CHAPTER NINE: DESPERATE MEASURES

It’s dark. There is no air, and breath cannot be drawn. It’s empty. The nothing stretches across visibility and beyond boundary. It’s cold. It could never be warm. Not here. Not like this. Flesh drips and twists, a form of condensity wraps and suffocates and pulls tighter and tighter but can never fully wrench it out not like this not like this. The mass is shaking, it’s quivering, it is broken and reformed and shattered beyond repair. It wants. It doesn’t know if it can want. If it’s allowed to want but it wants it wants it wants. 

Wants what?

It reaches. It reaches out and tries to stretch and reach in a direction but here there is no direction no ending no beginning not here not like this. It reaches. It must. 

A reason.

A single blue eye opens wide. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He had arrived late at night. His destinations up until this point had been following a set, crooked path, bouncing from one section of Astoria to the next, making his best attempt to see as much as he possibly could. Yet, somehow, he had yet to reach Coastal Astoria. Perhaps he had been avoiding it for as long as possible. He could sense something different about it, like going there would immediately be…trouble. 

In what way, he couldn’t be sure. 

He wandered through the streets, paying close attention to where he could see a crowd. He was far more comfortable on his own, away from the prying and cruel eyes that could gaze upon him. Maybe they weren’t cruel, but he had never truly had eyes on him that said anything but contempt or apathy. He didn’t want to make a scene, didn’t want to stand out. It had led to dark paths before, and he hoped it wouldn’t be that way this time. 

Someplace peaceful.

Now, here, before the end. 

He was tired. He was completely, irrevocably exhausted. He hurt. He felt constant throbbing pain in his shoulders, in his back, in his guts, in his head. 

Not his arms, though. Nor his green eye, pupil a snow white. 

They laid silent and immaterial, parts that didn’t belong. 

Rejected. 

He wanders down an alley as he feels it well up again. 

Vomit. Blood. That other, darker, more concerning thing, the thing he…

He sighs. 

Pulls himself up. Pulls a lighter from his pocket. Pulls a drag from a cigarette. 

He rounded a corner, and his green eye twitched. Sensory input to the maximum, a migraine in physical form, shooting endless synapses to a sizzling brain. He can see it. The dome. It covers…how much does it cover? He frowns. He sighs. He presses onward. 

Through the dome.

He could see ten or eleven forms, each with horns or budding tails or wings, he could see two more forms on the ground, the other forms closing in on them. 

He’s been noticed. One turns, says something. He can’t absorb anymore information beyond the ringing of the dome. Doesn’t matter what he’s saying. 

He can feel how scared the women on the ground are. He can feel their fear, their shame, their grief, their every single breath and blink and heartbeat, synapses are firing and firing and firing. He can feel malice from everyone else. Malice is heavier than breath, louder than heartbeats, yet insignificant to him. Malice was known, it was lived, it was experienced, he’d been punished and broken and thrown to the ground by malice enough. 

Not these two. They didn’t need to suffer this.

The dragonic form approaches. 

The form loses an arm. 

The form gets its skull caved in by a sudden punch. 

He sees the blood dripping from his knuckles and his hands do not shake. They don’t feel like the rest of him does. The rest of him hates this. But the rest of him knows what must be done. 

The other dragons charge. 

A flash of green light escapes his eye. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

On the outskirts of The Deep Woods, a large moth has landed by the light of Abigail O’Hare and Carlos Dumaresq. Actias, so named after the Lunar Moth, was on his wings and knees, begging for the help of the Peacekeeper in front of him. 

“Arihiro? Wait, you know Arihiro?” Carlos asks, trying to keep his bewilderment in check. 

“Yes. I have been in Sir’s life for a very long time now. Since he was a boy.” 

“You? But, I - “

Abigail pinches Carlos’ back to stop him from speaking. “I think Arihiro made it very clear he wants nothing to do with me.” 

Actias nods. “Alas, yes, he did say such things. He does not speak like Sir these days.” 

“What do you mean?” Abigail asks. She can feel a fire igniting in her gut. 

“Sir…Arihiro…he is a gentle soul. He does not wish harm or pain on anyone. Anyone, that is, except for himself.” 

Abigail feels her lips tighten. “He’s dying.”

Actias looks back up at Abigail, and what she saw before was becoming clearer. “Yes, Miss Abigail. He is dying.”

“Why?”

