14. Tegata Ex Machina

The scent of unvarnished wood wasn’t terribly commonplace in the city, save for if you were redecorating a home. It wasn’t unpleasant, either, tickled the back of the nose with something rustic—though that may just be the dust that hung around in the air along with. Whatever the case, it reminded Rinkaku Harigane of a home he’d never known. The sensation was foreign enough to almost distract him from the throbbing pain in his thigh.

A fresh stabbing sensation made him suck his sudden breath through his teeth, which sung with icy sensitivity. The breath felt raw, like he’d been reanimated. A dull ache behind his eyes made it difficult to see. Rin furiously blinked away the fog, only to hear the subdued breathing of the dark shape looming over him.

Normally, waking up to find someone treating your wounds would be a good thing. That was because this mostly happened in a medical setting, done by a trained medical professional—not in a completely unknown place by a cloaked stranger, hovering only feet away.

The evening flooded the room through a large circular window on the far wall, cloaking the room in a thick layer of dusk. Silhouetted against a purpleing sky, the figure was little more than a featureless shadow. Rin yelled. His body convulsed on instinct, and threw himself back against the wall. The shadow recoiled. Rin’s skull collided with yet more wood, and sparks of white danced behind his eyes—miraculously clearing the fog. Rin sat hunched up against the wall, shoulders sinking into the sloped ceiling as far as they would go.

“Who are you?!” He yipped like a small dog.

The silent stranger shuffled back and rose to his feet, a slender hand took to a solitary lightbulb. The weak orange filament glow was still bright enough to make Rin flinch. Careful not to make sudden movements, he slipped both hands under the cowl of his hood and lifted. A mane of bright magenta hair fell out from the dark folds of material. One thick bang fell across half his face, and he tucked it behind one ear. Rin’s eyes mercifully grew accustomed to the half-light.

The stranger rapidly gained definition, as though turning a dial, until Rin was staring at a kind face, littered with scars, divided his otherwise pretty face into patchwork. The boy couldn’t have been older than twenty, but a certain wariness was etched into amber eyes. Rin intuited those eyes had once been much brighter. The dissonance with what he saw now made his skin crawl. Just like with himself and the hat-wearing man, a distinctive slit was carved down his forehead.

Rin waited on tenterhooks for any kind of answer, but it seemed his saviour was waiting for him to calm down before he dared say anything at all. Rin had to swallow a lump in his throat before he made out a choked— “Didn’t you hear me? Are you deaf? I asked you—”

Another jolt of pain shot up his thigh. He clutched at the leg and bent double, grinding his teeth. A length of rope was tied tight in a tourniquet just below his hip, which hurt almost as much as the entry wound. The skin was cold, and he couldn’t feel his toes.

“Easy. Lie still.” The stranger’s timbre was dry and quiet. He placed a firm and gentle hand on Rin’s shoulder and eased the boy back down into recline. “I haven’t finished treating you yet.”

That crystal clear serenity silenced Rin into submission. He lay back and held still, and the other resumed his work. Retrieving an iodine-soaked cloth, the stranger dabbed it around the wound, apologising at the inevitable wince. Next, a pair of tweezers were sterilised with another cloth that stunk of alcohol. He tenderly extracted the bullet buried halfway into Rin’s thigh, and applied immediate pressure to stem the pool of scarlet that bubbled to the surface. Fixing a wad of gauze in place, he bandaged it up tight.

“That should prevent infection, at least.”

Once secure, he undid the tourniquet, and Rin could soon feel his toes again.

Without another word, the stranger stood and carried the excess medical supplies over to a small dresser, where he packed them into a little drawstring bag. Rin wasn’t content to stay too still for long, and craned his neck to catch more glimpses of his saviour. The shock of awakening was starting to fade, his heart rate slowing, and the reality of his injury had settled into constant burning.

Rin then realised his legs were bare. He screamed, writhing on the bed. “Give me my trousers back!”

