11:00
Kawarajima Park was always popular, even on a morning as grey as this. Fairly small, the patch of green amid the city’s urban sprawl was a carefully cultivated natural respite. Children came here to play; adults, to relax. No-one noticed the two otherworldly entities lurked behind reality’s thin curtain. The first was made of stone. Thick metal chains bound tight around and dug into the petrified once-flesh of a hunched, tortured figure of a man, his chest stripped bare. Agony was chiselled into every single muscle. Bald head tilted down, face contorted like a gargoyle, his eyes rung hollow; cheeks, sunken. The man’s jaw hung open, grossly distended into perpetual screaming. Searing flames licked at the stone, occasionally flaring from those desolate cavities in the face, blackening in sinful ash.
“There is much sin, even here.”
Naraka, Primordial Phenomenon of Hell, stepped forward. Every footstep scorched the soil. The stench of brimstone filled the air. Chains rattled against one another. They all protruded from the ground, tearing up the earth as he walked. Passers-by stared in bewilderment at the desecration, unable to perceive the cause. “Even in the verdant green, there is Regret. Hot blood, and the freezing cold. So many yearn for salvation that they do not deserve. So many blasphemers proclaim to provide salvation, such is ignorance. Yet, none deserve the fate of Rejection. For man to bestow such onto other men is unforgivable.”
A gaunt woman in white hovered nearby, face obscured by a veil. Torn clothes, troubled eyes; ethereal silver shawls rippling in the cosmic wind. Her voice, a cold, sobering whisper. “Ashinaga was defeated in battle; this has never happened in cycles past. It worries me.”
“Indeed, hence why I ask this of you now, Rin’ne.” Naraka halted, having approached the dead centre of the park. “I believe it necessary.”
A man approached head-on, oblivious in whose presence he now stood. The moment he stepped foot within a five metre radius of the deity, the man burst into flames. The ground then opened to swallow him whole. The void didn’t let even his screams escape.
“I anticipated this turn of events,” Rin’ne admitted. “Long ago, when I cut down ███████ and severed his strings.”
“Yes. The usurpers I banished to Avici thousands of years ago have been awakened once more. They seek to exert their influence through their contractors. Gus Ishimatsu bears resolve the same as his predecessor, and yet poses that much more of a threat. He summoned enough power to destroy Ashinaga’s form, and still lives. I must find out more; I must witness the resolve of those other usurpers.”
“Toshina has deliberately withheld information from us, I fear,” Rin’ne commented. “I can only predict what I have already seen in cycles past. He knows the future; we do not.” The woman paused, caressing her chin with a long, skeletal finger. “He has long since been vague, never willing to elucidate more than he deems he must, yet this raises concerns. Might this be the final cycle?”
“The usurpers will be punished for their transgressions; I will make sure of it. For now, a small tear in the dimensional boundary will suffice.”
“Very well. I am nothing if not curious.”
And so Rin’ne, Primordial Phenomenon of Death, descended towards the park. Not a soul reacted to her presence. They couldn’t even perceive her, and nor should they until it was their turn to be taken beyond the curtain. Gliding forth, the phenomenon lifted a long spindly arm from beneath her shawls. The hand was skeletal, the fingers sharp and curved like sickles. Raising the hand, Rin’ne extended one finger, pierced the curtain, and sliced open the boundary between the material and cognitive worlds.
The unstable fabric of space convulsed, sending waves of energy rippling far and wide throughout the ether. A torrent of otherworldly matter came spilling forth into the park, corrupting the ground. Nearby, people stopped and stared. A few pointed. A few cried out. None were prepared for what would follow. The nearby space started to warp, tearing the rip wider still, bringing further chaos in its wake.
* * *
Nowhere had been fairly still that morning. That labyrinthine tower never stayed still for long. Hideyori Hakana sat at the head of the Glass Eyes boardroom, eyes closed, orb in hand. Starved of inspiration, lulled into boredom, his mind had been steeped in fog for too long. It was difficult to consider his next steps without a picture of the path ahead. Faced with no alternative, he’d decided to reflect, and look a little deeper.
He wasn’t alone. Tsushin Techukara lurked behind him: eyes dull and blank, her usual distant trance even bleaker than usual, limp black hair framing an ever-paling face. The ripples of psychic energy reached her, and she snapped back into focus. Her third eye twitched, and the girl clutched at her forehead with a cry.
Distracted, Hideyori sat upright. “What’s the matter, bite your tongue?” The moment grew murky once more. The executive shot an sharp glare over his shoulder. “Rude to interrupt a man when he’s thinking.”
