Chapter 53 Ramping Up 2, Electric Boogaloo

“My guide said it was fine to include his name in these entries, for it was nothing special and none would dare cross his father. A bit of a contradiction if I may say, but if Jarial Dhruv doesn’t mind then it shall be so.” - I. La, the Bamboo Hat Meister.

Aiden caught his breath, and smelled the scent of rotting death.

“What are we here for?” he asked.

“One of our mortals ceased reporting a while ago, and an omen dictated his death,” Rain replied.

“I don’t sense any Bleed, it’s of our world,” he told Rain as she stepped forward.

Without hesitation Rain pushed open the door and the smell hit him in full. Sour, acrid, the smell crawled up his nose like a living thing, wormed its way through his nostrils and raked his throat.

Aiden almost dismissed his nose, just to weaken the scent somewhat, but the scent of death was still there. Hidden and buried under the mountainous scent of discard and refuse much like the original floor of the house.

“I think I know what this is,” he murmured as they entered. When Rain’s back was turned to him, he swiped the middle of his right palm with his fake hand. From the direction of his thumb to pinkie. Underneath his shirt, Oros signalled that he was spending Hume.

In front of him, a woman wearing a medical face mask appeared.

“She does look freaky,” Jun said.

“You can s̴̨̳͍̦̐́̅͒̾̔̔́͜e̴̟͙̤̽̿̒͋̊̚͝ê̵̪̲̳̠͖̹̒͜͜ me.”

Instantly Jun was covered in zippers, wrapped around his whole body like rope.

An instant later, Aiden reabsorbed the tattoo and the zippers disappeared.

The memory hit him, as did the emotions. Cold sweat fell down cheek as he felt fear at an imminent death, but acceptance came as well. He knew Ranpo made it out safely. That was all he wanted.

Aiden had named it the Slit Mouthed Glove, which Ranpo said was a terrible name. Jun had suggested the Decapitator on the logic that a magic item with fewer words in its name was more terrifying. They met in the middle, naming the flesh coloured glove the Slitted Decapitator and agreed that it was still a terrible name.

He wore it under a pair of mundane black leather gloves. It didn’t look too odd, for he already wore gloves habitually to cover his false hand.

The woman didn’t look like a person up close, the most human parts of her were the medical mask, and long black hair. Outside of that, her clothing and flesh bled together smoothly without separation, her entire body was covered in zippers. Upon a second look, it reminded Aiden of a patchwork Frankenstein-like creature, with surgery scars and stitches replaced with zippers.

Aiden curled his index finger, and the apparition walked forward. He followed behind her, the slit mouthed woman walking between him and Rain.

They stayed in silence until Rain kicked open the bedroom door. Aiden moved the slit mouthed woman into the room first, then curled his middle finger, the apparition turned right, giving him a clear view of the inside room.

He straightened his index finger as he entered, leaving only his middle curled. The apparition continued to turn rightwards on the spot, until he released the finger when it was facing him and Rain.

If there was an indication that Rain could see it, she gave none, instead she studied the corpse still laid on the bed.

Aiden had once seen a picture of a dead seagull, its flesh rotted off, leaving behind a skeleton covered in feathers and a stomach filled with plastic trash.

That was what the man in front of him looked like. A seagull choked on plastics and human trash until it was filled to bursting, then died unable to eat a single thing more. The corpse drying away in the sun.

“Looks like the Pacific Threat got him.”

She turned to him. Looking at him and not at all at the slit mouthed woman beside him. “I’ve never gotten a clear explanation on what that is.”

Rain couldn’t see her.

“Not a surprise, humanity has long lost the right to name or describe it,” Aiden said, acting completely natural as he stepped up to the corpse. “It’s better if you don’t know, this man must’ve accidentally uttered its-”

Aiden felt pain in his right arm, the scent of acrid trash that drowned out the salt of the ocean. Islands and islands of garbage piled higher than the greatest mountains.

Waiting.

He knew what it was. The original Aiden Bu knew, everyone knew it and had to remember it. Humanity already lost the right to name or describe it, they could not, must not lose the right to remember it too.

He was so focused on the Slitted Decapitator and Rain that he had slipped for the briefest moment, and almost said something that would’ve killed him. Choked him with discard and dried him out like a gull on the beach.

Now Aiden ignored the other two as he turned his finger into a claw and proceeded to dig out the trash that had appeared under his skin. The sting of the disinfectant only served to further his focus.

“Son of Fire, this man died in his sleep,” Rain stated.

Aiden almost didn’t answer, but he knew its conditions, everyone had to. “And?”

She chuckled, “I see.”

How she found humour in this situation Aiden couldn’t understand, and he was literally incapable of fearing death at the moment. He wiped away some disinfectant that dribbled down his sleeve. “You seem rather unbothered by this.”

“You forget even immortals die. His soul has returned to the cycle of reincarnation, as will mine one day,” she paused. “Or maybe it won’t. I don’t know if your world has a cycle of reincarnation. It is certainly backward in that regard.”

Rain entered the kitchen, rummaging the cupboards for something. He followed, fingers curling to manoeuvre the slit mouthed woman to follow after him. “It must be nice to know where you go after you die.”

“Not really. It means you know you are repeating an eternity of mistakes. There is no end.”

Then she put an electric kettle on the stove.

“That is not how you use an electric kettle.”

“Heat will boil water, I assume that is true in this world too?” she challenged.

“Yes but… why are you trying to make tea?” he asked with an exasperated tone.

“I desire it, bereft of Breath it may be.”