“Sir…has had a difficult life. He…he was not born as a normal human. He was not given a chance,” Actias says, his shoulders rising in anguish, “He has been hunted, he has been hurt, he was created to suffer. What was done was not proper to be done to him. He cannot take it, his body is breaking.” 

Abigail’s internal fire begins to burn hotter. “You know we aren’t doctors, right?” 

“I believe he might find treatment with the proper assistance.” 

“So, us, then?”

“No,” Actias sharply says, “No plurality. I do not mean to offend you, Mister Carlos. But this request extends solely to Miss Abigail.”

Carlos recoils. “Say what?” 

Abigail nods. She had a feeling he would say that. “Why me?” 

Actias looks away. “He was cold to you, Miss Abigail. But Sir does not speak like Sir these days. He seemed further away from himself than I had ever seen, when he spoke to you. However,” he says, looking back to Abigail, “While you slept, he was by your side. Did not accept any healing from me until I’d treated you first. He only left once he was sure you were going to awaken, that is why I was close.” 

Carlos’ eyes widen, and he glances towards Abigail, her face unreadable. “Abigail…”

Abigail meets Actias’ gaze, and can fully confirm her hunch. Deep within those insectoid bulbs were a set of pink irises and white pupils. She could feel it - this creature, this companion to Arihiro, was in the midst of transformation. Whatever it had once been, it was no longer. It was changing in response to stimuli. “Okay, Actias.” 

Actias freezes again. “Miss Abigail?”

“I said, okay. I’ll do it. Whatever you need.” 

Actias stays motionless for a moment, and then his shoulders heave. He falls back to the ground. “Miss Abigail…that feeling, of calm from something unexpected…? I’ve felt it once again.” He looks up, and with renewed confidence, stands back up to his full height. 

“So what am I supposed to do? I had a hell of a time tracking him down before.”

“He plans to….end it all, tonight. He wishes to look out at the ocean, and then dive deep down. He wishes to drown and suffocate and get crushed by deep sea pressure.” 

Abigail slowly nods, and can’t help but snort out a chuckle. 

“Is there a joke I am missing, Miss Abigail?”

She shakes her head. “Nah,” she says, composing herself, “It just slipped out.” 

Actias continues his stare. “So you will find him tonight, yes?” 

“It would be my pleasure.” 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It had only taken him three hours to find trouble. He couldn’t figure out if it sought him out, or if he just couldn’t help but stick his nose where it didn’t belong. Besides, he had done something positive. Sure, it meant killing three draconic men and mortally wounding several others, but he had saved these two women from…whatever was about to be done to them. 

He couldn’t help but think his troubles were only beginning. 

Maybe he’d need to hurry up on his exit strategy, in whatever form ‘exit’ was going to take. 

He’d left the two women at the address marked on their IDs, and hoped it would be enough. They didn’t seem injured, and he had no desire to approach a hospital, where cameras or - god help him - Peacekeepers might be able to see him. He had gone home, home to his only friend, home to the one he was going to hurt more than anyone else. 

It ate him alive. 

They didn’t speak much these days. It reminded him of the beginning, when his friend couldn’t speak. They had talked through pantomime, through expressions and emotion. A contract, broken and reforged on new paper. 

He was prepared to break that new contract. 

And it ate him alive. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“So, your hunch was right, then?” Miki asks, stretching herself out and lounging beside Abigail in her bed, pressing her back against Abigail’s stomach. “Arihiro, he’s not doing so good.”

Abigail shakes her head, gently scratching Miki’s head, careful to avoid hitting her ears too much. “No, according to Actias, he really is dying. Don’t know from what, though, so I’m not really sure what I’m supposed to do.” 

“You think it’s something Lea could help with?”

“I dunno.” 

“Or maybe if he gets enough raisins?”

“I dunno.” 

Miki sighs. “You’re boring today.”

“Am I? I’m sorry,” Abigail says, her eyes staring forward in a 1000 yard stare. “I guess I just feel sorta weird about this.” 

“Huh? Why? You were so gung-ho about finding him before…”

“I didn’t know what I know now.”

“And what’s that, exactly?”