Tsushin’s laboured breathing hindered an apology. “I just sensed something, a signal,” she gasped. “A distortion just opened, a new one!”
Hideyori’s eyes widened. He flourished his wrist, orb dispelled. Spinning around in his chair, he removed his hat and set gently it on Tsushin’s head. This had an odd effect of calming the fragmented girl down. “Easy, easy. What’s the situation?”
Tsushin seized Hideyori’s hand, holding it to her neck. Her breathing eased. “Something important just happened in the material world. It’s the same kind of sensation I felt when the intruders crossed the boundary, ripples of disturbance influencing the natural distribution of psychic energy.”
“I see.” A grin crept across his face. “And the location?”
Tsushin face tensed in concentration, her third eye pulsing grotesquely. This didn’t take long. “Chiba. Kawarajima Park.”
He’d been waiting for precisely this kind of opportunity.
“Time to move out.”
* * *
It was strange to think that, less than a week ago, the world had been fairly normal.
To most, it still was. The sky hadn’t yet fallen; the trains were still running. A cold snap now plagued the wider prefecture, but nothing extraordinary; it had been colder last year.
Stranger still, the incidents that had shaken the city—first Senketsu, then the Traffic Sentinels’ rampage tearing its way inwards from the Seventh Eastern Highway—had been largely forgotten. There was residual disruption from the damage, and there was talk, but on the whole things were as they had always been: normal. Normal was good, nonthreatening. Normality meant you didn’t have to worry about every other step; normality meant there was no need to run or look over your shoulder. Life’s pace dwindled to a comfortable trundle, as the inanities of the everyday went as they should.
11:20
“So, do you ever talk? Or is this just something I’m going to have to get used to.”
Ruri Karakusa gave Rin a pained look.
“Yeah, yeah—I get it.” The smaller boy sighed. “Don’t worry, I won’t press. ‘Was just curious, given I haven’t heard a peep outta you since we rescued your ass from the facility. Hold on—” He squinted— “Where’d that damn butterfly go?”
Ruri pointed ahead. He’d scarcely taken his eyes off the thing since they’d left Granny’s house around twenty minutes ago.
A few days had since passed following their late-night arrival at his grandmother’s, days spent almost exclusively eating and resting. None of them had the energy to do much until this morning. Rin had needed some time to himself: some time to think, some time to plan. His body had worn itself out, but his mind never rested. Granny had presented him with a few old notebooks from his childhood. He’d been working away at a few of his old designs, as well as some new ones.
Those designs would soon become a reality, thanks to his Framework.
He had stumbled down the stairs earlier that morning and found Ruri already in the kitchen, having a late breakfast with his grandmother. Everything seemed fine, until that brilliant blue butterfly returned. It didn’t settle on the flowers this time, but hovered near the open window, as though waiting for something. Rin had been too busy shovelling rice down his gullet to notice, but Ruri couldn’t tear his eyes away. All three eyes lit up, open and wide, awakened to some psychic stimuli. Leaving his food untouched, Ruri rose from the table and approached. The butterfly took note, and slipped out through the window. Without a sound, Ruri glid over to the front door and attempted exit, only to find himself impeded by some invisible force-field. Only with Granny’s express permission had he been able to leave. What was Ruri’s obsession with that butterfly anyhow? The stoic wouldn’t communicate a hint any which way, so Rin was stuck with guesswork. Maybe it was talking to him, a message meant for only him. That begged the question: why?
Stolen story; please report.
Rin, bemused by the whole interaction, had opted to follow out of pure curiosity.
Now, the unlikely duo ambled along the residential pavement, sparing casual glances to their increasingly similar surroundings. After a while, Rin ntoed, the endless suburbia started to look the same. He scowled up at the clouds. The air was still and grey. A static clung to his skin and hair. The skies remained depressingly dark, and occasional thunder rolled overhead. Rin wished the weather would make up its mind—to either rain, or not. He hated this cruel limbo, and the wanton anticipation it wrought.
The static wasn’t just on his skin, but in his head. Whenever he closed his eyes, the Eye glared back at him. The terrifying image of that false god had seared itself into the backs of his retina. No matter how much he tried to cast it out, it haunted him. If the Architect hadn’t come to his rescue, Rin shuddered to think what would’ve happened. Would he have been rejected? Rin cursed his vivid imagination. He had killed lots of Rejected by now; they had been people once. He didn’t know them, but someone would have. They would’ve had names, families, but no longer. They couldn’t be reasoned with anymore; he’d been fighting for survival. Weren’t those just excuses? Then again, if he had been rejected that night in his sleep, he would’ve expected everyone else to dispatch him with that same dispassion. He would no longer be Rinkaku Harigane, only a creature: a shell of he who once was.
