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bluepenguinstories · 3 years

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Remoras Full Chapter XXXVI: Winds of Change

Early spring, the rustle of the reeds against a gentle breeze. An indentation made among several rows of them as I lay, pressed into the damp soil. Arms under my head, eyes closed, thoughts floated away, just as they ought to. There were many reasons to worry, many wrongs to correct, and many mysteries to solve. But none of those things could happen unless I allowed myself a moment’s rest.

What of the others? Did I abandon them? No. But I wasn’t meant to stay for very long, it just wasn’t who I was. By nature, I was a drifter. By trade, almost, if such a thing were possible in the current age.

Ray gave me a phone so that he could call whenever things got bad again. It was like an ebb and flow, little tremors. Sometimes the activity would quiet down, but not long enough for anyone to think that the nightmares were over. Then they would build back up and people would show up with gashes, scrapes, bruises, all over their bodies with no explanation. Some reported whispers and little shadows that resembled people, but not quite. Whenever it slowed down, I went away again and found some place to hide out.

Why? Well, let’s just say I had my suspicions that I was just as much a target as were Ray and the others. Just the simple fact that an anonymous letter requested my death was enough to warrant such a suspicion. Ha. If whoever was behind that note wanted me so bad, they should have just fought me themselves. No games, no beating around the bush. My time could come any day now, but if someone wanted to take this life from me, by all means. But they ought to expect a fight.

Speaking of notes, there was one which was left for me that night when I met Remora in that abandoned building (well, not so much “abandoned” now, as I managed to get the electricity working before I left. Tragic as it may be, that was all I could do before I left and things turned south for me. I guess too many tip offs and “authorities” grew suspicious. So I bailed, as I often did, and I could only hope that those homeless friends I met weren’t so homeless, even if there was so much more I could have done had I managed to stay). It had Ray and Sunny’s address, as well as the phone number of the one who killed Rhea.

When I awoke, the piece of paper had been next to me, and curious, I picked it up. As soon as I looked over the contents, I scoffed, let out a little laugh.

“She’s really insistent, isn’t she?” I shook my head as I mused to myself. On the back of the paper was a further explanation of the events which transpired between ‘Ves’ and Rhea:

“Ves told me the story at the bar. Not that I needed to know the details from her, I already had an idea. Her original name was Etna Modelo. If that name rings a bell, it’s because she was part of the original ‘ETNA’ project. She had begun to grow unstable as the part of her that housed the angel of happiness clashed with the part of her that was human. Such a clash had adverse effects on those around her. The other ‘R’ and Douglas Fir were tasked with removing her from the world. Both met their end, although Ves seemed rather mournful of ‘R’ when we met, and although cured, it’s evident that the ordeal still effects her.

As I wasn’t there, I don’t know the full story, so I would still recommend asking her yourself. Your call, though. I’d just like to move on from it.”

Remora probably wrote that figuring I wouldn’t want to contact Ves myself. Yes, ‘Etna’, I’ve heard of her before: the girl on the run, the experiment, the artificial doctor. All of her incarnations. Hotheaded, explosive, short-tempered were all words that were used to describe her in reports and between eavesdrops of idle gossip from those who were aware of The Flashbulb’s pet project.

I considered contacting her, but felt it best not to. We were strangers, and she probably wanted to move on from such a thing as well. Besides, that was all I needed to know. Maybe whatever angel was with us now came here because they sensed one of their kin? Who the hell knew?

Rather than solve some cosmic mystery, some existential threat, I was instead relaxed in the fields of a small town in Idaho. As of late, I’ve been staying with this middle-aged man named Cleaver in his little shack. Two hammocks hung inside, he slept below, I above. Next to him was a wolf who he named Mange. Not my first choice of names for a wolf, but it wasn’t my place to judge.

I got up and stretched.

Still early in the day; a crisp air, a cerulean hue in the sky. Everything was early, yet not. As I made my way back to the shack, I caught a glimpse of cleaver with his sagged, sunken face and his potbelly hanging low out from his white T-shirt. Scruff all over his face, gray hairs all over.

“Fancy day for a squirrel barbecue,” he scratched his chin and announced in a low voice.

“Ha. You and your meals,” I replied as I brushed aside some tall grass. “You do realize there’s a restaurant nearby, right?”

“Bah! You just don’t get it, Zephyr: that shit costs money. You know, our ancestors got by just fine without money.”

What makes you think your ancestors are my ancestors?

“Sure, but are you really gonna subsist on corn and rodents?” I retorted.

“Hey, if it tastes good and it doesn’t kill me, what does it matter?”

I put my hands in my pockets and shrugged my shoulders. Fair, I guess.

My swords were laid inside his shack. Mange knew better than to knock them down. When it came to food, I had two options: The Garage Cafe, or run 8 miles to the nearest city and get some Wendy’s.

“I might be gone for a few hours,” I mentioned, “so see you later in the afternoon?”

“You know I don’t care where you go,” he waved off. That was something I liked about staying with him, is that neither of us ever minded the other’s business. He reminded me of an old man I once knew who I also crashed with. Rather literally, but I’d rather not get into that. He was kind enough, and I might not have survived without the help, but it was clear he wouldn’t last. I was just glad that I got to see off that old man. That was a few hundred years ago, but memories were funny that way, how they didn’t care how long ago something was, just how important they could have been.

Before I could depart to Wendy’s (let’s be real, while I knew it was junk food, I couldn’t help but love that place because of its name), I heard the sound of shoes against soft soil, someone running, and their short breaths.

Sounds of Mange’s growls could be heard from inside the shack. I scanned the area until I spotted the source of the running: a young woman, about a foot shorter than I, with messy, shoulder-length blonde hair. Still, there was no denying that I recognized that face.

“Fi...finally,” she huffed and hunched over to catch her breath once she approached me. “I found you. You wouldn’t believe how difficult it was to find you.”

Tell me about it.

I blinked. I opened my mouth, then closed it. It took a while before I could figure out what I wanted to say.

“How did you find me?” I asked, dumbfounded.

“I asked some of your friends in Chicago. Otis, I think was his name, told me how you said you were headed to Caldwell, Idaho. So I went there, asked around, and apparently an employee at the Wendy’s there says she’s seen you head over toward Notus.”

“Dammit, Otis,” I cursed under my breath.

Really, it’s my own fault for telling anyone where I’d be heading. I just figured after I returned from Ray’s diner that I’d check in on how some of those folks were doing.

“You know this girl, Zephyr?” Cleaver called over.

“Yeah. She’s fine. Tell your dog to knock it off,” I called back over to him.

“MANGE! SHUT IT!” Cleaver yelled to the shack. There was a low whimper, then nothing after that.

“Zephyr?” She asked.

“Yeah. That’s my name now. Demetria, was it?” I asked right back.

“Mm-hmm. That much hasn’t changed.”

I studied her but nothing looked all that different from when I met her. If she had an air about her that was different, I didn’t sense it.

“So, Demetria, what can I do for you? It’s clear you wanted me for something, but for what, I don’t know.”

She straightened up her stance and looked up at me, a more resolute expression took hold on her face. One which said that she was ready to get right down to business.

“I want you train me,” she stated.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me: I want to hone my skills with the blade.”

I puffed up my cheeks, desperate not to break into laughter.

“What?! You think I’m some wise, old master? Do you expect me to take you on as a pupil, and at the end bow and go ‘you have done well, my student?’ Is that it?”

“If that’s what you want to do, go ahead. But I’m serious.”

That much was obvious, but it still didn’t make sense to me.

“Why do you think I’d be a good fit to train you?” I questioned.

“Because our weapons of choice are similar. The way you fight, act, react, every movement has a purpose and it’s like you’re ready for anything. You don’t leave yourself with openings. If I had to pick someone whose style of attack was similar to my own, it would have to be you. Meanwhile, I’m reckless, less refined, and don’t know what I’m doing half of the time.”

“OK. But is there a particular reason why you want to be trained so bad?”

“Because I want to learn restraint.”

That still wasn’t good enough. I felt like I was missing the full picture, and despite how plain her answers were, it was like she was holding back, or avoiding giving anything away.

“Restraint, huh? And you think me, the cop killer, can teach you that?”

I glanced behind me. Cleaver didn’t seem to react to what I said. Strange, I thought that he would have. But I guess he figured it just wasn’t his business.

“You’re right,” she replied, “but I never said I wanted to be you, nor did I say what I meant by restraint.”

“Indeed. You didn’t.”

I paced about and thought it over.