A silence draws its way between the two. Miki looks up to Abigail to see her face, but can’t get a good enough angle to really read it - and the emotions coming from Abigail were too confusing to parse through. She shrugs and allows herself to fully relax. Abigail would speak when she was good and ready, and she knew better than to try and force it out of her. She closes her eyes, and beneath her eyelids can see a cosmos of flame, stretching beyond forever, connecting her and Abigail together. The flames danced and spun and found form in constellations, shining and glowing in metaphorical meaning. She’d just need to….figure it out…

Miki falls asleep instead.

A few hours pass, and Miki shakes herself awake to find Abigail is no longer beside her. Instead, she’s in the kitchen, preparing a fair helping of food to leave for Miki. “You getting ready to go?” She asks. 

“Not yet,” Abigail says, her voice quiet and lost in thought. 

Miki yawns, and feels out to Abigail. “You’re afraid.”

Abigail looks over at Miki and smiles. “Yeah,” she says, putting a bowl of pellets and greens into Miki’s pen, “I’m afraid.” 

“Of what?”

“Afraid I’ll mess this up.” 

“You’ve had lots of missions and clients before, and I’ve never felt this type of fear from you.” 

“I’ve never had one like this. It’s just…I…I can feel something about this, Miki. It’s like I’m walking into a black hole. I don’t know what to expect, and I don’t know how things will look after.” 

“I guess trying to talk someone out of doing…something like that is hard to figure out.”

“It’s not just that. I can feel the importance of this, and it’s so heavy. But I…I don’t really know why. I can’t figure out why this is such an important moment. Why it feels like everything hinges on me doing this right.” 

“What does ‘doing this right’ look like?”

Abigail shakes her head. “I don’t know yet.”

Miki shares a compassionate smile. “Lots of unknowns on this one. But you know something now you didn’t know then, right?” 

Abigail smiles in return. “Mmhmm. But I can’t tell you what that is.” 

Miki recoils, guffaws, and groans. “Excuse me?” 

“Not this time, little lady.” 

Miki’s eyes dart between Abigail’s, and then she grins. “Fine. Keep your secrets. I’ll find out soon enough, I’m sure.” 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He had met Carlos Dumaresq by accident, and with this, he was sure more trouble was inbound. Something radiated off the man, something strange and familiar, but he could not figure out what that thing was. He had asked for all the most popular places in town so he could avoid them, stay as far away from the general public as much as possible. And yet, there he was, later that night, revolving right back into the man’s orbit. Carlos had set a good impression on him, and Carlos seemed harmless, so at first, this orbit was fine. 

His actions from nights previous were going to catch up with him, though. The Roku’kus arrived, two who he had injured but not killed. He wasn’t sure how they found him, but he knew he had to get them out and away, away from people who could now be hurt through his own recklessness. 

This was his mistake, and he would bare all consequences. 

He felt the flames, yellow with malice, encase him. He felt that malice enter through one arm and leave through the other. He would play possum, and he would be captured, and he would right his wrongs. The Roku’kus would fall. He felt himself getting loaded into a van, and felt a tinge of confusion at the wreckage of the Roku’ku’s church. 

Those yellow flames returned, and warped them…somewhere else. 

Where he could do what was right. 

Until Carlos was back in his orbit,

And the Roku’ku was going to detonate,

And it would kill Carlos if he didn’t - 

It took everything out of him. He didn’t have much in the first place, but it was all he had left. 

Hands touched his shoulder. Comfort he didn’t deserve. A voice asked if he was okay. Comfort he didn’t deserve. He looked to the sky and saw it, saw the beast of yellow flame, the dragon screaming in the sky and ripping it asunder and he could feel the men and women chained to a wall and he could feel them cry and beg for help and he could feel that malice, that sickening malice, that empty void of rage and hatred and pointless senseless violence and he could feel…

He could feel…

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nightfall upon Coastal Astoria. A chilly wind blew across the sands of the beach, gently skimming the top layer of microscopic shells and debris and knocking them through the air in whisps and spirals. The waves quietly crashed upon themselves, the sky completely clear with a bright cutout of a crescent moon. Even the stars were extra bright tonight, far off solar systems pulsating with energy sent to the viewing eyes of Arihiro from millions or billions of years in the past. He kept his eyes focused on the endless expanse above him, taking in a beautiful night for the final time. 

