Sunspot

 

“How is it?”

“I’d rather the crutches, I think.”

Ebi pulled me to my feet, or rather just my foot, hesitant as I was to put weight on the prosthetic yet. The wheelchair was comfortable and motorized, but I hated being at waist-level from both a practical and emotional standpoint; it was hardly an upgrade to being carted around on the bed. In some ways, it was worse, since the bed at least carried an assumption that it was temporary, whereas the wheelchair felt much more long-term, even if that wasn’t necessarily the case. The crutches let me pretend at some independence and mobility.

We had retired to the plush and somewhat-scattered sitting area in the penthouse’s main space. Amethyst had re-mantled with a fizz-pop and some minor ripple that left my throat dry and was sitting rather prim and proper—Ebi had helpfully informed me it was called seiza, legs folded under her—upon the largest pillow I had ever seen. Opal sat next to her at the low table, a laptop before her, trying to schedule me into their life. She typed idly as Ebi helped me fit the crutches to my height.

“One of us should take you to Tochou tomorrow. You didn’t come into the country through…normal means, so we have to do some immigration paperwork and get the ball rolling on registering you with the Bureau. We can hit some other day-one things—showing you how to use the subway, things like that. I’d also—well, how does that sound? Do you feel up to it?”

Part of me just wanted to huddle in my room, having had more than enough adventures for a while. But it was easy to imagine how that documentation was relatively urgent. Satisfied with my balance, I dismounted the crutches, and Ebi helped me back to a sitting position across from them at the table.

“I think so? If it’s just paperwork.”

“We’ll try to keep it short, yeah. Tokyo is a city that sort of demands a lot of walking, and I don’t want to drag you all over until your foot has had a bit longer to heal. How’s it looking, Ebi?”

“Healing well. Doesn’t need more intervention for a few more days, as long as you don’t put too much pressure on it.”

“Good, good. Schedule is a bit…tight—I have a thing with the merch people at one—but I could definitely take you in the morning.” She typed into the laptop to alter the schedule before lowering the screen to look at me. The tip of her tail waved lazily, probably involuntarily.

“I don’t want to overload you with things to do right now, so we’ll figure out the rest as we go. The only other thing is—oh.” She pulled out her phone. “Contact info.”

That—well, that just made sense, didn’t it? I took out my own phone, glancing at Amethyst, wondering whether she’d participate in this little social ritual. The mecha-ness of her mantle teased at the idea that maybe she had some kind of readout or internet connection and didn’t need a separate device—but she just produced a phone from pocketspace, catching it with her surprisingly dextrous, flowing fingers. It had a purple case to match her gemstone form and was thoroughly sticker bombed with hearts and other icons. Opal’s was decorated with more restraint: her team’s symbol in a shiny holographic blue, shimmering like my tattoo did, adorning an otherwise-white case. They had their aesthetics all figured out. By contrast, my phone had a simple black case, inconspicuous as could be. Ebi looked at it.

“We should get him a Japanese SIM card. Actually, a whole new phone, maybe. What’s that from, 2016?”

It was, in fact. It was my fifteenth birthday present, and I’d never really had the cash or interest to get a better one. Opal peered at it as well.

“Oh, I didn’t even…you’re right. And then the phone number will change, so…Ezzen, what do you have attached to that phone number? A bank account? Anything else?”

I was still getting used to being called by that name.

“Yeah, but there’s not much in it. It’s, um…I guess mostly two-factor authentication.”

That’d be a pain to switch over across all my various accounts online, especially considering that I no longer had my PC as my fallback device. Getting locked out of the forums wasn’t a concern because I could just ask Sky—well, once we made up—but it could still be a real headache on other sites. I used a central Google email for many of my accounts, and losing access to that by accident would be a major headache.

Amethyst asked Opal something, who thought for a moment, replied, and then turned back to me. “Amane’s pointing out that your LINE account would also be tied to your phone number, so we should wait for that until after we get you a new phone. Still—”

She showed me her phone number, and I dutifully copied it down. Different format than what I was used to; Tokyo numbers seemed to go 03-XXXX-XXXX. I made new contact entries. Name: Alice Takehara, number type: mobile, workplace: Todai. What a strange version of reality I found myself in. I then had to perform the always slightly embarrassing task of confirming the number was correct with an initial message.

Dalton: Test.

Alice: Hello

I did the same with Amane.

Dalton: Test.

Amane: よろしくね

With rudimentary contact info shared—I was already in contact with Ebi via the chatroom—Opal decisively closed her laptop all the way with both hands, a soft whump.

“I’m not touching any more work tonight. It’s a holiday. Let’s show you to your room and get you set up.”

Back onto the crutches. The Radiances took the stairs, but it was back to the elevator for me and Ebi; there was just one flight, but braving the stairs with the crutches was…just no. When we disembarked, I was a little surprised that the door that opened was the opposite one from which we had entered—it was obvious why as I reoriented myself. The balcony terminated at the elevator shaft, so coming out the way we had entered would have been something like a four-meter fall down to where we had first disembarked onto the 19th floor.

The second level was indeed where the Radiances’ individual rooms were. They were arranged in a U-shape around the perimeter of the space, about a dozen rooms in total. Maybe that was future-proofing for cases like mine; it was just too much space for this few people. The space in the center of the U, where the elevator spat us out, held a second large lounge area full of more beanbag chairs, low tables, and the like. The ceiling above held a projector, although it wasn’t obvious where the screen was.

The doors to each room were curious, because not every Radiance lived alone. Sapphire had her own room, furthest to the left of the U, clearly marked with a…clip-art of a sapphire printed onto a sheet of paper taped to the door. The next was a double door, marked with more professional-looking graphic posters of Opal and Amethyst. They lived together, it seemed, the entrance large enough to accommodate Amethyst’s size when mantled. I refrained from comment, but the way they had been holding hands—hmm. Well, good for them. Next was Emerald, who had a digital readout on her door confirming that she was currently in her lab in the basement. Last, Heliotrope, whose door had a big handwritten sign on it that I couldn’t read: 獣の方には立入禁止. Ebi said something to Opal, who bounced the observation to me.

