#ITS THE BLOCKY DESIGN AND THE EYELINER AND THE EYEBROWS

[tai-lung]

What rlly bothers me about Zhen is that the other characters tend to have some sort of pattern on the face, her colors alone look way too soft

Her design in the poster with maybe something between the eyes would've looked great!!

[phantomrose96]

A Breach of Trust: Chapter 13

(Act 1: Chapter 1-9 )

(Act 2: Chapter 10 || Chapter 11 || Chapter 12 || Chapter 13 || Chapter 14 || Chapter 15 || Chapter 15.5 || Chapter 16 || Chapter 17 || Chapter 18)

(Act 3 Chapter 19+)

When Reigen finally threw open the doctor office’s door, frantic and frazzled and 42 minutes late, he was certain he’d walked into the wrong room.

Colorful was the first thing to come to mind, between the wallpaper and the rug and the toys scattered across it. Blocky cartoon animals rung the wall, each a solid unnatural unapologetic color: pink tiger followed by orange monkey followed by green giraffe. The rug matched in vibrancy, stark geometric patterns stained across it like paint spatter. Camouflaged among the pinks and blues and greens were the toys: one abacus-like contraption of twirling wires and movable pieces, two simplistic puzzles where single pieces belonged distinctly to each of the six gouges in their surfaces, a single plastic truck gunked at the wheels with paint chipped along all sides from years of use.

Reigen looked up, and registered the three distinct sets of moms and children spread around the waiting room, each parent varying degrees of visibly exhausted. The left-most mom sat rocking a snotty and red-cheeked baby on her knee. The right-most spoke quietly and tersely on the phone while her son probed her iPad. The brother-sister pair in the center eyed the abacus toy on the rug with furtive, eager glances to their mom and back.

Reigen would have eased the door shut with a quiet, embarrassed apology for his mistake. He didn’t, once he noticed the married couple tucked away in the wooden chairs in the corner. Recognition registered like surprise in Reigen’s mind—he hardly recognized them—and it was Jun who caught his eye. She flagged him over.

He stepped carefully across the colored rug, lest he step on some well-disguised toy strewn somewhere. He kept his steps high, and relaxed only once he’d made it to the open seat beside Tetsuo. He took it, attention divided between Tetsuo and the kids, who filled him with sort of a confused wonder--the brother-sister pair had now scrambled to the abacus toy, eyes alight, and were spinning its plastic pieces.

“Dr. Wong is a pediatrician,” Jun said, following Reigen’s eyes and guessing at his silent confusion.

“Ah,” Reigen answered. The brother discovered he could spin the pieces, all at once, by slamming his palm down the abacus rack. The sister followed suit. The pieces clacked as they spun, almost musically. “…Why?” Reigen followed up.

“Why—a pediatrician?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s what most appealed to her, career-wise.”

“No, I—I don’t mean why is she a pediatrician I mean why are we seeing her? A pediatrician?”

“She’s a long-time friend. I met her back in college. I trust her with Tetsuo’s health. I trust her to be discreet.” Jun shot a quick glance to Reigen, something sharp and meaningful. Up close Reigen could see the bruising that set in beneath her eyes, just as Tetsuo’s, those hers had been skillfully concealed beneath a layer of makeup, muted against the sharp black lines of her eyeliner. They would have been invisible if Reigen were not looking for them. “Something like this could happen again, or keep happening for all I know. I need Tetsuo’s doctor to be someone I trust entirely, with all of this.”

Reigen nodded. Tetsuo was hunched over in his seat, attention entirely set to the DS in his hands. Reigen heard the faint trickle of tinny music from its speakers. Tetsuo’s head twitched up at the mention of his name

He blinked, staring at Reigen for a moment as though he couldn’t see him. His eyes were cloudy almost, unfocused with obvious exhaustion. He nodded after a moment as his mind caught up. “Yeah, Dr. Wong is an old friend of Jun’s.”

“By the way, speaking of recurring events…” Reigen dug a hand into his coat pocket, which was bloated with some unseen thing stuffed inside. He yanked out a disheveled stack of roughly 100 spirit tags and pressed them into Tetsuo’s chest. “Here. All of mine got shredded last night. But clearly one or some of them worked so… I remade them all.”

Tetsuo accepted them with a clumsy press of his hand to the stack. He glanced down at them, wincing gently as his chin folded over the cuts on his neck. “All last night?”

Reigen waved him off. “I had all the designs already, and the blank tags already since I’d bought extra, so it was more like—more like a few hours of arts and crafts, really. Nothing major.”

“Did you even sleep?”

“Some. Did you?” Reigen asked.

