Oboreru was silent for a moment. Any number of things could have been going on in his head. He could have been surprised, uncaring, or even expecting Eld to not know exactly what he did to merit Oboreru's need to take revenge upon him. It was barely even that anymore, too. Revenge was a strong compulsion, yes, but to a greater extent, it didn't often merit disregarding your own safety. If you were hurt too badly, you couldn't take revenge.

Kaze, too, was extremely curious about this. Her brother was so enthralled with the idea of killing Eld, stricken by some need to take revenge for something--but what? On one hand, Kaze wanted to know, if only to help calm her brother and help him get over it. On the other hand, she didn't want to know. Ignorance was bliss. Kaze was the perfect example of this logic.

"You . . ." he grunted.

Oboreru took a step forward. He jabbed his quarter staff into the ground again, a foot forward, and leaned on it as he took another step.

"Killed . . ." Oboreru took another step.

It was clear that walking was somewhat difficult. He had a broken foot, for one, and a fatigued body, for two. But he continued, pushing himself beyond the limitations of his body. And he stopped when he reached a distance of four feet from Eldridge Tsukimono, so close that Eld would be able to see every little stress line in the man's face. From a distance, he really did look his age--somewhere in the mid-twenties, a little older than Kaze. However, up close, it looked as if he'd lived through a hundred years of never-ending stress.

And at last, at this proximity, Oboreru hissed: ". . . my father."

Despite acting like a child, Oboreru was older than Eld by a decent amount--and the lines in his face spoke of experiencing far more than was warranted by his age. But he wasn't the only one who'd experienced more than his fair share of grief in his time.

Eld thought back; Oboreru had more or less said it was more recently than the bandits. Since then, there was only one person he was certain he killed, and another he left for dead and never found out if he died. But Sergei had not struck him as the type to have a family.

Dread started to form in his stomach; maybe it would have been better not to know. He could just deny it now and knock Oboreru out. Chances are he was mistaken anyway; the chances of either of those two being his father were so incredibly slim.

And yet he still needed to know; to act any other way would be lying to himself, and to both Oboreru and Kaze. "What was your father's name?"

Kaze's reaction was an entirely slow one. She barely comprehended her brother's words,

Oboreru responded before Kaze had the chance to question it: "Gestahl."

"Wh-what . . .?" Kaze reacted immediately, perhaps leaving Eld no chance to respond verbally; she went silent, however, but spoke up only after another second of thought: "Brother, that's impossible. I-- I mean, first of all . . . father can't be dead! I saw him just days ago! And second! And second--how could he even know father?"

"Shut up," Oboreru sneered, "What point is there for you to think? You cannot even remember the death of our father."

This was a blow to Kaze stronger than any sort of physical attack Oboreru might have landed on her. Still, though, she couldn't believe it. She couldn't remember her father ever dying. In fact, she last remembered seeing him back at home! How could he possibly be dead if she saw him so recently? The answer was simple: he couldn't. But still . . . something felt like it was bleeding, something deep inside of her.

Her heart.

Oboreru continued after only a second's pause: "Or our mother's unending grief . . ."

"But I would remember something like that! I'm telling you, I--" Kaze retorted quickly.

"You can't even remember your own name, Akizetsumei!" Oboreru cried, "Let alone this."

"N-no-- no, you're mistaken. I swear it!" Kaze retorted, before turning to Eld, "Tell him! You couldn't have even met our father. He's back home. Tell him how you've never met him!"

He wished Kaze hadn't been here; he wished she'd never found Oboreru, even if it meant fighting him on his own. If that had happened, maybe he wouldn't need to go through this. He wouldn't need to hear her plead for him to deny the allegations, and he wouldn't be forced to disregard her pleas...and probably break her heart.

"....No...he's right...I killed him," he said quietly. His memory of the fight was already growing fuzzy, but he still recalled that last moment--Gestahl, ready to open up the earth to swallow him alive, possibly swallow up Etsu and even Toushikyo if he didn't move.

"I didn't want to kill him." His voice was filled with desperation, not because he wanted Oboreru to forget his grudge anymore...but he didn't want Kaze (Aki...whatever it was?) to blame him. "But if I didn't he would have killed me...and worse, he would have taken someone very important to me, and used her like a tool."

He almost added that he would have killed Etsu as well, but in retrospect he doubted it. Etsu spoke as though she'd been treated well during her capture; in the end, it had likely just been a ploy to lure him out.