‘In a house currently filled to the brim with trash, where a desiccated corpse is laying just a room over.’ Aiden rolled his eyes, reaching past her, he grabbed the kettle and placed it on the charging base. The kettle could be calibrated to a specific temperature, and from the scent of the tea Rain was holding, Aiden judged the best temperature and set it at that.

“There, now please wait a moment.”

He fished a few cups from the cupboards as Rain took a seat. Since Rain couldn’t see the slit mouthed woman, Aiden turned it off by swiping across his palm from the pinkie to thumb direction. It moved every time Aiden curled his fingers, and was having a rather eclectic time as it tried to parse the garbled instructions Aiden was accidentally making as he used the hand.

He sniffed the tea again.

This would be the perfect moment to poison her.

But would poison work?

The Slitted Decapitator was his sure kill method, a copy of a true Boogeyman whose Priority level could even suppress healing. However it didn’t work on Rain. That was somewhat expected, since Ranpo could not see the slit mouthed woman while Jun could. He did not bring it with the expectation of killing Rain, but to confirm beyond a doubt that Rain was not an ability user.

All her feats were ‘mundane’ in her reality. Her physical body was comparable to a Type II speedster, her five senses were comparable, if not exceeding his. Aiden had no idea how different her biology was, if poisons that worked on earth animals would even function on her.

Not to mention most of his potent poisons were protein based, many of which would denature under the high heat of the tea.

And that was all without accounting for whatever magic she was capable of.

Considering if a poisoning was successful, where did that leave him? Completely losing the trail on the Scarlet Letter, unable to steal their NectarTM. And for what? An anger he had sealed inside of Puppet Rain?

Aiden had looked at prices for health potions recently, and all had skyrocketed to insane prices. The supply and demand for mundane stuffs could survive an imminent war with Hell, but not ability produced things. Prices could take years to decades to stabilise.

The kettle dinged completion, and he simply brewed the tea. Steeping it for a moment to let the flavour soak in before he poured a cup.

Rain tapped the table, and he raised his eyebrow, “You use that gesture as well?”

“It is strange what similarities our worlds have,” she said as she took a sip. “We both tap our fingers to thank for poured tea, yet fundamental things differ so greatly.”

She flicked her hand as she took a third sip, pulling out a faded red feather from her ring. It resembled a peacock feather in shape, and looked rather well cared for.

“You are very good at brewing tea.”

“Thank you, though I am a coffee man myself,” he answered.

“Coffee?” she frowned. “How could anyone enjoy that black bog water?”

“I add sugar.”

He didn't disagree that coffee was black bog water.

“You better not extend that same treatment to tea,” her voice took on a dangerous tone. “When I learnt that this world adds sugars and creams to tea I almost slaughtered someone.”

That seemed excessive, “I suppose someone forgot to tell you about boba and iced tea.”

“Iced tea?” she said incredulously. “Tea is meant to be hot and-”

Her eyes suddenly narrowed.

“Your Gift allows you to create something at the cost of forgetting it, doesn't it?”

Aiden tensed at the sudden change of subject. “Why would I answer that?”

“But you already have,” she replied, sipping her tea. “During our battle, you denied a path to victory because it would make you forget someone, or did you forget?”

He swiped the palm of his right hand again, this time from the direction of thumb to pinkie, summoning the slit mouthed woman again.

“There was a big problem with the Umbrella,” Aiden explained as he was writing. “It didn’t have an ‘off’ state. The moment someone made contact with it, it would start draining their Hume to put the field up. That isn’t a terrible thing, since it is a primarily protective tool.”

“And that won’t fly with this,” Ranpo said.

Jun wiped some sweat off her face, “Was that a pun?”

Ignoring them, Aiden continued. “I’ll use the concept of a Tool as the lynchpin. Then code a bunch of commands linked to the fingers and the movement of the hand.”

He finished writing and showed the paper to them.

“You’ll be borderline incoherent after this,” Ranpo noted.

“That’s why I have the dictionary and you guys,” he replied. “Most of it is movement commands. I’ll learn what right and left are again pretty quickly.”

Index and pinkie were for forward and backwards movement. Ring and middle fingers were for turning left and right. The thumb made the summon let out that same fake call of distress that ensnared Aiden in the past. A fist made the slit mouthed woman place a zipper on an object before her.

It was without a doubt the most complex creation Aiden had created up till that point. Even then, the slit mouthed woman would randomly attack anyone who reacted to her, with the exception of the wearer of the glove. Aiden could not override any of the original rules of the ability, directing it was the limit.

“There’s a copy of me somewhere out there,” Rain murmured, gently stroking the red feather. “I wonder if she is as strong as me. Ah! But don’t tell me.”

She wagged her fingers, “What is the term you use in this realm? ‘I don’t want to be spoiled.’”

“I don’t understand you at all,” he murmured.

“Don’t be so tense,” she said. “And I’ve already told you, though you have forgotten so I will tell you again.”

And she did.

That feeling was alien, and yet he knew it. The Rain that Beholds the Morning Grass knew her death and had accepted it. She had no strong attachments to the world and would accept the end with welcome arms.

Aiden held that same feeling, he wore his acceptance of death as a glove. So he turned the Slitted Decapitator off as he sat beside her, accepting the poured tea.

Damn, he really was good at making tea.

Elsewhere Jun was panting on a cold steel floor. Her mask was sticky on her face, its paint faded and peeled.

In front of her stood Puppet Rain with a single crease on her shirt.

“Fuck yeah!” Jun threw up her arms. “I landed a hit!”

Then she promptly collapsed.