“It’s…not really the sort of thing I could sleep after, I guess. I’ll rest today. Thank you. For… Did I ever thank you, last night, properly? I don’t—if I didn’t…” Reigen’s eyes lingered on the darkening bruises beneath Tetsuo’s eyes, his almost drunk lack of focus. It set Reigen’s teeth on edge.

“It’s fine, it’s fine, don’t mention it.” Reigen broke eye contact with Tetsuo when it became clear Tetsuo could hardly focus on him. Reigen’s eyes trailed to Jun, who seemed stiffer and more stand-offish than she had last night. She met him with only a curt glance, something not quite cold and yet artificially composed. Something that seemed to say “not here, not in public.”

So Reigen leaned back in his own chair, and stared across the room at nothing, and wondered about the case that Tetsuo had run off to attend to. He wondered whether Tetsuo had found anything, whether it was just exhaustion or if, worse than that, it was defeat that weighed down on Tetsuo and slumped his shoulders forward. It was somehow strange to remember, seeing him disheveled and dressed nondescript in common clothes, that the man was a police officer.

A police officer, which was someone Mob’s barrier would supposedly shred.

“Hey, Tetsuo…” Reigen swallowed, and balled his hands a little on top of his knee caps. “Do you handle any missing kid cases?”

Reigen understood instantly that he misspoke.

Tetsuo’s expression was first something that flinched and tore, like a raw wound reopening. His head whipped to Reigen, a mask of defenseless anguish that seemed to say “Who told you about that?!” when Reigen himself knew nothing.

Then Jun’s hand came down firm on Tetsuo’s shoulder, a rock-like grip as if to anchor him down. Reigen witnessed what he could only describe as a shutting down of Tetsuo’s face. Tension vanished into distance; the panic left his eyes. Jun’s grip tightened.

“Last night’s case involved a kid, if that’s what you’re talking about. Some things happened that… I’ll maybe tell you later, if it’s relevant to you.”

“No, I—it was—a bad conversation topic, I guess, sorry.” Reigen didn’t want to process the look on Tetsuo’s face any longer, so he looked away. “Not… not trying to…”

Motion caught his eye. The boy with the iPad had set it down and wriggled loose from his mother’s lap, teetering on uncertain feet to the brother and sister pair by the abacus toy. He grabbed an unclaimed track of the toy and, imitating the siblings, he swept his hand down so the pieces spun and clacked and rattled. The sister laughed. The boy laughed in return. The brother all but dove for the truck on the carpet and offered it to the new boy, Reigen could only assume because the sister refused to play trucks with him. The younger boy accepted it, and the red-cheeked baby still on their mother’s lap watched the whole exchange with rapt attention.

But Reigen noticed more. He noticed the new boy’s clothes: a clean white shirt, unwrinkled and untainted except for a damp mark of spit just below the collar. His dark gray pants fit him, free of holes. The brother wore something similar, but with a black shirt; the sister wore a floral patterned dress, whose hem she liked to spin with her hands balled up in the fabric. Her stockings beneath were silver.

None had particularly long hair—the girl’s only dropped to her shoulders—so no tangles, no knots, all clean and kempt and cared-for. Their skin was flush with color and their smiles were genuine and none of them flinched from touch like some kind of electric shock. None of them had troubled eyes, nothing deep and ever-alert, no underlying fear stitched into their expression. None of them cried at the simple kindness of being offered a toy.

None of them were Mob. And it cut something deep in his stomach to understand what that meant.

Then the boy, who traded the truck back to the brother for a turn, looked toward Reigen. His eyes were large, a warm chocolatey brown. Reigen was jealous of their normalcy, their calm. He remembered almost absurdly that today was just a normal day for near everyone else in the world.

Then the boy’s eyes trailed to Tetsuo’s DS, and they lit up. He clambered over, fascinated, truck and abacus forgotten. He stopped just short of Tetsuo’s knees.

“What game is in there?” he asked. “Is that a 3DS? It looks small. I’m getting a 3DS for my birthday.” The boy locked eyes with Tetsuo, and Reigen saw that same fracture threaten to break through to Tetsuo’s face. Tetsuo’s jaw stiffened, his eyebrows curled up in concern, and he seemed to hardly breathe. “…Can I play it?” the boy asked.

The boy looked about ten years old.

“Not this time, Kiddo.” Jun spoke. Her hand gripped tighter to Tetsuo’s shoulder. “He’s sick, so you don’t want to be touching him and getting sick too.”

“You’re touching him.”

“I’m his wife. I’m immune.”

“Oh. Really?” the boy asked, equal parts fascinated and skeptical.

“Hachiro.”

