Mhaieiyu

Arc 2, Chapter 19

A Homage to a Dear Friend

Chloe stood up, making herself big enough to be seen on the chair, her damp eyes enlarging. She watched Mumble’s expression, seeing one of confusion and amusement, leaving her alone to feel so alarmed.

“You… what…?” the sapient Howler muttered, returning her stare Tokken’s way.

He just sighed, looking down with closed eyes. “I guess that’s what I’ve been told to do.”

“Kill the Guardian?” Mumble reuttered, craning his neck forward. “Fuckin’... Why? I have a reason to hack the guy up, but you? What’s Freakshow gotta do with ‘im?”

“You have a reason?” Tokken asked, not ready to answer a question he knew nothing about.

“Well, yeah. He humiliated me and my folks. In fact, that little shit, Noire or whatever, did too. So now I guess I gotta find ‘im and cut that fucker’s smile off as well!”

“He did more than humiliate, Mumble!” Chloe exclaimed, becoming driven with anxiety. “He murdered them! Don’t you see how severe the situation is?”

“It’s ‘Pride’, goddamn it——!”

The canine shook her head and silenced him with a bawl. “For the Goddess’ sake, that doesn’t matter! That maniac… That complete psycho massacred so many of you, and now he’s filling Tokken’s head with nonsense! You absolutely will not go and cut his face, you fool!”

The teen with quartz hair felt himself slump more. “Chloe, I don’t think he’s crazy.”

“What?!”

“Yeah, no, the dude was nuts, kid,” Mumble said with a disinterested scowl. “Either way, sorry to burst your dreams, but that guy’s head’s mine.”

Chloe would’ve spat her drink had she been sipping one. “Mumble, what are you on about? The Guardian is… important to… humanity!” she declared, not too convincingly. Truth be told, she still didn’t understand what the Guardian was meant to be for.

The adolescent pirate lifted an eyebrow in a subtly hostile expression. “Yeah, well, Jasper’s more important to me than that prick. Full of ‘imself, he was.”

Tokken lifted his miserable head a tad, giving the boy a glance. “Jasper?”

“Yeah. He’s the bossman of us Urchinfolk. I bet he’d be right an’ happy if I brought ‘im Alpha’s pet. Could’a gotten the General, too, but he uses guns too good for my ‘ealth. ‘Sides, ‘pparently he’s a goner now, so no-goes there.”

The older teen exhaled a fatigued chuckle. “You know, I didn’t take you for the type to please people, Shark Teeth.”

Mumble snapped those jaws of his again, jabbing a finger into Tokken’s fragile abdomen. “Ya ain’t got the faintest damn clue what me or my brothers are like, Pidgeon Shit!” he exclaimed, dropping his tone after noticing Chloe’s stone-cold stare. “Jasper’s… Man, that guy’s different. He’s like a poppa to me, and I ain’t ever had one of those. Dude’s like old gold to keep in ya pocket, ah?”

“Yes…” Tokken mumbled, shortening his voice to a breath, “until the pocket tears and it slips away.”

‘Pride’ came close to gutting the teen at that sly yet brutally honest comment, but Chloe cut in with an outraged groan. “Alright, enough! If I can’t convince you otherwise, then do with that man as you see fit. I can tell it wouldn’t be your first time. I can smell it on you.” Sticking a foreleg Tokken’s way, she scolded him like a mother, “But you, you will have nothing to do with it! You aren’t a killer, Tokken. It doesn’t suit you!”

Tokken grimaced, uncomfortable and visibly so. Much to Chloe’s discontent and worry, the almost-adult youngster seemed to grow progressively weary with each time they parted ways. He was starting to look and sound exhausted for some reason. “Chloe, I know that, but this might really be the only purpose my life holds. Perhaps if I just do it I’ll be happier! Maybe then I’ll understand why I feel so disjointed from everything my family was. Maybe, just maybe, I’ll be able to grasp the reason I was born into this world!”

“There is no reason!” Chloe snapped back at a volume loud enough to disturb the nearby kids. Recuperating for a breath, she tilted her head, pleading yet firm. “Tokken, that man doesn’t know a spec of what he’s talking about!”

“He knew my family’s name…” he muttered, unable to rival her voice as she practically walked over him with her societally-misplaced authority. Like a doormat that whispered.

“That means nothing! So many people here know of the Tsuki line, yet I don’t even think any of them know what they represent because nobody told you!” the canine almost howled in response, her claws digging into his leg and disallowing him to retreat her cries. “The Tsukis are just a family, Tokken! They don’t need to be anything more than that, and that’s all you need to understand!”

