at-writes

[at-writes]

Jiro provided no insight whatsoever to the freakiness unfolding. Just, “Let’s go. I know somebody who deals with the dead.”

Izzy wanted answers from him, not someone else. He merely shared that he and whoever this mystery woman was had a connected past. She’d tried to kill him previously, popped up in Izzy’s world, and was now haunting both of them? Something didn’t add up.  

She walked alongside him in silence to the shrine. This whole situation was becoming more than what she bargained for. How did she go from seeking an exit to getting wrapped up in some strange man’s past?

As he slid open the temple hut’s door, the woman hesitated before going in. Her feet remained planted on the ground and her lip curled upwards, baring her teeth at the entrance and Jiro’s back. Something, or perhaps someone, didn’t want to step her to foot into this new location.  

The moment she regained momentum in her leg, she placed one foot inside and paused. “Even if you don’t know exactly what’s going on, you’ve got an idea. You know I know that much.” Part of their agreement had been trust and it was awfully ironic that the man who’d brought it up was the one tiptoeing around it. “You know about her and probably what she’s capable of. If anything happens to me because of whatever the hell you got goin’ on, I’ll shatter this steel and leave you with nothing.” She warned before stepping forward, “Don’t play with me, Jiro.”

Izzy followed his lead and sat beside him, but scooted over from her now irking partner, lip poked out and face turned away from him in utter defiance. An elderly woman emerged from where the clanging had subsided and she and Jiro bickered comically back and forth over Izzy’s identity and what led the duo to her residence.  

The state of the room shifted when the man left the women alone. When she was asked of her name, Izzy nodded and clutched the sword tighter. Her palms perspired and she couldn’t find the strength to meet the older woman’s eyes. An odd reaction for a young woman who had just spent the day among thousands of excited people. She started to stand on her feet, kneeling as she spoke. “I’m actually feeling hella uncomfortable, so--”  

Shion whispered and the light in the room flickered room when she locked eyes with the woman before darkness swallowed the entire room. The young woman blinked out of confusion and waved a hand in front of Shion. Jiro’s gaurdian didn’t even blink. She’d seen enough of those ghost movies to know she’d somehow just got planted in some sort of spirit realm.  

Behind the old woman Izzy looked directly at herself. Or the woman who looked just like her? Again, dressed in red and black, she leaned against the wall, a finger to her smirking lips. “It isn’t your place to have this conversation.” she alluded as she stepped forward, right through Shion and kneeled before Izzy.  

The frozen woman could move nothing but her lips. Her eyes were fixated on the doppelgänger but she couldn’t determine if that was because of her own fear. A thumb caressed her cheek before, without warning, the unnamed woman thrust her finger right through Izzy’s eye.  

The light returned to the room, but Izzy’s knee dropped back to the floor and her head fell forward. She didn’t stir for several seconds but when she did, she covered her left eye with her hand and stared Shion down. “Oh, he couldn’t stomach being here to witness this?” She turned to the closed door he’d left out of and suppressed the urge to leave the woman behind in search of him. “Was he afraid of what I might do when face to face again?” Or of how he might have reacted?

As she brought her face back around to face Shion, she frowned. “It’s bothersome, you know, the two of you and your immunity.” Removing her hand from the shielded eye, whatever she’d been trying to block from Shion had been sealed away. Now she was going to be the only one capable of bringing that child back unless the old hag had managed to become more powerful in her communications with the dead. “Poor girl, she couldn’t even manage to look at you. Even someone of her lowly position could sense you’d see right through her.” 

Her finger twirled circles around the blade. “You both hesitate to say ‘Imani’ as if saying it would summon me.” Her fingers came to an abrupt halt. “I can come and go as freely as I please without mention of my name, thank you very much. I won’t be given any extra strength if it’s spoken aloud.”

Enough about this wretched participant in her plot. “I now have what I need in my possession and have Jiro as a guide to lead her directly to my body because I’m growing tired of this one already.” She absentmindedly pulled at the fabric of the thigh high socks, the strings hidden below her skirt and the shirt collar. “I’m not sure how he couldn’t see the resemblance from the moment she plummeted here.” Though her hypnosis was no use on Jiro, she would find new ways to put Izzy to use to force him to do her future bidding.  

Her eyes were unwelcoming when they flitted back up to Shion. “And if you think you’ll go blabbing your mouth when Jiro returns, I advise against it. This sword’s guardian is aware his precious keepsake is missing and he’s furious. Open your mouth and I’ll make sure he impales your head as a gruesome greeting the next time I have Jiro step foot on your grounds.”

To be so cold and menacing wasn’t her previous nature. The circumstances called for snarled threats and clenched fists. If times were different...If things were different, she’d have flown into Shion’s arms and buried her sorrows and tears in the older woman’s embrace. She would have begged for the woman’s forgiveness, for her blessing that Jiro would shed any animosity he may hold in his heart. But that was then and this was now. She had a body to return to, a sword to present and a promise waiting to be fulfilled.  

And the only person that stood in her way was Jiro. Again.  

[at-writes]

“Maybe I’m immune to it...?”

He didn’t have much of an explanation either.

She brought up the spiders again, and he wasn’t sure which particular spider she was referring to, but knew almost immediately the story she was talking about.

“Jorogumo?” he said. He had spoken out of reflex, but saying the name out loud again brought about a strange, paralyzing feeling. His mind flashed to an image of a black widow spider slowly crawling up a string of silk. Venom. He shook his head to clear the image.

They arrived at the Wisdom Tree soon after. It was a huge white-barked tree fenced off at the center of the city. It pulsated a glowing blue light, green leaves illuminated by orbs of gold and blue.

Izzy took a step forward, and Jiro expected her to ask ‘How do I get home?’, but instead, she asked about the woman that he had tried to avoid talking extensively about.