All three adults looked to the boy’s mother, who now cupped the mouth piece of her phone and looked to her son with something like disdain. Her eyes tightened. “Don’t bother the man. Come back over here.”

Hachiro’s face fell. He eyed the DS for an extra second, filled with longing, before turning on his heel and returning to his mother. She returned to her phone conversation. He climbed up on to his seat and sat there, legs swinging, hands folded in his lap, bored.

“At least he still has his family,” Tetsuo whispered.

“Don’t do this to yourself, Tetsuo,” Jun muttered back. Her hand slid down from his shoulder. She wrapped it in his hand and intertwined their fingers.

Reigen said nothing. He found himself just repeating Tetsuo’s words in his head, and thinking of Mob, and hating the horror that became denser and more real inside him now.

They stayed like that, silent, for the next three minutes until the nurse called them all in.

Reigen, Tetsuo, and Jun were escorted down the hall, all under the name “Isari”, to the last room in back. Reigen could see the teddy bear wallpaper bordering the ceiling, the basket of colorful books opposite the half-cracked door.

The nurse pushed the door the rest of the way, ushered them inside, and muttered “Dr. Wong will be with you soon.”

Reigen, at the front of the line, entered first. One examination bed lined the left wall, covered with a thin sheet of paper for sanitary reasons. A single wooden chair sat opposite it, for a parent. The doctor’s stool sat tucked beneath the desk, lined on either side by drawers. Above was a sink, a clipboard, a waste-beaker of used medical tips, and a single raggedy teddy bear.

Neither Reigen nor Tetsuo took the examination bed. They stood, equally lost in their own heads. Jun sat in the wooden chair and rubbed her ankles, propped up on high heels. Her skin was red where she rubbed it.

“Thought I’d try to break these shoes in some before I have to wear them at work. I’ll be lucky to still have any foot left by the end of the day,” Jun said with a light smile as she crossed her other leg and took to rubbing the redness along that heel.

Reigen tried to mirror her light smile, but Jun was not looking at him. She was watching only Tetsuo, who seemed to not have heard. The smile vanished from her face. She stared at her feet a moment more, thinking, before standing up. She moved to Tetsuo’s side and took his hand again in hers. He startled a little, before returning his grip even tighter. She leaned her head on his shoulder until her hair draped over her face. Tetsuo tilted his chin and kissed the top of her head, gently.

Reigen looked at his own hand instead, investigating the oily stains on his bandage, wondering with a knot in his stomach what exactly he had intruded on.

The door creaked open at that moment, and Dr. Wong entered, and she looked nothing like Reigen expected.

She was 70, easily, and the lines around her eyes reminded Reigen somehow of a hawk. Maybe it was the eyes themselves, sharp and discerning behind thin-framed glasses. Her hair was white and boyishly short, parted on the left and swept toward the right. Her earrings were cartoon tigers, somehow still endearing on her sharp and aged face.

“Hi Lan.” Jun acknowledged her first. She lifted her head just enough for her hair to fall away from her face. She did not step away from Tetsuo.

“Jun.” Dr. Wong nodded curtly. She stepped around them and grabbed the chart from the desk. She gave it a once over. “In trouble again.”

“Of course,” Jun answered. “Why else am I dragging grown men to your door?”

“The last grown man you dragged to my door was an unresponsively drunk 20 year old who’d slipped off a balcony and slashed his scalp open. I’m thrilled these two are conscious.”

Jun nodded, and suppressed a nostalgic smile. “That was Joji. And the balcony was icy. He got through it.”

“Because of the twenty stitches I sewed into his head.”

“And because you didn’t tell his parents, who would have murdered him themselves if they’d known.”

“Shame they didn’t. I might have had some peace and quiet.” Wong walked back to the center of the room, where she had a better view of the three of them. “I did, for some time, after you graduated. Now you’ve tracked me down again.” She gave the board another glance, her eyes flickering to Tetsuo and back. “But it’s not you. And this one doesn’t look like some drunk boyfriend. So he’s—“

“Tetsuo, my husband. Also him, Reigen.”

“You got married,” Wong said with a hint of surprise.

“I calmed down a lot after college.”

“Not enough to leave me alone it seems.” Wong stepped forward. She set her gloved hand to Tetsuo’s chin. He stiffened, but did not resist as she tilted it up and investigated the cuts along his neck. “I work pediatrics, you know. Did this one fall off a balcony too?”

“That would be nice. No…” Jun leaned in, interjecting herself somewhat between Tetsuo and the woman examining him. “How familiar are you with evil spirits…?”

“I know stories.”

“Do you believe them?”

“Certainly not all of them.”