“You use knives, I use large swords,” I pointed out, “each blade is different, with its own style and use. You don’t use a kitchen knife the same way you do a hunting knife. You don’t use an Oodachi the same way you use a Kodachi. Catch my drift?”

She nodded.

“What I can teach you, and let me be upfront, I’ve never taught anyone, may not help you.”

I continued to pace. While I explained such things, my mind was yet to be made up.

“That said, I do have some experience with small blades, but they’re not quite like the knives you’ve got,” I thought back to that night when we fought, “throwing knives and a hunting knife, right?”

“Yes. Although I’d like to broaden my horizons a bit.”

“Mm...I see. Short sword may do, then. But let’s not rush anything. Because if I’m going to train you, you’re going to need to learn more than just how to use a short sword.”

“Of course. So does that mean you’ll accept?” Her words were ones of excitement, anticipation, but her voice was flat. As for me, my smile widened and I let some teeth show through.

“Under one condition: every day, I want you to buy me Wendy’s.”

“Okay, sure, there’s one eight miles away, I can just take Cybele’s plane and head right back.”

“On foot,” I clarified. While I didn’t know who this ‘Cybele’ was, taking a plane would have defeated the whole purpose of such a training.

“What? Really? Do you know how long that would take me? Your food will get cold by the time I bring it back to you.”

“Then learn to get faster,” I shrugged. Wasn’t my problem, so long as I had my grub.

“Hey, don’t mean to butt in, but I got a solution,” Cleaver hobbled forward and chimed in.

“Oh yeah? What?”

“You and this girlie here should run together to the city, then you both can eat once there.”

“Ooh, like a race?” I liked the sound of that.

“Something like that. I’ll even take you back home in the back of the truck by the end of the day, since I can already tell she’s just starting out.”

“Hey! I bet I could run right back here!” Demetria protested.

“Go ahead and try, but I’m doin’ you a favor. Trust me,” he replied. He was right, of course, too, and that gross overconfidence of hers was all the more reason why she needed training.

“By the way, if you’re going to be running, you’re going to need a bottle of water,” I advised, then went into the shack to grab my water bottle: a nice and thick tin thermos. “Take this. We can stop at the Garage Cafe on our way to the city so you can fill it.”

“What about you?” She asked.

“I’ll get water once we get into the city. Plus, I can always get another thermos.”

“All right, all right, so when can we start?” She tapped her foot. Ever so impatient to be tortured, I see.

“Now,” I answered.

“What? Now? I just got he –”

Nope. Wouldn’t hear it. Especially after she begged. I took off toward town, then toward the highway right away. I’d glance back to see her in the distance, and it was clear that she was trying to run.

Okay, when we get to the city, I’ve got to teach her proper form.

Down on the highway, she was still quite behind, but she started to speed up.

“How...how much longer?” She huffed, short on breath, and still early in.

“Like, seven more miles?” I guessed. Really, we weren’t even a quarter of the way there. More like a quarter of a quarter.

She stopped and hunched over to catch her breath.

“You’re not going to get very far standing still,” I stopped too. Even though I was ahead of her, the training would have been moot if I just ran off without her. “It’s not about speed. If you try to sprint your way there, you’ll tire out fast. It’s about sustained motion.”

“How is anyone supposed to keep running for eight miles?!” She gasped out and threw her hands up.

“I just told you. You will get faster, eventually, but what’s important is to build up stamina and use up as little energy as possible. You can walk every now and then if you have to, but you need to keep moving.”

She gasped a few more breaths, then straightened up her posture.

“Okay. Let’s keep going.”

Throughout our run, she’d stop to walk for a few seconds, or take a sip from the thermos, then she kept going for a short burst before walking again. It wasn’t ideal, but I suppose she had to start somewhere. When we finally made it into the city, and Wendy’s, about two and a half hours have passed. Again, not ideal, but I suppose it wasn’t too bad.

She was collapsed at a booth in the Wendy’s, all huffing and puffing and complaining about feeling sick.

“You should get yourself something to eat,” I looked down at the suffering apprentice.

“I can’t. I feel like I’m gonna throw up,” she wheezed.

“Yeah, that’s how it is at first. But hey, I’m amazed you made it at all. It’s a good start. But seriously, some food will help you feel better. Plus you need the calories to replenish your energy.”

“...I’m...vegetarian…”

“Okay? So? Get a freakin’ salad. Go to another restaurant. But eat something.”

Her hands shook as she grabbed on to the edge of the table and struggled to sit up.

“I suppose I can do a salad,” she heaved out the words. I gave her a heavy pat on the back, which made her bellow out, “oof!”

“That’s the spirit!”

A few minutes later, she returned with a box salad, a large thing of fries, and refilled her water.

“Fries, huh?” I pointed out.

“It’s not meat,” she shrugged. Eh, fair point.

I myself had one of those big burgers, large fries, large soda, large chicken nuggets, large everything. Again, it was junk, but considering the name, I was biased.

“So, I should tell you this upfront: if you’re going to train under me, you need to have a reason. I don’t need to know what that reason is, but I won’t accept it if you don’t have one.”

“Trust me, I do,” she responded, not quite focused on me, and more looking listless as she dipped her fries in a pile of red sweetness.

“By the way, do you have a place to stay?”

“No, but I can check into a hotel. It’s not like I don’t have money.”

“If that’s what you wanna do, sure, but while you’re here, you can sleep over at the shack. It’s not the most comfortable, and you’d have to sleep on the floor, but it won’t cost ya anything. More convenient, too. Cleaver won’t mind.”

“Cleaver, huh? You sure seem to make friends easily,” she observed.

“Heh. It’s not quite like that, but I try to form connections where I can. I think you’ll find that it’s practical, pragmatic even, to get on someone’s good side wherever you go. Doesn’t matter if you think you’re stronger or weaker,” I shook my head and smiled, “it’s a lonely world. Universe, even. But there’s things you can do to make it less lonely. I’m a loner, both by trade and nature, but we’re all here on this Earth to help each other.”

“That’s a good philosophy. I’ve never given such things any thought.”

“You probably never needed to. It’s better if you don’t have to give it thought, but when you’ve lived as long as I have, with as many experiences as I have, you get plenty of moments to think. Reflect.”

“Huh?” She looked my way, as if I had caught her attention with my little musings.

“Huh what?”

“Oh, I thought you said my name.”

“What? ‘To think’? I guess that sounds like Demetria…”

‘My hearing’s probably off because of all that running,” she shook her head and groaned, “seriously, my ears won’t stop popping.”

“You’ll get used to it.”

“How long do we have to keep this running for, anyway?”

“Until you can manage to do it without stopping to walk. Stopping for water is one thing, but even then, it shouldn’t take long. As I said, it’s not about speed. It’s fine if you run slow, just don’t stop running.”

We stretched outside after our meal and wandered around.

“I’m taking online classes, actually, so I may have to pass on your offer,” Demetria mentioned as we walked through the city.

“There’s Wi-Fi at the shack. I’m an engineer, it wasn’t too hard to do.”

“Oh, okay. You really think of everything, huh?”

I denied such a claim.

“I just try to see what’s possible. So tell me about these online classes of yours.”

“There’s not really much to tell. I’m studying marine biology, but I don’t really care for it. I’m just doing it to finish what I started,” she gestured toward me and I caught a glimpse of her reflection through the glass of an electronics store. She looked so animated, even as she told me how little interest she had in her studies.

“That’s still impressive in its own right,” I replied. It got me thinking about how many projects I left unfinished, how many times I had to leave a place and its people behind, how many missions went abandoned when new information made me see a different perspective. Even the times when I just abandoned a project out of a loss of faith or desire to see it complete. What could have come of them had I completed them?

We wandered around town for a little while, then sat at a park, although little was said. Just before sunset, Cleaver’s rusty pickup truck sputtered and screeched as it arrived at the base of the park. Both Demetria and I hopped in the back and we let the gentle breeze of early spring overtake us. Soon we were back at the shack and once we landed on the soft soil, I broke down the plan.

“While she’s training with me, can she stay here?” I asked.

“I don’t see a problem with that, but she’ll have to sleep on the floor next to Mange.”

“Who’s Mange?” Demetria leaped out from the side of the truck and landed on her feet with a thud.

“Eh, just my dog. He’s friendly. Might growl at ya. Might even bite your arm. Might even rip it off. But he’s friendly.”

She squinted.

“It’s a lone wolf he found,” I explained instead. As it turns out, Cleaver wasn’t very good with this stuff. “I think as far as Mange is concerned, as long as you don’t actively pose a threat, he’ll probably consider you part of the pack.”