“You can’t read that, I assume?”

“No.”

“In that case, short lesson. You’ll see that sign all over construction sites and train stations, so it’s a useful one to know. It says ‘keep out’. More literally ‘entry forbidden’. Tachiiri kinshi.”

Ebi elbowed her. “The punchline, Alice.”

Opal sighed. “Kemono no kata ni wa tachiiri kinshi. ‘Beasts keep out.’”

Amethyst made a glassy noise that I realized was a snicker. I eyed the sign, understanding who it was intended for. 

“That…works? Against her?”

“If you’d believe it. Like I said, boundaries. Want one?”

I had trouble believing a flimsy piece of paper would stop the hyena from going where she pleased—unless the theory that she was some kind of fairy held water and she actually couldn’t enter without permission. But that was overly superstitious, surely—I was trying to talk myself down from the idea that she was this unstoppable force that necessitated arcane rituals to defend against. She was terrifying, without a doubt, but she was also just a pretty girl, not as much of a monster as my gut was telling me; I had to believe that if I was going to be sharing a space with her. I answered Opal with a noncommittal shrug.

My room was next in sequence after Heliotrope. Amethyst was simply too big to fit in the door, opting to remain outside with a wave. Better that than to drop her mantle even temporarily, it seemed. Ebi opened the door and ushered me through with the straight-backed precision of a maid—undercut by a wink that belied the theatrical silliness of the gesture. I limped through on my crutches and into my new home.

The doorway led into an entirely empty room: hardwood floor, white walls, a window on the far side with the blinds pulled, about the same size as my whole apartment back in Bristol. No furnishings at all—had they forgotten to give me a bed? Then I saw the archway in the left wall and had an extremely strange moment of dissonance—I simply couldn’t conceive that there was more apartment than this. My whole life as ‘Ezzen’ had effectively been in that one box; a living space larger than that harkened back to before. Before Dad had died, before magic had come to the world.

I shook it off after a moment and ventured through the archway, which led to the bedroom. A queen-size bed lay centered against the far wall in modest white linens, hotel-like. Atop it sat my backpack and my laptop next to it from when Ebi had exchanged it for the wheelchair earlier. The wall to the right of the bed was floor-to-ceiling windows—no blinds on these, so I had a view of the now-dark skyline, buildings glimmering with lights.

Ebi followed me in, helpfully answering the unasked question.

“The panels can dim.”

This building wasn’t the tallest one around, not by a long shot. Some of the others nearby were easily twice or thrice as high. The city stretched as far as I could see, until the sheer density of buildings blocked my sight further. There were a lot of cranes, some extending up toward us from ground level where others perched atop vast girders of scaffolding and structural steel, erecting the skeletons of skyscrapers-to-be. Lights twinkled in the dusk, blue from the buildings’ windows, yellow from the streets, and a whole rainbow from signs of shops at street level. I hadn’t been in a city that purported such scale since the last time I had been in NYC—nine years ago?

And I still got the sense that I was only seeing a sliver of it. The map Ebi had shown me earlier had asserted that Tokyo Tower was somewhere out there, to the south; I couldn’t see it past the jungle of obstructions. I could see the scar in the sky, though, above where the bay must be. It was a fuzzy-edged thing of yellows and greens against the darkening blue shades of the sky, catching the last of the sunset’s light on its underside.

Returning my focus to my immediate surroundings, it seemed I had a balcony. It was on the side of the window-wall closer to Heliotrope’s room, and ambling over to it, I saw that it was adjacent to her own balcony covered in what potted plants could stand up to the winter. Getting closer to the window was a bit of a mistake—I turned away before the altitude could catch up to me, surveying the rest of the room.

Against the wall with the first room sat a respectably large desk and a reasonably comfortable-looking office chair. Adjacent to it was a bookshelf that practically begged for notebooks. Meanwhile, the wall opposite the window had a frosted glass door that presumably led to the bathroom.

With the full scale of my chambers and the city beyond established—I returned to being boggled. Wasn’t everything supposed to be smaller in Japan? Opal followed us in.

“Big enough?” She sounded a bit nervous.

“Big—yeah, big enough.”

Honestly too big—both the space and the city. The room seemed desolate with its lack of decoration. I missed my posters. And my PC. Opal followed my gaze to the desk.

“Oh! We’ll give you a furnishing stipend. Technically, I can’t do that until we’ve gotten you actually signed up as an employee, but…” She looked at Ebi. “I’m authorizing you to use my card. Don’t overdo it?”

It sounded more like a question than a command. Ebi nodded with a grin. “Shopping. Love shopping. Would love it even more if I got to go out and do it someday.”

Opal replied to that with a good-natured shake of her head—then froze. At the same time, a spike of pain ran through my stump. Ebi exited the room so fast I thought she had vanished for a moment, until the whoosh of air caught up to me. Opal pursed her lips.

“Shit. I think Amane is—”

A wail pierced my chest. The voice was human, not tinkling gemstones—and carried an agony too familiar to me by half, far more intense than the momentary burst of sharp discomfort I had experienced. Opal’s tail lashed in response as she glanced back toward the entrance.

“Um. This is somewhat regular for her. Residuals. I was hoping—well, it’s not serious, I think, but—” Another piercing wail and a ragged gasp. We both flinched. “Can you do without Ebi for tonight?”

I nodded as the spike passed. My prosthetic’s analgesics were taking care of it—the same could not be said for Amane, apparently. This wasn’t serious? I felt I should do something more, and limped back into the anteroom to have a look. Opal came with, chewing her lip. I hurriedly ditched the crutches, leaning onto the doorframe as I pulled the door open.