“Well I’m going to ask you to believe this one.” Jun’s eyes flickered to Reigen for a split second. “A spirit took possession of Tetsuo. It tried to kill him. Reigen stopped it, but they both got cut up with a rusty butcher knife in the process… For now, they just need tetanus shots. You have those.”

“I do,” Wong answered. “So do normal ERs. But you’re bothering me, a pediatrician, so I’m guessing you need this kept secret.”

“Yeah. Guess I’m not all that different from how I was in college, huh Lan?” Jun’s quirked smile disappeared quickly. Her face hardened. “But…not quite the same as college. This isn’t like Joji, when it was just a bunch of us, stupid and too drunk. I’m asking for more this time, Lan.” Jun swallowed. Her thumb ran circles along the back of Tetsuo’s hand, still intertwined. “We’re afraid the spirit maybe isn’t gone, that we might run into other injuries that can’t be explained to a normal ER.”

“ERs don’t ask a lot of questions, Jun. You might be better off relying on a hospital for emergency care.”

Jun leaned in, quieter now, so that Reigen could scarcely hear her. “The spirit has done—what the spirit’s done, they’re the sort of things to get people locked away for their whole lives. That’s just the things we know about, and what we don’t know about…” Jun cut herself off. Her eyes shot to Tetsuo for just a moment. “There might…there might be blood on Tetsuo’s hands… Of course he didn’t do it—didn’t do anything—but who’s going to believe…? Who’s gonna trust him, if he’s caught-- if he’s hurt while—We can’t…take him to the ER if the blood isn’t his, Lan…”

Tetsuo’s hand slipped from Jun’s. He took a step back and lowered himself shakily into the empty wooden chair. He leaned forward just a bit, one quivering hand half-covering his face, slick with sweat. “Sorry,” he whispered, and he buried his face entirely in his hands “Just need a second…”

“You are asking a lot, Jun.” Wong answered, her eyes lingering on Tetsuo for only a moment. “That ‘lifetime sentence’ might extend to me too if I’m complacent in this.”

“We can say you were threatened.”

“Don’t be so drastic.”

“Please…” Jun’s eyes dropped to Tetsuo. His face remained buried, hunched forward into his own hands, his breathing a forced steady. “We may never even come back. It might be gone forever.”

“Alternatively, you may show up at my door with a bloody knife, that’s what you’re saying.” Dr. Wong moved toward the desk. She opened the fifth drawer down, pulling out two sterile syringes wrapped in plastic sheathing. “I could be arrested. I could even be a victim, if this spirit decides I’m in its way.”

“You don’t…have to, of course,” Jun answered, meeker now, an unspoken “but please” seeming to linger on her lips.

She watched, silently, as Dr. Wong stepped out of the room. 30 seconds of silence passed in her absence, Jun worrying the strap of the purse around her shoulder. Her eyes shot in sporadic bursts to Tetsuo, still motionless, then to Reigen. She seemed to be asking for help that Reigen did not know how to give.

Wong returned with two tightly-packaged vials. She grabbed a cotton swab from the drawer and dabbed it on top of the alcohol bottle with the push-down silver top. It jangled lightly as the swab soaked up alcohol. She returned, vial and swab and syringe, to Tetsuo’s side and crouched.

“Jun, do you know why I’m a pediatrician?”

Jun shrugged, meek. “Working with kids appealed to you?”

“No. Because I’m a bleeding heart, and I wanted to make a career of helping people. Children usually, but sometimes drunk college kids.” Wong pulled Tetsuo’s left arm loose. He startled, face lifting as she rolled his sleeve up, and swabbed his upper arm with the alcohol. She unpackaged the vial, and tore the syringe from its plastic sheath, and pierced the top of the vial with the needle so that it could suck up the liquid inside. Wong flicked the syringe twice to displace the air to the top, then squeezed gently to dispel it. “Relax your arm, Tetsuo.”

She didn’t give Tetsuo time to respond before jabbing the needle into the muscle. He flinched, and she squeezed the plunger.

“Children, drunk college kids, and sometimes grown men who can’t stand up under their own power anymore. That’s not something I can say no to.”

Jun nodded, swallowing, and whispered. “Thank you…”

“I’ve never had the power to say no to Jun Yuhara anyway.”

Wong discarded the vial, syringe, and swab in the biohazard bin on her desk. She grabbed a fresh swab and dabbed it in the alcohol pump, sharp eyes moving to Reigen. Reigen understood immediately, and rolled up his sleeve with frantic motions.

Jun dropped to Tetsuo’s side. She sat in the little section of chair still available and wrapped her arm around his shoulder, pulling him in to her. He offered no resistance. “It’s Isari now. Jun Isari.”

“Hmm. I’m going to have to get used to that.”