“Hold up. Why do you have a pet wolf?” She turned to Cleaver. He scratched the back of his head.

“Helps keep away the cougars,” he answered all matter-of-fact.

“Why do you need to keep away older women for?” She questioned and I almost spat out the soda that had already been digested three hours ago.

“I like this one,” he pointed his thumb to her, “she knows what’s up.”

“Actually, I think it’s the opposite,” I refuted.

“So while we’re training, what if we practice sparring right outside the shack?”

Then it would get interesting, I thought the devious thought. Of course I wasn’t going to disclose that.

“We’d just have to keep the door closed, I guess,” I said instead.

We all made our way inside, a very cramped space. There was a bathroom in the back, complete with a shower, but aside from that, it was a bedroom with little room to house one person, let alone three plus a gray wolf. Besides the bunk bed hammock and the wooden planked floor, there was a dresser on the left end once we entered, and on the right was where Mange slept (when he wasn’t sleeping outside).

“You don’t mind if I have my laptop open while you sleep, do you?” Demetria asked Cleaver as he was already headed up to the top hammock to get some shut eye.

“Do what you want, but if the bright screen wakes Mange, don’t come cryin’ to me when he bites ya.”

“Here, I’ll sleep on the floor across from you,” I offered to her, “so don’t even worry about it.”

“Thanks,” she turned quiet and looked down to her side.

“She’s working toward her degree!” I cupped my hands to tell Cleaver. “Her studies are very important to her!”

“Really, now?”

“How the hell should I know? They’re her studies, not mine,” I hissed out the words, trying not to be too loud as to wake Mange.

“Bah, you know it’s all a scam,” he grumbled.

“You’re a scam,” I mimicked back.

“Are you gonna be okay sleeping on the floor?” Demetria seemed puzzled at my offer.

What about you? I bet you’re more used to sleeping on a bed than I am.

“I’ll be fine. I don’t care where I sleep. I’ve slept just about everywhere,” I reassured her.

“Bah, there she goes again. ‘Look at me, I’ve slept in penthouses and castles and trash cans alike’. We’ve heard it all before,” Cleaver started up again. I ignored him, and leaned in to whisper to Demetria:

“That’s him on his good days. Now type away.”

Sleep never came easy for me, if much at all. That’s always been true, or at least as far back as I could remember. The dim glow of Demetria��s laptop didn’t make much of a difference. Mange for his part stretched during a couple of intervals, but other than that, didn’t seem to pay Demetria any mind. Not even as she was leaned up against the back of his fur.

There wasn’t much else to do but watch. After a while, she started to yawn and her eyelids started to droop down. There were a few more clacks against the keyboard, then she pulled the laptop screen down slow and closed it before setting it aside. She didn’t seem to notice me at all. All the better for it. I wasn’t fixated on her, but my surrounding as a whole. It was a quirk of mine which I attributed to countless years of pursuit. Always alert, always looking forward. If someone were to try to kill me in their sleep, they would be left disappointed.

If somebody managed to kill me while I was asleep, I’d like to live long enough to thank them.

Still, for what it was worth, I was still human. Tiredness was still a thing. Sleep came eventually. Even if just a single wink, I would have liked that. An hour must have passed, and I felt ready to nod off when I heard Demetria mutter something. It was faint, but I had peachy keen ears, and was able to make out what she said:

“Games? Like having a snowball fight? Building a snowman? Then again, it doesn’t have to be a snowman…”

“Snowman?” I mouthed. I had to think about it, because it sounded familiar. I soon began to hum a little tune.

“Isn’t that...from a movie?” I asked myself in a low mutter.

Not something I ever watched, but I’ve probably passed by TVs in display windows playing that thing. Those kind of animated films with songs are inescapable, regardless of the quality of said tunes. Well, I’m not going to speak on the quality of something I’ve no interest in. It’s just kind of amusing that she’d be reciting such a song in her sleep. Despite her moody exterior, maybe she’s just a kid at heart.

Demetria started to stir and then her eyes crept open.

“So, Frozen, huh?” I asked, my voice a little hoarse. Likely due to my lack of sleep.

“Mm...what?” She yawned a sleepy little mumble.

“You were talking in your sleep. I think you were singing a song from Frozen,” I pointed out.

“Huh. The only Disney movie I like is Finding Nemo. So what song was I singing?”

“Hmm...’do you wanna build a snowman?’ I think it’s called.”

“Oh wow. Asleep me has poor taste. Can’t say awake me has any better taste, but still.”

“Whatever. Just let it go and get back to sleep.”

She nodded, then closed her eyes again and leaned back. Soon it seemed that sleep had taken her once more, though I did hear her mutter one more thing before departing to a soundless rest:

“Not like I plan on being around much longer, anyway.”

Heh, I leaned my head back against the dresser. You and me both.

In the morning, I stepped out of the shack and took in the crisp morning air. It was bliss, it was serene, it was –

“Ugh...so sore…”

Behind me, a shambling zombie-like figure groaned. Almost as if someone had raised the dead.

“Right. I should have taken that into consideration,” I groaned as well, realization of who was behind me set in.

“What are we going to do?” She scratched the back of her head and a look of general displeasure possessed her face.

“We eat some food, we do some stretches, we do some heavy lifting,” I ran through the check list.

“Heavy lifting?! I thought we’d be taking it easy today since I’m so worn out!” She was flabbergasted and most devastated.

“This is taking it easy. We’re not going to be running to the city today. Instead we’ll work the upper body.”

“What happened to ‘buy me Wendy’s every day?’” Demetria mentioned, something I didn’t expect to get brought up.

“Eh,” I shrugged. “It doesn’t have to be every day. How about just every time we go into town? Now, I’m going to make it so you hurt in other places, so are you ready?”

She gulped, being given an answer she didn’t expect, herself.

“If at any time you want to quit, just say the word,” I offered. “Because it’s not going to get any easier from here. You’ll just need to get better.”

She gulped, being given an answer she didn’t expect.

“If at any time you want to quit, just say the word. Because it’s not going to get any easier from here. You’ll just need to get better.”

Another gulp, then she shook her head.

“I’m not going to quit. I can’t afford to.”

Her determination was commendable. I had to give her that. If I didn’t end up breaking her spirit, she could very well end up a force to be reckoned with in her own right.

So it went: we stretched. We walked around the fields near the shack. Our day came and went with little word save for what was spoken on her resolute face. Another night. Another dim glow from her screen as she typed away at whatever project she had.

Dusk turned to daylight; we ran once more the following morning. There were still some stumbles, still some hurdles. She steadied her movements more, and with only being the second run, it was a startling improvement. Maybe minuscule in the grand scheme of themes, but I would have thought it would take longer for her to show any signs of improvement.

Two or three miles in, she stopped, slowed to a walk, then a few minutes later, built back into a jog. This happened another mile out, as well as the next. During the second half, however, whether it be a high or just having found a rhythm, she managed to keep pace the whole way through.

After our meal, we found a nearby park and wandered into a deeper portion of the park, less populated, with the thicket of trees concealing us from the potential misunderstood eyes of passerby.

“All right. Now it’s time to fight.”

She was slumped over as she had followed me into the park already worn out. However, upon the word ‘fight’, she perked up. That, or it was a look of shock. Either way, I had her attention.

“A...Already?! It’s only the second time running here and I’m still a little worn out.”

“Your enemies aren’t going to care if you’re worn out. Hell, they’ll use that to their advantage,” I corrected her. Not that she had enemies. Maybe I was just drawing from experience with that example.

“You’re right,” she agreed, something which took me by surprise. However, as poised as she looked, it was little more than show, and her knees wobbled before the fight even began.

I swerved my left leg to the side and dragged my foot against the soft grass, which tripped her and she fell before she could even attempt to avoid it. She landed right on her butt and struggled to get up. Before she could bring herself up, I stomped down, and that time, she reacted well enough to roll over.

“While the idea does turn me on, some things are more important,” she remarked with a grimace.

...What?

She hurried up that time and I swung my right fist in a slow and deliberate manner, slow enough that it would have given her enough time to do any number of things in response. She chose to block it with her left arm and although she reacted in time, I soon overpowered her. In spite of that, she tried to hold her arm up. As she was distracted, I once again swept my leg to the side and knocked her down.

“Don’t try to block if you can’t withstand the hit. Dodge instead. Also, don’t leave yourself open. Your enemy could find an array of maneuvers to attack you if you leave yourself an opening.”

She winced and gave a short nod.