It was bad. Amane was back in her flesh form, curled up on the floor, clutching her stomach. Ebi knelt next to her and had rolled up Amane’s hoodie, which revealed the patchwork of scarring around her belly. One of Ebi’s hands had morphed into some kind of IV unit and connected to a port implanted in the Radiance’s midriff—I shouldn’t be seeing this. I averted my eyes as Opal pulled the door open further and slipped past me toward her teammate—her girlfriend? Not the time. She turned back to me just outside the threshold, apologetic and a little awkward.

“I’m sorry about this.”

“No—don’t worry, it’s fine, really, I get it. Um—if I can help…”

I trailed off, because there wasn’t a lot I could do other than commiserate. But Opal’s expression softened. “You might. Not now, but…well, we’ll talk more about it later.” She turned to approach Amane, comforting words halfway out her mouth—

Amane sat up partway, propping herself up on her mechanical elbow, and hissed something at the two of them through gritted teeth. Opal hesitated, looking between me and her, and stepped aside from where she had surreptitiously placed herself to block my line of sight to her teammate’s exposure. Amane met my eyes.

“Tachinasai. Stand up.”

“Um—what?”

I parsed the words, at least the English ones—I just didn’t get it. She muttered something to Ebi, who sighed and pointed at my prosthetic foot, which I was still gingerly holding above the floor as I leaned against the doorframe.

“Put the weight on your foot. Humor her.”

I wasn’t sure what they were getting at, but I complied, bracing for pain. My arm tensed against the doorframe. First the toe, then the heel—a small jolt of residual pain made me flinch. I hesitated again—braced myself as I put weight on it. The pain was more of a throb than a sharp spike, so it wasn’t too bad once I settled my weight more.

Amane nodded seriously. With trembling limbs, she carefully maneuvered herself more upright, and Ebi came in to support her and bring her to her feet. Despite how her hand trembled as she brushed the hair out of her face, despite the pain behind those viridian eyes, one original and one facsimile, despite how she couldn’t even stand under her own power—or perhaps because of those things—I got the message.

We’re not made of glass. It transcended spoken language. She wanted me to know—I took my hand off the doorframe slowly. My balance was shaky, but this mattered in some ineffable way. The moment dragged on a bit, a little awkward—Amane managed a smile, tight with pain though it was. Opal shook her head a bit, somewhere between pleased with the connection and exasperated by her teammate’s bullheadedness, and came to her other side. She stroked her hair with what sounded like a gentle scolding for the stunt before turning back to me.

“Um—I’m sorry. She’s going to need care for the rest of the night—if you need something, text me. Depending on how tonight goes, this might interfere with tomorrow, so…well, we’ll figure it out in the morning. Good night, and, er, sorry again for how sudden this is.”

The dragon gave me a hurried bow, ever-formal in her mannerisms if not her language, and swept up her teammate in what looked to be a well-practiced princess carry. That didn’t look very comfortable for the sickly girl—but Opal was far stronger than her size suggested, and it wasn’t far back to their room. Ebi followed them, and the three vanished beyond the threshold three doors down. My phone buzzed. I went back to leaning on the doorframe and hop-stumbled my way back to my room, following the walls for support, before flopping face-first onto the bed as I pulled out my phone.

ebi-furai: she’ll be alright

ebi-furai: thanks for respecting her

ezzen: Wouldn’t anybody?

ebi-furai: well, you saw opal

I had. In fairness, I’d be worried too—and there was a long history there, and I felt sort of guilty for having witnessed it…but Amane had wanted me to see. It wasn’t just that she was tough.

There was also the question of what had generated that first ripple. I’d find out later.

I laid there for a little while, just processing the new space, smelling the fresh sheets. My foot had stopped hurting, at least, no longer aggravated—I was still cautious of it as I reached for my backpack and began to rummage. I wasn’t going to distract Ebi with worrying about furnishings for now, but I had might as well make myself at home with what I had.

—

I had never really learned to cook. Or at least, nothing fancy, nothing for fun. I knew simple dishes, stuff that was a more efficient use of my welfare money than takeaway, but I had never had the cash or interest to take it up as a hobby. This stood in stark contrast to my dad, who had been a chef of sufficient renown to take him, and me, across the world. He had gotten me my own chef’s knife of respectable quality for my twelfth birthday and taught me basic knife skills and preparation techniques. He had been intending to teach me as much as he could.

Other than possibly the notebooks—depending on how you valued them—the knife was the most expensive item in my backpack sans the laptop, and I had brought it with me as much for the pawn-value-to-weight ratio as for the general utility and self-defense options it offered. In the moment, sentimentality had been secondary to survival. Seeing as how neither survival nor money were an issue anymore, I was now faced with the strange task of deciding where the knife and its siblings fit into my new life.

The backpack was the only thing they had managed to recover, having been on my person; the PCTF had beaten Todai to my apartment, and Opal had decided that they had already poked enough bears. My laptop’s fate had been a no-brainer; it was already on the nightstand, though for want of a charger—Japan used different power sockets than the UK. The notebooks, too, had already found a home on the otherwise-barren bookshelf, which had taken me an awkward, limping journey across the room. I had left the crutches at the door—didn’t feel like acknowledging them in the privacy and security of my own room, even though it was awkward to move around.

Amane had somewhat inspired me, anyway. I embarked on a limited exploration into the bathroom when the need had arisen, discovering with equal parts embarrassment and relief that it had been furnished with a fair number of handrails—how thoughtful. It also had a real bath, separate from the shower, and a sophisticated toilet with rather too many buttons; everything about the furnishings in here was multiple levels more expensive than what I was used to. I still hadn’t quite shaken the impression that I was in a fancy hotel—a more familiar setting from my childhood than any kind of permanent living situation this opulent and spacious.

