Chapter 45 Like Father, Unlike Son

“Ah we taught him that right?”

“I didn’t teach him that, and you definitely didn’t.” - someone talking to themself from another universe.

The Rain that Beholds the Morning Grass sniffed the air around her.

It was a strange world she now inhabited, one devoid of Breath, yet life still somehow existed here.

They still breathed of course, but not in the same way she did. Air merely filled their lungs when Breath filled her body.

So she was left stifled and suffocated, and had not breathed a single Breath since she came here…

How many years ago was it?

She remembered five. Five something. Was it five years and a few months or fifty years ago that she came here?

Rain would have to consult one of their calendars to find out definitively, though she wasn’t really pressed to find out.

It didn’t matter whether her time here happened in a blink or half a blink.

So she rose from her spot at the fountain, disturbed a… day ago? Did the sun spin once or twice during the time she meditated?

Time here sped by far too quickly, where back home a mortal life time could be passed thrice over before the sun had reached noon.

Though speaking of mortals, she had hoped that the one who disturbed her had given her a bout.

Every Gifted was a surprise for her, as she could not estimate their strength by their Breath, and their strange abilities made for unique battles unlike the clashing of blades and martial arts she was used to.

Rain stood and walked slowly as if she had all the time of the world. Truthfully, she could be at her destination with the expenditure of a single Breath, but this fast world required calm and patience. Time to watch the scenery and people.

Usually, she stared up into the night sky on walks like this, but the sky was pitch black, only the moon, marred by occasional chunks of black debris shone through.

It was the strangest thing she had witnessed upon coming here. She had seen Cultivators blacken the sky, but such a grand thing was a mere byproduct of their civilization. Lights shone so brightly that the stars could not answer. Blackening the sun was another matter though, and the mortals here had apparently succeeded in freeing theirs.

Clothing lacked severely though. No beautiful silken sleeves or fluttering cloaks, hallmarks of pride within her old world. This world’s fashion was disgustingly utilitarian, practicality bled through in every scrap of cloth.

To be able to battle like rain that shook the morning grass was her test to show she had obtained a Nascent Soul, but she could scarcely recreate the feat with the poor selection she had in this realm.

Unfortunate, but it was another thing Ya had convinced her to adopt.

And she now stood at the back of a quaint mortal shop, one that sold tea and ‘coffees’. In front of her was a door frame, held between it was a purely black space.

Rain poked her hand in it, marvelling at the Gifted’s ability. There was no sense of difference when she entered the pocket dimension, only that there was no light.

There was a light pushing feeling, as the Gifted noticed her and tried to eject her.

She could have resisted, but she stepped calmly outside, and the blackness slid off the frame like water off a ducks’ back, revealing a red door.

Rain entered.

“The doorman needs some work,” she said as she sighted Ya sitting at his desk, reading a scarlet letter.

He was a large, dark haired man that reminded Rain of a merchant. On his left hand was a scarlet ring with the letter A.

“He’s too good of a thief to replace,” Ya answered. “Finally back after a week? You know you’re starting rumours sitting at a fountain day in and day night.”

“Let them gossip,” Rain replied, “my meditation is more important.”

“So,” she said, glancing over the letter, “what does it say?”

Truthfully she had already fully read the contents the moment she stepped in. Incoherent scribblings of a goblin asking Ya the method to remove the bomb collar.

“It did as we asked and led the goblins into the abandoned district,” Ya replied, offering her a cup of tea, “but it turns out we didn’t need the distraction, that day was just hectic all on its own terms.”

“You still have those underlings?” she asked, taking a sip of the tea. The tea had no Breath, but it tasted fine enough for her to indulge in the act of eating.

“No,” Ya answered with a sigh, “some passing teenagers from the M.I.A academy wiped them out, it was rather thorough, I saw the bodies.”

“No great loss,” she remarked.

Ya looked pained, “One of the goblins had an ability… Granted he stopped contriving after he gained it, but it was a rather good one.”

“Puppeteering ever leaves the puppeteer weak,” Rain answered, “you should know this mortal.”

Ya had a deprecating smile, “What choice do I have as a charlatan amongst demigods?”

“Not a lot,” Rain admitted, “your kind cannot cultivate Breath at all, even worse than the mortals of my realm.”

“So, what did you gain this time?” she asked.

After all, their doorman was a very good thief.

“A moment,” Ya said with a smile. He took out an envelope, wrote some meaningless trite in a letter before folding it into the envelope.

And he took out a small, blinking electronic device, placing it into the envelope, before he closed it. Taking some hot wax, he stamped the envelope with his ring, and a brief scarlet glow shone through, staining the entire envelope crimson.

“The Scarlet Letter.”

He flicked off some non-existent dust on the crimson envelope, before raising it, as if handing it to someone.