Further days passed; what was one week turned to two. Run, stretch, block, dodge, react. After two weeks, she managed to run the whole way through. From Notus to Caldwell with a reserve of stamina left over. At the park, she jumped when I did a side-sweep. Either a short jump, or jumped back. When I swung my fist, rather than block it, she would either duck down, or lean back.

Another week went by and on the third week, I introduced weapons into the mix.

“Dodging, avoiding hits, all that’s well and good, but you’ll also need to fight back,” I instructed.

“Of course,” she replied.

I knew she had her knives on her. I also gave her a short sword to use. For my part, I had my signature katana, though to make it more fair for her, I pressed a button on the blade’s scabbard and split them into two kodachi-type blades.

“Wha – how did you do that?” Her eyes widened and she blinked, astonished at the sight.

“It’s not an ordinary blade. It came with my old profession, you could say.”

“You mean as a janitor? Did everyone have weapons like that?”

“Some. I’m sure you’re aware that Remora’s rifle can split into two smaller, pistol-like guns which fires off a wave of energy. My blade, or blades, are coated in an oil which repels a certain kind of creature.”

“Angels,” she answered.

So you know? Whatever the reason, I’m sure it’s not a good thing.

“That is one way to call them. But not angels in the biblical sense. No, more like the ‘beings beyond comprehension’ sense.”

“Yet we comprehend enough to craft weapons to deal with such things,” she added.

“Sorta. It’s hard to know when these weapons will be useful, or even how useful they will be. Especially when dealing with beings that are unheard of.”

Like what Ray and Sunny were dealing with up in the arctic. Whatever was behind it, I had little to go off of. If they even wished to stand a fighting chance, I would need to know more, but I didn’t know how to learn further.

What was known wasn’t comprehensible, either, as it didn’t seem to fit a specific pattern or intention – creatures that were an amalgamation of other creatures, contorted to a strange shape. Shadowy mass filled with various materials and limbs, like rope, wire, legs, and tentacles that could cause others to lose their sense of self. People whose limbs grew out from their backs, who could control such strange hybird creatures. Then the latest addition – a fog which blanketed the area near Ray’s diner and gave injuries to passerby. Some reported shadows of strange shapes, others reported voices.

What exactly did it feel? What did it embody? How did all of those phenomena correspond with what the source embodied?

At any moment, one of the diner’s proprietors would call me up to tell me that things got bad again and I’d have to cut the training off there so I could hurry to their aid. Remora’s rifle more than likely protected the diner from the inside, but the surrounding area was fair game for the entity and the beasts it produced. For now, however, I could focus on training Demetria, who still had a great deal to learn, even if she picked up on things at an alarming rate.

We clashed with the blades, and that time, she was able to block well. At one point, I swung down only for her to block it with the scimitar I let her borrow. When I swung the other blade to the right, she side-stepped to avoid the swing. Then the left, and the same. However, she kept up the block the whole way and even if she managed to dodge in spite of the openings she left, she was still overpowered when I swung both blades down against the scimitar. She tried to bend her knees and apply more pressure, but it wasn’t enough, and both blades were but a hair’s breath away from her face.

Without any more strength to give, she fell. I put aside my weapons before they could cut her down, then I scolded her.

“Again, don’t block if you know you can be overpowered. You did good blocking one blade, but you left yourself open. If the enemy starts adding more pressure and you can’t keep up, release and get out of the way.”

“Right…” She sounded wiped out. I couldn’t blame her, and she was improving, but she needed to know where her weak spots were.

“We’ll call it a day for now. Tomorrow we’ll spar by the shack.”

“Right on! I’ve been wanting to do that since the beginning!”

Are you that excited to get beaten up?

“What’s so special to you about training near the shack and training in this park?”

“Well, for starters...I’m always worried someone’s gonna show up and get concerned. It might scare someone and they could even call the cops!”

“Let the cops come. I’ll skewer them all with glee,” I dispelled any unease she had.

“It’s not just that! The field by the shack is really secluded so we can go ahead and go all out!”

Ah, yeah. That is a good point.

Our training continued the next day at Cleaver’s shack. We had an open dirt clearing where we weren’t as hindered by tall grass. Both of us stood on far ends of the circle with our weapons in hand.

“Come at me, bro!” She shouted.

I had a moment of weakness. As in, I hesitated, hearing such a ridiculous statement. Or phrase, rather. It only took a moment, though, and after that moment washed away, I rushed in.

Our blades clashed once more and she dodged the attacks, struck when she saw an opportunity, and timed her blocks well as well. Although I could also block and dodge each of her attempts, it had more to do with my experience.

You really are a fast learner, aren’t you?

However, another weak point showed through once more as soon as I struck with a side-slash. No, she managed to dodge it. That wasn’t the problem: the problem was that she pushed her legs in and jumped up. If she didn’t manage to jump high enough, or didn’t move in time…

“Wrong!” I shouted as I stood in place.

“What’s wrong?” Her voice squeaked and she scowled. To her it must have been just a disagreement of ideas, and she looked ready to protest my scolding, but it had to be done regardless.

“You dodged it, but the way you did so was way risky and took up more of your energy that it should have. You’ve built up a lot of stamina, but in a fierce battle, every bit of energy counts. It would have been less risky and have used up less of your energy to have stepped back, even jumped a little backward, than to try to jump over it.”

“Yeah...I see what you mean now,” she looked down and shook her fists, obvious shame written all over her.

“I’m not saying this to be rigid. If you didn’t jump high enough, you would have gotten slashed for sure.”

“I’ve been slashed in the stomach already,” her voice turned low, and a sullen look took over. She then lifted up her shirt, which made me take a step back. Across her stomach was, indeed, a long thin scar. “So it’s not so bad, right?”

“It’s true that slashes are generally less harmful than stabs. It’s said that in old wars, soldiers would slash rather than stab their enemies so they wouldn’t have to bear the weight of killing another person. But a slash can still be very harmful depending on how much force is placed, and the proximity. If you get a deep slash, like say you strike a vein, expect blood to spray out. An endless flow that you wouldn’t be able to stop, and if unable to be treated soon enough, death. Given enough force, one could even slash a limb clear off or cut someone in half.”

“Okay, okay, I get it. Sheesh. Such gory imagery,” she made little “ack, ack” sounds to accompany her statement so that she could further express her disgust.

“It’s just muscle memory is hard. I know the right moves but sometimes I do the wrong one because so used to a particular pattern,” she added, something which I understood.

“Which is why we need to take it from the top until you get it right.”

We continued through the afternoon until sunset hit. After we called it good, Demetria headed back into the shack.

“Well, this thesis isn’t going to bullshit itself,” she told me as she waved before entering the shack. I waved back, but sat out for a while, letting myself bask in dusk’s chill.

“Is this what I’ve been reduced to? A mentor? An escort?” No, such thoughts weren’t good, especially not when spoken out into the air.

It was too late, of course. Once those words were spoken, the rest of the thoughts followed. Like, was I ever alive at all? What did it look like when I had a life? What was I now but a ghost, a shade, a wandering remnant? It wasn’t even that I didn’t want to help others or be a mentor, but that the only semblance of a life I had was one that would never leave. Violence was ingrained in me, ran through my bloodstream as I lived and breathed. There could be no help without it and the only justice I knew was an unshaken, violent justice.

For a while longer, I let myself sit beside the comfort of darkness. Close to silence, with the only sounds to fill the air being the crickets and the frogs which hid out in any given direction.

With a sigh, I allowed myself back inside. Demetria sat there, as she had many nights, with her face glued to that laptop screen. However, when she saw me enter, she closed her laptop and addressed me.

“How are you feeling?” She looked up.

I sat down and crossed my legs. I smiled, for I knew no other way to express anything.

“Just how I always am,” I shook my head, it sounded like such a carefree dismissal. Part of me expected her to be satisfied by such an answer.

“And how is that?” She asked instead.

That was a more difficult thing to answer than it should have been. It wasn’t a sense of monotony, but something else. Loss of life, or a loss of humanity.

“Forgive me if I’m unable to give a straight answer,” I replied after some thought.

“That’s okay, I’m gay.”

Fine, but just know that you brought this on yourself.

“Some say that ghosts are just memories, so in that sense, nothing ever leaves, does it, so long as the memory is there?” I posed the question. As I said, I couldn’t give a straight answer.

“Are you saying that you feel like a ghost?”

I shook my head.

“Not quite. I told you once that I considered my old self dead, right?”

As well as my current self. But only in a different sense.