“And if this really is all I am?” Tokken tried to retort with a small whimper.

“You know, I could’ve sworn I heard you say ‘damn it all’ to your father’s wishes anyway. Wasn’t it you who said you wanted only to live in peace and green with gentle neighbours?!”

“Oof. Queer…” Mumble cringed, noticing the children’s increasing distress.

Tokken struggled to answer, fumbling over his words to find an excuse. Any excuse. Like a child seeing a different toy at the shop from the one he wanted, despite himself, he wanted to settle for the first thing that seemed easiest. He had it right there. He needed no more clues, no more dodgy suspects. A clear instruction and all was settled.

“I know," he said, "but maybe this will remove that terrible ache in my head! It’s just one job, and once it’s done, I can——!”

Chloe shook her head and barked in the teen’s face. “How could anyone possibly live in peace with blood on their hands? And why would any ‘gentle neighbours’ want to ever live next to someone with reddened fingers?!”

Teeth showing and startled, Tokken was left speechless and stiff. There was nothing he could bring himself to say. Staring back at Chloe, who huffed with a pinkened face of her own, he could do nothing but wait and listen.

Putting a paw on the underside of her chin, she confessed, “I’ve killed people, Tokken. I’ve mauled and bitten to stay alive, and I don’t like what it does to people! So please, leave this nonsense behind, and let’s go to bed!” With her rant leaving her feeling spent, she dropped her head on his arm and begged. “Please, I’m so tired. Let’s go to bed, please. I want to forget this.”

Feeling his eyes close in acceptance, Tokken put a shaking palm on her coat and nodded. “Okay, Chloe. Okay.”

With a small whimper, she asked, “Do you promise? Do you promise not to kill anyone if not to save your life?”

“What about yours?” he said as softly as he could, rubbing her back fur.

“I can handle myself,” she said.

“Then no.”

Chloe sighed. “Fine. If not to save our lives.”

Tokken laughed a bit, giving Mumble a look. “Then yes. It looks like your work’s cut out for you, young man.”

Mumble flexed his folded arms. “Eugh, don’t speak like our dear ol’ grandpa, Pidgeon Shit. Just do ya job in keepin’ ‘er safe and we’ll be dandy. Not like the likes of ya had a chance nohow.”

“You’re really sticking to that nickname, huh?”

“Until ya ass gets more creative with mine. Oi, Syndies!” Mumble called out the few doctors present in the room, two of which tended to soothe the stressed infants. “I’m gonna need a room, stat. Uh…” He scratched his scarred cheek when she noticed Chloe’s head lift off the teen’s arm with a deadpan. “...Please?”

One of them—a middle-aged man with short, dark hair—exhaled before sniggering. “So we’re serving to house squeeky Urchin Lords now? How the tables have turned.”

“Oi! What’s this about squeakin’?” ‘Pride’ shot a finger his way. “And it’s ‘Duke’, ya dork! And ya bigger man’s the inviter, so stop flappin’!”

The handful of nurses and medics exchanged looks, trying their best to hide their amusement. Surely, Mumble was no small fry, but his stature and age did little to make his threatening demeanour feel genuine.

“Alright, alright,” the male nurse acquiesced with raised shoulders. “Follow me, then.”

“See that, kid? Service.” Mumble smirked at Tokken before waddling over to the man. As he left the pair’s earshot, they managed to hear one last threat. Something about gutting the poor worker thrice.

Tokken and Chloe shared a look of their own, and just barely managed to quieten their giggles as not to tempt the kid’s anger.

“Man, you can tell he’s fifteen.”

“ ‘Man’ indeed,” the white-caped Howler hummed, turning her face upwards to see his eyes. “Shall we——?”

“I’m not a murderer, right, Chloe?” he asked, a thumb tracing over the metals of his sheathed dagger.

“No.” It took her less than a second to respond, much to the teen’s bewilderment. “You’re not. And you shouldn’t be, okay? Let’s just forgo your past for now.”

Tokken sighed, removing his hand from his belt. “Alright, Chloe. I’ll try.”

Chloe smiled, hopping off the stretcher and waiting for the lad to stand. When he did, he grunted, holding his swollen head. “Does it still hurt?” she asked.

