31. The Prison

Tegata Kage, or part of him, had hoped he’d never see this place again. That part was horrible and selfish. Another part was swift to remind him of the promise he’d made that day: to save them, to save her.

In the heart of this lifeless steel labyrinth, the subject containment unit was a terrifying bastion. The circular tower stretched into the sky, windowless and grey. Not even the vibrancy of the discordant sky could give it any colour. It wasn’t just the buildings. The bleak menace crept up Tegata’s skin and drained all warmth from his face. He stared at his former home, and the prison stared back at him. The walls here all had eyes. The voices all reminded him of when he’d forgotten. He’d been able to suppress the fear thus far, though only just.

 The only thing that had kept him from freezing, ironically enough, was the searing hot adrenaline, and the threat of imminent death.

Tegata snapped himself out of his trance. He couldn’t fall victim to the tricks of this place, not after everything she’d taught him. How long had he been standing there, paralysed? Left with no time for an answer, Tegata whipped around as a section of metal wall behind him clanged to the floor.

“Can’t you do it a little quieter next time?” Kinuka winced, expecting the whole facility to descend on them any second.

“Well excuse me, princess,” grumbled Rin. “No pleasing you, is there?”

Kinuka slapped him.

Their bickering was practically music to his ears. Tegata felt his shoulders drop, as well as the slight traipses of a smile. “You’re both okay. Thank goodness.” 

“Course,” Rin snorted. “Nothing I couldn’t handle.”

“How’re the legs?” Kinuka asked.

Tegata smiled weakly. “Lighter with every step.” 

Rin’s brow furrowed. He shot Kinuka a glance.

“Tegata and I ran into the Glass Eyes, just like you did,” Kinuka explained.

“The Yoshine Brothers,” Tegata added. “Ever heard of them?”

“The murderers? I thought they were on death row.”

Tegata shook his head. “JPRO intervened.”

“Bastards.” Rin grit his teeth. 

“One of them, at least—the younger—is dead now. I made sure of it.”

Rin’s stomach did a slight lurch. They were both murderers, he told himself. They had it coming. “And your legs?” He asked.

“Got completely shattered near the end. Kinuka found me in a pathetic state afterwards; she fixed me up.”

Rin ogled at her in awe. “How the hell did you manage that?”

She grinned knowingly. Rin felt his eye twitch. She was doing that deliberately.

“What about your encounter with Hakana?” Tegata asked.

“Not just him,” Rin said. “Bango was there too—classmate of mine. JPRO recruited him, turned him against me. He’s… one of them now. Hakana stopped me from escaping, trapped us in some kind of arena. An advanced psychic technique, Arch said.”

“Mindscape.” Tegata inhaled through his teeth. It was a miracle Rin was still alive. That was good to know, though. It meant Hakana’s wasn’t lethal. “Really advanced. Even I can’t do that.”

“Yeah, otherwise you would’ve taught us.” 

Tegata sighed. “That’s the thing. Psyche isn’t taught, so much as it’s intuitive. Even if I knew, explaining to you how I do it wouldn’t help you. The mind of every psyche user is different.”

“Can everyone do it?” Kinuka asked. She remembered watching Hideyori Hakana perform the technique, the sigil he made with one of his hands, the orb held in the other. She’d been idly practising it during the conversation, and had thought she had felt something at some point. Then again, ever since Sasuki Yoshine’s illusions, Kinuka was never sure she could believe any of her senses ever again.

“No reason why not,” Tegata said. “You’ve both been to your further planes, right? In your dreams, maybe, or in meditation. That place exists in your own soul; it’s unique. Mindscape just brings that inner world into reality. That’s not easy, mind. The world we perceive, our inner world, is never the same as objective reality. If you try and superimpose one on top of the other, there’ll always be a clash.”

“Hence the need for a barrier,” said Rin. 

Tegata nodded. “Stabilising the border between incompatible realities is where the difficulty lies, I think. So, everyone will have a different method, and a different Mindscape.”

“Hakana didn’t seem very interested in fighting or stopping us,” commented Kinuka. She looked back over her shoulder, back at where they’d had an oddly civil conversation. “He seemed more intent on observing than anything else. I arrived just after he used Mindscape on Rin, but he didn’t attack me. Even after Rin won his fight against Bango, he didn’t try to stop us. He just… left.”

Tegata narrowed his eyes. Strange. “We need to get moving,” he said, turning back to face the tower. “This area’s been completely deserted, but we can’t afford to stay and wait for them to get back.”

“Is this the subject containment tower?” Rin asked. “Looks tiny. Sure you have the right place?”

“I was imprisoned here for ten years, Rin.” 

The boy withered under Tegata’s icy stare. 

“Let’s go.”