He was surprised that the beach was as empty as it was. A crisp, clear Fall night should have at least a few stragglers, the remaining few who enjoyed the sight of eternity as much as he did, who didn’t mind the cooling air from the end of Summertime. He digs a hand into the sand next to him and pulls it back out, watching the granules slip through his fingers as he stretches them apart from each other. Even simple things, he supposed, were worth taking in right now. His plan wasn’t perfect, but it would do - he could fly as far as he could, scanning the ocean below to find the deepest depths, and then plunge himself down, deep down, deeper and deeper until the pressures of the compounding water and lack of oxygen would kill him. 

Free him from his constant pain, his bottomless regret, his idiotic wishes. 

Free the world from the monster. 

He releases a long, heavy sigh, and stares at his hand, small dots of sand still clinging to his facsimile of skin. He couldn’t help but feel a brief flash of satisfaction - it had taken him a long time to create accurate arms. They’re complex pieces of the body, more complex than one would think, especially once you get down to the hands. Each digit has a purpose, but is also linked to the one next to it, pinky unable to move on its own without making a ring finger twitch. His loneliness brought out a chuckle. Just like people, huh? 

I guess it’s time. I’ve waited long enough, he thinks, lowering his hand and now looking to his knees bent in front of him, I’m sorry, Actias. I’m sorry you ever had to meet me. To everyone I hurt, everyone I killed…I’m sorry about all that, too. It’s not up to me to be executioner. I didn’t get to decide to snuff all of you out, regardless of what happened. But you can all get the last laugh. Your failed experiment has trotted its way across Astoria, and all I’ve wrought is death. And now, just as you would have before, I will be erased from the world, just as invisible as when I was brought into it. I - 

Arihiro’s mental monologue freezes. He feels a pang of anxiety rise from his gut to his throat. “Yeah,” he says, closing his eyes tight, “I knew you’d be trouble.”

Abigail O’Hare, now twenty feet away from Arihiro, lands on the ground, her ignited feet going out as her feet shakily meet sand. “Sup.” 

“Actias put you up to this?”

“Mmhmm. But I would’ve done it anyway, so don’t blame him too much.” 

Arihiro shakes his head. “Seriously, Abigail, what the hell is wrong with you?” He asks, refusing to look her way. “You always shove your whole face where it doesn’t belong?” 

Abigail shrugs. “Been told I’m bad about that a few times, yeah.” 

“Then let this be your time to finally grow up. Your childish ideals of trying to save me are a waste of time.” 

“Maybe they are.” 

“This is what has to happen. I don’t belong here, and the world doesn’t want or need me. My body doesn’t, either. Just floating in a broken husk in the darkness, a madman’s creation whose detonator has yet to go off. You’re stupid to do this, Abigail. Really stupid. So go away. Leave. Forget you ever met me, forget the words of a big oaf of a moth, forget your empty justice.” 

“You’re awful at playing the Heel.” 

Arihiro’s eyes finally jet towards Abigail, completely against his will. “...I have no idea what that means.”

“It’s a wrestling thing.” 

Arihiro groans. “Is this just a joke to you? Do you really not get why - ? Fine. Fine,” he says, suddenly standing up. He’d been wearing simple clothing for his final night - a thick scarf, a long sleeved white t-shirt, ripped jeans, no shoes - and proceeded to rip his shirt off, weirdly careful about not touching his scarf. “Just look at me.” 

Abigail could feel the tears burning her eyes as they started to form, but she swallowed them down. His frame was thin and emaciated, each of his ribs clearly visible, and long black veins ran from his shoulders to his belly. His chest and stomach were coated in a series of scars, the length of some of them indicating to Abigail that they definitely stretched across his back as well. His collarbone had a large intersectional lumpy set of circles staining it, the black and blue bruises of a broken bone that never healed correctly. 

“These arms? This eye?” Arihiro says, pointing at his green eye, “Fabrications. Imposters. Bullshit created from the Void, given physical form. I wasn’t ‘born’. I was a fucking test tube. Stolen semen and a stolen egg, mixed and modified juuuuuust right, no womb to stay warm and grow in, just poking and prodding and stabbing and change change change, down to the DNA sequencing, just to make goddamn sure they could decide my Calling, the right Calling to hold…” he says, voice shaking and staring at unflinching arms, “this, these, this power and this energy….I’m….” He shakes his head and grits his teeth to compose himself. 