The yelp startled the stranger again, freezing in place. Getting a hold of himself, he tossed over the torn trousers of his uniform. Rin fought his way back into some dignity, without worsening the wound. Eventually, things settled.

“How long was I out?” Rin asked. The words scraped against his dry throat.

“An hour.” The stranger had retreated to perch on a dusty dresser, both arms folded. “Had to secure the perimeter first, make sure no-one followed.” His head jerked over his shoulder—a reflex. “How’s the pain?”

Even the slightest movement made his thigh scream. Rin inhaled through gritted teeth, then swore. “I’ve never been shot before. That’s definitely a twenty-two.”

The boy nodded, and returned to Rin’s side with a small handful of pills and a bottle of fluorescent blue sports drink. Kneeling down, he took Rin’s hand and counted them out. “Strong analgesic, blood thickener, electrolytes and sugar. You lost a fair bit of fluid. Injury aside, you’re dehydrated already. Take these and drink up.”

The lozenges stuck in his throat until the flood of sugar water down his esophagus eased the scratching. Blinking back tears, Rin finally took a look around. His bed was a canvas military mattress. The whole thing shifted and creaked under his weight, not half a foot from the wooden floor. Considering his scrawniness, that was saying something.

The whole room couldn’t have been larger than about fifteen square feet, made much smaller by the abundance of wooden and cardboard boxes, carrying all kinds of assorted junk. Everything a person needed to live seemed to be within arms reach. Spare clothes in dark colours flopped like discarded tablecloths on the makeshift surfaces. Dust had once lain thick on the floor. No longer, of course, because much of it had been kicked up into the space between, and stung at his eyes. Both the walls sloped in towards the centre, leaving not much headroom on either side. The large window was segmented into four thin panes, and creaked ever so slightly.

“What is this place?” Rin asked. “Looks like an attic, this sloped ceiling and the boxes everywhere. Raw wood, too; hasn’t even been treated. Feels like no-one’s been here in ages.”

“The first thing you do is make a comment on the building? You’re strange.” The stranger sighed through his nose. “It’s a roof over our heads, at least. Best I can do for now.” He sat down on a box and pointed to the floor, highlighting a ringed trapdoor. “The man who lives below, the owner of this attic—he’s elderly. I doubt he could get up here even if he wanted to.”

“Squatter’s rights, uhuh,” Rin noted, definitely not judging. “I have a lot of questions.”

“I bet. Ask away.”

“Where am I?”

“Honcho, Chuo Ward.”

“Your hair’s pink. Have you noticed?”

“Yes.”

“Is that the new fashion nowadays? I’m not much for mainstream.”

The stranger’s eyes narrowed. Rin felt a chill creep down his neck, and shivered. For his next trick, Rin traced the slit down his own forehead. He felt the fleshy, supernatural organ twitch under his skin, and suppressed the urge to vomit.

“You have a third eye, like I do.”

“That wasn’t a question.”

“Smartass. You do, don’t you?”

The stranger nodded. The slit parted, reveal a yellow iris as pale as the sole lightbulb, not quite as bright. The shiver worsened into a shudder.

“Did you use the ritual like I did?”

The stranger sighed. “In a way.”

“Either you did, or you didn’t.” Rin scowled. “I’m just about holding it together, asshole, and I want answers. Don’t be vague with—”

“Enough.”

Rin froze, the reproach stabbing toothpicks into his throat. The pink boy had a look that had killed. The stare of all three eyes paralysed even his breathing for a moment. The stare lifted, and Rin’s chest began to heave.

The stranger closed all three eyes and pinched his nose. “You still have more questions.”

“Damn right—wait, how do you know?”

The stranger pointed to his dormant third eye.

“Wait, you’re telling me you’re a telepath?”

An eyebrow raised at that. “And you aren’t?”

“Hang on—good point.” Rin touched two fingers to his temple, the trigger he had used to get his third eye to open before. The ripples of psychic energy started to lap against his skin.

“You’re a Psyche User now,” said the stranger. “You can read the ripples of psychic energy. Think of it like all of your senses combined.”