Reigen hardly paid any attention to Wong as she uncapped the vial for him. He heard her say something about his bandages—filthy, in need of changing next—and he only half heard her. He startled when the needle sunk into his arm, but not much more than that. He still watched Jun and Tetsuo, haunted to silence by how many times he’d seen them locked in that same desperate embrace.

…

Jun and Tetsuo stayed late to talk with Wong. Reigen attempted to listen, but exhaustion crept in, stole his ability to focus his eyes, until they began to slip shut of their own accord. The headache behind his eyes returned, harsher than before, and his thoughts drifted almost obsessively to the cigarette pack in his glove box. He hadn’t had one since 6 or 7 am, and it was well past 11 now. Reigen leaned against the back wall and simply focused on remaining upright.

Jun tapped his shoulder, and Reigen could not tell if seconds had passed or hours since his eyes slipped shut.

“Go home and sleep. I’ll handle the rest of this.”

Reigen nodded. He took deep breaths, flexing his newly-bandaged hand so that the spikes and throbs of pain might wake him up just a little. He only needed to make it home. Then he could rest. He could finally sleep, just a bit, just a little.

He found the parking lot, and found the car, and fished his keys from his pocket. He pulled his lighter out too, flickered it beneath the first cigarette he knocked from his glovebox packet and set to his lips. He pulled breath through it, indulging in the fire in his throat, hoping it might just wake him up. 10 more minutes. That’s all it would take to get home.

Reigen made the drive in 8, riding the gas pedal along the quieter roads and crawling through stop signs rather than stopping entirely. He pulled into the driveway, and killed the engine, and locked the door after he got out. His headache had lessened with the nicotine in his system, but it still throbbed dully, still made him squint through the light. The exhaustion made him breathe through heavy lungs. He remembered he hadn’t eaten since midday yesterday, yet the thought of food didn’t appeal to him. He only wanted to sleep—he didn’t even need to go to his bed. He could pass out on the couch, even more easily.

Reigen climbed the stairs to his front door and jostled the keys in the lock. They twisted on the third or fourth try of his shaky hands, and he pushed the door open.

Light flooded the living room and kitchen from the bay windows opposite the front door, and Reigen looked past them in search of the couch. He need only take his shoes off and collapse there, still dressed, so that his eyes could finally shut.

Reigen froze, sobriety rushing like ice through his veins at the sight of Mob still seated at the table, legs folded just so, just as they were when Reigen left. His cereal sat untouched. A perfect cast of the scene he’d left behind, with the sun just shifted a few hours along the midday sky.

Mob’s head whipped to the side. “Reigen!”

Reigen stared, blinking, slowly processing the scene. He was right—it exactly mirrored the sight that he’d left. “Did you…not move…?” Reigen asked, quietly, baffled. “Did you really not even move from that seat? When I said ‘don’t go anywhere’ I didn’t mean—“

“I couldn’t,” Mob answered, panicked, curt. He unfurled his stiff legs, trembling just slightly. The eyes set to Reigen were just a bit glossy with tears. “The barrier was back. I don’t know where people are. I heard people downstairs. If I got down my barrier would go through the floor and I didn’t know where they were.”

Reigen glanced to the clock on the microwave. “It’s been two hours. You didn’t…move?”

Mob shook his head.

“You really…believe this barrier can hurt people.”

Mob nodded fervently. “The rats, at Shishou’s house, I’ve seen them get shredded. All red and wet, on the inside. I…I had to touch one, once. Nothing can survive, only you. Just you.”

Reigen blinked, his mind poisoned by the visual of this boy lifting a dead rat, something pulped beyond recognition, for some reason he couldn’t even fathom. This kid, with the scared and dull eyes, and the clothes that did not fit, and the unkempt hair. Not like the boy at the doctor’s office, not like the one still with his family.

And Reigen’s exhaustion was swamped out by a dread heavy as lead in his gut.

…

Ritsu was 20 minutes through his third period class when the spirit phased into his classroom, through the chalk board in front, entirely invisible to everyone else in the room.

The spirit had come into sharp focus from the moment it tore Ritsu’s energy from his wrist. It was the size of a basketball, roughly, amorphous except for the thin claw-like hands that extended from its side. It was purple now, verging on black, red in the eyes—three of them—two normally positioned and a third slit vertically between them. Its wide, sharp-toothed smile dominated its face, hardly any gum.

It swooped to Ritsu’s side, its gaseous tail licking along Ritsu’s shoulders. “I’ve gathered up all the friends I could find. You’re lucky, you know that, running into a popular guy like me. Most other spirits wouldn’t have these kind of connections—of course we can discuss payment once we’re outside.”