“Ah--” he began to say, but the tree spoke in its mighty voice and gave an almost similar answer to the one Jiro had received about the sword. “Hey, hold on!” he protested from the other side of the fence. At this point, he was starting to grow suspicious that this ‘Wisdom Tree’ was planted purely for aesthetics. “Do you just give the same answers to every question hoping people will leave more confused?”

Izzy appeared unmoved by the answer that the tree had given. Jiro began to open the gate when Izzy made a sudden, jerking movement.

Ghost?

He paused.

‘In your past, it has been where you least expect it.’

‘The prophet of your future is in the past.’

Was it really a coincidence that Izzy had showed up just as he found the sword? That the two Wisdom Tree answers seemed to be connected somehow? That Izzy bore similarities to her?

There was concern on his face as he said, “I think we need to get going.”

He could have said more, maybe explained to her what the hell was going on, but he wasn’t even entirely sure himself. He pushed open the gate for her to leave.

“That thing I said about not knowing anyone who could help us is invalid...now, at least,” he said as they walked ahead. “I’m not sure what this is all about, but…” He trailed off absent-mindedly. The prophet of your future is in the past. “There’s someone I haven’t visited in a while who lives here. It’s where I wanted to stop by. She’s not an elf either, but has lived here for decades, so the locals sort of see her as one of their own.” She must have been at least a few hundred years old by now. “She, um, is a prophet and deals with the dead.”

He was hesitating bringing up the woman that Izzy had asked about again, and decided not to say anything until they got to Shion’s place.

The temple hut had not changed very much from when he had last seen it. It was still cozy and peaceful, lined with thin shoji screens, except now there were weird flowers planted on the front lawn.

Jiro didn’t bother announcing his arrival and just slid open the door and walked on in, gesturing for Izzy to come along.

They were greeted in the living room by the sound of rustling and banging pots and pans coming from the other room.

A raspy voice called, sensing his presence, “What do you want now, you good-for-nothing freeloader?”

“I’m not here for you, you old bag,” Jiro called back as he went to take a seat. “She is.”

The noise came to an abrupt stop, and then there were rapid footsteps approaching them. The door slid open to reveal a short, elderly woman dressed in clean, traditional robes. Her hair was entirely grey, cut and left short above her shoulders.

“Who is she?” Shion asked as she walked into the room.

“Ask her yourself,” Jiro replied, to which she frowned and went over to give him a scolding pinch. He winced and said, “Okay, fine! You know that sword I’ve been looking for? The one I wouldn’t give up on? Well I found it. And she has it. And she won’t give it to me until I help her get home, but a bunch of weird things have been happening since then.”

“So you thought you’d run back home to me, huh?” Shion asked with a ‘tch’ kiss of her teeth. “What weird things are you talking about?”

“I--” he began, but didn’t know what to say. “I...went to the Wisdom Tree way back to ask about the sword, and it gave me some answer like ‘In your past, it has been where you least expect it’. We went to the Wisdom Tree again just now and Izzy got a similar answer like ‘The prophet of your future is in the past’.”

“What did she ask?” Shion inquired.

Jiro tensed visibly. He said a bit slowly, “I...I think it had to do with her.”

“What about her?’

“No, her her,” Jiro said.

Shion paused for a moment to absorb the information as she was simultaneously processing the mention of ‘her’.

Jiro rose from his seat and went to begin leaving. He said, “Izzy can just tell you the rest. I’ll be taking a walk around the courtyard.”

He left, the door sliding shut, leaving Shion and Izzy to their own devices.

“Your name is Izzy?” Shion asked her. Her eyes did a full scan of the young woman. She should have first been struck by the strange clothing and her odd out-of-placeness, but her face, height, and stature were the first things that stuck out to Shion. How odd. The young woman seemed almost familiar, as if they had met before in a previous life.

“I am Shion, Jiro’s previous caretaker, mentor, whatever he likes to call it,” she clarified. When she caught sight of Izzy’s eyes, she said quietly, as if to herself, “It’s you, isn’t it?”

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photo: カグラ

[at-writes]

Wife?! Yes, she’d asked him to get her out of this situation but that was not what she’d expected he’d improvise in the moment. Jiro and the strange man were locked in a battle of suspicions and Izzy’s puzzled expression did nothing to contribute to the running lie.  

Her companion only attracted more attention as he projected his voice for an audience. It was bad enough her clothing didn’t match any of the clothing worn by passersby and Jiro was a minority among the elves. Nonetheless, she accepted his hand and followed his direction away from the scene they’d caused.  

Outside of the marketplace he questioned the odd man’s proclamation. She hadn’t answered his earlier question of what had occurred at the gate. “I don’t know.” However... “It doesn’t work on you, right?” People’s odd behaviors after she gazed at them and mention of getting whatever she wanted were two completely unrelated events. “If this was true, you woulda already found my way home.”

The spider that had crawled up her leg when she first entered this world crept back into her mind. It’s gigantic, golden legs vividly stood out. A spider with rich folklore behind it. “Doesn’t that spider pose as a woman and persuade men in to eat them?” The connection to the arachnid made her want to brush off her clothing for fear that one of them was clinging to her.  

Students bustled past them, books and other belongings hugged across their chests.

If she wasn’t already grimacing at the unsettling finding, Jiro’s questioning of her dialect would have made the corners of Izzy’s mouth completely comply with gravity. “It’s your--” She remembered this wasn’t the US in 2019, so her vulgarity might not be as widely accepted. “You know how when you get intimate with someone and you, as a man, whip out your--”  

A young boy collided with Jiro, his books and papers splayed out on the ground. While the man helped pick up the fallen items, Izzy made the mistake of glancing down at the student. “Shit.” She whispered but her latest victims' pupils dilated and he flattered her on his hands and knees. Jiro abruptly urged them along, away from the bewitched young man and Izzy insisted she had no idea what was going on. “How I’mma be a spider queen and I don’t even like them?” Could this have something to do with that woman?  