“The ultimate synaesthesia…”

He nodded. “Try reading my mind. See if you can find out the answer to your next question.”

Rin shut both normal eyes. At first, it was difficult to make out much of anything within the dizzying kaleidoscope, but soon his third eye adjusted to the noise. Psychic energy tightly outlined the boy in front of him, an undulating flow, all originating from that locus in his head. Rin concentrated, and willed himself to look within. The door was steel: gigantic, bolted shut, fastened with interlocking chains. He yanked on the handle, but recoiled as though stung. He looked elsewhere, and found a small keyhole. Peering through, he saw a single piece of paper flutter within a conceptual void. He willed it still, and unfolded it to reveal a name.

The perspective abruptly zoomed out, yanked backwards by an invisible hand on the scruff of his neck. Rin opened his eyes, and his cognitive vision overlaid his physical one for a moment longer. Both swam. Eerie.

“Tegata Kage.”

“Well done.” The stranger’s attempt at a reassuring smile was obvious.

Rin now felt like an intruder. A pit sunk into his gut. He cleared his throat. “You read my mind to know my question before I asked it.”

“You were wide open.”

“Was not! Fuck you!” The outburst was reactionary and short lived. Rin hung his head. “No, you’re right. But you stopped me from seeing what I wasn’t supposed to. You gave me that information.”

“I’ve had practice.”

“That guy in the hat, he could read me like a book.” Rin clenched his fist. “I thought there was something on my face, but given what you’re saying—”

“Just visualise it.” Tegata leant back against a box and crossed his legs. “It’s surprisingly intuitive, especially for someone like you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” One more cryptic statement out of this guy, and Rin swore he’d—

“Just try it.” Tegata said, exasperated.

Rin did. He visualised himself, picturing his reflection in the mirror. He didn’t just bolt the door shut. He imagined a drill and took the door off its hinges. He then started placing bricks, filling the gaps with odd glittery cement, before smoothing it off with virtual plaster.

“Wow.” Tegata’s eyes widened, a little stunned.

Rin folded his arms. “What?!”

He hummed. “Er, nothing. You succeeded. That’s what matters.”

Rin gestured at his head. “Did you see all that?”

A nod.

“How?! Both your eyes were open!”

“I know it’s overwhelming to begin with, but try and open your third eye without closing the others. Psyche is a holistic art. In opening yourself up to insight, you’re blinding yourself otherwise. Set good habits early.”

“You sound like my taekwondo teacher…”

“You’re joking around still.” Tegata glowered. That chilling stare again. “I’m not sure you understand yet. If you mess up from now on, you die.”

Rin couldn’t deny that. He was running a debt on chances already. He should’ve died back at school. He should’ve died back at the cafe. He should’ve died back in that alleyway.

“You know that, don’t you?”

“Asshole!” Rin cried. “Stop reading my mind! It’s creepy and I hate it!”

“I wasn’t,” Tegata protested softly. “That time, it was written on your face.”

The only thing written on Rin’s face now was his signature scowl.

“When I was treating you,” said Tegata, “I noticed stitch marking on your stomach.”

“Hang on, you stripped me?!” Rin hugged his chest.

“Yes.” The blank reply made it somehow even worse. “Did you have surgery?”

“Er, no— Well—”

“Then can you explain the stitch marks?”

“Uh, yeah. Stitch marks, from—” Plausible excuse, plausible excuse— He hung his head. “No plausible excuse…”

“On the way here, I sensed four signatures: two psyche users, two Rejected. The latter disappeared one after another, but yours fizzled out—only to restart. That was her ability, wasn’t it?” Tegata pointed over to the other side of the room. “Somehow, she brought you back from the brink.”

Rin strained his head over the inconvenient stack of boxes. There she lay, unconscious, breathing.

“Amibari!”

He pried himself from the bed, but the wound in his thigh made an eloquent counterargument the moment he applied any pressure.

“Don’t strain yourself,” Tegata chided, idly rubbing at his forearms. “She’s alive and stable, I’ve made sure of that. The head trauma she received was minor. Let her wake up in her own time.”

