the curb moments later, its silver frame reflecting the dying light of the day. We slid into the backseat, and the vehicle merged seamlessly onto the highway weaving through the sprawling cyberpunk metropolis of Xyraxis. The neon signs adorning the towering buildings began to flicker to life, their electric hues muted by the sun’s stubborn orange glow lingering on the horizon.
As we ascended to the expressway, the sprawling lower levels of north-central Xyraxis came into view. Endless layers of buildings stretched beneath us, a labyrinth of steel and light crisscrossed by winding streets and monorail tracks. The hum of the car was the only sound between us as I glanced at Myrrh. She sat still, her gaze fixed out the window, her eyes trained on the horizon where the highway met the glowing skyline. Her frown had deepened, a shadow of worry lingering on her face. No doubt she was still thinking about Neil.
I forced a smile, letting it tug awkwardly at my lips. It wasn’t much, but I hoped it might break the tension. Myrrh turned, catching the expression. Her eyes softened slightly, though the furrow in her brow remained.
“I never knew you had a technique like that,” I said, hoping to lift her spirits. “How many slashes did you land on our opponent?”
“Seven.” Myrrh’s response came with a proud smile, her chin lifting as her blue eyes lit up. In that moment, she looked like a child awaiting praise for a perfect score on a test. “Have you seen anything like it before?”
“No.” I shook my head, still impressed. “To me, it looked like just one slash... though I did hear the sound of scraping metal, maybe twice.”
“Hehe~” Myrrh’s eyes narrowed as a mischievous smirk tugged at her lips. “My mother taught me that technique after discovering we share the same Ultimate ability. She told me the secret lies in using the boost of the Blade Wing and controlling the blades as though they were an extension of my arms. It’s all about focus and synchronization.” Her voice softened slightly as she continued. “I spent hours watching her old recordings, imagining myself performing the same moves. I’ve practiced it countless times in my mind... but today was the first time I’ve ever tried it for real.”
“That’s incredible.” I couldn’t hide my amazement, my breath catching slightly. “Pulling it off perfectly on your first attempt? That’s beyond impressive.”
Myrrh’s cheeks flushed a delicate pink, and she glanced away, her fingers fidgeting with a lock of her greenish-blonde hair. “R-really?” she mumbled, her voice shy and uncertain—a rarity for someone as bold as her. She twirled the strand of hair absentmindedly, her usual confidence replaced by a vulnerability I wasn’t used to seeing. “You don’t usually praise me like this.”
“You deserve it,” I replied with a warm smile. “You made it happen just by practicing in your mind. That’s no small feat—it’s an achievement worth celebrating.”
“I see...” Myrrh’s voice trailed off, and she suddenly swept her hair forward, using it as a makeshift curtain to shield her face. The blush on her cheeks deepened, and I could swear I saw the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.
It was rare—so rare—to see Myrrh flustered like this. And in that moment, I realized I’d hit a critical nerve, one that turned the tables on her usual teasing confidence.
This was my little revenge for all the times she made me stumble over my own feelings, for every flirty move she’d thrown my way. Watching her blush due to embarassment? Totally worth it.
<><><>
After what felt like an eternity, we finally arrived at the Northern Xyraxis Hospital. Its familiar glass facade reflected the neon glow of the city, but inside, the sterile, whitewashed walls were a stark contrast to the vibrant chaos outside.
Myrrh’s gaze lingered for a moment as we passed the wing where her mother had once been confined, though we were headed to a different floor. The emergency rooms, as always, were on the lower levels, bustling with medics and patients. We quickly approached the front desk, where a receptionist greeted us with a calm, practiced smile.
“We’re looking for a patient named Neil Orbeus,” I said, my voice tinged with urgency.
The receptionist scanned her screen before replying in a neutral tone. “Mister Neil Orbeus is no longer in the emergency room. He’s currently confined on the second floor, Room 212.”
Without wasting a second, we bolted toward the elevator. Despite only needing to ascend two floors, the ride felt excruciatingly slow, every second stretching into an eternity. Myrrh tapped her foot anxiously, her arms crossed as she stared at the blinking floor indicator. Finally, the doors slid open with a soft chime, and we rushed down the hallway, the stark lighting reflecting off the polished floors.
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When we reached Room 212, I hesitated for a split second before pushing the door open. What greeted us was entirely unexpected.
“Congratulations!” a familiar voice shouted.
Before I could react, Neil leaped toward me like an overexcited puppy. “Hyaaaah!”
“Uwah!” I yelped as his weight sent me sprawling backward, landing unceremoniously on the hard floor. Pain shot up my spine as my butt bore the brunt of the impact.
Myrrh froze in place, her eyes wide with shock. “Neil?” she gasped, blinking as if to confirm what she was seeing.
Standing above me, grinning ear to ear, was Neil Orbeus. His hospital-issued clothes—crisp white from shirt to slippers—hung loosely on him, a stark reminder of his recent ordeal. Though faint traces of the glowing red veins that once marked his neck were still visible, they were now nothing more than faded scars.
He looked at us both with the enthusiasm of someone who had just won the lottery. “What’s with the surprised faces? I’m feeling great!”
“Congratulations on advancing to the next round, Myrrh!” Fei, Dianca, and Cindy cheered in unison, their applause filling the small hospital room.