Their venture lead them directly to the tree, its large roots twisted and tangled around the stone bridge above. On either side of them were vine decorated ruins with more greenery bursting from the hollows. Hypnotized by the sight, Izzy climbed the stairs to her right A blue light rhythmically glowed and dimmed from the inside of the bark. Despite being crowned as the wisdom tree, Jiro mentioned that it was only half as useful as others proclaimed it to be.  

While she wanted information on how to get home, this nonsense with her eyes, spiders and Jiro’s murderous partner bugged her more. Her eyes transfixed on the tree’s glow, she stepped forward and asked, “Who is the woman I saw?”  

She expected a name but was left with a hidden message. “The prophet of your future is in the past.” The disembodied voice bellowed.  

“Uh...okay?” Hopefully wherever her companion needed to make a pit-stop was a fortune teller because this wasn’t cutting it. She could’ve cracked open a fortune cookie for that answer.  

A low chuckle tickled Izzy’s ear and the woman spun around, searching for the source. Unlike the tree it was feminine, but malevolent. With a frown she looked at Jiro. “So either you can customize this tree’s voice or I think I just heard a ghost, my man.”

[at-writes]

Izzy appeared by his side moments later.

“Izzy, please tell them that this is ridiculous,” Jiro said in a huff, oblivious to the one guard’s strange behaviour.

She didn’t. Instead, she came up with a convincing story that wasn’t exactly too far off from their situation, but even that was not enough to sway the guard. What happened next, he wasn’t entirely sure. Suddenly, the other guard was opening the gate and Izzy was pulling Jiro along to slip into the city.

“What just happened?” he asked, puzzled, though he didn’t expect much of an answer. He glanced back to see that the guard who had opened the gate was standing idle and looked drained of his self-awareness, like a mindless zombie. He turned to look ahead and decided to shrug it off. What was important was that they were in.

Izzy pointed to the pillar of light shooting up towards the sky, asking whether that was their target. He gave a nod of confirmation and said, “Before we leave, by the way, I want to make a quick stop somewhere.” That would be for later, though.

She went ahead without much further talk, and he was glad to trail along. Right to the point was just his style. They entered a marketplace without much trouble, when Izzy stopped abruptly in her footsteps. Jiro crashed into her and was about to complain when his eyes fell upon some creepy-looking dude who had tried to touch her.

She seemed to be handling it just fine, until the man persisted.

Jiro hadn’t really noticed, but her eyes really were like a spider’s. How odd. Regardless, she looked to him for help, and he stepped in on cue, creating a physical barrier between her and the relentless man.

“Hi,” Jiro said with a tight smile. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t touch my wife.”

The man smiled back at him and said with an equal amount of subdued venom, “I don’t see a ring.”

“We’re getting them re-fitted,” Jiro replied, but it was clear that the other man wasn’t buying it. “Besides,” He raised his voice above the noise of the crowded marketplace, just enough to attract attention. “I THINK I HAVE THE RIGHT TO BE UPSET WHEN ANOTHER MAN TRIES TO MOLEST MY WIFE.”

Several people turned their heads at the scene. The man became flustered suddenly, and Jiro took Izzy’s hand to lead her away in the midst of this until they disappeared into the crowd.

When they were out of the marketplace, he released her and said, “See, that’s the kind of problem you’d usually have in Hell’s Pit, except constantly. I guess people are slimy no matter where you go, though.”

They continued along into the academy district. His curiosity was now piqued upon remembering what happened at the gate. “Is it true?” he asked. “Do you usually get what you want?” If so, that seemed like a really useful trait to have. But the thought of having a spider’s eyes also sent chills down his spine.

There were students going in and out of the stone buildings wrapped up in vines, carrying books and bags as they came and went.

“What does D mean, by the way?” Jiro asked. He wasn’t watching where he was going and bumped suddenly into a young elven boy, who fell to the ground and dropped his books onto the ground. “Ah--”

Jiro bent down to help him retrieve the books, but stopped when he saw the boy gazing up at Izzy with captivated eyes.

“Your eyes,” the boy said dreamily. He adjusted his glasses and began to crawl towards her, continuing, “They’re fit for a spider queen’s throne.”

Jiro frowned and went to stand, saying, “Yeah, no.” He placed his hands on Izzy’s shoulders and began to steer her away. “I don’t know what’s going on here, but we need to get you some sunglasses or something.”

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photo: カグラ

[at-writes]

Jiro’s questioning of her race prompted the thought of ripping off the pointy ears because this was too much. However, Izzy postponed the idea when he introduced an all-knowing tree that could answer whatever she needed to know. She just needed to blend in with everyone else and they could make their way to the center of the city.  

If her companion had to question if she was terrified of the eight-legged creatures, then she couldn’t trust him entirely. He might try to run, too, if he saw one. But he’d get stuck with killing it because she’d drop kick him in his throat first just so she could survive.  

The man’s response to her query of the unidentified woman she’d encountered was unexpected. He’d managed a single word that told more than the two letters that made it up. Even the look on his face when she’d let her hair down signaled his silent thoughts were louder than the laughs that came from his mouth. That woman she’d seen did exist. If she was from his world, how had she managed to sneak into Izzy’s? It only confirmed that there was a way out of here. They’d have to follow whatever path she’d taken. Jiro dropped the conversation about the woman by rushing her departure and flitting off.  

What was with him? She stored the information for a later time, dashing off to catch up with him.  