Tegata walked up to the tower, and into an enclave where a set of double doors lay. Only then, he stopped. The first steps were the worst, he felt. Once you were in danger, there was no chance for hesitation, no chance for fear. Either you moved, or you died. The adrenaline prevented the paralysis of thought. Tegata began to long for the imminent threat to his life to return. He knew this was only a brief lapse, but a single second had since lengthened into an eternity as he struggled to approach the door. Only then, he felt, would he find the strength to move his legs. 

Suddenly, he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“We’re right behind you.” Kinuka nodded.

A hand on his other shoulder. Rin’s. “We’re not giving up here.”

Tegata nodded, and with their help, took that last painful step towards the bliss of danger, and opened the door. 

---

What is strength?

Gus Ishimatsu lifted his hand from the railing he’d deformed in his grip. The metal creaked in relief. He raised his hand to eye level and clenched it. Psychic energy crackled around his fist, the faint outline of a gauntlet humming into view. The air around him became heavy, and his third eye throbbed. Gus sighed, relaxing his hand, but not his jaw. That tension he felt strain his muscles before every strike; that crackling of his psychic energy; the exhaustion he felt after every exertion: was that strength?

No. That was weakness.

Gus Ishimatsu surveyed his dominion. Even in the absence of sun, there was light; day was separated from night. The land into which he’d carved this facility, this grey monstrosity, was distinct from the endless sea of psychic energy that lay beyond. Tearing open the cracks in reality had exposed a new tangible essence, a world beyond his comprehension. It was here he had established his kingdom. Yet, even now, it was a hollow palace indeed. It served a use, yes. JPRO could not exist without bases of operation. However the concrete and steel represented nothing. Entirely hidden from the world, it was shallow, an empty proclamation. Standing at this point of vantage, ruling over this soulless world; was that strength?

No. That was vanity.

For Gus’ entire life, he had subjugated weaker men. Whatever petty shackles at their disposal, he had broken free without fail. Never once had he met anyone that could withstand his force of will; no-one that could pose a challenge. Gus had lived exclusively by the rule of the self. Nothing else existed beyond it, after all. He did not prey on the weak; he despised people who took pleasure from doing so. Domineering over others, crushing the lives, hopes and dreams of ants; was that strength?

No. That was cowardice.

True strength could only be demonstrated at the breaking point. When you could go no further, pushing past every limitation and achieving the impossible. By overcoming obstacles, clearing the roadblocks in your path; walls that would otherwise inhibit you from achieving your goals. The only measure of true strength was Overpower.

Gus had never faced an obstacle he could not overpower until now. You’d think him overjoyed. Finally, here was a test of true strength; a mighty roadblock to overpower. Gus grabbed the railing again with both hands. A vein clenched in his temple, his eyes bulging.

He was furious.

His present roadblock was not an obstacle in front of him, but a scourge on his soul. No matter what he tried, no matter how hard he persevered, nothing he did had any effect. He had been stuck behind this single roadblock for far too long.

 It called itself the Tyrant; it was his mirror match. A fighter just as strong, just as tenacious. Their first meeting had resulted in a fight that lasted days. Finally, both had worn the other down enough that a compromise—a contract—seemed the best option. In the years that followed, his soul had remained under threat. Ever-present, the Tyrant had sapped at his strength, biting his ankles like a serpent. It never intended to cooperate  with him, only usurp him; to use his body as a vessel. Thus, Gus was limited, and would continue to be so until he could complete the Ascension Blade, seize the power that was rightfully his, and free himself of this curse. Only then, would he have demonstrated true strength.

Footsteps from behind him distracted his train of thought.

“You had better come with good news.” Gus didn’t turn around.

Hideyori Hakana stopped a few metres away. “They’re showing promise, your little posse of intruders. They’ve just breached into containment.”

“They made it past your men, then?”

“Naturally.”

Gus tutted. “Even the strong I’ve selected are all nothing if not pitiful. Who did you send?”

“I sent the Yoshine brothers to track down Kage and the girl; Kanekuda’s dead.” Hideyori rolled his eyes; an annoyance. “Thought I might give Bango a go too. Something tells me you never intended me to stop them there.”

“Indeed.” Gus turned and stepped away from the railing, clasping both hands behind his back. “Again, I wanted to measure their potential. They don’t pose a threat, not yet. They’ll be no good to me if I don’t know their strength.”

Hideyori tipped the brim of his hat as Gus walked past. “Glad I got the right interpretation.”

Mounted on a wall of the man’s office, a large tank of tropical fish cast an eerie, shifting light over the adjacent walls, lights of ethereal hues casting strange shadows across the sparse, utilitarian furniture. Gus approached it, silent. He counted them, one by one. Seventeen in all. The man smiled. A good number; as it should be.

“Any further orders?”