“To the goblin, Gerrygerry.”

And the envelope disappeared.

In some sewer somewhere, a goblin paced anxiously around a dimly lit and filthy room. It wore a collar like contraption around its neck, and on its shoulder was a large red A.

Suddenly, the A began to glow, as a letter was pushed through it.

The goblin yelped in happiness and began ripping open the Scarlet Letter.

And the bomb collar detonated, the signal from the device within the letter triggering it.

“Goblins are pseudo living concepts,” Ya explained. “But unlike true Living Concepts, they are also sources of belief. An energy source and the mechanism to use it bundled into one.”

“If I had actually given it instructions on how to disarm the collar, even if it was completely false, so long as the goblin believed the instructions would work, it would successfully disarm the bomb even if it were meant to trigger it.”

“So you didn't give it the chance to interact with it,” Rain finished.

“So I didn’t give it the chance,” Ya concurred.

They stopped at the basement door.

Stepping down first, Ya took out a sheaf of papers, “We got a lot this time, the military police couldn’t afford to staff their stations as a crisis occurred.”

He showed her the papers.

“Data on every active metahuman affiliated with the police below the B rank, and even some of the B rank, unfortunately the ones above that have significantly harder to crack files.”

“Useful,” Rain replied, leafing through them to find if there were anyone interesting.

“A Murican has already offered to buy it, but the true prize was this.”

Ya took out three bottles of golden liquid.

“NectarTM,” he said with a smile as he turned to look at the thing at the centre of the basement.

It was a massive glass box, its metallic frame inscribed with alien script, while the interior was completely frozen over in ice that never melts, all to hold a single entity.

It sat in a chair, it had a humanoid figure, yet was anything but. Its clothing was that of a postman’s blue winter uniform that covered its entire body, leaving no sight of skin, a hood obscuring its face in darkness.

It was something a person might have passed on the street without a second thought.

But Rain’s eyes could see much more than mortal ones.

Hidden beneath the darkness of the hood were countless black scabs, thin and wiry like worms, they writhed and shifted like them, threaded as if someone had taken a pencil and slashed a single spot in paper for hours on end.

“Living Concepts require belief to manifest, in a world without belief, they won’t exist,” Ya spoke, gently admiring the NectarTM in his hands. “But because of that belief, they retain all the weaknesses of their respective Concept, they can be controlled, repelled or destroyed by things that would destroy their Concept. Some madmen try to merge with their Living Concepts like with Law or Democracy, but that only works with… human made ideas.”

“Humans cannot merge with primal Concepts, and while multiple of the same Concept can exist at the same time, this one in particular is rather unique. My master tried to control this using only a few hundred bottles of antibiotics, and the mistake caused him to die horrifically from infection.”

Ya set down the bottles of golden liquid, “But perhaps with a panacea on my hands, I can hope to tame the Living Concept of Anthrax.”

Aiden was not sure what he expected when he knocked on the door of the housing flat on Rockefeller Street.

Only that when Jun opened their door, his face twitched.

Everything past the door was disturbingly filthy.

Litter from weeks of takeaway foods, bags and packaging from various malls, used and discarded clothes of countless varieties, all scattered around without rhyme or reason.

He tried to ignore it, eyes continuously twitching at the side despite greeting Jun with a perfectly business like smile.

Then he entered the kitchen.

“Jun what the fuck?”

“Huh?”

He wanted to yell, but he pushed down the urge as he looked up and down the kitchen, then around the house.

“You need to clean.”

They at least had the decency to have a complicated look on their face. “I mean…”

Aiden shook his head, “No, scratch that, do you have a cleaning rag?”

“Uhh I think the last tenant left one in the cupboard…” they trailed off as Aiden pulled out the old rag, almost blackened by dirt and dust.

Running the water, he let it soak in the sink as he began picking up the trash littered around the place. “Grab a basket or bucket to put your clothes in.”

“Hey, don’t tell me what to do,” Jun answered, but she put on her Nightcore mask anyway as she began scouring the place for a basket.

Aiden continued, walking around the curious Fluffy as he tossed clothes and trash into their respective piles with practised efficiency and the tired passion of a mother cleaning up her son’s room.

Jun mimicked him, but not as… well.

“Jun try to sort your clothing by colour, it’ll make laundry easier, and keep recycling and trash separate!”

“They’re all gonna end up in the same place anyways, what’s the difference?”

“The difference is that darker dyes can bleed into lighter ones,” Aiden replied as he tossed a sports bra and a pair of boxer briefs into the dark pile. “And keeping trash sorted is just responsible.”

“Because of the Pacific Threat?” she asked.

Aiden frowned, not knowing that entity at first until he looked at Bu’s memories. “Not just… that, but also because it is decent.”