“Arihiro…”

“Shut up. I don’t need your pity party. You don’t need to feel sorry for me, don’t waste your time. I’m a murderer, Abigail. Montauk Island sits at the bottom of the ocean because I ripped it to shreds. Everywhere I’ve gone, and everything I’ve done, has been the wrong choice. Over and over and over again. So many people have thought they could do something, have been just…empty-headed enough to think they could be a part of my life, but there isn’t a life to be a part of, because I’m not alive. I don’t exist! I don’t have a birth certificate! Shit, I don’t even have a name! Arihiro?! It’s a farce!! It’s a joke! Not that any of this matters. Everyone who tries to get close sees the truth eventually. They all understand what I am. A parasite. A malignant tumor, a siphon pu -” 

Arihiro is interrupted by a fireball whizzing past his head. He glares back at Abigail, her fist still glowing with flames ready to go. “I’m sorry, your attention span -”

“Stop.” Abigail commands, her mouth unable to hold back a deep frown. “Stop it.”

“Oh my god, this is why…damn that insect, this was supposed to be easy, just a one-two step, this -” 

Another fireball whizzes by, closer this time. 

“I said stop.” Abigail repeats, her other fist now glowing as well. 

Arihiro keeps his stare focused on Abigail. “Try and stop me.”

Abigail fires off one more warning shot, but her eyes open wide as Arihiro catches it in his bare hand. 

“My Calling should tell you everything you need to know. Rejection.” Arihiro spits, flicking his wrist to snuff out the flame. “All my Calling can do is push other Callings away. I think it’s perfectly fitting for someone like me.” 

Abigail thins her eyes. “I won’t let you do this to yourself.”

Arihiro rolls his eyes and pulls a cigarette from his pocket as he stands. “Whatever. This is gonna be my last smoke, and then I’m done,” he says, looking back at Abigail, “you got a light?”

Abigail’s frown turns to an annoyed sneer, and she acquiesces, firing a wave of flame directly at Arihiro. He dodges just by twisting his body, but puts his cigarette in the flames to light it. 

“Cheers,” he says, pulling a drag before raising his other arm to block a spinning kick from Abigail, his arm absorbing the impact entirely. “Now get lost.” He grabs her ankle and throws her to the ground, but after Ian had done the same thing, she was prepared this time. She throws her arms backwards, creating a pillow of flames that then rocket her forward, and she uses the momentum to flip, throwing Arihiro off her ankle and into the small clearing of trees and grass behind the beach, his cigarette falling from his hand and landing in the sand where he once stood. 

Arihiro lands on his feet, cracking his neck as he straightens himself up. “This is the grand plan then, huh?” His question goes without an answer, just a fist headed towards his face. He knocks her fist out of the way and counters, his fist cutting through empty space as Abigail blasts up in the air. She throws fists and feet at him, careful to not shoot off anymore fireworks. If he can block these, he might be able to shoot them back, too. Not worth the extra destruction, she thinks, landing off-kilter on her feet after all her attacks had been blocked. Arihiro seizes the moment to land a powerful kick to her gut, sending her backwards, and she uses the extra speed to twist in the air to grab a tree, flipping around the trunk and firing herself back at Arihiro, her legs now the tip of a guided missile that crashes right into him. 

Arihiro had folded his arms together to try and guard himself from this charge, but the impact was stronger than he expected. He throws a leg backward to match this intensity, planting him firmly in the ground.

Abigail is already back on her feet and throwing more punches. 

She’s relentless! He thinks, gritting his teeth. And all while barely using those flames… He winces at the thought. Those flames. These quick flashes of purple intensity. 

Comfort he doesn’t deserve. 

Arihiro’s eyes widen as Abigail sweeps her legs under his, knocking him off balance, and his chin is met with a mighty jet-fueled uppercut, shooting Abigail from a low stance to a high blow in almost an instant. He backflips through the air, opening his eyes again in time to see Abigail’s foot cutting straight down in the air towards his face - he manages to barely evade the blow, and feels a deep shudder run through his body. He could feel it, radiating off of her. 

The same feeling he tangentially felt from Carlos. 

He just carried her echoes. 

The same feeling as…

Abigail’s hand grips the side of Arihiro’s face - she’d missed her axe kick, but noticed Arihiro’s lack of followup and took advantage, firing herself right back up and back down again, once she had contact with him. They both slam into the ground, whips of flames spiraling around Abigail as she pulls herself back to her feet - but she gasps when she looks down at Arihiro below her. 

His scarf had been blasted off, singed, and she could see more of what she only had a glimpse of before. 