I washed my hands, leaning on the countertop to keep my balance. I didn’t look great according to the mirror—a cursory rinse of my face felt good but didn’t improve matters. That was fine, even familiar; though part of me wanted to look a bit more presentable in front of the girls, that was hardly a problem for tonight. Toweling off my face, I realized belatedly that I should have brought over the toiletries that had been in my backpack. Whatever; again, no hurry, and my moisturizer traditionally lived near my clothes rather than in the bathroom anyway.

The journey back to the bedroom was a little fraught, once again following along the wall. My gait had improved ever-so-slightly with the marginal bit of practice, but it was still more of a hopping limp than anything resembling a proper walk. I returned to the bed and looked over the remaining items that had yet to find a home while I said good morning to the American members of the chatroom starting their day. That aspect of the change in location would take some getting used to.

I looked out the windows again, reflecting on both my literal reflection and the larger cityscape. Night had fallen proper now, and the city was alive with lights beyond, above and below. What would this vista look like in the morning or from ground-level? A flash of motion pulled my gaze to the left toward the balcony—

Hina waved at me and tapped on the reinforced glass. I stared at her. She smiled at me and motioned with her hands like turning a door handle. I pointed at my prosthetic foot with some indignation. She smacked her forehead and opened the balcony door herself, letting a blast of cold air into the room.

“I didn’t invite you in.”

“I’m not a fairy.”

That confirmation was cold comfort—the sign wouldn’t have stopped her anyway. Fantastic.

“Why are you—in my room?”

“Housewarming? Figured you could use some help getting set up.”

That was probably true, at least; I needed that charger, and I wasn’t about to wander around the penthouse in search of cables in my current state or ask the others when they were busy helping Amethyst. Even so.

“The balcony?”

She closed the door and came over to the bed, leaning on it. “Don’t think Alice wants to see me right now. I saw the calendar update—you’re on board?”

Alice didn’t want to see her because she kept bothering me, if I understood correctly. I rather shared the sentiment—I mustered my courage, though I couldn’t meet her eyes.

“Please get out.”

The puppy didn’t respond. She just stood there with her big, blue eyes, head tilted slightly, waiting for me to answer the question.

I sighed. “I agreed to join Todai.” I hastily appended a clarification. “Not as a Radiance.”

“Yay! I knew you’d come around.”

She apparently took that as consent to sit across from me, the spread of items from my backpack between us. I guessed I was stuck with her. Should I call for someone? Message Ebi or Opal? She picked up the knife, and I swiftly abandoned those ideas.

“Hm. This hasn’t been sharpened in a while. We’ve got a stone in the kitchen. Are you any good with one? I can teach you.” Her gaze roamed to the earbuds, little-used. “These are cheap, right? I have nicer ones you can borrow, in-ear, really comfy. I have some in white that would look good on you, I think.”

She looked a bit more ruffled than when I had last seen her. Where had she gone? I eyed the knife as she twirled it in her grip.

“I—know how to use it.”

She ran her fingertip along the blade. It didn’t draw blood—whether that was just because it was that dull or due to something about her body, I couldn’t guess. She looked at me, eyes half-lidded, and purred.

“Not all the ways, I bet.”

My tattoo itched. I had to make space between us, had to get away from this thing—my body refused to move. Her eyes slid down to my arm, apparently fully able to see how my subconscious had gripped the leading edge of the lattice containing my spear.

“Man, they did a great job. Can I have a look?”

Don’t upset the pretty hyena-girl with the knife, Ezzen. I held out my forearm hesitantly, and she leaned in to admire Ebi’s precise inking. Too close—she sniffed it, and goosebumps ran up my arms and back.

“Some of the old lattice is still in here, looks like. She’s such a softie.” She looked up at me. “Do you like it?”

“It’s—good. Better.” I really didn’t want to articulate how it was better; words like ‘blood’ and ‘pain’ would set her off. She grinned at me and practically read my mind—grabbed my wrist. I flinched and made to take out my spear—

I couldn’t. She was holding the lattice in place, somehow, digging her thumb into the strands of the weave, preventing me from pulling on it with my Flame. I had a horrible image of her taking the knife and carving the tattoo off, making my defenselessness permanent. What she actually did bothered me more. She leaned in further and nuzzled the tattoo, breath warming my skin. That was already far too much skinship for me, and my body was misinterpreting the situation—then she licked the inked spear, from the tip at the wrist up toward the elbow. I shivered. The saliva clung to my arm in her tongue’s passing, turning the chilly winter air frigid. Then she backed off, releasing my wrist.

“Good, good. It suits you.” She licked her lips as she put down the knife, turning her attention to my laptop. “That needs stickers. And a charger?”

I was still frozen—the part of me that needed her to leave right now was paralyzed by the part that didn’t want to wipe off the spit, that needed something else from her.

“What—what the hell?” 

“Hm?”

She was going to make me say it? “Why did you…lick…”

“You taste good! And your lattice is there, so it’s nice and warm and—ugh, there’s not a word. It’s nice.” She frowned. “Too far?”

Yes! Entirely too far! But I couldn’t bring myself to say that. As the seconds dragged on in silence, she tilted her head. “I can let you do me, if you want. Then we’ll be even.”

She had to have heard the innuendo there.

“That’s—so not the problem.” What the hell had Opal been talking about? This girl had zero understanding of boundaries.

She shrugged. “Suit yourself.” She repeated herself. “That needs stickers. And a charger.”

I let out the breath I was holding, gratefully jumping onto the far safer topic to distract myself from how warm my body was getting and the lingering chill on my arm. Anything to get her out of the room.

“Uh—yes, charger, please.”