“Way to go, brother! You totally one-shotted them!” Remuel grinned as he playfully punched my left arm.
“Ouch!” I winced, rubbing the spot where his fist landed.
Myrrh, standing to the side, raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a tight, forced smile. “Uh… what is even happening here? Just a few hours ago, Neil was in a life-or-death situation. Are we sure he should be tackling useless trash like Zaft in his current state?”
“You could ask normally without adding the insult, you know,” I muttered under my breath, barely audible even to myself.
“I’m totally fine now!” Neil declared, standing tall as he flexed his right arm, his biceps popping slightly under his hospital gown. “I’ve had this weird sickness since I was a kid, but it’s on-and-off. Nothing life-threatening, I promise!”
“B-but you collapsed!” Myrrh’s voice softened, her earlier sarcasm giving way to genuine concern.
“We were worried about that too,” Fei chimed in, her dark eyes reflecting her concern. “But the doctor assured us there’s no permanent damage. All his vitals are perfectly fine. Still, it’s a mystery...”
“That glowing veins condition...” Dianca muttered, her expression darkening as she pressed a hand to her chest, lost in thought.
Neil, ever the ball of energy, waved off their concerns with an enthusiastic laugh. “Don’t worry, Miss Dianca! It’s just some unknown sickness. It’s not gonna kill me—well, unless I’m driving or swimming, but hey, I avoid those things! I even almost had a seizure once while making ramen during my part-time job, but I’m still alive and kicking! Everything’s fiiiiine!” He threw his arms wide with an exaggerated flourish, his grin brighter than the hospital’s LED lights.
“That’s... kind of dangerous,” Remuel muttered, his brow furrowing as he crossed his arms.
“Neil is off the hook for now,” Fei said with a reassuring smile, her calm demeanor easing the tension in the room. “The doctor advised him to rest for the day, and if nothing unusual happens tomorrow, he’ll be discharged.”
Though her words were meant to comfort, a seed of doubt lingered in my mind. Neil’s confident reassurances aside, the image of him collapsing earlier, his body wracked with glowing, pulsating veins, haunted me. It wasn’t the kind of thing you could just brush off, and calling it “mysterious” felt like an understatement. A sickness like that, one so grotesque and unknown, was the kind of thing that gnawed at the edges of reason.
Still, for now, we tried to enjoy a sense of normalcy. The group settled in Neil’s hospital room, the sterile scent of antiseptic mingling with the greasy aroma of fast-food burgers, fries, and soda. Myrrh, of course, was the star of the conversation, regaling everyone with an animated retelling of her seven-slash technique. “It was over in a flash!” she boasted, her hands mimicking the precise, lightning-fast movements of her attack.
Fei, Dianca, and Cindy hung on her every word, their eyes wide with awe. Even Remuel, ever the skeptic, leaned in closer, nodding along as she described the mechanics of her victory.
While the others were caught up in Myrrh’s triumph, I found myself drawn toward Neil’s bed. Something about his condition gnawed at me, a nagging unease I couldn’t shake. Carrying my half-eaten burger, still wrapped in its paper, I walked over to him. Neil lay back against the pillows, his hospital gown rumpled, his expression a mix of tiredness and calm.
“Hey, Neil,” I began, lowering my voice to avoid interrupting the others. “Can I ask you something?”
Neil glanced up, the flickering light from the television reflecting in his eyes. “Sure, what’s up?”
“When did this mysterious illness start?” I asked, carefully folding the wrapper over my burger as if the act could somehow steady my nerves.
Neil’s gaze drifted, his expression growing distant. “Huh? Oh... it was probably back when I was three or four.” His voice was quieter now, his usual energy dimmed. “The doctors who found me said I was covered in... wilted tendrils or something. They pulled me out of the rubble, and that’s when it all started. The seizures, the fainting... and those creepy glowing veins on my neck.”
He trailed off, his fingers absently brushing against the faint scars on his neck, as though recalling a memory he couldn’t quite grasp.
Wilted tendrils? The phrase sent a shiver down my spine. Whatever had happened to Neil back then wasn’t just mysterious—it was terrifying.
Neil rolled up the collar of his hospital gown slightly, revealing faint black marks etched across his neck like the remnants of a fading tattoo. They were subtle now, barely visible against his skin, but they carried the weight of something far more sinister.
“It’s just some black marks now,” Neil explained, tracing a finger along the lines absentmindedly. “No glowing, no pain. At least, for now.”
I studied the marks carefully, a knot of unease tightening in my chest. “How often does it happen?” I asked, my voice steady but laced with concern.
“It’s random,” Neil replied with a shrug. “Sometimes months pass without a single incident, and other times…” He paused, his words hanging in the air like a storm cloud on the horizon. His gaze shifted, his usual energy dimmed for just a moment. Then, with a forced smile, he held his forehead as if brushing away an invisible weight.
“Neil,” I said softly, leaning closer. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” He shook his head, his smile growing wider, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “It’s nothing, really.”
I studied his expression, the way his eyes avoided mine for just a beat too long, and the tension in his shoulders that he thought he’d hidden. On the surface, he seemed fine—calm, even—but something about his demeanor told a different story.
But I knew it wasn’t nothing. Whatever Neil was dealing with, it ran deeper than he was willing to let on.