Rin sighed a little too loudly.

Tegata, now sitting down, folded one leg over his knee. He looked between them. “She means a lot to you.”

Rin stiffened. “Uh, who asked you?! Don’t put words in my mouth!”

“Have you known her long?”

He chewed his lip. “Fair while, yeah.”

“Is she very important to you?”

Rin couldn’t meet his eyes. Eventually, “as much as wanting to expunge my guilty conscience about someone who shouldn’t have been involved in this whole farce to begin with—sure.”

Tegata nodded. “I won’t pry.”

“More like you can’t, because I’ve removed the door!” Rin cackled. “Try peeking into my mind now, you nosy little—” It wasn’t worth finishing that.

“Trust me, I already know.” Tegata smiled sadly. “Keep her close. Look after each other. That’s all I’ll ask.”

“Where’s this from, all of a sudden?”

The ambient psychic energy began to crest and spike. Rin felt the hair on his arms stand up. “Okay, I get it! I won’t pry either, alright?”

Tegata nodded. “Your perception’s improving. You’re good at this.”

Rin grit his teeth. “I don’t need your flattery! What kind of—”

“Not flattery. I’ve seen kids take years to develop the kind of skills you’ve developed in just a few hours.” Tegata looked away, his focus burying itself in a distant corner. “They didn’t last too long, a lot of them.”

A sudden chill rippled down Rin’s back.

The worst idea when plunged into and thrashing around in the fantasea is to try and swim back to the shore you once knew. True empiricism meant adapting to the paradigm as it shifted, adjusting the worldview around knowledge gained.

Otherwise, you just drowned.

Drowning was not on Rin’s agenda.

As far as he knew, there was no other way to awaken to these powers without the Ascension Blade. He had only one half. Those gangsters—the man in the hat and that jacked hobo—were keeping his father hostage. The blade fragment gave off its own psychic signature. It only made sense that they, whoever they were, had tracked him down with the intent of completing their collection. Tegata seemed determined not to give him any straight answer as to his origins or motive so far. Conscious or otherwise, there was reason to that.

“I’m sorry.” Rin bowed his head. “You watched it happen, didn’t you?”

Tegata nodded.

“That’s horrible.”

“It was.”

Rin’s gaze roamed the floor for his schoolbag. His scan returned no results for all the clutter. “Where’s—”

“Here.” Tegata fished it out with a slight stretch and tossed it over.

Rin caught it, shuffling over to the edge of his canvas. Hooking a box over between them with one foot, he reached within and withdrew the Ascension Blade fragment. The blade clunked with a slight rattle, set down on the cardboard.

“I don’t need to look into your head to know what you’ve been through,” said Rin. “Whoever gave you those scars needs to be beaten to death with hammers.” He gave Tegata the most eye contact he had blessed anyone with in years. “You’re likely holding all of this back for my sake, I get it, but this is my business now. Those fuckers have my dad; they want this knife, and they’ll kill anyone to get it. They know you as well. I saw it all, just before you spirited us away to this dusty hovel.” Rin tapped the blade, and said, “I need you to tell me exactly—”

Kinuka startled with a yelp, ruining Rin’s monologue with perfect timing.

Canvas ruffled, the floor shuddered, as a figure rose sharply from supine. The girl stood far too quickly, bashed her on the sloped ceiling, yelped again, held her head upright as all the blood left her face, clutched at nearby boxes for balance, then froze on spotting the two of them.

“Rin! You’re okay!”

He gave her an unenthusiastic little wave.

“And who…” Kinuka winced on seeing Tegata’s face.

The scarred boy thinned his lips into an awkward approximation of a smile. “How are you feeling, Kinuka Amibari?”

She jumped a little at that, too. “How do you—”

“Hey, look at me!” Rin clicked his fingers. “Calm down; deep breaths; you’re okay; I’m okay; we’re okay. Just chill.”

She allowed herself to breathe. A full body shiver passed over her; a slow motion electrocution, first pass.