To my dismay, she simply reached into a non-space and rummaged around a bit. The exact thing her arm did made my head hurt, the same kind of ache as when I had woven my blood binding. My magical senses didn’t like whatever she was doing. I took advantage of the moment of distraction to wipe the spit off my forearm. She produced an appropriate charger. Magical curiosity momentarily overrode the fear.

“Did you just—have that ready to go?”

“Nah. We’ve got a bin full of random cables.”

She had portaled? That was a Vaetna thing, the same principle as the Gates, and she did it and spoke about it like it was casual. What had happened to second-best? The question was becoming more and more of a refrain for me—what was she? Hina returned to scanning the items, pointing at the moisturizer cream.

“For your scars?”

“They dry out.”

She picked it up and turned it around, reading the fine print.

“Oh, I can get you something better than this for sure. Amane probably already has something. She doing okay?”

She must have felt the ripple as well. “She’s…you’d know better than I would. She could stand, at least.”

“Good. Better you saw that now rather than later, honestly. You’re one of us now.”

I objected. “I’m—no, I said I didn’t sign up to be a Radiance.”

“I don’t mean a Radiance, silly. That’s for later. I mean a flamebearer, and if you’re living with us, then I gotta take care of you like I do her.”

My psyche was generating some rather provocative ways to interpret that as innuendo. She continued to search across the items, looking for ways to be helpful—or just invade my privacy. She found a good one, holding up the spare underwear.

“We’re going shopping. You’re going to need more than this.”

I snatched them away from her, going for a retort against the furthest invasion of privacy so far—then stopped, because that was a great point, actually. Clothes hadn’t even crossed my mind. Even so—

“What?”

“We are going shopping. You are going to need more than this.” She enunciated each word.

Doing that kind of thing alone with any girl was far enough outside my comfort zone as it was, but with her in particular? My imagination began to spin the fantasy of a date—I resented that. It acceded and instead proposed the notion of her riding me in a dressing room. What the fuck, brain?

“I heard you the first time. I’ll just…order something online.”

She pouted. “That defeats the purpose! We’re getting you acclimated. It’ll be a fun day in town! You weren’t awake on the way in, so you didn’t even see the city from overhead, and there’s so much more to see down at street level. Tokyo’s fun! Promise!”

Now it was my turn to pout. I wasn’t very used to modulating my expressions face-to-face, and Hina had a way of sort of drawing those things out from me anyway. Her reactivity demanded reciprocation.

“It’s—I don’t feel like going out. I’m still recovering.”

It was a lame excuse, and we both knew it.

“I literally saw Alice schedule you going out tomorrow.”

“For paperwork. Not shopping.”

“You’ll be done by one! Let me take you somewhere after! It’ll be fun, and you need to learn how to get around the city anyway and blahblahblah. And I’m great at clothes.”

She was certainly well-dressed. I didn’t doubt that she could probably pick out something nice for me, but clothes were…not something I really cared about, not enough to justify being at her mercy for a few hours. I knew I was a medium, and that was about it. I looked for another excuse.

“I’ll—just ask one of the others.”

She scooted forward on the bed to poke me. “Play the game, Ezzen.”

“What?” Why would I engage with this, other than fear? She made me vividly uncomfortable.

“Negotiation is part of being a Radiance.”

What, this was training? “I didn’t even sign up for that!”

She sighed dramatically. “Gosh, fine. I’ll sweeten the deal. You’ll get to walk tomorrow, really walk. Run and fight too, if you want. Not that limping thing you’re doing right now.”

How long had she been watching me? I was doing just fine, thank you very much, Amethyst had been quite inspirational—but curiosity tugged at me, and I knew she could tell. It was in her eyes. So blue.

“How?”

“We’re working on a thing. But I’m only giving it to you if you promise to come shopping tomorrow. That’s lesson one: Le-ver-age.”

She sat back on the bed, exuding the air of a teacher—well, more like an old monk you found on a mountaintop. The effect was a little absurd given her appearance and the context, but I had to admit that the lesson itself was good, if underhanded—not very magical girl. I had been expecting that sort of maneuvering to be part of Opal’s sphere of instruction if it were to come up, but perhaps she was too principled for this. Hina wasn’t.

“That’s cheap.”

“Mhm.”

If they were working on something like that—surely Hina couldn’t withhold it from me on the grounds that I refused to go out with her. The other Radiances would have my back. I had a mind to reach for my phone, to ask Opal to rescue me from this ridiculous situation—but didn’t, because…she had told me Hina would respect boundaries. And I thought, just maybe, that Hina was trying to teach me how to deal with her, how to not fold to her pressure.

“Um—fuck, alright, fine. First…you’re paying?”

“Sure. It’s all Alice’s money anyway, really.”

Comments like those made my new financial circumstances a bit more real. Emboldened, I started to rattle off other stipulations.

“No tricks or I’ll tell Ebi on you. And no, uh—dress-up. We go in, we get clothes I like, we get out. Also, no—paparazzi?” Was that something I had to be worried about? She was high-profile and hard to miss, another thing adding to my anxiety.

“Sure. In-and-out, nice and simple. And we’ll be undercover, promise. It’ll be your first mission!”

I didn’t like that phrasing, but perhaps the veneer of professionalism would make her less…unsafe. Or maybe that was wishful thinking. If nothing else—walking would be so nice. Hobbling around my room had just underscored my desire to be back on my feet, even if it was only temporary. I had missed a day of spear practice. Two days, actually. That alone was enough, honestly—but I pulled out my phone just to confirm. Opal had said to tell her if I needed something—but I was more comfortable talking to Ebi, and this was her department anyway.

[Direct Message] ezzen: Is Amethyst doing alright? Can you multitask well enough to talk?

ebi-furai: yeah, shes pretty stable. just gonna keep an eye on her tonight

ebi-furai: whats up

ezzen: Hina wants to take me shopping tomorrow. Give me an excuse?

ebi-furai: medically youre cleared

ezzen: Can’t you lie for me?