“Yeah. How you were accused of –”

“I told you what my original name was back then. It was a lie. Not the story, but the name. Considering how long ago it was, my name was more than likely a simple one. Like Kuso Gozen, or something. There were bits and pieces of that life, that girl, that I remember. Being accused of an assassination, being put to death...but much of the details are lost. Forgotten. Hell, it’s enough for me to question if what I remember is real or made up,” I let out a deep breath. I was doing this again, wasn’t I? And who was I to say that was to confide would be any more real than last time?

“It could have been that I did murder someone. That I was given due punishment, and chose to evade such punishment. Based on what I know of myself, I wouldn’t put it past me to take out a corrupt official. But that’s beside the point.”

“What is the point?”

I shook my head.

“Ha. If I knew...well, I suppose the point is: maybe it’s better that I don’t remember. Maybe it’s better to be forgotten. To be more than dead, less than a memory.”

“I think I can relate with that. I suppose most people would prefer to be remembered, but I suppose to some, it may be better to forget. Like if you did something bad.”

“Mm...that’s not quite what I mean. As for that old self, yes, she’s forgotten. But my current self? I don’t mind people knowing my deeds. But this life I’ve had...I don’t want to preserve it.”

“What? You mean you’re going to let yourself get killed?”

No, that wasn’t quite right, either. But then, what ever was?

“Hell no,” I refuted, “I wouldn’t go down without a fight. But I’m just waiting for my time. Some say I’m like a cockroach, the way I’ve survived so much and had so many lucky breaks. But for the sake of my own sanity, I hope that’s not the case.”

“Why live your life that way? Why are you so eager to die?”

“It’s not like that. Maybe it’s a curiosity. How it will end and when. Will it be a quiet one, or a roaring crescendo? Will I be remembered afterward? Talked about? Or will I be forgotten, not even a passing name.”

“I’ll remember you. I already met you. Plus you’ve got all those homeless friends,” she pointed out.

“Ha! I guess you’re right about that one. It’s easy to call anyone a friend when you know you’re just passing through! We form a connection, make small talk, and then I disappear into the wind. It’s not really any different than how life was like with that company – I’d visit different places in different timelines, meet some people, do my job, and then go onto the next one. That’s just how it was. I suspect everyone who worked there, it didn’t matter what their personalities were or how big of a heart they had, got that way: just passing through, not really being alive. If any of us ever were in the first place.”

“How do you even know others were like that?” concerned dripped from her lips. Despite her stoic front, she really couldn’t keep all of that in, could she?

“Let’s call it an observation. I’ve seen how others were: some cope by indulging in their vices. Sex, drugs, booze, you name it. Some go numb, others break down, unable to find a sense of calm. Some can try to settle down, live a quiet life, maybe try to start a family, but it never leaves them. That feeling, like life, death, it may as well be the same thing. I think it’s the job, it does something to you. To all of us. Maybe that’s why I think that the ones who died were the lucky ones. Otherwise you just end up like me, waiting for your time to come.”

I gave a hearty laugh and smiled, not caring who I would wake up.

“I guess that’s why it’s so easy to talk to you about all this, because it doesn’t really matter. I may as well be talking to myself.”

She turned her head, puffed up her cheeks, and scowled. I thought she was ready to blow up at me, talk about how unkind that statement was, that I shouldn’t have had that mindset, but when she finally spoke again, it was about something else entirely.

“Do you know how Rhea died?” She asked, a fun topic for the whole family.

“Yeah. Was assigned to get rid of someone who was possessed by the embodiment of happiness. It was a pretty big task: potential world at stake scenario. Anyone could have lost to something like that.”

“Are you sure? Because I’m not so sure.”

“Why do you say that?” I stroked my chin, eager for her explanation.

“Ves is my cousin’s wife. She’s still mournful about the whole thing. She never wanted to kill her, and in fact, I think Ves was the one who could have easily been defeated. Apparently the two actually talked, tried to work out a compromise. Rhea actually showed her mercy, and in the end, I think Rhea was holding back because she wanted to be the one to go.”

How interesting. Mercy. Well, I suppose I would have at least tried to figure out what all of the options were before going in for the kill. So it’s not too surprising if it happened to be the same way.

“Did your cousin’s wife tell you all that?”

She nodded.

“It may have been the case that she was holding back, who’s to say?”

“But why would she do that if she knew the world was at stake? Did she just forsake the world?”

I remember the first time I met up with Demetria, she said that she had little interest when it came to Rhea. So now the sudden interest struck me as a little odd. But then again, maybe there was something to spurn such interest and I just didn’t know it.

“It’s doubtful the world ever mattered in the first place. After all, it was just one instance of the world, out of an endless amount of instances.”

“Yeah, but it’s my world! It’s the only instance I have!”

I leaned over and pressed my finger to her lip.

“Shh. Others are sleeping.”

After I released my finger and returned to my original position, I continued.

“She didn’t have a world she belonged to. While I’m sure she understood the risk, the stakes weren’t the same for her as it may have been for you. Maybe she was just done, and knew of no other way to go but through a fight.”

“But why did she show Ves mercy? That’s just not like her, is it?”

“Maybe she had a last minute change of heart. It’s possible.”

“Do you think she was infected by the entity? Is that why?”

I shook my head.

“It’s a possibility. There’s no way to know that for certain, though. As much as it’s natural for many of us to speculate, the bottom line is that the only person who knew what was going through her head was herself, and she’s not around to give us any answers.”

“You’re right...I was just wondering: what would you have done if you were in her position?”

I thought it over some.

“I don’t think I would have done anything different,” I concluded.

“Do you think she was lucky as well?”

Ah. So maybe that’s why she brought it up. I had to close my eyes for that one, lest the piercing glare give anything away.

“What do you think the answer to that one is?”

There was a pause, and there was something serene about such a pause. The heavy breaths of the wolf behind her, the snoring of the middle aged man at the top hammock. It carried with it a peaceful wind.

“I’m worried about you,” she said at last.

“Don’t be,” I shook my head and smiled, “the student has no need to worry about the mentor. You should get some rest.”

When we picked up on the following day, her growth was more than apparent. I’d strike down, but she’d sidestep, then do a sweeping slash, which I blocked, then did a slash of my own. She surprised me next, by sliding down, then struck up. I had to react fast just to block it.

“Ha. You’re getting better at reacting, but you’ve yet to land a hit,” I remarked.

“Just you wait,” she shot back with a smug smile.

Such confidence. I wonder if it will last.

In an effort to show that it wasn’t just a bluff, she rolled once, did another side step, which made me turn around as she made her next strike. Again, our blades clashed, and I still had another blade in my other hand. However, this time, she pulled something out from her pocket and I leaned my head back just in time not to get hit by what turned out to be a knife.

When I realized what she just tried, I couldn’t help but laugh. It wasn’t a condescending laugh, in fact, I was quite impressed. All the same, I was as amused as I could ever be.

“Ha, good one. You fancy yourself a ninja or something?” I gave a hearty chuckle.

“Not quite. I just need to learn all that I can,” she dispelled any such idea. She didn’t look any short on energy, either. That was good.

We’ll have to hone that aim of hers, but she seems to already have some sort of grasp. Force and precision, two things to work on.

“Let’s make things more interesting, shall we?” The proposal slithered out from my mouth as I slipped a cunning grin.

“MANGE!” I called out.

She looked over, a sharpened glance. It wasn’t even so much of a reaction, but more of an acknowledgment.

Has she adopted some of my traits? Is it from the training? Or did it just come with the confidence?

Busted out through the door of the shack came Mange, all fired up. That tired old wolf may not have been much but a heavy sleeper on his good days, but he could still be tricked into thinking there was trouble.

“Now you’ll have to dodge both of us.”

Before, I’d have expected her to react like, “really? Wolves are much faster than people! And they’re huge!” But instead, once again, a single nod of acknowledgment.

We clashed further, clangs of our blades as we maneuvered around each other. But soon, Mange gave chase, and as expected, darted toward Demetria. She stepped back, but he was quick to turn. She stepped to the side, but that didn’t stop him in the slightest. It was getting to the point that she was backing further away from me without even realizing it.

Panic seemed to set in and she turned her head from side to side and noticed how much further she had gotten. Mange was seconds away, and Demetria rolled forward, which seemed to do her little good. I charged toward her, like a little nudge to remind her who her target was, and I watched as she knew she was cornered on both ends: Mange behind her, and I about to strike her down in front.