I see. He had a family. Do you think he was reaching for them, Master? In the end . . .

"What?" Kaze's voice was one of disbelief.

. . . no. Not Kaze. That wasn't her name.



"Akizetsumei, you must stay here."

Akizetsumei looked up to her father, standing in her doorway, with disbelief attacking her features. She was sitting on her bed with a pillow hugged close to her body. She barely understood why, but it felt like her heart was sitting somewhere in the pits of her stomach. It made her want to cry. The endless gray of her home didn't help, either. Her small, cramped room restricted her spirit within four walls. It forced her heart to remain put. She couldn't stand it. It caused her to cry.

But now, she could only feel inherent disbelief in her father's demand. To stay here, in this dead place-- to stay where her heart felt cramped and small.

"What? In this place?" she replied with a pout, "Why?"

"The living world is a dangerous one," replied Gestahl sternly.

Akizetsumei reacted with much dissent: "I know that. I can take care of myself, father. You know that better than anyone else!"

Gestahl nodded in agreement, but . . . "Yes, you are strong--but as you are, the living will only break your heart again. All of us who enter the living realm return broken--or never return at all."

"I . . ." Akizetsumei trailed off, "I-- I know. I know that. But it won't happen again, father. I promise I-- I won't let myself get so close to them anymore! I promise . . . I promise a boy won't break my heart again."

Gestahl stared at her for the longest time. "Akizetsumei," he said, "It breaks our hearts to see you cry. Your mother and I only wish for you to never need to cry again."



"N-no," Akizetsumei shook her head quickly, "No, you're just saying that! And-- and-- and it's a really bad joke! That's not funny at all . . ."

Eld didn't answer Kageko, but what he said to Oboreru would serve instead: "He wanted something from me so badly he would have killed me for it; he kidnapped a friend of mine, just to get me to fight him." Foggy thought they were, some of the details were coming back to him, prompted by his children.

"But...he also treated that friend with respect, and didn't hurt her. I don't think...he was a bad person. And in the end, his thoughts were on his family...I think he wanted to be with you. Maybe...he even regretted his decision."

He'd been looking at the ground for a long time, but he finally looked up at Oboreru. "Please, don't make the same mistake he did...don't throw your life away in fighting. Cherish the family you have left."

He glanced sadly at Kaze--that was what he knew her by, even if it wasn't her name. What would he say? He was usually good with words, good at getting his heart across to people, but there was nothing that could possibly salvage their friendship. He'd killed her father; even if she somehow didn't hate him, she'd never again be able to look at him the same way.

In the end, he could only speak two words: "I'm sorry."

And then he turned away and started to leave. It took all his effort not to run; he wanted nothing more than to flee, but he'd never outrun the dread in his gut, nor the sorrow, the regret, or the despair.

It was too much. How was he supposed to deal with something like this? He should never have had to kill in the first place. To look at these two, these children of a man he killed...it was too much for him to bear.

"No . . ." Oboreru replied, downcast, "I am my father's son. I'll fight . . . I'll fight until I drown and can fight no longer. So run, coward-- run . . ."

Eld's admittance of his crimes filled Oboreru with a new kind of tension. Somewhere, deep within his heart, he must have wanted Eld to deny it, to allow him the opportunity scream at him in rage, and part of him wanted to do it anyways, but his emotions changed just as quick as he had the urge, and he reverted to a hateful, seething existence. He felt much like his brother did. It was a surreal kind of feeling--but it was also a satisfying feeling.

Akizetsumei, on the other hand, could not speak. She stared at Eld with a furrowed brow and parted lips. It was as if she wanted to speak--in fact, she did. There were millions of things she could have said right then and there, but none of them came out. None of them felt right. All fought each other to vie for the right to exist, and not a single one of them won.

Between his teeth, Oboreru growled at Eld: ". . . but know this, Eldridge Tsukimono. You have only yourself to blame, when the hurricane cometh."

And with this, he turned away. Away from Eld, away from Akizetsumei. He planted his quarter staff into the ground a foot ahead of him, and leaning on it as a cane, he walked onward, on to the east, on to the supply of water he felt so naturally drawn to, the lake Etsu Hikane frequented when she had the opportunity to fish and where Eld and his friends went swimming when they had the opportunity to swim . . .

. . . leaving Akizetsumei alone, still staring ahead, broken in disbelief--broken, and unable to comprehend the current of emotions that were suddenly stirring her heart into a storm.