“Now—” He pointed— “Look at his forehead.”

Tegata’s third eye opened, gleaming.

“Now look at mine.”

So did Rin’s.

“Now, look at your reflection in the window.”

She had one too. She stared at it for a second.

“He’s a Psyche User, same as us,” he continued. “He can mindread. That’s something we can all do, apparently.”

“Oh, okay.” Her response was disappointingly flat. “Wait, hang on—” Blush climbed her face and the pressure gauge began to whistle. “Does that mean you—”

“He did.” Rin sighed, hanging his head. “Mine too—join the club.”

Kinuka shrieked and hid her face.

Rin cast Tegata a tired glance. “You’ve gotta stop doing that, man,” he chided. “Invasion of privacy—c’mon.”

“Er—sorry.” Tegata looked away, tensing his jaw. “It’s been a little bit since I’ve made contact with other people.”

Rin sighed. “Kinuka, it’s fine. Not sure what you’re so embarrassed about, but he’s cool. I’ll show you how to stop people peeking later. I’m super good at this whole Psyche thing already, don’t you know?”

She dropped her hands to cast a quizzical side-eye.

“You don’t believe me?!”

She rocked her head from side to side, before, “No, I do believe you. You’ve always been annoyingly good at everything.”

He cracked a smirk. “Jealous?”

A vein clenched. “Why you—”

“You two, please.” Tegata raised a sage hand, halting Kinuka’s hands inches from Rin’s throat. “Sorry for startling you, and for attaining your name without permission.”

She noticed how his eyes darted all over, constantly, even when it became very clear he was trying very hard to keep them still. Nonetheless, she made a thoughtful sound and folded her arms. “Apology accepted. You don’t seem the creepy sort, so I guess it’s fine.”

“Even when I look like this?” He asked, tracing a fingernail down the stitching on his face.

Kinuka huffed. “I’m a little offended you think I’m so shallow.”

“The fault’s mine, then. How are you feeling?”

Kinuka examined herself up and down, back to front. “Nothing’s missing, so I suppose that’s a good start. My head aches a little; I’m famished and exhausted—otherwise, fine.”

“That’s a relief.”

“You don’t have anything to eat, do you?”

He tossed her an energy bar. She nearly fumbled the catch, but seized on the wrapper and started gratefully devouring.

“You’ve both done remarkably well to cope so far,” said Tegata.

Kinuka smiled, cleaning her mouth. Rin rolled his eyes, so she elbowed him.

“I had just made my way out of the city when I detected your signatures, around the time those Rejected attacked. Your awakening sent a pulse unlike anything I had ever felt before. I just hoped I wasn’t too late. I can only cover so much ground.”

“Signatures?” She asked.

“Psychic signatures. Everyone has one, if you pay close enough attention.”

The cognitive field around Tegata pinged ever so slightly. Rin and Kinuka clutched at their heads, the myriad of colours overlaying their vision only briefly. Tegata’s outline was surrounded in a distinct white aura, from which ripples traversed the ether.

“I see it,” Kinuka remarked, awestruck.

“You were asleep until just now,” Tegata continued, “but Rin was just about to get the answers out of me you both need. I don’t know how much time we have left until they come back for you, so I hope you’re both ready.”

The pair perched on various items of furniture and made themselves as comfortable as possible.

“First of all,” Rin unfolded a finger. “Who the hell are you, and what do you want with us?”

“You already know my name, and my history’s pretty blatant.” Tegata crossed his arms. “As for yourselves, I need allies.”

“Why?” Kinuka asked.

“Do you know who attacked you in that alley?”

“Personally? No,” said Rin. “Dad didn’t mention them by name, but I knew his expedition had some kind of sponsor. It was his life’s research, this ritual.” He picked out his father’s notebook from his satchel and waved it around. The leather cover flapped against the motions like a bird trying to take off.

Tegata raised an eyebrow. “Your father researched the Excel Ritual?”