So in a twist of events, she crouched down, then when Mange got close enough, she leaped into the air and launched herself off of that poor wolf’s nose, which propelled her further. I watched as she tossed a knife down in my direction, and I blocked it with the sword at my right. However, she then swung her blade down from over her shoulder, and I reacted just in time, with the blade at my left hand overhead. However, the force was strong enough that I needed both arms free, and before I could lift the other sword, she swung her legs together and flung herself forward against my abdomen, knocking me to the ground.

With her on top, the blade raised against my head and her head close, I could feel her warm, heavy breaths on my face. They weren’t breaths of exhaustion, but excitement instead.

I wonder if that’s what she meant when she said she wanted me to teach her ‘restraint’.

“Well, you’ve got me pinned down. What’s next?” I flashed a sharp-toothed grin.

No answer. Mange didn’t seem so interested in pulling her off, despite the image present. So it was up to me: I grabbed her by the wrist, even with that sword firm in her hand, and tossed her off of me.

“Waah!” She squealed, caught off guard.

I got up and brushed off any dirt that had gotten on me.

“Good job. That was a risky move, but it paid off. To think I had just tried that today and you had already figured out a counter,” I commended her. However, she walked off and seemed to have brushed aside every word.

“It’s still not enough,” she grumbled.

“What is enough?” I demanded. As much as I hated to admit, her attitude got to me.

“I don’t know yet, but I’ll know when I get there,” she huffed out a reply.

“Hey,” I called her out. That time, she turned around. “I know I said you didn’t need to tell me the reason, but what is it that you’re after, anyway?”

“I need to improve my aim when throwing knives, I need to improve my reaction time. My reflexes still aren’t enough.”

“Bullshit. What more do you need?”

“I need to be able to dodge a bullet,” she replied with such conviction that despite the absurdity of the statement, I had no choice but to take it seriously.

“If that’s your goal, you should give up right now. It’s never going to happen, no matter how good you get.”

“I need to.”

“Nobody’s fast enough,” I shot down once more, “you think I can dodge a bullet? You think I’m faster than what comes out of a gun? I just have to get lucky and hope there’s something I can shield myself behind. That, or hope that I’m faster than the one with their hand on the trigger.”

“Fine. Then I need to be able to block a bullet,” she was adamant, which only served to irritate me further.

“With what? A sword? Even if you could react fast enough, it’s more likely that the bullet will break the sword. What then?”

“I’ll…” She grit her teeth, “I’ll think of something.

How stubborn. Looks like I’ll need to compromise.

“Fine. How about this? For the next few days, or however long it takes, I’ll borrow your throwing knives, toss them your way, and you’ll have to dodge them. I’ll paint some targets on trees and I’ll have you keep throwing until you can manage to hit the middle. I’ll make sure you’re using proper form. Does that sound good?”

She gave it a few seconds pause, then signaled her approval with a single nod.

“Good. Now, let’s practice some sprinting. Run around the field for a while until you get worn out. Mange will chase you around, but don’t worry, he won’t actually hurt. He may knock you down, and he is heavy, but he’s friendly enough.”

With a sprint, she took off. As she went busy with that, I returned to the shack and decided to lay down for a little while on the bottom hammock. For whatever reason, as I lay, a smile formed, then plastered its way onto my face. Above me came the gruff voice of Cleaver:

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Maybe I am,” I replied, “who’s to say?”

“You’re not fooling anyone. You’re getting a kick out of this.”

“Of course,” I gave in, “I’m most alive in a fight. Not to mention, it feels refreshing. Both to fight without such high stakes, and to be a mentor. It feels like I’m passing on my knowledge to the next generation.”

“I don’t really get it, but I could tell there was something up with you ever since you first showed up.”

“Oh?” Consider my interest piqued.

“I mean, c’mon, some tall Japanese swordswoman just shows up looking for a place to crash? Like, what time period do you think this is? Obviously there’s something up with that, either that, or you’re just a weirdo.”

To be honest, I’m more of an oddball than I’d care to admit.

“But you know,” he went on, “I never pried, I never asked about what your story was, because I just didn’t care. As long as you’re going to help me out and mean no trouble, then it’s none of my business.”

“See? That’s why we get along so well. I’ve never asked you what your deal was, either,” I threw at him. If it wasn’t clear, I was a little cheeky.

“You wanna know something else? When you and that girl are talking late at night, I can hear you. You’re not as quiet as you think you’re being.”

“Aw, Cleaver, at your age, you need your beauty sleep.”

“Guh,” he grunted, “you’re one to talk. What with your talks. I’ll be honest, I don’t understand most of it, but your whole ‘I’m just waitin’ for my time’ bullshit like you’re some old woman about to croak.”

“Heh. I am. I’ve lived a long life, Cleaver.”

“You’re younger than I am. I bet you haven’t even hit forty.”

“I bet you’re right. But I’m past my expiration date, so to speak. With the kind of life I’ve lived, I’d say I’m past the average life expectancy. It’s a little strange...just to exist at all.”

Large breaths of air lingered just before the last few words were uttered. It was as if I had gone speechless, starved of oxygen.

“Well, if you’re havin’ fun, that’s gotta count for something,” he seemed like he was trying to make some sort of attempt at encouragement.

“Never said it didn’t, but thank you for the sentiment.”

“Another thing, uh, for what it’s worth, what does it matter if you’re just passing by? Doesn’t mean it don’t got meaning. Plenty of people are just passing by, having chance encounters. But it still has value.”

“I agree. Try not to put too much stock into the things I say,” I advised him. Selfish as it may have been, part of me wanted to know what kind of life he had lived, and why he lived in a shack out in an open field. Was it choice or circumstance? Was there another option? But just like him, I was fine with not knowing.

I think it’s always been that I’ve gotten along most well with older folks of a certain kind. Lost souls, or those who were destitute, vagrant, fallen on bad luck and hard times. Hermits whose own lives had become a distant memory. There was nothing to be fascinated by it, nothing romantic. It was just a certain kinship I felt. I in no way ever wanted to just scrape by with whatever I could reach for. It was just what I developed into, and now I felt as if I could live no other way. If I could even live at all.

III

Even as the days passed, and another couple of weeks flew by, it proved not to scratch that itch she so desired. Despite every throw closer and closer to the bullseye, every projectile avoided, every knife caught in the grip of her gloves (that one surprised me the most. Another risky move, but one I allowed, despite the trouble that could have caused. It seemed like less of a mistake and something she wanted to do. Still, I made sure to drill in her head not to try that with bullets, because all that would do, best case scenario, is give her a bloody hand), it wasn’t enough.

Throughout the training, I had wondered what her reason was. Although I told her she didn’t need to tell me, it was still important enough to her that she sought me out. She could have sought out anyone, a professional trainer, for example. But no, it was me. There had to be something specific there, and I had my suspicions as to what it was.

“Satisfied?” I inquired after she had managed to hit the target, square in the middle.

“Not quite,” she shook her head. That all but confirmed it; no more beating around the bush, I had to ask:

“Are you trying to be like your crush?” I drilled to the center of the matter, hoping to find gold.

“Excuse me?” She asked in turn.

“Remora. You haven’t mentioned her since you got here. You mentioned Rhea, which is surprising in of itself, but she never mattered much to you. As I’m sure you’ve thought, yourself, her and your cousin’s battle had nothing to do with you. But it was Remora who you were interested in, wasn’t it?” Her brows creased, and I could tell she didn’t enjoy such a topic.

“I’ve just had nothing to tell. Feelings can change,” she replied, her voice lowered, guarded in its response.

“Indeed. So it was a falling out?”

“Something like that. It’s a period in my life that I’m done with, so I don’t need to think about it anymore,” she flat out stated. Still, she didn’t echo the same confidence that she did in our spars.

“So that’s just it? Yet you came here, to someone you knew worked the same job as her, and talk about wanting to dodge bullets. Even if you don’t feel like you don’t need to think about her, you either have her in mind, or something similar.”

That time, her defensive face relaxed, and she changed her expression: a smile took hold and stretched to a smug grin.

“Something similar, you could say that. You could say I want to be just like her.”

I figured as much, although a part of me hoped it wasn’t such a case.

“Or rather,” she added, then turned away, “I’d like to be strong enough to be able to kill someone like her.”

Such confidence. This could be interesting, if also disconcerting.

“Someone like me?” I suggested.

She shook her head.

“I’d rather not kill. That was the whole reason why I wanted to learn restraint. But if my suspicions are correct, then I may need to. Which means I have to make sure I’m strong enough to do so, even if it means becoming like one of you guys.”

“Suspicions? What are you talking about?”

