18. A sakura in the sky

The day I first met the Cheetahs, I was led by my new boss, Ginger, to their turf, an old workshop at street level in the Old Docks.

“You will see, they’re all good people,” Ginger said, walking into the alley. “Oh, seems like someone is already here.”

The door was open. Inside, there was a punk-fashioned man in his early thirties with a lot of piercings on his ears and tattoos on his arms. That was Snake. The first thing I thought was: scary. As I was introduced, the gangster raised an eyebrow, looked at me up and down, and commented:

“Another kid, huh. Try not to get in the way.”

“Y-Yes, sir!”

The next Cheetah I met was Sunflower. She was in her late twenties, reserved, as blond as I was, but her composure was way more impressive than mine. Ginger said:

“As a matter of fact, newbie, our Sunflower should have been the leader of this gang, but she says it’s a pain in the ass to lead us. Remember that, and don’t bother her—”

“He-llo everyone!”

The lively voice came from the entrance. A girl with two pink pigtails jumped as if dancing into the workshop. She stopped upon seeing me, put on a face of surprise mixed with embarrassment, then grinned at me.

“The newbie, right? I’m Erma,” she said, holding out a hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“Aah… I’m Armen,” I said, shaking her hand. “Nice to meet you t—”

Suddenly, Erma’s hand felt strange in mine, as if it had… I looked down. What I saw was a nightmarish scene. Erma had withdrawn her arm, but her hand was still in mine. It had detached from her body!

I screamed and fell back. For a few seconds, my mind just went blank. When I got a hold of myself, Ginger was scolding Erma, very gently.

“You know, kid, you shouldn’t do that to a newbie right off the bat.”

“Sorry, I know people are creeped out by my power, but I didn’t know he would scream like that! He scared me to death.”

“You scared him to death, Erma,” Sunflower pointed out.

“He snapped out of it,” Snake noticed. “Bet he’s gonna run away.”

I wouldn’t. I had come prepared for much worse. I straightened up like a resort, looked at the pigtailed girl, checked that her hand had been reattached to her arm, and I breathed out in relief.

“Thank gods. I thought I had broken your hand. What just happened, really? Are you all right?”

Erma raised an eyebrow.

“I am. What, were you worried about me? I’m more worried about you.”

“Ah… I’m fine. Though it’s the first time I passed out like that. I really thought your hand had detached itself from your body, but it didn’t, right? I may have just imagined it—”

“You didn’t.”

“…?!”

“Look. I can detach my left hand and move it remotely. That’s my power!”

She crouched at my level and stretched her hand. I saw it detach itself from her body and walk on the floor of the workshop towards me. I gaped at it. So I hadn’t imagined it. Her hand really was able to move on its own!

“Holy crap! So cool!!” I cried out in awe. “It doesn’t hurt?”

“…?! No, it doesn’t, hwara-hwara!”

“Is it a power granted by a pill?”

“It’s not. I had it since I was born.”

“Oh? My big sis told me power-holders usually awaken after their early childhood. Are you a prodigy?”

“Eeh? I’m not. It’s not so rare.”

“Is that so? Anyway…” As the hand passed by, I took it gently and shook it, adding cheerfully: “Happy to meet you, Erma!”

The girl’s eyes widened as if thinking: That blond guy… Is he not creeped out by my power anymore? Or maybe she was thinking I looked a bit stupid, shaking a detached hand like that?

“Hwara-hwara-hwara!” She laughed in a weird way. “Nice to meet you, newbie!”

At this moment, a hoodie walked into the workshop. He was around my age. His gray eyes grazed Erma, then fastened on me and grew a bit wider.

“The newbie?” he asked no one in particular.

“Ah, yeah,” I said, standing up and holding out my hand. “I’m Armen Moon. I’m looking forward to working with you.”

The hoodie had his hands shoved in his pockets. He didn’t move. Ginger grumbled:

“Zeeta. Be nicer!”

“Tch.”

He shook my hand, squeezing it. I heard my bones crack, and pain throbbed through my arm. It hurt. It damned hurt. My eyes filled with tears as I gave Zeeta a smile and squeezed his hand. He panted:

“That bastard…”

My smile broadened as tears were trickling down my cheeks.