Hina was getting further into my personal space. “Gimme. I wanna talk to her too.”

ebi-furai: i could

ebi-furai: wanna get away from her that bad, huh

ebi-furai: …oh shit is she WITH you

ezzen: no im not

I scrambled to get my phone back from the smaller girl, who was having no trouble evading me even without leaving the bed.

ebi-furai: hi sapphire

ebi-furai: amane is having a flare-up so let me make this clear

ebi-furai: IF YOU GIVE ME MORE WORK TOMORROW IM FEEDING YOU TO OPAL

ebi-furai: be gentle with him.

Hina read aloud from the phone; her voice had tightened at the word “flare-up.” She tossed the phone back to me for verification. Empathy for Amethyst, on top of the previous deal, got the better of me. At least we’d be out of Ebi’s hair—actually, if I spent the whole day with Hina, Opal wouldn’t have to leave Amethyst’s side tomorrow morning either…

“Fine.”

“Yay! It’s a date.”

I blushed at the use of the word, despite myself. She poked me. “Not like that. You could have used your leverage for that, though. Call that lesson two.”

My blush deepened. “That’s…” I searched for a way to frame my objection as something other than the embarrassment it obviously was. “That’s…transactional. Exploitative, even.”

She nodded sagely again, spreading her hands expansively as if imparting great wisdom. “Lesson two.”

That wasn’t an answer, and moreover it was making me actually interrogate the notion. Once again, not very magical girl of her. Or so I thought—I had no basis of knowledge for the genre from which Todai took its inspiration, beyond what Star had ranted about over the years and the briefest explanation Opal had provided when she was making her pitch. Hina practically read my mind.

“Yeah, yeah, Alice wouldn’t be happy to hear that. But this is the real world! Our hands have to get dirty, no matter what my dragony best friend wants to pretend. Leverage matters, getting what you want matters.” The hyena had crept into her gaze a bit, her voice getting sultrier. “So—do you want it to be a date? Wait, no, lemme simplify. Do you want me?”

I was pinned by her gaze. Too direct, far too direct. How could I even answer that? I didn’t want to—because I knew I’d say yes if I could work up the courage. She just sat there, waiting. Waiting. She was awfully good at it for someone so pushy. I tried to change the subject.

“I’ll—I’d like those earbuds, if you’re still…offering…”

She tilted her head, almost as if she hadn’t heard me. I had a terrible premonition. She was about to pounce, attack me, tear me to shreds and eat me—

The spear came out, near-instinctive, a lizard-brain response to the danger in her poise, somehow more immediate than when she had been holding the knife. She looked at the warped tip and shook her head, rolling those sapphire eyes. “Lesson three—”

And she was past it instantly, pushing me down, leaning over me—

“Don’t escalate to violence when you’re outgunned.”

She straddled me. I couldn’t look away from those sapphire eyes with their stitched irises. She had pinned my wrist to the sheets, intractable, vastly stronger than me despite her petite frame. Her other palm pressed my shoulder down, slender fingers curling around and gripping my sleeve. She leaned down, down, until her hair was tickling my face. She smelled like a sea breeze—and just a bit of alcohol. She had been drinking. Her gaze held an endless blue horizon, intoxicating freedom on her breath.

“What’ll it be?”

She was so warm against the room’s cool air, and I could barely think past the way my heart was pounding. The sensation of her thighs locking me in place was insisting that I did want her—if only in some misfiring, unfamiliar, hormonal way dredged up by years of isolation rather than a connection of personality, because I refused to believe something like her could be so attractive. She was far too pretty, temptation incarnate. Her hips over mine were a promise in themselves, making my imagination run wild with scenes of rough, desperate motion where she took whatever she wanted from me. I was horrified at how appealing that was—a part of me left nearly untouched over the years was being baited to the surface and discovering it liked what it saw.

I was paralyzed. Moments passed, molasses down the hourglass. My eyes wandered down to her lips, ethereally soft. They moved faintly as she breathed, almost panting, the motion transmitted down through her chest to where our bodies met. I found myself breathing heavily as well, and if I were braver, my free hand would have come up around her waist and—suffice to say the situation was unbearable. She was clearly content to wait for me to actually make a move, another prompt-and-wait, and I couldn’t bring myself to do so—in either direction, neither pushing her off of me nor taking the plunge into rougher contact. We just lay there, her unwilling and me unable to resolve the moment. And part of me didn’t want it to end.

Eventually, end it did. She pushed herself off of me, fixing her hair. I lay there, thoroughly awash in new sensations and emotions, confusing and appealing. Why was I so attracted to…whatever she was? I mean—at her core, she was a pretty girl, one displaying clear interest in me; that was easy enough to understand. But the…monstrousness? The feeling that there was something wrong and fundamentally dangerous about her—and being excited by that? It was insane, ridiculous, something out of a bad Vaetna shipfic. Why me? Why did she want me to pursue her?

“Okay, noted. You freeze up under pressure. We’ll work on that.”

Incredulity and wounded pride jarred me into motion. I sat up, the terror receding.

“That was not a test.”

“Sure it was. You didn’t say it. Either you want me or you don’t.”

“I—” I still couldn’t. “I escaped the Peacies! How is that freezing up?”

“Totally different. Any VNT can magic their way out of a bad spot, especially if they’re as clever as you. But if you can’t even talk yourself out from under me, you’re gonna end up in spots where magic can’t help you.”

She had a point, probably—but I was so offended at the idea that there was a problem I couldn’t learn to solve with magic, a familiar emotion that I latched onto so that I wouldn’t have to think about what had almost happened between us and the alien emotions surging through me.

“I could have—”

She blurred, and my forehead hurt. Had she just flicked me?

“No, you couldn’t. I had you dead to rights. I could have done whatever. I. Wanted. And besides, you didn’t escape, right? I saved you.”