“Keep watch over the situation.” Gus didn’t take his eyes off the fish. “No need to act further. The Warden should take care of things now they’ve made it into containment. This rescue mission of theirs will come to its end before long, I’ll make sure of it.”

“Would be a shame to spoil their fun.” Hideyori grinned. Retrieving another orb from his pocket, he gripped it in one hand and disappeared in the rapid vortex. 

Gus waited until the man had gone, before his shoulders sagged. What followed was a renewed wave of fatigue. A muscular spirit clad in intricate golden armour had manifested a few metres away. The ornate war helmet barely contained the oozing malice captured within.

“You are pitiful, Gus Ishimatsu.”

It was that dreadful scourge. Its voice was resonant like Gus’ own, made even more so by its hollow metal shell. A muscle in Gus’ jaw clenched. He turned, and met the gaze. “You’re still adamant on opposing me, aren’t you?”

The spirit didn’t back down an inch. “It must be humiliating to have to bear witness to these insects scuffle their way through your domain, unable to quash them with the strength you lack.”

Gus took a step forward, fists clenched by his sides. Dark eyes narrowed, his expression was carved into rock. “There’s nothing I’d enjoy more than to crush you between my own two hands, Tyrant. I am the stronger of us both, but you insist on sapping my energy with these relentless attempts on my sovereignty.”

“You will not be able to resist me forever,” warned the Tyrant, poking a stout finger into the man’s chest.

“My body is not a vessel for your failure of a self to inhabit,” Gus continued. “Try as you might to usurp me, there will be only one ruler.”

---

The expanse that opened from beyond those double doors was nothing they could’ve expected. The tower from the outside was only so large. Now, however, an entire prison complex stretched out before them. Kinuka muffled a shriek at the sight. Rin stared skyward, jaw loose. A long corridor descended into a distant darkness, as harsh lighting glinted off the iron bars of immeasurable, identical prison cells flanking them in rows on both sides. Continuing to stare up, Rin soon lost sight of the ceiling.

In the centre, a large brass statue of a man in armour, a metal monolith, stood locked in motionless victory. Its armour was imposing, but weathered. Each segmented plate was tapered to a wicked point, its helmet a pointed cone. 

“What on earth is this place—”

Only Tegata kept walking. “Let’s make this quick.” His voice was coarse, a whisper. Every muscle in him seemed to tense all at once. It was all he could do to stop himself from shaking. 

He did not want to be here. He did not want to be here. He did not want to be here. He did not—

“Where’s her cell?” Kinuka asked, striding up alongside him. “Your friend.”

Rin still lagged behind, staring up and around. “Are these cells all—”

“JPRO’s prisoners?” Tegata nodded. “All of them.”

He closed his eyes, focusing in on a particular psychic signature. No such luck. It was dim if there at all, and dulled out with interference from the other subjects. “I can’t find her. We’ll have to look around.”

“Why?” Rin asked. “Don’t you already know where it is?”

“The layout of this place has already changed since I was last here,” Tegata said. “It changes all the time. We’ll need to split up. Come here, both of you.”

They obliged. Tegata put a hand on each of their heads, as his third eye glowed. “This is her psychic signature. When you walk past her cell, you’ll know. Keep your presences hidden, or none of us will escape this alive.”

Rin’s eyes widened. A creeping presence had begun to settle on his shoulders. He looked, but nothing revealed itself. He shivered, and nodded. Something wasn’t stacking up, though. “Why just her?” He asked. “Aren’t we going to free all of them?”

Tegata looked away. “We can’t.”

“Why?” 

Tegata shot him another icy look. “Rin, just drop it!” He hissed.

Rin’s brow furrowed. A retort was on the tip of his tongue when Kinuka softened him with a touch to his shoulder.

“We just… can’t, not right now.” Tegata sighed. “You’ll see what I mean. Now, let’s go.”

They split in three different directions. Rin fashioned himself a series of steps, elevating himself to the fourth floor. Kinuka grappled with one arm to the second. With a quiet summon of his Spire Crane, Tegata flew to the seventh floor. There, they searched.

Something wasn’t right, Rin knew. This was a prison for psyche users, yet it seemed so ordinary. He would’ve assumed more would’ve been required to keep them imprisoned, but as he stepped past cell after cell, each time seeing the same sorry sight, the pieces fell into place. Restraining them wasn’t the issue, as there was no resistance at all. All the prisoners, the children, were different, but they all wore the same expression. Beyond the iron bars, the cells were empty: no bed, nothing of any kind. They were all near lifeless, slumped against the wall in a waking coma, empty eyes staring into nothing. 

What had they done to them? Rin felt his blood boil; he couldn’t take it any longer.

“Framework,” he whispered, and cut out the bars of one cell with a frame. He crept into the cell and crouched down. The creeping sensation he’d felt on his back only grew stronger.