I never asked for this.

He didn't acknowledge Oboreru's veiled promises of revenge. He stopped himself from looking back. Doing either would only bring more pain.

I didn't want all this power.

Despite the green around him, the forest felt as devoid of life as Purgatory. Any animals in the area had long fled from the conflict. The only sound that reached his ears was the crunching of vegetation beneath his feet.

I just wanted to protect my family, my friends.

As he trudged on, his footsteps became slower and heavier, and he began to get short of breath. It was as though something was weighing him down.

I never...wanted to hurt anyone....

By the time he reached the edge of the forest, exiting near the Vaerbond ranch, he could hardly move. A few steps out into the field and he collapsed.

In the same way his Qi could overflow when he was tremendously angry, so could it turn the other way and draw further into himself when he was depressed. The result was a crushing sensation, pain that spread throughout his body. It had happened once before, and while the circumstances were less extreme, it was also a time he'd broken the heart of a friend...

Master, don't blame yourself . . .

But, unfortunately, whenever Eld was particularly sour to any extreme, either horribly depressed or enraged beyond belief, he and Kageko did not sync well together, 'less she herself was in a downtrodden state of some sort--and currently, she was not. As much as she wanted to try and feel the same things Eld was, she couldn't help but think about other things--everything else that was on her mind otherwise, and the current situation. Namely, the threat issued by Oboreru. It sounded far too convincing to be idle.

This left her voice to be a distant echo in Eld's mind--ignored.

Eld, on the ground, would experience the wet sensation of mud against his body--mud swallowing up his form, as if the earth was trying to take revenge, to bury Eld like Gestahl once planned to. But it was not to be the case. Eld had simply collapsed onto the wet earth, wet from the rain that was quickly escalating into a downpour, one that progressively turned a clear blue sky to a sullen blackness in the hour long dismal retreat of Eld's back to Hillcrest village.

Already, the village was soaked.

Master . . . please . . ., Kageko tried to get his attention again--perhaps for the umpteenth time.

Who am I, Kageko?

It was something he'd never really considered until now. It wasn't that he was simple, that he didn't think about what he did. But he'd always felt that no matter what happened, he'd remain true to himself. But now he wasn't so sure.

Am I a good person, because I try to avoid killing? Or am I bad one because I end up killing anyway?

Remmy would have known what to do. He always did; even as Eld racked up his kills against the bandits, Remmy hadn't killed a single one. He'd broken bones, dished out plenty of bruises no doubt, but in the end he could have honestly said his hands were clean.

The bandits were starving; their perverted leader aside, they just wanted food for themselves...maybe for families. Gestahl had wanted the scythe because he thought it would help his family. Was Sergei right? Was the world just plain better off without him?

Am I human? Reaper? Fragment?

Or am I just a killer?

You are . . .

Kageko trailed off. Her thoughts were a jumble, and she was starting to experience that smell again. Moisture, too. She was experiencing that just as well--as if it were raining in her world, too. Was it Eld? Was Eld so close to the darkness of her heart, the only heart she had, that he could change the makeup of her personal world with just his feelings alone?

It was darker when he was down, but never before had it rained when he was trapped in a pit of self loathing.

Kageko thought, when she began to reply to Eld, that she'd have a long exposition about him and his place in the world, but in the end, there was only one way to conclude what she began to say:

. . . Eldridge Tsukimono.

Were a god out there that could see all, omnipotent--viewing the actions, thoughts, and feelings of all these people from above, that god might have discounted Kageko's response as pure naivety on her part. That god might well think that she simply didn't understand Eld's question, and responded to it in the most literal of ways-- that she wasn't capable of profound thought in the first place, as nothing more than a monster that ascended to conscious thought and attained a sleek, slender, and aesthetically pleasing form.

And indeed, that all seeing eye might be right. Kageko was an ascended monster. She survived, before she was trapped, by eating human flesh. Already, then, she had ascended to this form and this ability to think for herself--and yet she still ate human flesh. Why? Because she needed to eat to live. Killing, for her, was a means of surviving. This was a fact of her life which she could not discount. She might not ever discount it, in fact. Sometimes, for one creature to continue existing, another creature had to die.

That was simply the way of the world. Kill to live. Even if you weren't outright cutting a man down simply so you might have the right to continue breathing, to grasp your own fortune was to plunge another into misfortune.