Another annoying thrill ran through me at the truth of that, fear and excitement percolating off one another. She nodded at the spear.

“Put that thing away. We’re done for tonight.”

Indignation spiked. I could choose, damn her.

“I—I don’t want to go on a date with you.”

I wasn’t prepared for that, not with her, not on top of everything else that had happened to me. Hina looked at me carefully, up and down. Her gaze punched right through me.

“But?”

There was indeed a but.

“But I do…want…”

I couldn’t say it out loud. My heartbeat was deafening.

“Say it and I’ll kiss you.”

My eyes dropped to her lips, curled in a grin. She made a show of licking them. I was above an incentive that cheap.

…or so I had thought. The words tumbled out, provoked by—all of this.

“I want you.”

I had never said anything like that in my life, to anyone. We were in uncharted waters. A big smile spread across the hyena’s face. I was in her trap.

“There you go.”

A heart-throbbing rush.

“What—why me? Why all of this?”

She drew close again, so very near against me. The smell of alcohol invaded my senses once more as she crawled forward—but ‘crawl’ was such an inelegant word for how she moved. She crept, padded, stalking forward like a lengthening shadow.

“Because I can hurt you and you won’t break.”

What a cruel person. What terrifying honesty. Everyone had warned me what she was like, and I had seen enough hints today—so why did that only make me want her more? Why didn’t I tell her to leave? Why did I let her embrace me? It was all happening too fast, and I just couldn’t say no to her, not like this. I didn’t want to.

She purred against my neck. “Ai told you, didn’t she? We trade in pain. Humans don’t get it, but you do.”

It will hurt, the voices had said. Her hand moved down my arm to grope at the scarred flesh on my right hand, reminiscent of the massage therapy I had undergone to encourage the flesh to heal correctly. But her squeezes almost hurt. Almost?

My voice trembled, trying to find the conviction I had felt with Ai. “No. I don’t want to hurt it.”

“Why not? It hurt you first. Twice. And you saw what it did to Amane.”

There was a nightmarish truth in that, prodding at the feeling of betrayal I had felt when it hadn’t obeyed me in the darkness, and the ache in my chest at how the Amethyst Radiance had been curled up on the floor. Hina went on, lacing her fingers through mine. I didn’t resist.

“So hurt it back. I do. I’m great at it. It’s push and pull, you know? Make it an exchange. Leverage—I hurt it, it hurts me, we give each other what we want. We have an understanding, me and my Light.”

Her breath warmed my neck. I struggled to get the words out. Focus on magic, not her.

“What does it want?”

What did she?

“To help us grow. To become. I let it change me, so does Alice. Can’t you see?”

Her claws came to my shirt and shredded the collar, the tips stinging my skin as she pulled and gouged. She tugged the scraps off my shoulders and admired the exposed flesh. A flash of those sharp, inhuman teeth as she licked her lips. A full-body shiver took me, naked fear bubbling up and turning to anticipation, powerless to resist. All I could do was object against my instincts.

“Change? Your mutations?”

“It’s so much more than that. I’ll show you. You just have to trust me. Let me hurt you! It’ll be fun, I promise.”

“Wh—what about what Ebi said?”

“I won’t hurt you badly enough to bother her. You’re no fun if you break.”

Did I believe she had that level of control? Truth be told—it didn’t matter.

“All you have to do is say you want it, and I’ll give you everything.”

And then she waited. I stood on the precipice of all my principles—and I wasn’t Heung, who could simply ignore gravity’s call as he perched above the void. I was only mortal, beholden to natural laws and unnatural desires. She called me down, down, promising depths I had never seen with my head craned up toward the Spire. I fell with a whisper.

“Please.”

She bit my shoulder, and I made a sound that I had never made before, that I had never dreamed could come from my mouth. It was a cocktail of primal emotion given voice, terror and overstimulation and more, please more of whatever twisted desire this was, whatever she was. Only that horrible moan in the darkness of the buried car came close, but this was pain as tantalizing promise, not rage-inducing punishment. The razor-teeth drew blood, just barely, a circle of red pinpricks. She lapped at the oozing ichor before the wounds clotted, grooming and feeding, mate and predator.

She pulled back to fix me with those awful, intoxicating blue eyes once more.

“Ai thinks her path is closest to the Vaetna’s. She’s wrong. It’s made me so strong. Stronger than all the others, because I don’t fight my nature. Our nature. There’s so much more to magic than glyphs.”

She came in and bit me again, less of a chomp, more of a gnaw. She was so warm against me, one hand pressing my shoulder against her mouth while the other kneaded my neck. I gasped—she was strong, even in just her fingers. That would bruise, tomorrow. Objections swirled in my mind, my revulsion at the treatment of her Flame she was implying. But—“closest to the Vaetna’s?” Change? That was awful in its own way, by implication, but if it were true—

“Let me show you how. I said it this morning—you could be so good at this. You could be perfect.”

She was everything I wanted, just all twisted around. I could still learn from Ai, from the others, and find a path I could live with. But for now, feeling her against me, the promise of power I was worthy of wielding but had been denied all my life, true understanding of whatever new rules her very nature promised—

I had been tense against her, letting her do what she wanted to me, head abuzz with the paralytic promise of her predations. But now I ventured to touch her. My hand found her shoulder, and slowly moved up to her neck. In a mirror of her own motions and intimations, guided by some strange, unfamiliar instinct, my rough, scarred fingers clawed at her throat. She luxuriated in it, her eyes sliding shut. Her hand came over mine.

“Mm. But no, we do it like this.”

She tugged my hand down to her sternum, then pressed—

And I felt the Flame inside her, ice-cold, pulsing in my magical senses in rhythm with her heartbeat. She made a sound that etched itself into my memory, a growling thing, an animal response to a transcendental connection. But I was learning the Flame was just as animal as we were, in its own way. She rubbed the same place on my chest with her other hand—I coughed as my own Flame stirred in response.