Ritsu stood, grabbing the test paper from his desk, and marched up the aisle to the teacher. He felt eyes lingering on him as he walked past row and row of students. Pencil scratching fell quiet around the students whose eyes drifted upward to linger on Ritsu.

Ritsu pressed the test paper down on his teacher’s desk. “I’m not feeling well. Can I have a pass to the nurse?”

The teacher looked up, pulled from the immersion of his gradebook. He was a plump man who wore thin spectacles, his high hairline combed over to one side. He looked anxiously at Ritsu, then the rest of the class.

“I can’t excuse anyone during testing.”

Ritsu tapped his paper and slid it forward. “I’m done.”

Mr. Yahiro glanced once through the paper. Every answer was filled—and filled correctly, by Ritsu’s calculations. The anxiety dipped to something like defeat on Mr. Yahiro’s face, and he pushed his chair back, yanking a drawer open and pulling a slip of paper from inside.

“Take your things,” Mr. Yahiro said.

Ritsu complied in silence. He dropped his pencil and calculator into his bag, zipped it shut, and slung it over one shoulder. He vanished, silently, into the hall.

The spirit waited until they were out of earshot of the room, so that Ritsu could respond. The hallway was empty, silent except for the tapping of Ritsu’s feet along the floor, the muffled echo of his footsteps absorbed in the lockers.

“I didn’t sense you using your powers any. You know you can use them to cheat on tests, right? Like that other guy.”

“I don’t use my powers for stupid reasons.”

“Right, you hardly use them at all.” The thing grinned. “It’s tantalizing.”

Ritsu said nothing. Classroom after classroom passed on either side, muffled noises of lectures, class discussions, call-and-response English recitations. Ritsu existed separate from them, outside of them, in a world that sent thrills of possibility through his veins.

The thing stuck its claw-like hand out. Its grin spread wide, so that his eyes nearly squinted shut. “I’m Gimcrack, by the way, just call me Gimp.”

“Doesn’t sound like much of a name.”

“I had a name when I was alive. I’ve forgotten it.” Gimp shot Ritsu a sidelong glance. “You forget certain things about yourself when you’re whittled down to nothing. Most of us don’t have much of an identity anymore, just who we are now, we’ll respond to whatever others call us. And others call me Gimp.”

Ritsu gave no response. He turned down the next hall, eyes set to the metal door leading outside. It opened to the back of the school, a place walled in on 3 sides—the brick building on one, then a high dead-end wall that jutted out from the left and swept around. The soccer field was above it, a good ten feet higher and much farther back. The ten foot high concrete wall gave to another ten feet of wire fencing. The alley existed as a sort of design flaw, a segment of land unused by the building and by the field, a limbo where water pooled during rain storms, where trash thrown from the spectators in the stands tended to gather. It built a strong water-logged musk over the years, and most students learned to avoid it. All but the delinquents, who used it as a hangout.

“Right out here,” Gimp said. It folded a claw-like hand and pointed out the door. “A whole slew of new friends waiting to meet you.”

Again, Ritsu didn’t respond. He only shoved the door open, chilled suddenly not by the air that met him, but by the wall of aura that assaulted his senses. It was something denser and more powerful than he’d ever felt before, than he’d known to expect, a living throbbing mass that threatened to buffet him like sand kicked up in a storm. He held his breath, held his ground, stepped forward powered by the anxious terror that clawed through his stomach. He indulged in the feeling, as it was more than he’d felt in what seemed like years. He stepped out, and he smelled the musk of standing water.

Ritsu squinted in the sun. His eyes adjusted, and he was met with the blurry sight of color, thrashing and wriggling in the air above the pavement. They towered high, well above Ritsu’s head, nearly to the top of the concrete wall. Those tucked deep against the wall were shrouded in shadow. The bolder ones further out were cut by rays of sunlight like dust suspended in the air.

They built a semi-circle around the door, awaiting Ritsu’s appearance. The buzz of their aura spiked higher as they noticed him.

Ritsu attempted to focus on them. The same headache returned like a knife through his skull, so he shut his eyes instead.

“This is the kid. Can’t you smell it? Wasn’t exaggerating when I said he was practically spilling over with the stuff. Go on, open your mouths all of you, you can taste it in the air. He’s still bleeding a little—right arm—focus on that.” Gimp grabbed Ritsu’s arm, yanked it forward to Ritsu’s surprise. Ritsu startled as he noticed the foggy trail of magenta still leaking from his wrist. His gut twisted.

“You seem nervous,” Gimp remarked. He dropped Ritsu’s arm and twirled in front, the only sharp-focused thing in the massive pool of hazy spirits. “My friends are all honest like me. We’re ready to work for our food. Go ahead and explain the job details to everyone, then we’ll get payment sorted out.”