Empathy was beyond Kageko's list of abilities. Those that died . . . died. They were not strong enough to continue existing. They were devoured by the darkness. They were devoured by the darkness, because the darkness was a sentient, living thing, and sentient, living things needed to eat.

The most important fact, however, was actually beyond that. The all seeing deity might have taken that all into consideration, even. Yes, Kageko was a monster. Yes, she thought like a monster. No, that did not mean that all monsters were evil. Of course the ever vigil eye might see this. But what the ever vigil eye might not see-- what only Eld himself might understand--

Was that Kageko used his name.

Eld's initial reaction was not in words, either spoken or deliberately thought. It was akin to a mental exclamation mark, a sudden grabbing of his attention. Throughout their entire relationship (defining it in more specific terms proved impossible most of the time) she had always only referred to him as "Master." It made him uneasy at first, bringing to mind images of slaves and servants, neither of which he particularly wanted. But she insisted, and over time he became accustomed to it.

Using his name for the first time ever, he felt like there was a small distance that closed between them, one he had not even noticed until now. Having access to many of his thoughts, Kageko knew him better than perhaps anyone. She could easily have just accepted him as a kind "Master," one who treated her reasonably well and was therefore acceptable.

But she didn't; she treated him like an individual, someone irreplaceable in her life, not just because of his position of power over her, but because of who he was. He wasn't entirely who that was still, but apparently it was someone acceptable in her eyes...likable, even. For now, he'd just have to put his faith in that.

"I guess I am," he responded at last. He opened his eyes; it had started raining at some point, and the ground he was on had turned to mud. He shivered, cold and wet--for all the power he gained he was still as vulnerable to the elements as anyone.

Slowly, he pulled himself up. Ick. He was all muddy; he was going to need another bath. With a small sigh, he started for home.

Thank you, Kageko.

It was difficult for her to respond to another's thanks, especially Eld's. Kageko felt she was doing Eld a service more often than not, and should instead be grateful for the fact that she could help him--rather than him being grateful that she helped.

So, she didn't respond at all. Instead, she smiled somewhat. Kageko was just glad she could be of service to Eld, even if that service was simply telling the truth.

By the time Eld finished his bath and returned to his room (alone, as Etsu and the others were still at Sarah's--still, it wasn't quite evening, it was late afternoon at best, and Etsu probably wasn't coming back home until dark), it was still a downpour outside. The sky was a dark, almost a sinister gray, and the ground was covered with a thick gray mist, giving it the same look as the dead world, with the rain drowning out color throughout the village of Hillcrest.

It looked almost exactly like the dead world, in fact.

It was still raining in Kageko's world, too. Not nearly as much, but it was--and something else. It was a different kind of rain.

Master, she referred to him as "master" again, but that wasn't too big of a deal. Right now, she wasn't trying to describe him, Does the rain smell strange to you?

Granted, Kageko had very few memories of rain, but what she did have, the rain didn't have any sort of smell to it . . .

In a fit of justified paranoia Eld had kept Kageko nearby while taking a bath; he doubted he had to worry about Oboreru anytime soon, until he recovered from his wounds, anyway.

When he was done, he couldn't help but marvel slightly at the weather. If it weren't for the fact that everything was still in color inside he might have thought he'd someone gone to Purgatory. It made him worry slightly; had Kaze found some shelter? Part of him wanted to go look for her, but...what would he say? "I know I killed your dad, but I'm worried about you, you should come inside?" Somehow he doubted that would go over well.

He felt helpless; all he could do was wish her well and hope she moved on with her life.

"Hmm?" he said aloud to Kageko, having been distracted by his thoughts. "Umm...not that I noticed. Humans don't have a great sense of smell though."

Oh . . . Kageko trailed off, I suppose so.

Whatever that meant, perhaps no one would know. Maybe Kageko was under the impression that humans could smell just as well as she could? Truth be told, not many could experience any sense as well as she could. Smell, sight, hearing, touch, taste--she was hypersensitive to it all. Loud noises made her ears hurt. Once upon a time, Eld raised his voice in surprise whilst he was in her world, and she recoiled away from him in visible pain. The slightest touch could feel like an anvil laying against her if one wasn't careful, and anything beyond a dimly lit room made her feel blind to the world.

As such, if Mayako were to prepare a stew of any sort, Kageko would have probably been able to pick out every single individual ingredient by smell and taste alone.

This went without saying.

However, this also meant that a strange smell, to her, was likely to become a curiosity to anyone that knew her well enough.

It smells strange.