“It damn hurts, doesn’t it?”

Zeeta stared at me in awe, then released my hand, snorting:

“If you broke my hand, I’ll make you pay. I’m a guitarist, so you know.”

“Oh, really?! Guitar is cool. Ah but… Hope your hand didn’t break.”

“It didn’t, you idiot.” He coughed. “Is yours… okay?”

I grinned.

“Yeah, thanks. Oh, but if you’re a guitarist, will you play for me one of these days?”

“…!! And why should I play for you? I don’t know you. And I bet you don’t even know a thing about music.”

“Well, that’s not totally true. I love music. And I used to play the violin when I was a kid.”

“You did?! … Oh, whatever, I don’t care.”

“That means you’re gonna play for me?”

“Eeeh?! No, I said I don’t care about your life, you idiot!”

“… Oh.”

“B-But… guess I can let you hear me play one of these days.”

“Hwara-hwara-hwara! Zeeta just fell for the newbie!” Erma cried out.

“I didn’t!”

My dark expression lit up. I had felt pretty nervous at the idea of meeting a bunch of gangsters; I knew Azritz would be horrified if she found out; deep down, I had been convinced that working meant suffering and that the Underworld was a dark place… Well, it was, and I had prepared myself to make money despite that but… maybe I had been a bit too pessimistic for once?

* * *

Farskyer City’s climate is cold, but it seldom snows in November. The year I entered the gang, though, a huge snowfall came down on the city.

I made my way through the streets, to the dark alley. In the dim light of a lantern, Rock-Beard was pushing away the snow in front of our turf. We shook hands.

“Let me help you.”

The bearded man said nothing, but I knew he appreciated my help. He was a man of few words, but a righteous one, even though he was a gangster. We had almost finished freeing the entrance when I heard behind me:

“Cold, cold, cold, cold! Straw Head, I’m cold!”

A frozen hand touched my neck. I gave a shriek turning around.

“Erma!”

She burst out laughing.

“Hwara-hwara-hwara! What was that scream, Straw Head! Seriously! Hwara-hwara! … What are you—Yiiiiii!” I had just put the back of my hands on her neck.

“Oh, looks like you guys are having fun,” Zeeta said, appearing behind Erma. “You do it like that?”

“Yiiiiii!”

“Oh, it worked.”

“Yiiiiii!”

“Sure it works.”

“You two, you’ll pay for it!”

She took a handful of snow from the ground. I tried to dodge thinking she would throw it at me, but no: she grabbed my collar, detached her left hand, and it went under my clothes, spreading the snow. The cold ran up my spine, then I began guffawing hysterically.

“Buahahaha, stop, Erma, stop, you’re tickling me!”

“You can only blame yourselves for ganging up on me!”

Some would say Erma’s power was a creepy one, but I thought it was a pretty cool one… except when she used it against me.

My body was tickling me, and I was hurting all over from laughing.

“Erma, get back your hand!”

“I can’t, it ran away! Hwara-hwara!”

“Aah… No wonder it ran away from you…”

Her hand pinched my back. I moaned, jumping and trying to shake off the hand. Zeeta was doubling up with laughter, that jerk. Rock-Beard disappeared into our turf, acting as if he didn’t know us.

“Zeeta, please, save me, I can’t take it anymore!”

“Hang in there, Straw Head, I’m coming!”

We managed to free my back from Erma’s hand, and we began throwing snowballs at her. She protested under the white rain:

“I can’t believe you guys… Ow! Ganging up on a little girl… ouch! Birdbrain-dummy-fools, I said stooop!”

She jumped on us and dragged us down with her on the snow. Erma puffed, lying between us, face down.

“Gah… I’ve eaten snow…”

“Is it g-good?” My teeth were chattering.

“It’s just cold. Wanna try?”

“N-No, thanks. I’m-e alread-dy c-c-cold-e-e…”

“Oh… Your Taipei accent showed.”

“That’s true!” Zeeta chuckled. “So it doesn’t happen only when you’re embarrassed or drunk.”

“He does it when he’s embarrassed too?” Erma asked, interested.

“Yeah.”

“Oh? But when is he embarrassed? He’s always smiling.”