“Yeah, he gave me a serious thrashing. I don’t think I’ve gotten hit that hard before. He may be little, but… Damn,” Tokken said with a chuckle. “I’ve been getting headaches a lot lately, too. But I’ll suck it up, don’t you worry.”

The metre-tall mutt stared up at him with a worry he found adorable.

Laughing some more, he insisted. “Come on, don’t be so foolish. I’m weak as they come, but I’ll survive. Besides, give me some props, will you? I only went and stood in the way of that freaking guy to keep you safe.”

“Yeah… I wish you wouldn’t do that too often, though,” Chloe said, staying by his side as they walked off. “I missed you, you know. While you were unconscious.”

“Ah, I’m sorry. How long was I out?”

“I can’t be certain, but a long time. I kind of lost track. The moment had us pretty preoccupied…”

Tokken’s eye twitched. “That long, huh…? Did you manage okay?”

“Mhm. Mumble kept me safe and chipper. I have to say, he’s a good boy, really. Even if he is cruel and misguided,” Chloe said, eyes forward.

“A good boy, huh?” Tokken chuckled. “But also cruel… Very convincing.”

“I think most people are cruel when they’re young. It’s part of growing up; learning one’s strength and understanding empathy. Besides, I don’t know much of how the Urchins live, but it looks… very rough.”

“Hm, you’re right about that. I can’t believe the extent they’ll go to for a bit of money,” Tokken mused. “But they have to eat, I guess. I don’t think this country is much for charity.”

Chloe noticed his voice trail off. “Tokken?”

He rolled his eyes down to her level. “Yeah, sorry. I just wonder why people don’t appreciate nature more.”

“Nature…?”

“Yeah. I mean, I survived pretty well, even off just berries and fruit. I’m healthy, right?” he asked in jest, taking the key from his pocket and inserting it into their dorm’s door.

“Well, you do look a bit thin for your age. But I’m no doctor,” she teased, poking his leg with her claw.

“Yeouch! Well, I don’t feel so bad.”

“Besides the headaches, you mean?” Chloe smirked.

“Yeah. I guess you’re right. Chloe, I feel like shit.”

She hopped up on the bed, waiting for him to strip down to his undergarments. “Well, don’t take this the wrong way, but with the choices you’ve made? Maybe you should.”

“That hurt even more than I expected,” Tokken complained, dropping himself on the mattress. “But you have a point. I really am lost, aren’t I?”

“But not forever. You just have to find what speaks to you, Tokken. Not what you think you should do because some crazy guy told you to.” Chloe put her head on his thigh like a housecat.

“You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologising and start thinking.”

“I don’t like my thoughts.”

“Suck it up and find the thing.”

“Right,” he chuckled, closing his eyes. “The thing that speaks to me.”

When you rest, you welcome my voice. When I need you, you shall hear it. And only afterwards will you cease to remember. The boy had a purpose, and it was much greater than he could ever fully comprehend. That’s why I make sure he forgets. Thank you, Tsuki.

♦ ♥ ♣ ♠

“He’ll be habituated where he usually stays. The Other Place’s gateway was confirmed not to have moved less than a month before today, so we’re confident all is in order. Do you remember how to reach him, Corvus?”

The Celestial hung his head past his shoulders; his wings extended and drooped around his skull. He remained seated on a bench near his dorm, by which Erica had left him, and where he remained practically dormant — ignorant to the military’s activity and their occasional scoldings. It’s as if he had been paralysed. He wanted to go find her, but his code and honour refused him to disobey orders, and so he just sat there, confused and stuck. Many times he pondered what it meant to follow an instruction if it came at the needless expense of her life. A string of thought looped in his cracking, self-conflicting mind.

“Are you okay, Erica? Can you hear me?”

Of course not. Are you going bonkers? You’re no esper. Focus.

“Yes,” Corvus said flatly, still uncaring yet forced by law to answer, “I remember. We’ve resorted to the Magician, then.”

“That’s right,” the royal bodyguard, now guard to none, said, dropping to his knees to better face the cold angel. “Now, look, I know you’re in a rough spot, but you’re going to have to heed this demand. Command’s not exactly being lenient as of late.” A meaningless pat on the back, avoiding the stems of his wings, was all he could do to comfort the man. “I know you have it in you. You’ve always steeled your nerve well enough.”

Corvus’ breath shuddered. He sniffed, coughed, and made himself stand. His knee buckled a bit, clinking the feather-like scales in his peculiar polychromatic Celestial armour. “Yes, and I will succeed. But listen to me, soldier.”