When she caught up, the only thing that separated the two from the Elven City was a gate—and two guards that refused to let the sword collector through. Izzy looked from the insisting man to the two guards. One of the leather clad men continued to look forward while the other caught her gaze. Her eyes flickered over to the firefly lamp next to the distracted guard, where a fly buzzed around the light. Her gaze traveled back to the guard once again, holding his own stare for a few moments longer. One of his eyes made the smallest twitch and the corner of his lip yanked upward. As he grimaced, her eyes fell upon the light again, the fly dancing dangerously close to the light. When it met certain death landing directly on the source of light, she brought her eyes to the same guard for a final time. The facial convulsions came to a halt and his shoulders drooped and the light from his eyes drained before he stared directly into Izzy’s. “I'm here to purchase an item and my partner,” she gestured to Jiro. “is the only one aware of where it is within the city. So, if he isn’t allowed in, I'll never be able to return with the item I’m in need of --”  

“And that item is?” The skeptical guard challenged, but was silenced when the gates behind them creaked open. “Tch.” He whipped his head in the direction of the enchanted guard in disbelief. Izzy took those actions as the gateway to get them the hell out. Tugging on Jiro’s sleeve, she slipped into the city, darting past the two men who stood watch.  

Before she could take in the city before her, she marveled at how blue the sky was. So blue that it tinted everything below it. Izzy was a city girl through and through. Pavement was what she’d grown accustomed to. Buildings that stretched to the heavens and clouds that rested between the earth and what stood above it all. Perhaps that’s why she found the site so awing, because she’d never been in such a vast, open space to truly see the sky.

A pillar of light stretched into the sky from the center of the city, cuing Izzy to turn around and ask Jiro, “That’s where we’ve gotta go, right?” Follow the stone road to the legendary tree with a beam of light coming from it. How cliché. But she did as expected and journeyed in the direction of the beckoning light.

Through a bustling marketplace they went, until a hand jutted out and grabbed her by the cheeks. Izzy slapped the hands away, which belonged to an older man. The smell of smoke invaded her personal bubble as she fired off a threat. “Things like that get you two-pieced where I’m from. You don’t go around--”  

“You’ve got unusual eyes for an outsider.” He observed with a sly smile. The woman scrunched her eyebrows in confusion before an image of the bewitched guard crept into her thoughts. “Anyone ever tell you you’ve got eyes like an orb weaver?” Like the...spider? “That’s a dangerous trait to have. You probably get what you want when you want it.” His compliments incited goosebumps on the back of her neck.  

Izzy ironed out the restlessness with assertion. “Your flattery is creepy as hell, my guy.” She turned to look for support from Jiro. “I ain’t come here for this.” She gave a dismissive wave to the merchant. With a hushed tone, she placed her palm outwards toward the stranger, obscuring view of her lips and said to Jiro, “Can we get outta here? I didn’t come here for no D, I came here for this tree.” When was she going to remember her dialect and his were two completely separate entities?  

[at-writes]

‘I get out of your hair and you get out of mine’ was basically Izzy’s response to his wary state, which he took well to. She seemed spooked when he told her where they were, and asked whether they would come across people like him. “You mean the horns?” he asked as they began to move out, remembering how that was the first thing she pointed out. “If so, yes. We have a bit of a reputation for being somewhat...not good, but you’ll be fine as long as you keep to yourself.” There was more to be said there, but he decided to spare the details until another time.

When she asked whether he had any contacts, he replied, “There isn’t really anyone I’ve kept in contact with extensively. Or at least nobody who could help us.” He was more of a barter-and-quest-then-leave kind of person. Nothing really too deep, and he was fine with that. He glanced at Izzy’s pointed ears and said, “You’re an elf, aren’t you? We should go to Elven City. Might do some good to investigate there, or at the very least, we could ask the Wisdom Tree to get a jumpstart on where to go.” He paused, and then clarified, “There’s a tree at the center of the city that they say is all-knowing. I’m not going to lie, though -- it’s about 50/50 with how useful the information can be.”

He would know, after all. He once asked the tree where he could find Lord Keito’s sword in a defeated and desperate attempt some time into the search, and it gave such a vague response that he ended up half-forgetting it anyway. ‘In your past, it has been where you least expect it,’ it said.

At the mention of killing spiders, Jiro clammed up, but tried to remain casual as he said, “Are you afraid of spiders?” Because although he would not admit it, he was too.

There was not much time to discuss this, however, as Izzy recalled this woman all of a sudden. He waited for her to finish relaying the memory, but she seemed to struggle with it despite the initial trigger. As she described what she could remember, though, Jiro felt his step falter slightly.

An image flashed across his mind almost instantly.

He tried to push it out as quickly as it came.

“Oh,” he said, not knowing how else to continue the thought. The description of this strange woman bore an uncanny resemblance to someone he once knew, though so much time had passed that it was now a blurry and distant memory. He couldn’t even remember her face anymore, but thinking about it now, she had a strange likeness to Izzy that he had not even been aware of at first glance.

Izzy continued on with her story, and Jiro shook his head to get the thought out of his mind. The oddities of this strange world that she came from were both bizarre and somewhat fascinating. The concept of a convention was lost on him as he said, “Why would you go to a party to sell art?” She brought it back to the woman though, and suddenly stopped in her footsteps. He stopped as well, turning to ask what she was doing, when she raised the blade up and cut her ponytail loose.

Her silver hair fell over her shoulders, and Jiro was silent as he looked at her.

Now, the resemblance was undeniable, and he didn’t know what to say.

He didn’t know how to choose his words carefully in that moment and just said stupidly, “Oh.”

The deja vu hit him over the head hard. Should it have been strange? Unnerving? Flabbergasting? Because it was. All of those. He looked at the sword in her hand, and the tree’s prophecy echoed in his head: ‘In your past, it has been where you least expect it.’

“That’s funny,” he said with a nervous laugh, scratching at the back of his head. He laughed empty delirious-sounding laughs, as if suddenly he was not present, his mind being thrown back in time to elsewhere. “I used to travel with this woman who looks an awful lot like you...or your character...or -- anyway, she tried to kill me, so that’s how that ended. Not that I’m saying you’re going to try and kill me. We should be on our way...we should get you home. Yeah, let’s do that.”

He sped ahead without looking to see if she was following him. His mind was racing and somewhat jumbled in a mish-mash of conflicting nonsense.