Ruri’s sudden hand on his shoulder interrupted that horrible train of thought. Rin looked up. The large boy was pointing across the street. The butterfly had finally settled: the iridescent insect folded up both wings, and rested on the head of a sole wooden mannequin. The pale wood looked local; gently varnished, parts of it glinted in whatever light managed to fight its way through the clouds. Taller than Rin, shorter than Ruri; the artist’s mannequin was meticulously carved and refined, but had no face. It stood perfectly upright, no strings or stand whatsoever to support it against the breeze.
“Creepy.” A shiver echoed down Rin’s spine. “How long has that been stood there for?” A psychic ping caught his attention. The mannequin emitted an unfamiliar signal. Channelling psychic energy through his eyes, Rin enhanced his perception, and looked closer. Only then did he discern subtle, lifelike motions in its hands. “It’s moving. The butterfly’s been leading us here this entire time. Do you think it wanted us to see this?”
Ruri nodded.
“Why?”
Ruri pointed to his third eye. Rin nodded, and concentrated on mannequin’s signal’s once more. Instantly, two dozen screams of agony, shrill and discordant, filled his head. Rin cried out and clutched at his face with one hand, eyes screwed shut. The pain soon subsided. Rin then felt a large hand rest on his shoulder. Ruri stood over him, concerned.
“I’m alright.” Rin brushed the hand from his shoulder. “What the hell was that?”
Ruri pointed. The mannequin was beckoning them now.
“I get it now. The mannequin, those screams. Did you hear them too?”
Another nod.
“Sounded bad.” Rin grimaced. “It’s guiding us somewhere. Must be a trap.” The screams reminded him of Architect’s first vision, the screams of people being Rejected. “Let’s go.”
The mannequin turned on one wooden heel, then bolted. Flat feet clacking on the pavement, it turned a street corner and disappeared from sight.
The chase was on.
* * *
Deep in the realm of mind, a skeletal black horse stood atop a hill. A solar eclipse cast a blinding darkness across the fractured plains.
You will never save a soul. How could you, blocking out the sun that brings life, save anyone? Everyone will drown in the shadow you cast. How long will you reach for them in vain, Survivor?
Tegata Kage awoke far too late to a pillow drenched in sweat. Another nightmare; another painful reminder that she wasn’t there to silence the noise anymore. His chest tightened. Breathing heavily, he fought to free himself from the tangled covers, and threw them aside. Eyes fixed on the ceiling, Tegata murmured his mantra.
“My survival is no sin. My survival is no sin.”
Sitting aside the bed, the boy dragged fingers through thick pink hair, rubbing bleary eyes. The bedroom was empty; the silence rung louder than any bell. Where was everyone else? Ever since he and the others had set foot in this house days prior, his whole psyche had felt so comfortably numb. He was still able to detect psychic signatures here and there, but any expression of psychic energy beyond the most basic had been suppressed to the point where he began to feel—dare he say—normal.
That said, it was always strange to stand up on legs with steel bones. Tegata took a deep breath. He was grateful to Kinuka he had legs at all, but would their newfound heft always catch him off-guard? Nevertheless, he needed to get moving. He didn’t want to give the Nightmare any time. He approached the chest of drawers, taking out a set of clothes that only just fitted him. They were from another time, for a man much older than himself. Meticulously preserved in his memory, but clothes to be worn nonetheless. He just hoped Rin’s grandmother wouldn’t mind. Descending the stairs, slipper-clad, Tegata peered through the sliding doors into other rooms, listening for signs of life. None. The house basked in the mid-morning calm. Before his anxieties were able to ran away with him, however, he heard Granny’s kind tones from the kitchen.
“I had thought I oughtn’t wake you. Though, perhaps it would have been kinder to.” The old woman stood in the doorway, smiling. “Good morning, Tegata dearest.”
“Good morning, Granny. I hope you slept well.” Tegata found himself smiling back. The closed slit of a third eye on her forehead reminded him she was a psyche user too. She hadn’t divulged her Specialty, but he wasn’t worried. He had already felt her shadow. He trusted her as he trusted Rin and the others. She was on their side.
“How about some breakfast?”
The scent of something delightful reached him the next moment. Tegata’s stomach gave a painful twinge at the very mention. “I’d like that.”