“This is what we are. This is why I brought you here.”

She’s so selfish.

I didn’t care, not right then. She wrapped her hand around the back of my neck, pulled me to her, and—her lips were so soft. It quickly became a full-body act as she leaned onto me, tilting her head and chasing me down onto the sheets as we had lain before. It was messy and warm and full of desire like nothing I had ever known. Our flames danced around each other, inspecting, exploring, both parasite-symbiotes mimicking the motion of our tongues. Eventually, air became a problem, and I made to push her off of me—

I couldn’t. She might as well have been {AFFIXED} atop me. I squirmed, beginning to panic at the oxygen deprivation. Get off me, damn it! I made a sound against her lips, struggling, feeling myself begin to drop as the edges of black unconsciousness crept in—

Only then did she get off me, breaking the contact. I took a heaving gasp—and then choked as her Flame separated from mine. An involuntary keening sound escaped my throat. It was raw, an exposed nerve. So cold. When I regained myself enough to meet her eyes, gasping gulps of air, there was naked enjoyment on her face.

“See? Isn’t that just the best?”

I stared up at her, chest rising and falling with shuddering breaths as my lungs and heart recovered. I’d been helpless under her, I could have died. I couldn’t get away from her, couldn’t bring myself to call for help—I had to play her game, use my leverage. Establish boundaries.

“That—what the fuck? Never do—”

But I did want her to do it again. That scared me even more than she did.

“…just warn me?”

As establishing boundaries went—blatant failure. I just wanted it too much; she had a kind of power over me beyond the physical dominance. She nodded happily.

“Sure thing! I’ll help you get used to it! And you’ll get better at it, and hurt me back, and it’ll be awesome. We’ll have so much fun and you’ll become so strong and we’ll have the best sex, I promise, humans can’t do it like we do.”

Well. That was…far too appealing. “So this is all for…your sadomasochism?”

“You’re missing the point. You’ll change no matter what. You already have.” She took my other hand, rubbing the tattoo. “That’s our nature—I saw my chance and I’m taking it, letting you become something that will make us both happy.”

I knew what she meant.

“A Radiance.” Was the term as descriptive of a specific type of posthuman as ‘Vaetna’ was? “This is your pitch?”

She closed the gap between us again, but stopped before our lips met. 

“Just trust me. Can I keep convincing you?”

I wanted very much for her to continue to do that, and it was such a relief that she was asking—that she was respecting the new boundary, such as it was. I whispered assent. We were finding a kind of rhythm, a push-and-pull.

“Please.”

She kissed me again, this time much lighter, a more standard sort of affection than the suffocation play. It was sort of disappointing.

“Sorry if I scared you.”

This was such a turnaround from the overbearing, unstoppable desire she had been forcing upon me, the predatory pursuit—I suddenly picked up on what she had been doing.

“That was a test too, wasn’t it?”

“Mhm. I’m, uh, not so good at knowing when to stop. So it’s better if you decide for me.”

“And you didn’t open with this because…?”

“Got carried away. You’re just so edible.”

I shivered, again feeling the certainty that she would kill and eat me. But—and this was truly boggling—she had a deeper interest in me than that, which somehow meant I was safe with her, despite her open admission that she wanted to hurt me. She went on, rubbing my neck more gently than before.

“It’s—well, I felt the pulse too. Not sure where it came from—Yuuka would know, but she’s not here. And it…got me a bit worked up. I wanted to play with you.”

It was all just play to her, both the violence and the gestures of carnal want. At last I asked. I had to know, had to reconcile the puppy and the hyena, the girl and the monster, establish a label for the fear and desire she pulled up from the bottom of my brain—was there any boundary between those things?

“What are you?”

Hina chuckled, leaning back too far, ultramarine eyes half-hooded. Her figure gave the impression of corded, fast-twitch muscle for pouncing and killing despite how soft she had felt against me, a natural predator wearing the blouse and skirt of a young woman.

“I’m me!”

And so she was. Puppy, hyena, fairy—it was just her. It had been a bit silly of me to ascribe mere animal traits to her, for all her carnivorous aspect. She was beautiful in the same way a glyph was, magic twisted for awful and glorious purpose—no mere beast, nor fair folk bound by folkloric rules. She was something wild and free, irrepressible as the Vaetna. I craved her.

“You scare the shit out of me, you know that?” It just sort of slipped out, such a contrast from the way I had had to force every word earlier.

“Mhm. Doesn’t seem like a dealbreaker for you, though.”

She had me, and I couldn’t quite bring myself to admit that, despite how obvious it had been in my actions.

“The others will…hate me for this, I think.” How was I supposed to balance her against them, if she could draw me down this path so easily?

“It’ll work out. I’m not monopolizing you. They all want to change you in their own ways, too.”

Such was the nature of a flamebearer, pulled in multiple directions by every faction with the reach to do so. I was experiencing in micro the same thing as that anonymous oil rig worker in the Gulf of Mexico. But her pitch was too good, too compatible with what I already wanted and what the others were offering, bolstered by the seductive appeal. All it would cost me was pain—and I could endure that, I wasn’t made of glass. For power—the power I deserved, and for more of this, with her?

“Show me.”

She looked so happy and kissed me a third time, clutching me, making little noises against my lips. Then she backed off.

“Tell me to leave. If I stay I’ll fuck you up.”

There was a real temptation to beg for her to stay, to let her bring some of my budding fantasies into reality. I resisted—more for Amane’s sake by proxy than concern for my own wellbeing. What was she doing to me?

“That’s—yeah, you should. Good—good night.”

“Mhm. Thanks. Remember, shopping tomorrow! G’night!”

She gave me one last, long look before she left the room.

It was both hunger and approval.