Luckily, the city was not too far off, and Jiro found relief in a distraction. The gates still stood tall, silver bars wrapped up in tangled vines. On either sides were two wooden firefly lamps that emitted soft glows of gentle light. At the front were two elven guards, dressed from head to toe in leather armor.

As Jiro approached the gates, the guard looked him up and down. Seemingly suspicious of his demon form, the guard said, “Do you have a permit to enter the city?”

Jiro asked, puzzled, “Why would I need a permit?”

“New mandate. Unless your visit has been pre-approved in paper, signed, and stamped, we have been instructed to not let any foreigners in. Elves only, sorry.”

“This is stupid,” Jiro protested. “I’ve been in and out plenty of times and never had a single problem!”

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photo: カグラ

[at-writes]

Jiro questioned how she could be trusted in the same way she was suspicious of him. “Listen here, I wanna get home. I don’t wanna be here. I got artwork to sell and money to make.” He agreed to her conditions, which she was silently grateful for. So she wouldn’t have to wander around this random place until she found her way home...or buried before she stepped foot on familiar land.

Jiro sheathed his own blade, signaling the end of their idle time. He questioned what she’d been doing before she plummeted in front of him, but she eyed the scabbard at his waist. Must be nice to have one while she had to drag along this-- “Oop!” She tracked back to withdraw Lord Keito’s sword from the ground. He called this place Hell’s Pit. She shivered, the phantom feel of the spider that crept along her leg sending a shiver down her spine. It was hell, alright.  

When he walked ahead, she fell into step with him. “So you mean it’s a whole bunch of people walking around that look like you?” Like they stepped right out of Halloween Town? Perhaps it was a good thing these ears couldn’t come off then she’d blend in with the rest of these supernatural creatures he mentioned. “So you’ve got an idea of where we might be able to start lookin’ for an exit? You know somebody? Or is it one of those ‘you know somebody that knows somebody that knows somebody?’” Seriously, she did not want one of those hero epics where they clashed blades with some tormentor, braved a storm and escaped an erupting volcano just to get home. Just point her to the door and she’d walk through it. “As long as you kill all the spiders we run into, we’re cool.”

Izzy opened her mouth to answer exactly what led her here, but the image of her doppelgänger flashed in her head, the trail of white and red she left in her wake. “This woman!” The excitement of the memory sent her volume higher than she intended. “She...” Her face was a blank slate. Why couldn’t she remember it? Izzy’s shoulders drooped when she struggled to recall a simple image. “There was a woman with this long, white hair and some red and black outfit on. Kinda resembled yours in style.” Matter of fact, she’d worn the exact same shades the man beside her had on. “Red and black clothing with gold stitching and some silver necklace. Had some giant orb wrapped around her waist.” Though she couldn’t remember the details of her face, she remembered her body proportions were spot on with her own. Maybe he knew her?  

Wait, this wasn’t Philly anymore. The sword collector probably had no idea who she was referencing. “Anyway, I was at a convention.” Probably didn’t know what that was. “Uh, an event where people who like or enjoy the same thing come together to celebrate it and mingle? I paid for a booth to sell my artwork.” Artwork that eerliy looked like that woman. “And she looked exactly like one of my characters!” And she’d drawn her most popular character in her likeness. In one last attempt to perhaps jog his memory, the woman stopped and brought the blade up to slice through her hair tie, the ivory locks framing her face. “She looked like me.”  

[at-writes]

She lowered the sword willingly, much to his relief. Now all she had to do was hand it over.

He found her name foreign as well, but even more so was where she said she came from. “Filadolphin?” he said. “I can’t say I’m familiar with any three of those places. So, about the sword--” He watched her stab it into the earth and cross her arms over her chest defiantly, and fell silent. “Nobody said I was going to just leave you here,” he replied. Okay, that was a little bit of a lie. He really couldn't care less as long as he got the sword, and she could see right through to that.

She asked where they were, and he was at a loss at where to begin explaining. However, she quickly raised her hand, indicating that she changed her mind on the direction of the conversation. At this point, it was becoming clear that Jiro would be like a dog on a leash, and he was pretty much powerless to stop it. Although he was somewhat irked, he weighed the benefits and drawbacks in his mind of such an agreement -- help her get home, get the sword.

His first reflex was to say, ‘There’s no way in hell. Are you crazy, lady?’. Eyeing the sword, he considered just taking it, but remembered that previously, he could not even move it, along with her demand that he not touch it once. 

“How do I know you’ll keep your word?” he said, although admittedly, he was more reflecting the possibility of what he would do in her position: string them along for as long as possible. He gave a long, drawn-out sigh. Of all his luck, of course this was happening. He supposed it could have been worse, though, and didn’t really have much of a choice at that point. Another adventure would begin, and though it could be long, maybe having a companion again wouldn’t be so bad. Osamu could sit around waiting forever for all he cared.

“Fine, Izzy,” he finally said, rubbing at his eyes with an undertone of slight annoyance. Maybe she really was the guardian, and this was a test of perseverance or something. Picking his sword up from the ground, he re-sheathed it and asked, “Can you tell me what happened before you fell down here? That might help to know. You’re in Hell’s Pit, by the way. I don’t know what it’s like where you’re from, but this particular area is inhabited mostly by demons. Humans are separate and dispersed throughout the world, as well as others like elves and witches and warlocks. By the way, I may not be entirely wholesome, but you have my word that there won’t be any funny business as long as you agree to the same.” He added, turning towards the exit, “Let’s go. You can tell me all about it while we leave.”

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photo: カグラ

[at-writes]

The man’s blade struck the ground and his hands rose in surrender. The blade she held lowered when he confirmed that they wouldn’t be clashing steel. “Demon Lord Keito?” Izzy repeated, her eyes following the length of this so-called legendary sword.  