“Why, Abigail?” Arihiro asks, still on the ground. 

Abigail can’t respond. 

She’d lost her will to fight any further. 

Across Arihiro’s neck, from one end to the other, was a deep, massive scar. 

From where his throat had, at some point in his life, been slit. 

“Why do you fight so hard?” He asks. “Against the Roku’ku’s Dragon, that was my fault…Against Maya, against Ian, my fault too…but…you, why?” He continues, “Why are you doing all this? For my sake?” 

Abigail chokes back a sob, looking down at the man in front of her, who had been murdered in his past. Who bore the scars of mutilation. Whose eyes could barely contain just how sad and tired and lonely they were. 

“Is it delusion? Are you just…just playing superhero?” Arihiro pulls himself to his feet as well, taking a few shaky steps away from Abigail. “Misplaced sense of importance, main character syndrome?” He sighs. “Self satisfaction? No, no. You said this is atonement. So saving me means you save yourself? Is that it? Maybe if a monster like me can live, you can too?”

Abigail wearily shakes her head. “It’s because you’re worth saving.” 

Arihiro recoils. “You don’t even know me.” 

“My Calling…my body doesn’t like it, either.” Abigail says, looking away. “I can use some flames and be fine, but when it really counts…when it actually matters…I’m burning myself alive. When lives are on the line, when it’s do-or-die, when I need it most and have to pull down deep. And every time, I hear it. That I don’t owe the people I’m saving anything. That I could just go home. That, if I wanted to, I could put out my own fire forever, and just live a normal life.” She says, a sad smile crossing her lips, “But I just can’t do that. No matter the cost, I just can’t sit by while people suffer. When someone can get extinguished for no good reason.”

That feeling was getting stronger. Arihiro could feel panic setting in. 

“And you’re like that too, Arihiro. I don’t need to know your history to see that. Hell, knowing your history just confirms my own suspicions. An experiment, a test tube baby, built for what purpose?”

“I was - “

“Who cares? Since you’ve come here, to Coastal Astoria, you’ve done nothing but save lives.” Abigail continues, her sad smile growing a bit of a cozy snark, “Y’know, stuck your whole face where it didn’t belong. And then…against that dragon…that power, you didn’t owe us that. You could’ve gone home, to The Void. But you didn’t. Because that’s who you are.”

Arihiro’s lip quivers. “It isn’t. I don’t deserve this.” 

Abigail’s eyebrows soften, raising in genuine concern. “Arihiro -”

“Stop, stop, I - you’ve got it all wrong, I can’t -” Arihiro pulls his face with his hands in stress, and then lowers his head, his fingers gripping his forehead. Suddenly, he chuckles. Then laughs. It gets stronger, more hysterical as he goes, almost falling over from the sudden rush of emotion. “Abigail, Abigail, Abigail. Oh, okay. Yeah, I get it now. Now you make sense to me…yeah, that’s exactly what it is,” he says, raising his head. 

Abigail shivers at the wide smile across his face. It wasn’t sad, nor was it genuine. It wasn’t a smile of insanity either. It was desperation. 

“Why you’d…try and fight that dragon, why you let the Peacekeepers beat you to ribbons, why you’d go so far…” He snorts. “You want to die, too, don’t you?” 

Abigail’s eyes widen. “Huh?”

“Yeah. That’s it. But you don’t want to -” He laughs again. “Damn. Making me look so stupid. Of course you’d want to go out in a blaze of glory, attempting the impossible task of…heh. Okay then, Abigail O’Hare.” He crosses his arms together and throws them apart, long blades of bone jutting out from each of his hands. 

Abigail takes a step back. “Arihiro, wait -”

“No, no, no. Don’t you get it? This is perfect! You get to die as a hero, trying to slay the foul beast on the beach, and after your innocent blood is shed and drips off my fingers, I can right my wrongs and disintegrate into the ocean.”

Abigail’s hands ignite. “Arihiro, stop.” 

Arihiro’s mouth opens wide in a ghastly, haunted smile, but his blue eye is bubbling up with tears. “This is how it has to be.” 

He charges, and Abigail winces for impact - he’s suddenly much, much faster than he was before. She barely manages to sidestep his first sword, but the sword in his left hand morphs into a club that does not miss its target. She takes the full force of the weapon on her side, smashing her through the trees and back towards the ocean. 