It sounded like some delusion of hers, although I knew better than to think such a thing. If there was even a chance of someone else like Remora or I, even alive and out there, then what did she want with someone like that? Did she have some personal vendetta? Did someone kill someone close to her? What could have prompted such a desire?

“I think I’m ready to show you,” she paced about, then brought out her phone.

Yes. Please. Show me.

I watched her put her phone up to her ear, then speak into it.

“Hey Cybele. It’s me. I’m ready for you to pick me up. Oh, and I’ve got someone with me. There’s a place I want to show her. Both of you. I might be able to get you your money, there, too.”

There was a short pause.

“Cool, see you soon? Cool.”

She ended the call, then turned back to me.

“You can take your sword with you, if you want.”

Was planning on bringing it, anyway. I’ve got some bad vibes from all this.

“What is it you want to show me, anyway?” I asked her.

“You’ll understand when we get there,” her smile held as she assured me.

What was left in me was a sense of confusion. Before me wasn’t the same Demetria that showed up a couple of months ago, but then, she must have had such a thing planned out. So either she had been masking how she really was, or it was an alarming determination. Something which she was driven to see through.

“By the way, you should get that dog back inside. I don’t think my friend would like seeing them,” she advised.

“Mange is a wolf,” I corrected, then stuck two fingers in my mouth and whistled. “Hey Mange! Get inside!”

Mange let out a whimper as he slowly walked toward the shack. He looked over at me, let out a soft, “awoo,” then pouted and went inside.

“Yeah, yeah. Awoo to you too.”

About fifteen minutes later, a woman with a blonde ponytail and wearing a blue blouse and a pencil skirt walked approached us. At first, she stood up straight, but as soon as she saw us, she slumped over.

“Ugh, lemme tell you, it’s so hard to find parking when you fly a plane everywhere,” she bemoaned. Then she stood right back up and looked over to me. I raised an eyebrow and gave a short wave.

“Hey, who’s this?” She asked Demetria, who looked up at both of us.

“Cybele, this is Wen...err...Zephyr,” she introduced.

Cybele then smiled a big smile and held out her hand.

“Heya, nice to meet ya! Nice muscles,” she greeted. I took her hand and shook it, then tilted my head.

“Thanks, I made them myself?” I replied.

She let out an awkward laugh, then turned to Demetria.

“So, what’s this place we’re going to?”

“You’ll see,” was all she said in response, then made her way toward the plane.

“Oooookay. Looks like we’re off,” she strutted off. I followed behind.

Aboard her plane, I just realized that I had heard Cybele’s name before.

“I think Ray’s talked about you,” I mentioned to her.

“Oh?” She sounded curious.

“Yeah. He’s really serious about this thing that’s been going on.”

Demetria scowled and sat across from me, her arms folded.

“So you know what’s going on too? Was I the only one who didn’t?” She accused and stuck her nose up.

“Of course I know what’s going on, girl. I showed up at the diner a little after you left. You would have known too, had you stayed.”

“I was under no obligation to stay,” she rebutted.

“You’re right, but I take it you would have, had you known.”

“No shit.”

“Still, she knows now,” Cybele butted in.

“She found out?”

“Ray told me, then I told her. She seems pretty serious about saving them.”

My ears perked.

“Is that so?” I turned back to Demetria.

She shook her head, arms still crossed.

“Finishing up school is more important. They can handle themselves.”

“Wow, cold,” I reacted.

“Not as cold as the arctic,” she shrugged.

“Well, you’re right about one thing: there’s no reason for you to get involved. If it gets to be too much, Ray will call me back over there.”

She didn’t say anything after that. By the looks of her, she seemed disappointed, as she hung her head low, but she didn’t make any objections.

“Say Cybele, you got any drinks on this plane?” I called over to her. She walked over and got into stewardess mode.

“Yes, what would you like?”

“Got any alcoholic beverages?”

“We have spiced rum,” she offered.

“Cool. I’ll take it.”

“I’ll be right back with your drink, miss,” she did her best to sound polite, then raced off to the back of the plane. I leaned back and awaited our arrival to the mystery destination.

We landed a few hours later in a clearing through a forest. Demetria got out of the plane first, followed by myself. Demetria looked up to Cybele, who was still next to the door of the plane, then addressed her:

“Cybele, can I ask you to stay there? We’ll be out soon, promise.”

“Trust me, that place looks foreboding enough as it is. I’m totally cool with staying here,” she assured.

Demetria gave Cybele a thumbs up, then we walked toward the building in question: this long and high marble building with few windows. Around the perimeter was a barbed wire fence.

“Apparently this place used to be a prison,” Demetria explained. Not that I was interested in the building’s origins. My interest was more in what we were doing there in the first place.

She opened the door inside, then motioned me to follow her in. As if that was really necessary. I would have done so anyway.

Once we stepped foot inside, I noticed the thin tunnel-like corridor, many rooms on the floor above us, and an absence of sound. Another thing of note was that the lights were on, which made it appear less abandoned than it really was. Demetria looked around, then remarked in passing:

“Looks like she took care of the dead bodies like she said she would.”

That caught me off guard, and also made me take note of the floor. Indeed, there wasn’t any hint of bloodshed or anything of the sort.

“She?” I inquired.

“I encountered someone who wants to kill Remora. She said that Remora killed her father, so I take it it’s personal.”

Figures. That frosty bastard wasn’t as good at taking care of loose ends as she thought she was.

“Do you know whose father she might have killed?” Demetria asked.

“No idea. I never shared any missions with her, and I don’t know what kind of jobs she took on. Could’ve been anyone’s father.”

“That makes it difficult,” Demetria shook her head. I wonder, do you still have some concern for her?

“What is this place, anyway?”

Our journey took us to the end of the hall, where two flights of stairs to the upstairs were situated, and we stopped at a door along the back wall.

“There was this organization. They were trying to revive the janitor company. Don’t worry, though. I took them all out, so it’s not going to happen.”

“You mean, you killed them?” Was my first question, although there were many others which could have taken precedence. Like why anyone would want to do such a thing, let alone how they knew of such an organization in the first place.

“Their turret killed them,” she corrected. “They were too heavily armored for me to have done anything on my own.”

She opened the door, then stepped inside. I followed suit, and my jaw just about dropped at the sight of stacks of cash lined up along shelves on the walls. Aside from that, there were several guns strewn about the floor, and alongside those weapons, there was something else quite peculiar: minerals which appeared to change shape and color without end, going from smooth to jagged to crystalline. Brown, gold, blue, purple, green, black, white. No specific consistency, and yet at the same time as it made those constant changes, it was as if the ‘minerals’ or whatever they were, were still objects and objects which made no such movements to warrant such a change.

“Concentrated celestial aura…” I heaved out the words. Demetria turned to me as she shoveled stacks of cash.

“You know it?” She asked.

“They’re the materials created from the essence of angels, made solid. They were used to forge the weapons we use. What they’re doing here...no, how they got their hands on…” I was just about speechless.

“Yeah, I don’t have an explanation, either,” Demetria echoed my sentiment. “There’s many things I don’t know, but I figure with this, I’ll have a fighting chance.”

“Fighting chance? What are you talking about?” I snapped.

“I want a new weapon of my own created from this stuff. I’ve already got an idea as to what I want, it’s just a matter of finding someone who could forge with these.”

Astonishment turned to irritation, and I held my fist against the wall.

“That’s not what I mean! What do you expect to do with a weapon like that?”

Her face turned sullen, and her voice lowered.

“I have an idea of what’s causing these phenomena that Sunny and Ray have been dealing with at the diner. If my suspicion is correct, then I need to make sure I’m prepared.”

“Prepared? How the hell could you possibly know what’s going on up there?”

“Because I’ve dealt with it already!” She snapped right back. “There was a man who ate two people alive, two people who I tried and failed to save! Who claimed to serve an indescribable creature, and even though I burned that place down, I know it didn’t take care of anything! There were still monsters in the arctic, strange things that went on, and they’re still going on! I have to put a stop to him! It’s my responsibility!”

“No, it’s not. You need to stay out of it. I get that you’re worried about them, but you don’t have the experience that I do. So just go back home to your family, live a quiet life, and let me deal with it.”

She didn’t budge.

“I know I lack the experience, that’s why I had you train me, so I could be strong enough to take them on. Like it or not, they are my family just as much as my biological family, and you better believe that I will protect them.”

“So you were planning to go there after all? Was the education thing a lie?”

“Not at all. I’m graduating at the end of the month. After that, it will take another month or two to forge the weapon. Then, I’ll find a way to get there. Mark my words. I just hope that I’m not too late by the time I get there.”