Jiro the sword collector happened upon an item he’d been tirelessly searching a decade for. And she’d ripped it right out of rock. And he needed it. She lowered the sword to her side. “The name’s Izzy. I’m from Philadelphia.” Could he possibly know what that is? “Uh, America. The U.S.” She wasn’t very confident he’d know where she mentioned based off his clothing alone.  

A thought struck her. She had something he wanted and she needed to get the hell out of here. If he thought she’d just hand over what he perceived to be a precious item, he was going to work for it. Bringing the sword up, Izzy stabbed it into the ground. He couldn’t move it right? She was banking on it, even though the soft earth wouldn’t be as forbearing as rock. “You’re trippin’ if you think I’m about to just hand this over,” she countered. Arms folded across her chest, the displaced woman pursed her lips and shook her head, eyes closed. “So, what, you can run off with what I got, make a lil’ cash and leave me out here in...” Her eyebrow twitched as the stubborn façade faded. One amber eye peeked out at Jiro. “Where exactly is this?”

Never mind, she did not want to know. A raised hand signaled for him to hush. Especially if it was an entirely different time period. “Here’s what we ‘bout to, alright?” It was her terms or no terms at all. In Izzy’s mind, her need was much greater and of more importance than his. “You’re gonna help me find a way outta here.” Like with a certainty, not a possible exit, but a real confirmed, proved and tested way out. “As in get me home, no funny business or any of that. I wanna know that on the other side is exactly where I came from.” And then of course, “You can have the sword once I know I can get home. But until then,” Her palm rested on the pommel. “I get to keep Lord Keito’s sword. Like you can’t have it, can’t touch it.” Can’t steal it. “Guess that makes me its guardian now, doesn’t it?” Triumph curled the corner of her lips upward. “So whaddaya say, Jiro?”

[at-writes]

She seemed puzzled and denied having any prior connection to the sword. But then...why did she show up at that exact moment in that exact way? And why could she move the sword when he couldn’t?

Jiro remained on his guard as he said, “You don’t think I’d actually believe that, would you?”

Although honestly, if she was pretending, she was doing an awfully convincing job of it. The oddities in her speech seemed to match her clothing in strangeness. Bro? Ain’t? These were words he was not familiar with, but he attributed that to her possible status as a guardian. Maybe she was from another time period, using outdated jargon that only the people of her era knew.

“I saw that you fell from the sky,” he said. “I took it as a sign, but if you deny it, then why are you here of all places? I spent forever searching, and this area isn’t exactly what you’d call frequented. And...and that--” He pointed to the sword tipped ever so slightly to the side, and for a brief moment, felt almost like he was a child pouting and complaining about not receiving a turn on the swing set. But he didn’t want to believe that a random girl dropping out of the sky was able to move a legendary sword, right when he was powerless to do anything, years and years after searching so tirelessly.

She seemed adamant to prove otherwise, though, and went to touch the sword, expecting it to remain in its place. A small part of Jiro was hoping the same, that it was perhaps a fluke and that he had loosened it sufficiently enough for her to move it. But right then and there, time suddenly slowed down as he watched with his own two eyes the sword come out of the slab of rock with ease.

He felt a mix of astonishment and envy, but was almost mesmerized. Beautiful...Lord Keito’s sword was so beautiful.

She had used full force, so much so that she fell backwards, equally as stunned as he was. He caught her just as she collided with him, but he had hardly any time to react to this as she came to an epiphany and whipped around to face him.

The look in her eyes was a mix of cautious disbelief and suspicion, the tipping point that perhaps convinced him that she might really have had no idea what was going on. The nail in the coffin was her questioning his motives.

“If you’re not the guardian…?” he began, but trailed off when she pointed the sword at his chest. He deliberated over what to do as he processed the situation at hand. Then, as if suddenly, he dropped his sword, which fell onto the grass with a thump. Holding his hands up in a mock surrender, he laughed disarmingly and said, “Hey, hey, hey. Listen, if you’re not the guardian, I don’t need to fight you.” Translation: I’m a pacifist, so you can trust me. “I’m a sword collector, and I’ve been searching for that sword for almost ten years now.” Translation: I’m here to steal the sword at someone else’s requests, turn in a duplicate copy, and run off with the real thing. “That there is a legendary sword. It’s pretty highly coveted. The wielder is granted the power of the demon Lord Keito, who was the previous owner. You wouldn’t have any use for something like that, right?” Translation: give it to me, because I want to be powerful. “Listen, I made a mistake. I thought you were the guardian, and any person in my position probably would have thought the same.” Translation: you can see how reasonable I’m being, so believe me. “But I need that sword. Let’s both put this miscommunication behind us. My name is Jiro. See? We’re already on our way there. What’s your name?” He paused, and then remembered her abrupt appearance. “You fell out of the sky. From where?”

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photo: カグラ

[at-writes]

Guardian? What part of her appearance made this horn-headed man believe she was protecting something? Izzy couldn’t even protect herself from falling into a hole on the sidewalk, therefore the joke was on him.  

This stranger, however, didn’t find anything amusing. Her eyes followed his extended finger to the sword she’d bumped into but widened when he challenged her. “You see that it’s in stone, right? Like, rock?” Who in the hell did he think she was to retrieve a blade from within it. The woman stood to her full height, still smaller than the man in front of her. “All I did was knock my head up against it. I don’t have no superhuman strength.”  

She rocked back on her heels and pointed a finger at herself. “I don’t even know where I’m at.” This land and this man were completely unfamiliar. “I fell from the sky, bro.” She blinked in acknowledgment of the words she had just casually spoken, looking right through the man. She whispered, “That is the weirdest shit I have ever said.” Things like this did not happen in real life.