Ritsu swallowed dryly. He decided not to linger on Gimp’s final words. Instead he stared at the cloud of color, writhing and twisting and slipping between shadow and sunlight. He clenched his sweaty fists, breathing deep to find his composure again, his excitement, his power.

That’s right, he was far more powerful than any of these spirits.

“I need you all to find someone, another esper. I need you to track his aura down.” Ritsu spread his feet, until he felt rooted to the spot. He stood tall and threw his shoulders back. Energy crackled through his palms, both an enticement and a threat. “His name is Shigeo Kageyama. He’s my older brother, and he was kidnapped three and a half years ago because of his powers. We haven’t found him yet. Someone capable enough to kidnap an esper of his ability is capable of avoiding a few stupid cops—and that’s all they ever sent after him. Nothing more. They gave up.”

Ritsu swallowed again. A lash of anger tore through his stomach. He clung to it—more powerful than fear. “They gave up on him. I didn’t. I haven’t—won’t—not until I’ve found him. That’s why I called you here—things that understand espers took him. Find him by his aura, then report back to me with where he is, so I can go and murder the person who took him myself, and bring him home.”

Gimp let out a whistle. The rest of the spirits echoed with excited muttering.

Ritsu breathed deep, and he unbuttoned his cuff as he did before, rolling back his sleeve, brandishing his still-bleeding wrist to the hazy mass of spirits. “I’ll make it worth your time. I have power I’m not using—power you cannot fathom—I think Gimp already told you.” Ritsu focused on welling his power near his palm. He tensed his fingers, wringing it from under his skin so that it materialized, and froze instantly into another crystal bigger than before.

He felt it, the ripple of excitement from the mass of auras in front of him. He’d impressed them, just as he’d thought. A shiver racked his spine, one not so unpleasant.

“What does his aura feel like?” one spirit asked, indiscernible among the horde, its voice a breathy echo.

“It’s strong. Stronger than any you’ve ever felt.”

“We’ll need a bit more than that,” Gimp answered. His gaseous tail flicked, middle eye blinking. “What texture? Color? Consistency? Those things.”

Ritsu faltered. “I don’t know. He was kidnapped before I awakened.”

“Then how do you know he’s strong?” Gimp cocked its head. “Can’t be all that strong if he was just up and taken so easy.”

Ritsu tensed. He made the conscious decision to not act on the anger that spiked through his chest. He steadied his breathing, and banished the crystal of power in his palm. He took a step toward Gimp, until hardly two inches of space separated them.

“I know what I remember.”

“Four years back though? You must have been like eight—you’re twelve now, aren’t you?”

“I’m thirteen,” Ritsu answered.

“So you were nine.” Gimp rolled its eyes, vertical slit included. “A nine year old who looked up to his older brother, I’m guessing here. He must have seemed powerful to his little kid brother.”

Ritsu’s jaw tightened. “I’m not a kid.”

Gimp quirked his brow, though he lacked any semblance of eyebrows. “If you’re paying, I won’t argue. I’m just trying to make this easier on you.”

Ritsu stared at Gimp a few moments more before stepping aside, his attention back on the crowd. He felt some of his sure and steady nerve slip away.

“It’ll be like mine,” Ritsu said, finally. He steadied his breath, watching the flicker and lash of the shapes in the crowd. They felt suddenly closer, probing him, tasting his aura. The sensation chilled him, violated him, and Ritsu ignored it. “Our powers are genetic. His aura must be like mine, but even stronger. I can bring things he used to own, things he used to use his powers on. His aura may still be on them.”

“Now those are leads.” Gimp nodded, a slimy grin spreading over his face. His three eyes flickered to the horde. “That’s plenty to find him with, it may just take some time with searching. Thorough searching takes time—you’re lucky I gathered such a big bunch to help. One spirit searching on its own? Could take centuries. All of us though, far less time.”

Ritsu’s eyes shifted to Gimp, sharp, accusatory. He hid the thrill of fear in his gut. “You told me before you’d be able to find him. All these spirits should guarantee it.”

Gimp put his hands out. “Hey hey, I never said how long it would take me on my own. But like I said you’ve got nothing to worry about with everyone here. You’re boiling over with energy anyway, so it’s not like it’s any extra skin off your back. Just sit back and be patient.”

Ritsu looked away from Gimp. He tried once more to focus on the mass of spirits, and his effort failed just as quickly with the searing ache behind his eyes. So instead he looked only at the shapes, the hazy colorful swelling distortions. He was right—they’d closed in. He looked left, and found the mass rung entirely around to the wall behind him. He looked right, and found the same sight. He tried to breathe deep, and choked on the musty stagnant air.