“News to me as of yesterday.” Rin nodded. “Sounds like the world’s leading expert, too. Egyptologist, deadbeat, you name it. He found the Ascension Blade fragment in some ancient tomb.”

“I wasn’t aware it had such history,” he admitted, “but it makes sense. If there was a second fragment to the blade, it explains how you were all able to undergo the ritual outside of the facility.”

“Facility?” Kinuka asked.

Tegata’s eyes steeled. “Does the acronym JPRO mean anything to you?”

A pause. Both nodded.

Rin rifled through the notebook until he found it. “Yeah, here. JPRO. The Japanese Parapsychological Research Organisation. They sponsored his expedition.”

“I’ve heard of them too,” Kinuka offered, chin in her palm. “They run psychiatric hospitals, right? I think I went to one of their clinics, back in Kyoto. Yeah, it rings a bell.”

Rin ogled her. “Hang on—you’ve been a mental case this entire time? That makes so much sense!”

“Quiet, you!”

Rin narrowly avoided the smack to the back of the head with a well-timed duck.

“On the surface, JPRO are a private psychomedical research firm,” said Tegata. “They have facilities across the country, and government contracts too. That’s a thin mask, though. In reality, they’re a supernatural death cult, intent on utilising the power of psychic energy to enact a new world order. They’re the ones that created those Rejected you fought; they’re the ones who sent the Glass Eyes after you.” Tegata paused. “They’re the ones who kidnapped your father.”

Rin nodded. “Figures. That bastard in the hat showed my dad chained to a wall in that freaky orb of his. From the way he reacted when you showed up, I’d wager you two have some history.”

Tegata nodded gravely. “His name is Hideyori Hakana, senior executive in charge of the Glass Eyes.”

“Wait, don’t tell me—” Rin snapped his fingers— “Support group for blind people?”

Kinuka didn’t miss him that time.

Tegata glared. “I’m glad you find it so funny.”

Rin wilted, nursing his head.

“The Glass Eyes are JPRO’s elite enforcers, all psyche users. You were unlucky enough to meet two of their most dangerous.”

“They would’ve killed us both had you not arrived,” said Kinuka.

Tegata didn’t confirm this—probably on purpose. “The company’s stratified like most other corporations. Most of their personnel are wrapped up in above-ground psychiatric research and care, fuelled by what goes on beyond the curtain.”

“Hang on, I’ve heard this wrap before.” Rin groaned, head in his hands. “It’s human experimentation, isn’t it?”

“It’s human experimentation, yeah.”

“Of course it is…”

“So, the Glass Eyes are the ones to actually dirty their hands,” Kinuka concluded.

“Hakana’s as dangerous as they come. It’s a miracle you survived, frankly. The mechanics of his Specialty are a close guarded secret—but those orbs are the crux. I don’t know how he does it, but he can be anywhere at any time, and seemingly magic anything he wants out of thin air.”

“Talk about overpowered…” Rin spun a frame in his hands. “All I can do is make these dumb squares…”

“And the other guy?” Kinuka asked.

“Meguru Yoha—another enigma. He acts lazy, but underestimate him and you won’t live long enough to regret it. I don’t know what it is about him, but everything just seems to go his way.”

“Sounds like you don’t know very much.” Rin folded his arms.

“Only about those two. That’s why they’re the most dangerous. The Glass Eyes are all incredibly capable psyche users, each hand picked for a purpose. If you ever encounter either of them again, just run. It doesn’t matter how much pride you’re wrestling with, that shouldn’t take priority over your life.”

Kinuka stared pointedly at Rin. The boy soured. “Out with it, princess.”

“I didn’t say anything.” She stuck her tongue out.

“Hey.” Tegata snapped his fingers. He may as well have jangled a pair of keys. “I hope I make myself clear. It’s not worth your life. That goes for most if not all of the JPRO Executives. Their strength and skill with manipulating psychic energy is far greater than you can handle at the moment.”

“Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence…”

“He’s looking out for us, you dolt!” Kinuka snapped. “Thanks. We’ll be careful.”