Izzy raised a hand to his face. “I’m ‘bout to prove to you this thing ain’t gonna budge.” Elevating her foot, the woman tapped the trapped sword, only for it to shift again. “Eh?” Was all she managed to say. This was madness. This was impossible. Turning her head, doubt was trapped in her eyes. “Listen here, Inuyasha, I don’t know what games you playin’ at, but this ain’t it. It’s. Not. Funny.” Curiosity piqued and she determined, why the hell not.  

She once again faced the stone and reached out, wrapping her fingers around the hilt. No surge of energy or white-hot electricity nipping at her fingertips. Anime was a lie, dammit! Izzy pulled. So hard she stumbled back at how nimbly the sword came loose, right into Horn Head.  

“Hol’ up.” Amber eyes glazed with disbelief as she searched for answers on the blade she’d just casually removed. “If the guardian's not here to protect this...” Izzy whipped around to face him. Her eyes then searched for answers on the appearance of the stranger. She raised the sword steadily, unaccustomed to its weight. “Then who are you and why do you need it?” Unconsciously, she pointed the blade right at his chest. It didn’t take much of a genius to know she’d carelessly entered a battle she was completely unprepared for.  

[at-writes]

Jiro had stepped back from the sword, having taken a moment to deliberate his next course of action when he heard a sharp rustling overhead. He moved his hand to the hilt of his own sword instinctively. Something was falling through the trees, downwards towards him. With furrowed brows, he waited on his guard for the first sign of danger.

The fall ended with one last shake of the tree branches. Just as he was waiting for the thud, a voice spoke from behind him. He looked in the direction of the voice, but could see nothing. Then he looked up.

There was a young woman dangling overhead, tangled in the mess of vines that had stopped her fall. The garments she wore were...odd to say the least. She gasped a single exasperated word before the vines finally snapped, allowing her to fall flat onto the patch of grass. On the way down, she had knocked the sword aside slightly, causing it to move several inches in its place.

Jiro was alarmed by this, but before he could speak, she made a lighthearted comment about it, then stopped abruptly.

"Are you--" he began, but the look of absolute horror on her face caused him to stop himself.

Things coming out of his forehead? He lifted a hand to feel around his head, wondering if a vine had been caught somewhere in his horns. She demanded to know what was going on, who he was that stood before her.

"I could ask you the same question," he replied, though his mind was entirely occupied by the sword having moved from her slightest touch, all while it would not budge at all in his own hands. This girl had fallen out of the sky just as he had arrived. It couldn't have been a coincidence. "Are...are you the guardian?" he asked.

That must have been it. She was a lot...smaller than he had anticipated, but remained cautious in case her appearance was a red herring. He drew his sword.

"I'm not gonna lie -- you caught me off guard. I expected something more...golem-like." He pointed to Lord Keito's sword, now tipped ever so slightly to the side. "Normally I would ask if you were the messenger, but finding this shrine would be difficult for any ordinary person, let alone being able to move the sword he left behind. If you have anything to say, now is the time to say it. Otherwise, draw the sword and let's get this over with."

___________________

photo: カグラ

[at-writes]

Gravity embraced her fall; the distance between the sky-filled world above and the engulfing darkness lengthening as what lay below increased. Pale wisps of hair reached out along with her arms for something tangible.  

This had been a good day, her first ever convention appearance as an artist. Sold over a dozen prints, taken numerous selfies with those who recognized her and even worn this stupid outfit. Yeah, the white and navy school uniform was a last-minute addition in the frenzy of preparation.  

Even with features as distinguishable as her own, she couldn’t help but notice the side profile of a woman who resembled her so frighteningly well. Izzy was compelled to shadow after the mysterious woman. Some skin complexion, eye and hair color. Even down to the prosthetic ears she’d glued on. But she’d lost her as quickly as she’d appeared. Could’ve been a fan of the character she’d created.  

A black so dark draped around her, one that could make one question if his or her eyes were open.  

Yeah, that character she’d created. The one she’d dressed up as. Except the woman she’d been entranced by wore a long, red dress and a slit high enough to make even her mama blush. That woman had also wore her hair in its stretched length, securing it at the bottom. Izzy had never drawn her character in anything resembling that type of dress.  

A crack appeared in front of her. Then like glass, one crack splinted off into many, revealing a silver light so bright her eyelids instinctively shut. Even with closed eyes, the unbearable brightness flooded her vision. Her throat scratched raw as she screamed but within this vacuum, she could hear nothing.  

All because of those sidewalk grates. She hadn’t even noticed that while trailing the other woman Izzy had stepped outside. The creaking of shifting metal under her feet had alerted her to the ground giving way. She’d walked those sidewalks for years without failure and suddenly today she’d learned of what’s underneath. She was certain whenever this fall to her death was complete, she’d easily snap like a twig. But if she survived, she was for sure suing the city.  

The joints in her body betrayed her command, stiffened as she tried to peek at how much longer she’d be free-falling. The silver faded into a streak of reds, greens, blues and the all the colors in between. Blustery winds whipped at her back and slapped hair in her face. A knot tied in her stomach and an icy numbness spread across her body, her face twisting. “This is it.”

Suddenly the colors faded before her and were placed with a powder blue. As she continued t look forward, there was no exit from where she’d just left. A puff of white dissipated as she fell. Was that a cloud? Seconds later, another puff and another. The ground was coming. Izzy puffed air in and out at rapid intervals, a scream stifled in her throat.  

Shadows and greenery and bark entered her vision. Leaves tore from branches that stabbed at her sides, attempting to injure her for the violent intrusion. Suspending her in midair momentarily was a vine that groaned trying to withstand her weight. It snapped but slowed her descent. Her foot was the first to be tangled up. It violently forced her head first, the woman now able to see the world below. “Ohshitohshitohshit--” Her words blended together as the ground beckoned her death. She continued to propel downwards.

Her determination to live unhinged the screws that kept her joints in lock, her arms clawing out for any vine she could get her hand on. One violent jerk and it was over. She hadn’t collided with the ground, but her nose was mere inches from the grass below. Izzy swayed back and forth, her mind racing through all the scenarios that could have become of her. “Oh shit,” she exhaled, eyes closed.  