Ritsu backed up one step.

Gimp snapped his fingers. “Now, before we all get started, we’re gonna need a little juice to work with.” Gimp read the momentary flicker on Ritsu’s face, the slight ashiness that had set in since they’d met in the classroom.  “Hey hey I know what you’re thinking—you’re a lil anxious about paying us ahead, right? I promise it’s only because it’s necessary. Where are we gonna get the energy to search in the first place? We’re all bottom of the food chain, down on our luck, sticking our head out searching is the same as sticking our neck out. Any other spirit would gobble us up if we’re not a bit reinforced.” Gimp spread its arms wide, a purple deep like the night sky and pulsing. “Like me now.”

Ritsu felt the jolt of excitement that shot through the crowd. His head jerked to the side, Gimp all but forgotten as he felt the dense pulse of aura direct itself toward him. It was a sensation like watching animals salivate, creeping in, tense and expectant. The horde moved, the colors edging closer, buzzing. Ritsu backed up against the wall, and he found the semi-circle of spirits had flooded past the door; they blocked all escape.

Ritsu held his arm out again. He had a better sense for it now—the well of power beneath his palm, the wringing of his wrist that would bleed the power out into the open. He did just that, a crystal like the last one congealing into perfect geometry above Ritsu’s palm.

He offered it up, and pretended his hand wasn’t shaking.

It was a flash, all at once, a mottled spot of filthy gray and brown pounced forward. He felt it snag on his wrist, then tear like something white hot through his skin. Ritsu bit down the hiss, he swallowed the momentary horror at being so suddenly carved out. He hadn’t seen it coming. He held his breath through the hiccup in his heart beat.

His palm was sweating now. He glanced to the left, eyes set on the filthy gray form coming into focus. It was a bulbous thing of twitching eyes, tendrils like limbs curling and sweeping from its form. A beak of a mouth crunched the crystal of energy, and shattered it, and swallowed the remnants in a desperate frenzy. Ritsu looked away, too conscious of his swelling heartrate. The thing squawked, delighted.

He drew the energy beneath his palm again, tensed it, wrung it, so it manifested above in another crystal. He steeled himself now, more prepared when the next shape whipped out and ripped it from his wrist. Another white hot streak, another stutter of his heart. Ritsu breathed through it, and shut his eyes until the little pricks of tears vanished from their corners.

He opened them, finding the little trail of magenta from his wrist bleeding more freely now. He tried to will it back, but he held no control over it.

The crystals didn’t open that wound along his wrist, Ritsu knew. Whatever the creatures were doing, that gutting, tearing thing, is what slashed his wrist and stole more.

Ritsu produced another crystal. He held it higher above his palm. Another shape tore through, and it stung less, but Ritsu still watched the stream of magenta flow faster.

He glanced around—four spirits now, Gimp included, had come into focus. They were larger now, all dyed purple to varying degrees. Only Gimp had adopted the violet deep enough to be mistaken for black.

“Not sure how many you can see kid, but that’s 38 of my friends still waiting. Sooner you pay out the sooner we start looking for your brother you know.”

Ritsu nodded, and he noticed too late that the fear had bled through to his face. He swallowed, and steeled himself, and stood taller. He squashed down the feeling in his chest, no matter how rapidly his heart chose to beat. His aura still felt normal. All the pain trickled away within a few seconds of each swipe. He breathed deep. And breathed deep again. It was fine. He was fine, and more than powerful enough to handle it. He need only get used to it.

His hand no longer shook as he summoned crystal after crystal, and he was almost good at hiding the flinch of being struck time after time. Five, then ten, then fifteen spirits cycled through. He’d hoped the crowd would thin as it went on, but they only lingered closer, more eager, more hungry and expectant, having watched their friends feast ahead of them. The visible ones lingered in the background, and it took Ritsu a long time to understand that they stuck in a group for protection.

Protection from him, probably. Gimp must have told them he was quick to exorcise. They must all know he was to be feared.

That was good, that put him in power.

So he summoned another crystal, back pressed entirely to the wall, rung on all sides by the hazy shape of spirits, grotesque and hungry and squirming, whose aura leaked around him like the drool of predators closing in, tense and eager.

The stagnant smell of water all but overwhelmed him. He was flattened to the wall, hardly breathing through the swampy air, like hot wet breath, on his face. He tilted his head away and summoned another crystal.

Ritsu held it up, felt the jolt of excitement that rushed simultaneously through the waiting spirits, and the hot wetness along his face was stronger now.

Ritsu only prayed that two would not jump at once.

(Chapter 14)