The guard blinked under his closed visor, feeling the metals in his gear shift as he stood with him. “Lieutenant?”

“I want to visit the coastline.”

“The…?” The coastline? The coastline. The coastline efforts were gone. He didn’t know? How long had he snapped for?

“Yes. I need to see if I can assist. I don’t want Erica to die fighting a hopeless battle. She needs… assistance. A guide. Something. She’s too stubborn to think at times, and I’m worried she will just…” Corvus struggled to communicate his wishes, becoming so desperate that he took the Syndie’s torso in a firm hold by both sides of his chest.

The soldier became rooted and the left side of his body took on the whole of his weight. He remained there for a few seconds, just breathing, and to his luck, the Celestial was too poorly and emotionally drained to feel unnerved. That prison sentence must finally be getting to his head.

The top brass officer in an exotic Nynx suit scoffed, taking a dramatic step back and raising his arms confusedly. “You? A Lieutenant, trivialising a member of the Brigadier team? Your boldness knows no bounds, Corvus.”

The Celestial’s eyes just became further bloodshot. “She. Needs. Help.”

“Alright, fine,” the soldier said in small, indifferent words; his agreement poorly scripted. “Only once you bring us insurance that your life’s loss wouldn’t be devastating.”

“I’ll get you the Maddened Magician,” Corvus promised, an unhealthy smile spreading on his lips. Finally. A chance to action. “But understand my need. I know I look unsightly but I need to make sure she’s well.”

The bodyguard nodded, giving the Celestial a short bow, more out of respect for his species than his status in the Facility. “Good. I’ll grant you permission to join Erica and the ‘kamikaze brigade’ once you’re done. I can fathom how much she means to you. I never see you two apart.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you. Thank you.” Corvus had acquiesced, to the satisfaction of the officer, and by coincidence or purpose, he chose to ignore that denomination.

“Oh, and one last thing. We are still without the Guardian. Fetch him, will you?” the man, who by voice could be positioned as a gentleman in his thirties, added, giving the angel one last smile. “Be hasty. We don’t have the luxury of time.”

“I will. I will,” Corvus insisted, made dumb with want, and as soon as the guard turned on his heel, the Celestial practically took off right there in the corridors.

Six and one-half minutes. That was the speed of flight provided by a Celestial who struggled and panicked yet still drove by the winds as to his birthright.

The realm of the Magician was hidden, held deep within the thickets just short of the middle-north of the country’s forest, in a closed off valley edging to the west and bordering—as well as delimiting—the Dwellers’ primary settlement; which lingered so tightly close to home. This territory of trees and bush was vast and boundless and stretched to the seclusion of mountains that cut off land from ocean. So full that it swallowed sight; a perfect mantle of green. There, in the upper core of the thicket roughly half a mile from the sierra, reality itself fell apart. One would never notice from up or afar. A visual illusion. You would only notice once you were unfortunate or foolish enough to stumble upon the territory and kept walking inward. Tales upon tales would be born of the mysterious place to then flood local towns with folklore that spoke of a hexed patch of earth that swallowed lost travellers. Of course, the title of the Mad or Maddened Magician would soon often follow, as sightings of a strange tall man in what could be described as a lavish showman's attire would peak around this area.

The Celestial landed hurriedly and clumsily with a loud impact that shook the leaves of the canopies and disturbed the birds. He almost twisted an ankle in the act, but no less, he stopped for about a second before venturing into the designated ‘entryway’ of The Other Place. To stake oneself at the mercy of he, an infrequent and bizarre ally, albeit unwanted among Syndies, and to be spared only by his aberrant, confiding geniality might seem a daunting task for most common dregs or the inexperienced, but truth be told, Corvus felt little concern when around him. Eccentric as he may be, his openness eased the mind. His mind, at least. The hardest part of this chore wasn’t the visit — it was convincing the Magician to lend aid and harm others for the sake of, as they saw it, good. But it mattered not how long the deed would take. The realm of the Magician existed in a place where time ticked separate from the natural world’s own.