The skin on her leg tickled, starting from her ankle to knee. Izzy forced her eyes back open and tilted her head, eight legs and eight eyes staring back at her, attached to an ungodly sized body. She let out a high pitch scream and thrashed her body around with enough force to break the vines confining her. The spider went flying and she scooted on the ground, her chest heaving up and down.  

She didn’t have time to look at her surroundings, she needed to get away from that thing that crawled out of one of the pits of hell. To her right was a large hole among the greenery. Wobbly legs supported her frame as she tore past the shrine. Someone had created that hole, so maybe someone was still here...wherever here was.  

Ahead was someone with his back to her, fixated on whatever was in front of him. “You,” she bellowed, her raspy voice a stark contrast to the tranquility she barged in on. The shakiness in her legs returned as she started stumbling over each step. Upon closer inspection, his clothing was kind of funny. No one at home wore all that stuff or anything the quite resembled it...except that woman.  

He was within an arm’s grasp when her legs gave out. “Oh wai--” Her knees hit the grass first, but her body fell forward, something hard stopping her from face-planting. Izzy’s hands shot up to her forehead, one eye opened as she grimaced. It was the hilt of a sword that’d broken the rest of her fall. Except it was at an odd angle for something wedged in stone. Sure, she wore bangs to cover her forehead... “No way my forehead just budged a sword, am I right,” she asked lightheartedly to take attention off of the throbbing her head was currently bringing her.  

The sight of the man made her open both eyes. Lips parted, she stared at him in a mixture of astonishment and fear at his appearance. “You...” Using both index fingers, she pointed to the area right above her eyes. “You got...” Horns?! “these, uh, things comin’ out ‘cha forehead.” She pursed her lips. “Who the hell-” Scratch that. “What the hell is this? And you?” Asked the girl who just fell out of the sky.  

Photo Cred: x

[at-writes]

Jiro felt his boots crunch against the gravel beneath his feet. He narrowed his eyes.

It was nearby. The vibrations were becoming more and more frequent the farther he went into the forest.

And he could sense it, with his pointed ears twitching in reaction to each passing interval.

The sheathed swords strapped to his hip clattered quietly against one another as he walked.

This area seemed to be pretty mild from the looks of it. Perhaps even suspiciously so, but there was nothing particularly alarming that brought about a reason for him to be cautious.

If by any chance he found what he was looking for, he was ready to deal with the guardian on his own. He had made all of the necessary preparations for the battle before he set off. Besides old folktales that held no merit and twisted stories passed down through the generations, nobody actually knew what the guardian had looked like, or how big he was, what he was capable of, or why he was there.

No, people were much more concerned about the legendary sword it was guarding, once said to be one of the many treasures owned by the Demon Lord Keito himself. Jiro has his own reasons for seeking it out.

--

Osamu slammed the teacup against the table, the green liquid sloshing and spilling over onto the table, where it began to absorb into the oak.

"Get me that sword, Jiro," he demanded with a frown. "I want it now. Not next month, not next week. In fact, not even in the next three days. I don't care how many times you've gone searching for it. You have until tomorrow to find it if you want me to keep my end of the deal. No exceptions."

"Cheap bastard," Jiro mumbled under his breath.

"What did you say?" Osamu demanded sharply.

"I said, oh, how dastard I've been! I'll set out as soon as I can."

--

There was no way in Hell's Pit that Jiro would be handing that sword over so willingly. When he found it, he planned on getting a blacksmith to create a convincing duplicate to give to Osamu, so he could keep the original to himself. Then he'd bolt and disappear for a few years when they discovered the decoy.

You see, Jiro was never one to engage in this kind of deceitful trickery (give or take a few hundred incidents), but for almost 10 years now, he had been searching far and wide for this very sword himself. As a mercenary, he had passed a number of jobs requesting that someone successfully seek it out, ignoring them along the way, but the money that Osamu (a very prominent and wealthy feudal lord) offered was too good to pass up. By sheer coincidence, and it lined up perfectly for him.

But he would give Osamu the decoy, still, because whatever power the sword held within it, Jiro wanted it for himself.

In this day and age, the way in which one would strike down their enemies would earn them the corresponding amount of either respect or fear. And fear transferred to power, and power transferred to money.

Up ahead was a wall of vines covering what seemed to be a small shrine. Its placement was rather odd, and as Jiro approached it, he felt the vibrations growing quite strong.

This was it. He went to push aside the tangle of vines, finding quite a bit of trouble doing so, kicking them aside and into the ground with his boots. When he had created a hole big enough to climb through, he found himself stepping into a rather remote area of the forest.

But although it was hidden away, closed off from the rest of the wooded area, it was a wide and open space. The sunlight reflected off of the dew on the grass, causing it to glitter under the light, and there was a soft, glowing haze descended over the atmosphere. There was an air of quiet serenity, but he disregarded all of that when his eyes zeroed in on the slab of rock at the far end of the clearing.

There was a sword wedged firmly into the rock, covered in overgrown vines and traces of moss that had crept over it.

There was no guardian in sight -- at least not yet.

Jiro stepped forward with a sense of prideful accomplishment. After the long search, the hassle of dead ends and useless leads, he would finally be the one to wield Keito's sword.

He reached his hand out to grasp the hilt, feeling the surge of power rushing through his veins. The sword would come out cleanly...or it should have.

Huh?

He pulled at the sword to remove it from its several hundred years of confinement, but it was not budging.

It's fine, this is normal, he thought to himself. After all, if something like this had been encased in stone for so long, it did not seem unreasonable that it would be a difficult task to remove it. The blade must have grown accustomed to it.

Jiro did not consider himself weak, but as he tugged unsuccessfully with all of his might, he could not help wondering whether he had taken on a task slightly out of his caliber.

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photo: カグラ