“Still doesn’t answer my question, though,” Rin paid her no mind—maybe to save face, “What’s your history with these people? You’ve exposited plenty save for anything concerning yourself. You haven’t even told us why your hair is pink!”
Kinuka concurred softly, “I was wondering about that too…”

Tegata had his mouth open to continue, before he sat bolt upright. His third eye burst open and twitched, the supernal organ darting around in its fleshy socket.
Rin and Kinuka cringed at each other.

“Ew…”

“Why is it doing that?”

Tegata stared off through the wall. “More Rejected. They’re nearby.”
Instinctively, Rin and Kinuka began tuning into the signature. The ripples weren’t far, but didn’t seem to be drawing any closer. When Rin opened his eyes, Tegata had opened the window and was climbing out. The side latch shifted. Freezing cold air flooded the loft.

“Wait!” Rin tried to stand, but his leg protested sharply. “Where are you going?”

“Stay there. I’ll be back soon.”

“You can’t fight those things alone!” Rin shouted. Every time he blinked, the horrific visages of the Rejected flashed behind his mind’s eye. “Are you insane?”

Tegata wasn’t listening. Soon, he had disappeared. Rin could feel his psychic signature growing further and further away by the second. What was that nutcase doing? Eventually he found the strength to grit his teeth through the pain, and hobbled over out of bed, approaching the window himself.

Follow him. Rin concentrated on Tegata’s essence. His third eye opened and resonated. He could feel the signature ping through the ripples, like how he had sensed the JPRO agents earlier. If Tegata was going to fight more Rejected, there was no guarantee he was coming back alive. They still needed answers! As much as his leg was killing him, he knew he had to follow. Rin already had one leg out of the window himself, when—

“What are you doing, Rin?” Kinuka watched him, horrified.

“I’m going after him.” Rin winced as his leg decided once again to make things difficult.

“No, you’re not! You’re not going anywhere with that leg injury of yours. He told us to stay put!”

Jumping up from the bed, Kinuka reached out for him. In a move that surprised her just as much as it did Rin, her hand unravelled itself into thread. The threads whipped forward, binding tight around Rin’s wrist, tugging him back towards her.

“What the—” Kinuka stared at her hand, shocked and amazed. Just like back in the café! The threads tightened, and she pulled.

“Let go!” Rin pulled back. “My leg’s fine!” He looked back out the window. “I need to get answers from Tegata before it’s too late.”

“Rin!” Kinuka pleaded. “That’s enough! You need to rest!”

He made a square frame with his other hand, cutting the threads that bound his arm and shaking himself free. Kinuka cried out. Her hand instinctively wound itself back into shape like elastic, and was now starting to bleed.

“Shit!” Rin bit his lip. “I didn’t mean to— Are you—”

“I don’t—” She choked back tears— “I don’t want you dying on me again! Please, just stay here. If there are more Rejected out there, it’s not safe. Wait until he comes back. We don’t know who this guy actually is, but he clearly knows what he’s doing if he was able to save us.”

Rin took a shaky breath, steadying himself. “Sorry, but I’m going. I can’t just sit here and let our only potential ally in this whole thing just go and get himself killed.” He tensed. “Sorry about your hand.”

Kinuka winced. Placing her hand back on the canvas sheet of her bed, some of the material unravelled into thread at her touch and danced through the air, weaving itself into a bandage over the wound.

It was just like the Seamstress had told her.

She stood. “I’m coming with you—and I’m doing something about that leg.”

Rin sighed, and hoisted the injured limb back through the window. Sat on the sill, he swung his legs like a child. “I hope you don’t expect me to just drop trow.”

“Uh, no.” She deadpanned. “Do you want a hole in your leg for the next three months?”

“You’re the one who wanted to fix it!”

“Do you?”

Sigh. “No, Amibari. No, I don’t,” he said as flatly as possible. “Please fix me. Whenever suits you.”

She knelt down and gripped his knee to hold it still. “Why don’t you call me by my first name anymore,” she mumbled.