An enormous bowl of steamed rice and salmon later, Tegata swallowed his final mouthful and bowed his head. “I can’t remember the last time I enjoyed food this nice. Thank you for your hospitality.” He had sat down with Granny at the polished low table next door. All that was left to do was relish in the peace.
“It’s my pleasure.” Granny beamed. “You’re so polite, and a pleasure to feed. I do wish Rinkaku would learn a few things.” She chuckled to herself. “Besides, you’re thin as a reed. We must fatten you up properly or else you’ll waste away!”
Tegata hoped that was just a grim turn of phrase. “Sorry for waking up so late. I’m not setting a good example.” He chuckled.
“Nonsense. You children need your rest.”
“Am I the only one in the house?” He looked around. “Where are the girls?”
“They were up at practically the crack of dawn. They’ve gone into town for some shopping. I gave them money to buy Juusei some new clothes, the poor thing.”
Tegata rose to his knees, alerted. “What if they get attacked?”
“I wouldn’t worry about that.” Granny poured him another cup of tea. “They’re both very strong, very capable. As for the others, Rinkaku said he needed some fresh air, so I let him go for a walk. The same with dear Ruri. You should have a little faith in your friends.”
“I do, but—”
“No buts, boy.” This wasn’t a request anymore. “Please sit down.”
Tegata sank back onto his ankles. “Sorry.”
“No apologies necessary.” Granny shook her head, and began spooning more rice onto Tegata’s plate. The might of his mind lost to his gut, and the boy helped himself. He couldn’t remember a time before last night where he’d been able to enjoy such delicious food. When he tried, his mind only went to places where it shouldn’t. Before he realised, it was too late: his pupils had dilated; his breathing, shallow.
“You’re troubled,” Granny placed a soft hand on his arm. “You can always tell me what’s worrying you.”
Tegata snapped out of his daze. “I’m fine. Thank you.” He looked to her, his fake smile offering little in terms of reassurance, then back at his bowl. Picking up his chopsticks again, he hesitated. “I’m just not comfortable with everyone going out by themselves. JPRO could still be tracking their signatures.”
“You have a good conscience, my dear, but you worry too much.” Granny gave him a knowing smile. “You have all been able to rest safe and sound these past few days, haven’t you? I certainly haven’t seen any JPRO agents nearby.”
That much was true. The past few days were the most tranquil any of them could recall.
“I’ve been meaning to ask you about that. I know you’re a psyche user, but you haven’t divulged your powers. None of us have been able to use our Specialties since we’ve arrived. Is that your doing?”
“I see no reason for you to use your powers under my roof.”
“Then, that moment you welcomed us into your house. That must’ve been the activation conditions for your specialty.”
Granny gave him a crafty smile. “Nothing escapes your sight, does it? Even without your psyche.”
“I have the most experience.”
“And it shows, my dear. Don’t worry. It wasn’t a criticism. Under my House Rules, you are forbidden from expressing your psychic energy unless I permit it so. I may not be capable of keeping JPRO out, but I can at least prevent them from finding you here.”
“Those reminders you gave us that night. Those were the rules, weren’t they?”
Granny smiled. “You have a certain maturity the others lack. I was curious about you in particular the moment you knocked on my door. I can sense your troubles, my dear.” She pursed her lips, tentative. “I hope you’ll forgive this old crone for being so nosy, but I would like to learn more. About you, about your struggles. I would like to understand.”
Tegata’s eyes glassed over. “Please, ask away.”
Granny paused. “How long had you been in JPRO’s clutches?”
“Nearly ten years.” Tegata answered without hesitation, without emotion. “I awakened my Specialty soon after I was locked up, I can’t remember how long. I didn’t have a choice.” He gazed, unfocused, into the middle distance. “It was my mother who gave me away. I realised I was nothing but a present, to him.”
“That woman has no right to call herself your mother.” Granny took a shaky breath, knuckles whitening on the tabletop.
“I was one of the first subjects to make it into project Theia; the others, all Rejected.” Dissociation was a tool, useful and dangerous in equal measure to Tegata just as the chainsaw was to the woodsman. “They trained us every day, pushed us to the brink. It was calculated, measured, all of it. They knew what they were doing. Our program was designed to limit-test the transcendent children they had created.” He took a deep breath. “It stopped hurting after a while.”
Granny then saw the scarring littering Tegata’s hands: scars wrought by years of strain, repeated tearing of the skin, tendons and muscle, and the subsequent stitching of it all back together. “Oh, my poor dear.” She seized one hand and cradled it in both her own. “You are safe here. I will not let them harm you, while you are under my roof. That is my vow. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes.” Her words brought his eyes came back into focus. “Thank you.”