The gates to The Other Place were not distinct; instead, to find one’s way, a landmark had been documented and made a Syndicate secret to determine its entrance, namely a particularly large rock with a layer of moss on one side that sat like a sunken meteorite near the foot of a large redwood tree. If one looked directly opposite this such marker, all there would be to see are more trees, more bush, and more earth. But, if one did keep walking down such path and deviated little, discrepancies in the order of nature would soon manifest and, slowly, all too uncannily, the light of the sky would dim in favour of a pinkish lavender hue. Trees lost form and became stranger, more crooked and leafless versions of their former selves, and would be seen far more sparsely. Bushes became unusually symmetrical thorns with roses that would feel, perplexingly enough, like the coat of a rabbit. Not even the thorns would prickle, feeling too rubbery to harm yet still somehow ‘alive’. Speaking of rabbits, one such animal bearing the antlers of an elk hopped past him quickly. A jackalope. Small deformations, hills and unplanned unevenness in the reddening ground thinned into nothing, replaced instead by a flat-as-a-board surface which kept stretching and stretching longer and away from Corvus’ view. The light had dimmed around him in such a way that he could barely see ten metres ahead, but that would soon change. There, in the great distance, a flood of lights blurred into sight. The Celestial cringed at the spectacle. It was a city of diminutive proportions; as if someone had ripped a block of the metropolis he knew and dropped it there, only to slowly contort it into a perverted form of its original self. Buildings that should stand vertically into the sky took bizarre deviations on their course, leaving behind a trail of crooked or perpendicular walls which left the constructions feeling more like gigantic letters that defied any and all architectural possibilities.

After stopping to admire the unnatural colours of this land and that therein, Corvus took one step forward, and instantly, his perspective of the world made him feel nauseous. It’s as if he had taken fifty steps in one. The advance of the space around him moved far faster than he truly had; sight and perception itself having become artifice in this corrupted pocket of space. Despite having appeared to be miles away from his destination, it took all of thirty steps for him to reach the distorted city’s boundaries, and for his complexion to further sour in the strangeness of it all. Streets with roads that descended underground for no apparent reason and cars that scaled up to four stories tall and lacked wheels but still moved; train railings right where civilians walked by; people that faintly imitated such species as Lypins and Mynotaurs while each bearing none of their colours—instead sporting a monochromatic hue of purple that made up for both skin and clothes—wandered about with busy-seeming attitudes but no true aim. Some would even walk straight through concrete walls and simply vanish. Corvus knew better than to try to associate with such individuals. They weren’t people. They were decorative ‘entities’ with no soul nor purpose. If you touched one, they might just explode into a cloud of pink dust. The Celestial kept walking.

And then, quick as that, once Corvus’ boots grazed the centre of a plaza, the earth beneath him rumbled for no time at all before shooting upwards like an elevator; an elevator that consisted of an entire skyscraper, which literally carried him to the skies, past the faint, smoke-like clouds and into what some might deem the stratosphere. The building kept rumbling and growing incessantly with a speed that couldn’t be possible outside this place, only to come to a full stop with absolutely no sense of deceleration. The Celestial’s body should’ve been flung into the air, but his shoes stayed exactly where they were. He didn’t even feel the weight of gravity during his ascent.

The Sword breathed deeply, feeling asphyxiated even if oxygen was plentiful. The placebo that insisted his lungs should have been crushed tightened his chest, but he willed his head to lift and see that, at one of the lateral edges of the perfect square that composed the plaza, a staircase of floating slabs reached a wee higher to what looked like an ornate table.

Corvus gruffed, stepping off the skyscraper and onto the slabs that stayed perfectly still even while held by nothing. Once he had left the platform, the now enormous structure that had so kindly stolen him from the earth dropped down faster than a falling ball. No going back now. Corvus was certain that, with such a limited resemblance to reality, he couldn’t even fly in this realm.

He stood, pat his knees and marched up the two dozen steps, steadfast and ready to make audience for the Magician. Every time he looked down at the position of his feet, he saw the cracks between each step and trembled at the thought of falling so far despite his wings. Even birds could have vertigo.

Then, he reached the table. A coffee table of sorts, except longer. Comically so. By the opposite end stood a tall parasol which, from this angle, did nothing to stop the rays that loomed from an invisible star.

The swordsman took a seat. Whether it had appeared just now or he failed to notice, a teacup propped on a little dish sat right in front of him, and further ahead, a living gown of white, red and lavender.

His elbows touched the table and his long, slender fingers—concealed by a matching pair of purple gloves—made a bridge upon which his chin rested neatly.

The brim at the base of a stupendously tall white top hat curved and concealed the host’s eyes and nose, leaving only visible a great big grin like a sleeping lunar crescent decked with teeth that reached from ear to ear; the right side of his lips were disfigured by a big blotch of scarred, burnt tissue.

Like a gracious host, he made the first move in the welcoming trivialities.