“And have you been eating nothing but takeaway?” he asked incredulously, changing the topic away from the thing that should not be Named as he tied up another plastic bag full of leftover packaging.

“I don’t know how to cook, ok!”

Aiden shook his head, “Kids these days…”

“You’re the same fucking age as me!” she retorted.

“It’s the mileage, not the years,” he answered, for some reason thinking that would be exactly what Ranpo said if he were here. “And do you have a washing machine or do we need to visit a laundromat?”

“Erm… I think I do have one,” she muttered, quickly disappearing from sight before coming back. “Ido! There’s one downstairs.”

“And you haven’t been washing your clothes!?” Aiden asked.

“No one ever taught me to use the damn thing!”

Aiden rubbed his brow, “Just… I’ll teach you how to, just help me haul all this over.”

He had brought the fake hand Wren made him, but he didn’t want to stress test its weight carrying capacity yet.

She grumbled, only minimally, as she began transporting everything, tossing the plastic bags full of trash outside, and the laundry into the basement, all as Aiden made his way to the washing machine.

Jun slowed down next to him as he kneeled down in front of the washing machine, “It’s not that difficult…” he began, pressing the buttons and dictating the various settings, “Add in the laundry detergent, pick a temperature and spin cycle…”

“...then load in the clothes,” he finished as the washing machine croaked to life.

Jun nodded, “I could’ve done that.”

“Then do so in the future,” Aiden continued, standing back up. “Next is the kitchen…”

He went on to wash Jun’s dishes, using the leftover soap water to rub and clean the dirty rag before scrubbing down every surface in the flat. Explaining the steps and proper posture as he did so, giving Jun the opportunity to help out and try for themself.

When they were both dirty and dusty, did Aiden heave out a sigh, seeing the now cleaned flat.

“See! Barely any effort and everything is cleaned up, do this every week or two and you won’t have to worry about breathing black mold or something.”

Fluffy explored the now greatly freed up space, sniffing the detergent scented air.

“Well at least Fluffy is happy,” Jun admitted.

“She doesn’t have to dodge a take away box every other step,” Aiden replied. “Now, what was I here for-”

Fluffy grabbed the rim of a feeding bowl and stared expectantly at them.

“-right, Jun you did buy all the ingredients right?”

“Yeap,” Jun nodded, speeding to the fridge.

“Right, have you had dinner yet?”

“Nah I was just going to eat out-”

They saw the pained expression on Aiden’s face.

“Alright, what is wrong with eating out?” they asked.

“It’s fine maybe once or twice a week but you’re doing it every single day.”

“Maybe I’m busy,” they defended.

“What do you do with all that time?” Aiden asked as he looked through the fridge.

There was a brief moment of silence.

“Alright, I don’t have anything really going on except school…”

“Then you should at least figure out how to cook,” Aiden replied, “it’s an important skill to have, and you can save a lot of money compared to eating takeout. I’m not telling you to never eat out, it’s just that you should do so in moderation.”

Jun sighed, “It’s just… no ever taught me man.”

Aiden took out a kitchen knife, feeling its sharpness. “Let me show you, we have enough to make dinner as well.”

“Woof!” Fluffy barked.

“First off, let me show you how to dice a tomato…”

The meal was simple. Some stir fried vegetables and meat mince, with sliced bread to top it all off.

There was a clear difference in the shapes and sizes of the cut vegetables, some were cut cleanly into evenly and uniform shapes, all with practised ease.

The others were misshapen, the shapes cut unevenly and imperfectly.

Regardless, they all tasted the same.

“So how’s your job at Huang’s place?” Jun asked.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Aiden replied. “And he’s not bad, certainly not as bad as some other places I’ve visited- stop passing off your vegetables to Fluffy!”

Like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar, Jun guiltily looked up. “C’mon! I hate spinach!”

“Whenever you learn to cook you can get rid of all spinach in your food,” Aiden answered, “but while you’re eating my cooking then you have to stomach it.”

They grumbled, but finished their portion anyway.

Narrowing his eyes, Aiden asked, “You’re still missing a tooth?”

“Hmm? Oh yeah,” Jun replied, fingering the empty space in her mouth. “I’ve forgotten about it. Do you think I should get it replaced or something?”

“Your choice,” Aiden replied, finishing his own meal and taking his dishes to the sink.

“I figured I should,” she replied, “but those cost a ton right?”

“I would have to check,” Aiden answered, “I don’t know such info off the top of my head. What’s your current stream of income?”

“Just the one k the government pays me.”

“And how much of it are you saving?”

“Erm…” they didn’t answer, but the tone was enough. Aiden looked around the flat, briefling recalling all the trash, leftover packaging from at least a dozen different clothing stores and fast food brands.