“That’s the point. He smiles like thaaat when he’s embarrassed.” Zeeta tried to imitate my embarrassed smile, stretching his cheeks.

“I nev-ver d-do that weird-e f-face,” I replied. My teeth were chattering like hell. “We… really should mov-v-ve. I’m g-gonna die from hyp-podermia.”

“Hypothermia, Straw Head,” Erma corrected me.

“Yeah…” My body was shaking. “Aaah… But now it’s not-e that cold-e. Feels like in T-Taip-pei… so warm-e…”

My voice faltered. Erma and Zeeta looked at me, suddenly worried.

“…! Crap. Straw Head, hang in there!”

They helped me up. Shaking like a leaf, I entered the workshop that was our turf and hurried near the heater that Rock-Beard had just turned on. So warm! I took out my coat as Erma snorted:

“You really scared me there, Straw Head.”

“Brr… I’m fine. I just can’t stand cold. Ah, it’s so warm around here, it feels so nice…”

As the firewood was cracking inside the heater, Zeeta coughed.

“Straw Head. You… sure about what you’re doing?”

I looked at him, confused.

“About what?”

“You’re stripping in front of the lil witch.”

I froze. I had already taken off my shirt, which was drenched because of Erma’s hand. Luckily I still had my pants. Sitting on a cushion, Erma cleared her throat:

“Bah, it’s all right. It’s better than catching a cold.”

“Yeah, right? Besides, Zeeta, you know… Erma touches my body almost every day—”

“You make it sound like I’m a pervert!” Erma burst out.

“Aaah… Stop harassing the Straw Head, Erma. You traumatized him. He’s red now. I think he’s not cold anymore.”

“Shut up, Zeeta, I’m actually not embarrassed,” I assured. “It’s not like I have a scary body with venomous thorns.”

“Who are you even referring to?” Zeeta snorted.

Erma stifled a laugh.

“Are you sure you don’t have thorns in your legs?”

“…! Aha… What’s with that question?”

“Let’s check,” Zeeta said.

“The hell, Zeeta, back-e off-e!”

Erma laughed loudly.

“It’s true! You really talk with your Taipei accent when you’re embarrassed! I’ll remember that, Straw Head.”

Why would she remember something so unimportant? At that moment, the door opened, and Ginger came in, he frowned at me and burst out:

“You…! What are you doing in front of our little princess!”

The former Holy Monk snapped. He punished me to kowtow and rest my forehead on the ground for five minutes. I felt his glare on me.

“Shame on you.”

“Sorry, boss. I didn’t think it over.”

“Then start thinking, Straw Head, start thinking!”

“But I’m nicknamed Straw Head for a good reason, boss.”

“Wasn’t it because your hair is blond?”

“No,” Zeeta patted my red knit cap. “It’s because his head is full of straw.”

“…! Is… that so?”

I raised my head, nodding in all seriousness.

“Yes, boss. Sorry I never told you before, boss.”

Ginger stared at me for a moment, then let out a guffaw.

“You’re a weird one, Straw Head! Well, guys, getting back to work, I was told there’s a troublesome pair of professional thieves wandering in the city, so be careful not to get involved: those guys don’t hesitate to kill. Also, Sunflower is sick. Erma, you go patrol with Armen and Zeeta. Same routine, same job. Any questions?”

“None, boss!”

His eyes turned to Zeeta and me.

“Take good care of our little princess.”

Was he, like, her father? I clapped my hands three times just like I would do in front of a holy sanctuary, and I said:

“Till death do us part, boss.”

Erma nailed a fist in my back.

“Don’t say it like you’re marrying me, birdbrain-dummy-fool!”

* * *

The sakuras were brimming with flowers.

“Pink.”

Erma raised an eyebrow. It was Saturday, and as usual, we were lazing around in the Old Docks. Erma had led us to Sakura Park. She echoed:

“Pink? What do you mean?”

My eyes turned away from the pink flowers and fastened on Erma’s two pink pigtails.

“It’s my favorite color right now. ’Cause the flowers are beautiful.”

“Mm… Honestly, I think cherry trees are more beautiful in pictures,” Erma replied. She totally didn’t catch what I meant. I smiled painfully. I was so bad at choosing the right words.