I pulled out my sword.

“Maybe she no longer matters to you, but do you think Remora ever wanted you to be like her? What about me? We went through hell to become the kind of people we are, and you’re saying you want to be like that too?”

“You’re right: I wouldn’t want to go through the same things you guys did. I can’t even imagine how you dealt with it. But I’m willing to put myself through hell if I have to for those people, because damn it, they’re worth hell. So we can fight right now if you want to, but I’m not backing down from this. Not when their lives are at stake.”

I let out a single heavy breath, then eased my nerves as I sheathed my blade.

“Fine. I did tell you that I didn’t need to know your reason, but you better understand that there’s no guarantee of success and if you’re not careful, this will cost you your life. Are you still willing to proceed?”

“Without a doubt,” she answered without hesitation.

“Very well. We’ll take these materials with us,” and before we could get ready to do so, I spied something beside the boxes of celestial auras. “Hey. You said you wanted to be able to block a bullet?”

She nodded. I picked up the small devices and handed them to her.

“These are miniature bounded fields. I’ll train you how to use them.”

“Thank you,” she replied.

“I still don’t like the idea, but I can tell that your mind’s made up.”

So I grabbed a couple of boxes of the minerals while she carried stacks of cash and the miniature bounded field devices. My load was heavier, but I could take it.

“By the way,” she spoke up while we hauled the items back to the plane, “I don’t remember if I’ve asked, but did you know any janitors named Cronus?”

“No,” I replied, “do you think someone by that name is behind these attacks?”

“Yes. Or someone using that name as an alias. What about someone who ate people alive, or had a big mouth. Anyone like that?”

I had to think back a little, there were so many others, now lost to time.

“There is one person who comes to mind, but I don’t know much about him,” I suggested.

“Who?”

“He had the codename ‘Tarrare’. Apparently his specialty was more akin to a true janitor...as in, he cleaned up messes, all right. From what I heard, the higher ups would find jobs that had to do with disposing of dead bodies, and they’d send him out to devour the corpses. It’s kind of gross to think about, but I guess he had the stomach for that sorta thing.”

“Anything helps. It’s hard to believe there’s any other janitors alive, but I’m not going to rule it out.”

Just a few minutes later, we arrived back on the plane and took off. Demetria handed Cybele the cash, Cybele hugged Demetria tight, and few was spoken after that. In fact, I stewed in my thoughts.

I can’t believe I’m letting her do this. She must have been planning this a while, but how will she manage? For that matter, will she be okay with who she becomes? Or was it who she already was, and she just needed the resources? Then I considered that it must have been the latter.

We returned to the field later in the afternoon. Demetria waved goodbye to Cybele.

“How will you get around without me?” Cybele wondered.

“I’ll figure something out. Besides, I’m sure we’ll meet again soon enough,” Demetria assured Cybele.

“Okay. Stay safe, and remember: you’ve got friends!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Demetria waved off and dismissed. “You take care, yourself.”

As soon as Cybele took off, I turned to Demetria.

“What’s next?” I inquired.

“We keep training, I go to campus to get my degree, and then I take off to get my weapon forged.”

“I see. What kind of weapon do you have in mind?”

She flashed a smile.

“I dunno. I was thinking a sword,” she gave a little wink. So much for originality.

“All right, so we’ll train a bit more, you’ll graduate, but do you even know a blacksmith who can work with this stuff? For that matter, how will you get back to the diner? In case you aren’t aware, normal flights aren’t going near there, and if Ray knew you were coming, he’d try to pull out all stops to keep you away.”

“I don’t know yet, but I’ll figure it all out.”

I couldn’t help but smile in response to all that.

“Now I’m curious as to what you’ll come up with.”

She shrugged. Looks like I’d just have to wait and see.

The end of the month came, so too, did the end of spring. Demetria rushed out the door of the shack that morning, laptop and backpack in hand, and woke us all up.

“What’s the rush?” I turned to her, voice all hoarse and groggy.

“It’s my graduation. I’ve gotta get my degree in person. I think it’s dumb, but rules are rules. So going to take a Greyhound bus a few states over. See you in, like, a day at most.”

I clapped.

“Well good for you. It’s like you’re growing up and everything.”

“Oh, shut it,” she laughed. “Anyway, bye.”

“Have a good time,” I waved to her, then she was gone.

Cleaver sat up from his hammock and looked down.

“That kid gone?” He looked around.

“Yeah, but she’ll be back,” I informed him.

“I can’t believe it’s been three months already,” he shook his head. “Crazy, huh? She turned from a pipsqueak to a powerhouse.”

“She was already a powerhouse, she just needed for that power to come to the surface,” I corrected him, “now I wonder if she’s something more than a powerhouse.”

“Don’t know, don’t care,” he climbed down. “I’m going to find some possums to barbecue. Wanna join me in the hunt?”

“I’ll pass. But send my regards to Mange, will ya?”

He grumbled an incomprehensible grumble, then walked out the door.

“I suppose all that’s left for me to do now is wait,” I spoke into the air. Wait for Ray to send me that call, telling me that the place was in danger, or wait for Demetria to return. Wait for so many things, up to and including the prospect of an eternal rest.

So I went around town, I rested in the fields, I swung around the sword, but for the most part, I just sat and waited. On the following afternoon, Demetria returned running toward the shack, with plenty of stamina in tow.

“Hey, welcome back,” I greeted.

“Thanks!” She replied, and there was something different about her, as she was grinning and a glow seemed to surround her.

“You seem in a good mood. How was it?”

“Oh, you know, boring stuff. But you wouldn’t believe who I saw there. It was an old friend who I thought I’d never speak to again, let alone see! I guess we’re really still friends after all. It’s hard to believe,” she seemed to wipe a tear from her eye, and she continued to smile.

“Who was it?” I asked.

“Not who you’re thinking!” She backpedaled, and I was a little confused.

“I wasn’t thinking of anyone in particular,” I argued.

“Well, it’s not who you weren’t thinking of in particular, I can tell you that much! It was just an old friend from college. We used to be roommates.”

“Look at you! Being all social and stuff!” I congratulated.

“Stop it. I doubt I’ll see her again. My life’s just heading in a different direction and I probably won’t be able to have as many bright and cheery moments as that one. I have to accept that.”

How unfortunate.

“You should at least allow yourself the moments of happiness you can find,” I advised her.

Her smile lowered down until her face turned more serious.

“Yeah...you’re right.”

Before either of us could say anything else, Demetria’s phone rang, and she answered.

“Would you look at that, perfect timing,” Demetria remarked as whoever was on the other end must have greeted her, “been a while, hasn’t it, Hera?”

Hera? Was that the friend Demetria knew back at her university? I didn’t know, but I continued to listen in.

“Oh my. You want me to come over? Gee, I’d love to do that, but I don’t have any way to get there. I don’t have...how do I put it...the coin.”

You need a coin to get...well, she was probably talking of transportation money. But still, doesn’t she have plenty of money considering what she took at that building?

“Wait. You’ll come get me? Well this changes everything. Okay. Hold on. Slow down. I’ll meet you in Caldwell, Idaho. You can probably find me at a coffee shop. Thanks so much,. Bye.”

She then hung up and looked down where I sat.

“Well, time for me to run down to the city while carrying rocks in my backpack,” she announced, then tossed me her phone.

“Why did you give me this?” I looked down, confused.

“Can you hold onto it for me? Where I’m going, it’s best if I don’t have this.”

I was still confused.

“What am I supposed to do with it? I’m a homeless old bat!” I griped.

“Oh, come on. You’re not that old. Just pretend to be me if anyone texts.”

I shook my head and sighed.

“I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this, but what the hell?”

“Thanks! So I’ll see you around!” She rushed out the words and was in such a pose that suggested she was ready to run off then and there.

“I just hope you know what you’re doing,” I cautioned.

“Ha. Do I ever?”

We both allowed ourselves a little bit of a laugh, and then she ran off inside the shack, then ran back out with the backpack on her shoulders. Without so much as looking back, she ran off at once. Before long, her image faded from view. Then I closed my eyes and leaned my head back against the shack.

“I think if fate will allow, I’d like to live at least long enough to see how this plays out. If not a little longer,” I sent my wish out into the air. It wasn’t so much of a wish as it was a certain sentimental idea. I wouldn’t have minded if my time came tomorrow, or that very instant.

#remoras full #writing #training montage #action #slice of life #fiction #sorry this took so long #turns out this chapter is even longer than chapter 27 was #sorry about that too

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