“Figures…”

How could he expect financial responsibility from a teenager given a thousand a week to do whatever the hell they wanted with?

“Ok, you are never saving for a new tooth if you spend everything every week.”

“That’s why I was thinking about getting a job at Huang’s place!” they perked up, “How hard could it be?”

“Depends, Huang seems to welcome extra hands, what are your applicable skills and experience?”

Their face turned blank.

“My what?”

Somehow, Aiden was expecting this response, though it did not make him any less disappointed. “Where have you worked previously and what can you do to help around,” he elaborated.

“Erm… I’m fast! I can do delivery!”

“Do you have a bike?” Aiden asked.

“Nope!”

“You can buy one pretty cheaply,” Aiden said. “It’s good to have if you don’t have other means of transportation.”

“I can just run fast,” they replied as they patted Fluffy.

“Bikes get you further and faster,” Aiden replied, recalling what Trist said about enhanced physiques, “Just because you are faster than a normal person on a bike, doesn’t mean you on a bike would be slower than you without.”

“I can just run, how much do I need to deliver anyways?”

Aiden took them outside and showed them the delivery bag on the back of his bike.

It was almost his height.

“Huang is popular enough that you can expect the bag to be half filled at any time, granted, if you are signed on, you helping out should halve my current load, but a bike would just be better.”

“Also,” he added on as an important afterthought, “you aren’t legally allowed to earn money with your ability, there’s more leeway for passive abilities like you, but a bike would give you a layer of deniability.”

“Oh yeah,” Jun nodded, looking over the bike, “I heard about this, it’s why families trade favours and material goods instead.”

“Material goods?”

“Yeah,” Jun replied, “Like, they need a kid’s ability, but they can’t pass them a fiver to do it, so they give them a diamond worth five bucks, or promise to help them out later.”

“Diamonds should be worth significantly more than ‘five bucks’, though I get what you mean,” he replied.

“Yeah, you and Wren did the same thing right?”

Aiden paused.

The concept was not at all foreign to him, he recalled a rather famous incident where a politician got egged after receiving an alleged bribe in the form of two tailored suits, or how his old company’s CEO had ‘gifted’ several famous paintings to the government’s environmental administrations department.

He simply did not conceive that he had participated in such money laundering.

“Huh,” he said. “I suppose I did.”

A companion for a right hand, it was fitting in an odd way.

Glancing up at the setting sky, Aiden said, “It’s getting late, I’ll head home for now.”

“Wait a moment,” Jun asked, raising a hand, “can I try your bike for a second?”

“Sure.”

Jun stepped up to the bike, examining it with a strange look.

Breathing deeply, they sat on the seat, with one foot on the ground, they gave it a test pedal, before they kicked off and rode-

For a solid second before they lost balance and slammed their foot into the ground.

“I don’t know how to ride a bike,” Jun frankly said.

“How could you-”

Aiden stopped.

He stopped and thought about his visit.

He had come to just teach Jun how to make the mix he gave Fluffy, but he spent so much more time here didn’t he?

Jun didn’t know how to cook for themself, operate a washing machine, and had no job experience.

Why?

“No one ever taught me.”

He remembered.

Fresh into his twenties, long after he left his foster home which was barely better than his original.

Months of nothing but cup ramen until a nutrient deficiency knocked him in a hospital for five days.

Clothes worn and washed till they faded.

Pouring rain as he installed training wheels onto a bike he’d never learned just to save the slightest bit of money travelling to a job he hated.

Aiden looked towards the setting sun, then at the quiet street with no active traffic or cars.

“There’s a helmet in the bag, put it on,” he said as he stepped towards Jun.

“Don’t try to pedal immediately,” he gently told Jun as he helped them strap on the helmet. “Sit and use your legs to kick off the ground, do this and keep building momentum, at a certain point the momentum cancels out any imbalance you will feel…”

“Good good… now only use one leg to kick off, keep the other on the pedal…”

Jun didn’t get it at first. Like a blind drunken walrus tap dancing down the freeway, Jun stumbled and cursed, wobbling far too much as they overcompensated in a myriad different ways.

“Don’t balance with your legs, do so with your upper body…”

But slowly Jun got the hang of it. As they kicked off the ground, the bike sped up, and they maintained their balance for longer and longer.

“Try turning now…”

That caught them up, the sudden shift from a straight line to a curve, but in time, even that was conquered.

Holding the bike from the back, he said, “Now try peddling…”

And Jun did.

They pedalled forward, Aiden holding the back of the bike in balance, a reassuring presence as they rode through the street as night lights lit up.

Slowly, Jun gained more confidence, they rode quicker, faster, and Aiden’s measured steps turned into a jog, then a sprint.

Until he couldn’t keep up at all, and Jun rode, not even noticing that Aiden had let go a long time ago.