Rin tilted his head to the side. “Really? This? Now?”

Kinuka placed her palm over the torn trouser material. Her third eye pulsed in her head. The black threads unwound, exposed the gauze and bandage. “You used to.”

“Years ago, yeah. We’re not kids anymore, Amibari.” Out of the corner of one eye, Rin watched her unravel the dressing and tear it aside. The hole in his leg hadn’t started to bleed, however. In fact, he could scarcely feel it at all. The surface of the surrounding skin resembled something akin to fine beige cloth.

Kinuka didn’t lift her focus once, tending to the deep hole. The layers cross-threaded over one another in rapid succession, layering, hooking and joining onto one another like wool. “You could try saying it just once. Just so I remember what it feels like.”

“Can’t you drop this already?”

Kinuka bit her lip. The hole continued to stitch itself shut under her hand. She worked the last few external sutures into place using threads from his trouser leg. Soon, the skin was flush and the wound was no more. What was more, she even repaired the clothing over the top.

“There. Fixed.” She slapped it, and Rin yelped.

“Ow! It’s still sore!”

“Good.”

“What kind of sadist are you?”

She glared at him. “Are you going to go through the window or am I going to have to push you? You were the one in such a rush.”

Rin stuck his tongue out. Climbing out and up onto the rooftops, the wind cruelly whipping at any exposed skin, Rin strode over to the edge of the building. Pointing out into the distance, he said, “I can feel it: Tegata’s signature is that way. There’s a park over there, likely where the Rejected are.”

“How are we going to get down from here, though?” Kinuka was trying her best not to look down. She had never suffered from a fear of heights, but this was taking it a little too far.

“We’re not. Watch.”

Doing his best to ignore the pain in his leg every time he applied pressure, Rin concentrated. Bringing his hands together, he made another frame. Rin spun the shape in his hands, before pinching the corners and drawing outwards. This enlarged the shape until it formed a platform large enough for them to both to stand on.

“Framework is the power of construction—” or so the Architect was so adamant on telling him— “I want to build a way for us to get over there.” He pointed off into the distance.

His first thought had been to make a bridge. If he was being real with himself, Rin didn’t think he could do that just yet. Too complicated. For all his arrogance, he at least thought he knew his limits. Right now, that was relegated to these squares—and variations of them. “I’m going to make a walkway for us all the way to the park. Just watch.”

Stepping back from the edge, he placed the enlarged frame a foot above the floor. Miraculously, it stayed there, hanging independent of gravity. Rin took a deep breath, and stepped up onto it. Even more miraculous, it held his weight completely. Kinuka gasped.

“That’s insane.” Rin stepped on and off of the frame a couple times more. “I thought that might be possible. Whenever I capture the frame, it solidifies.”
He didn’t think it’d actually work, though.

“Then, can you do it?” Kinuka asked, looking back at the still insurmountable distance the two had to cross.

“Of course I can.”

His confidence was astounding—or astoundingly stupid.

As though to prove himself, Rin made another large frame. Tossing it like a frisbee, the square sailed through the air only to stop a few feet from the edge. Rin jumped onto it and made a couple more. He looked back only when Kinuka spoke.

“Is this our only option?” The girl still looked hesitant. She had already cheated death enough times today. She had the sense to know that putting her neck in the lion’s jaw for the fourth time in a row and expecting to escape with her head still attached wasn’t the greatest idea.

“Any better ideas?”

Reluctant, she shook her head.

“Then come on!”

Kinuka took a deep breath and leapt onto the frame behind Rin. The two journeyed across the evening sky far above the city streets, using his impromptu platforming technique until the park was barely in sight.

The more frames he made, the more confident Rin felt. The shrill whistle of the wind in his ears, the way his skin shivered in the cold; the very fact he was running hundreds of feet above the ground, watching the cityscape sprawl underneath his feet. It was thrilling like nothing he’d ever experienced. Soon, the cold dulled even the pain in his leg as he began to run, throwing frame after frame, building his own way forward into the night.