The prisoner was nearly twice the size of him, twice as muscular too. He looked older than Rin. Scars lacerated a youthful face—a notable crucifix carved into his right cheek—as well as over what little Rin could see of the rest of him clad in that same grey jumpsuit. His hair was short and messy, a pastel blue. Black eyes were unfocused, and stared right through him. Rin shuffled over, put both hands on the boy’s shoulders, and shook him lightly.

“Come on, wake up!” He whispered. The boy didn’t budge, didn’t so much as bat an eye. Rin could feel the slightest trace of a psychic signature and, lifting the boy’s hair up off his forehead, a closed third eye. Rin tried again in vain, shaking him harder. “Come on. You’ve got to get out of here.” He kept going, his voice growing more and more desperate with every subsequent attempt.

There was no stirring him now. He may as well have been pleading with a corpse.

Rin bit down on his lip and rose. He understood now why this place felt so haunted to begin with. A thousand young souls held in suspension, robbed of their very wills and held in a chamber of stagnation. He turned and exited the cell, fists clenched so tight his fingernails drew blood from his palm. His psychic energy flared. He’d destroy JPRO. He’d tear it all down, every single piece. He couldn’t forgive this. There was no place for this cruelty in the world he’d always envisioned. He’d eliminate it if it was the last thing he did.

“Tegata.”

The boy turned to see Rin jump down off a platform. “Found her yet?”

He shook his head. 

“Keep looking. She has to be here somewhere.” Tegata turned and kept walking, only stopping when Rin put a hand on his shoulder.

“There’s something you need to tell us, isn’t there? About this place.”

Tegata refused to meet his gaze. Rin pressed the issue.

“Why all the prisoners are barely locked up, why they’re all comatose, and why the inside of this place is so strange.”

Tegata sighed. “Walk with me. We’ll look together. Once we find her, I’ll tell you everything. Deal?”

Rin didn’t want to say yes, but he had to. He and Tegata finished scouring the cells on the seventh floor before ascending to the next. Halfway along, Tegata inhaled sharply.

“That’s her.”

A small girl with a black bob lay tucked into the corner of the cell to their right. Rin moved Tegata aside. “I’ll handle this.”

He cut out the bars with another frame, just like he had done to the blue-haired’s cell.

Tegata rushed over and swept the girl into his arms. She didn’t react, didn’t so much as flinch, her blank gaze boring a hole through the floor. Even so, Tegata held her tight. Though muffled, Rin thought he could hear quiet sobbing. Rin stepped back and gave him some space, still holding onto the bars in his frame. The creeping feeling on his back mounted suddenly. Rin looked behind him and froze.

“Tegata. We’ve got to go.”

What had at first seemed just a statue had now begun to move. The armoured guard now creaked towards them as the mound of metal moved with purpose. A gigantic psychic pressure descended on them both. Tegata, carrying the girl over his shoulder, froze.

“The Warden.” His face turned white. “It’s awake.”

They then heard a voice from below. Kinuka’s.

“Some help down here, you two!”

The Warden had chosen her as its first target. The metal gargantuan broke into a run, every step echoing like thunder through the cavernous prison. Kinuka wasted no time, unravelling both arms and grappling away to safety. The Warden struck and missed her by inches, bringing its fist down hard in a shattering of concrete.

“Spire Crane!” A cry came from above. Tegata descended on the wing of his shadow bird, still carrying the girl’s body over his shoulder.

“You found her?” Kinuka asked.

Tegata nodded. “Eighth floor.” He landed beside her on the gangway and pointed ahead. “We need to get out of here. The Warden is what keeps all the prisoners locked up. No need to suppress their powers, when the prisoners have no will to escape.”

Kinuka ran alongside. “But how?”

Tegata looked around. “This place, it’s a Mindscape.”

“Like the one that Rin was trapped in?”

“Not quite. Remember how I mentioned the need for a barrier?”

Kinuka looked behind her. The Warden was gaining ground. “Make it quick!”

“The tower you saw outside is the barrier. By performing Mindscape inside an enclosed space, the ability can take effect without the need to separate. That’s why the inside of this place is so much bigger than—”

The Warden had reached them. It charged into the wall with a crash of metal on stone. One large hand swiped across the walkway, knocking Kinuka off the platform and catching Tegata in its grasp. The girl’s body slipped from over his shoulder and tumbled to the floor.

“I’ve got her!”

Kinuka, still falling, pulled herself to the floor with one arm. Weaving part of the floor into a net, she suspended it between two upright girders and caught the dark-haired girl. It might’ve been the lighting, but the poor girl looked like a ghost. Kinuka put a hand on her head, and felt the faint thrum of her psychic energy. Please be okay, she prayed. You mean everything to him. Please be okay.