“In pictures, huh… Ah! Could it be you have near-sightedness?”

She jerked up.

“Why?!”

“Ah, no, I just thought that, if you like pictures more, it might be because you can’t see them as well in reality. My big sis is nearsighted too ever since she experienced a quirk. She can see microscopic stuff, and she says that the microscopic world is way more beautiful than the marcoscopic world. It’s kinda crazy, right? To think that each person sees the world so differently—”

I fell silent when Erma laid a fist on my cheek.

“We don’t see it so differently. I take it back. I like cherry trees in reality too.”

So she changed her mind? I grinned.

“Well, that makes two of us.”

“Mm,” she muttered, keeping walking under the canopy. “By the way, Straw Head, I’m not nearsighted. Also, it’s macroscopic, not marcoscopic. Are you dyslexic?”

“Some teachers say I am. Some teachers say I’m not.”

“Hwara, hwara, what was that?”

She turned to me with a beaming smile, her pigtails suddenly swirling under a gust of wind. A rain of pink flowers fell upon us. My heart started pounding out of the blue as I stared at her. What… was that sensation? Nothing that a picture could give me, that was for sure. It felt as if a whole orchestra of violins had started playing in my head. I couldn’t put my finger on my sudden inspiration before Zeeta came back from buying ice creams and we sat on a bench. I heard the tinkling sound of the wind chimes in a nearby temple. We were silently savoring our ice creams when I sprang from the bench.

“I know!”

Erma and Zeeta looked at me quizzically.

“What do you know, Straw Head?” the latter asked curiously as Erma gulped down a mouthful of chocolate ice cream.

“Heehee… Zeeta. We did form a duo band, didn’t we?”

“… We did, why?”

“And we said we would make an album.”

“Yeah…?”

“An album?” Erma echoed, amazed. “I didn’t know you two were so into it! Can I help?”

Her spontaneous offer made me grin.

“Actually… Erma. Will you be our muse?”

“…!”

“That’s what you were thinking?” Zeeta snorted. “Erma, our muse? Did you hit your head?”

“But Zeeta, don’t you feel something like a surge of inspiration when you look at her?”

“…” Zeeta gazed at Erma’s astonished face. “A surge of inspiration, huh? Oh, yeah, now that I look carefully, it’s coming right from the chocolate on her mouth.”

“Haha, so you saw it, Zeeta?”

“Sometimes I don’t know if you’re joking or not, Armen.”

“But what kind of music does she inspire in you right now?”

“A song about chocolate, perhaps.”

“Something lively.”

“And wild.”

“Stirring.”

“Loud.”

“A bit awkward.”

“Lunatic.”

“Angry.”

“Pigtail Madness.”

“Angry, Zeeta,” I repeated with a painful smile. “She’s angry.”

Erma had devoured her ice cream in a matter of seconds. She stood up.

“Birdbrain-dummy-fools! I’m leaving.”

“Wait!” I ran after her. “Please, Erma, don’t mind Zeeta, I was being sincere. I think a muse has to be something or someone that shakes you up. And you shake me up, because… we’re good friends.”

Erma stopped. Zeeta chimed in from the bench:

“And she shakes you for real sometimes.”

“Zeeta, I’m serious! Erma… I want you to become our muse to write a song. A good one.”

“Are you saying that the previous ones were no good?” Zeeta snorted.

“Then… our best one!”

Erma stared at me under her long eyelashes then crossed her arms.

“What is a muse supposed to do, anyway?”

Her words were a yes, right? Right? I covered my face with an arm.

“Straw Head? What’s the matter? I knew it. You were making fun of me, weren’t you?”

“I’m not! I’m just… happy.”

“I didn’t agree yet, though?”

“What?!”

“… Pff,” she laughed under her breath at my shocked expression. “Well, if it’s not too much of a hassle, I’ll do it.”

“Seriously?” I grinned from ear to ear and bowed to her. “Thanks! Please let’s work hard together!”

Erma blushed a bit then gave a nod.

“Mm. So… What do I inspire in you right now?”

I looked at her intently, her brown chocolate-stained mouth, her pink pigtails, her blue eyes, then said:

“A sakura in the sky.”