Huh? What the hell? I don’t understand this - his arms - Abigail's thoughts are cut short as arrows of flesh and sinew soar towards her, and she throws up a wave of flame to block them. 

Arihiro is immediately there, ripping the flames apart with his hands and throwing a bone in the air while he forms a new blade from his left arm, swinging it towards Abigail’s neck. She roars out flames, pushing her backwards into the water and avoiding the blade, but the bone in the air forms into a massive weight that smashes into the ground - igniting her feet gets her out of harm's way, but Arihiro was above her, driving his blade down toward her neck again. 

It was his turn to be relentless. He had to be. This was supposed to be easy. Straightforward. Drown, get crushed, whatever came first, and it would all be over. No more pain. No more struggling. No more hiding and scraping by in a desperate performance of life. 

But this feeling…

Arihiro’s blade had transformed to a massive spiked flail, swinging with reckless abandon around him, Abigail narrowly avoiding every hit. At this point, she’d given up on fighting back - both because seeing the slit echoes of a previous death were still ringing in her brain, but also because his Calling would refute any non-physical blow. I can’t just use my fire willy-nilly. Can he even still Reject them while using these weapons? Is that what he did against that Roku’ku? She thinks, continuing to jump backwards and sideways to dodge earth-shaking swings of the flail. As the weapon rises, it rapidly grows in size, and Arihiro cracks the chained whip to send it careening back to the ground - this attack is easily dodged, until Arihiro throws himself through the flail and lands a solid right hook into Abigail’s face. 

Abigail grimaces as she lands, preparing flames on her arms again. As she continues to block and dodge attacks, she tries to come up with any form of strategy. Can he just Reject anything? Or is there an upper limit? He was struggling once the Roku’ku really turned up the gas, but… She sends a burst of blame through her arm to blow her to the side, spiraling low on the ground on small jet flames from her other arm and legs, trying to create a little bit of distance. 

The only way I can get enough firepower for that….is opening the door. 

The remains of Arihiro’s discarded weapons fade into dust on the beach as he takes her distancing as a moment to catch his breath. He grips his stomach, a rush of pain sweeping its way through him. Abigail doesn’t miss this - but she doesn’t take it as an opening. 

Instead, she plans. 

I can’t open it. Even if he can guard some of that fire, I might actually hurt him, beyond what healing can do. And if his health is already fragile… Abigail closes her eyes. …maybe I’ll just open it a nudge. A little crack. A spark… 

She slowly opens her eyes as a decision solidifies in her mind. Arihiro is back on the attack, but a moment to think brought her an inner peace - one that she tries to find in every battle, once she’s found a route to victory. Each blow, each new weapon that appears, just another heartbeat. Another breath, another step towards the right direction. As Arihiro’s blows continue to miss, as his creation of crossbows of bone and whips of entrails and kusarigama of stretched tendons and muscle fail to meet their mark with increasing severity, the burning in his gut gets hotter.

 He watches Abigail glide across the beach, intense heat blasting from her feet with each shift in movement, creating glistening pockets of glass in her wake that reflect the stars and moon above them. Little purple flames dance around her, like leaves falling from the Autumn winds, getting caught in her hair and melting off her fingertips as she rotates and ducks and leaps. 

Her eyes are locked onto his the entire time. 

An invitation to dance. 

Comfort he -

Arihiro bares his teeth as he tries to spit out rage from an empty cauldron. 

Abigail missteps, begins to fall backwards. 

Arihiro’s right arm becomes a massive axe as he leaps up and forward, his arm swinging down in a perfect arc to slice Abigail in half. 

Her eyes are still on his. Golden lights below the blue illumination of the moon. 

Maybe because he was lost in these eyes, he didn’t notice where she’d been leading him. 

Just a nudge.

Below his feet, his cigarette still lay, burned almost entirely through - Abigail’s fire hadn’t gone out. 

Just a crack.

There was only an ember left, and it was directly below the swinging axe. 

A spark.

The cigarette explodes, and a small but quick flame of deep purple shoots straight up, slicing through Arihiro’s blade and causing it to fade to dust. 

As the flame passes Arihiro’s eyes, he confirms it. 

That feeling. The thing radiating like Saturn’s rings around Carlos. What he felt when he saw this flame before, as it ripped through and disintegrated Ryu-Djinn’s ethereal dragon of death. 

It was her. 

It was her.

It was her now, and it was her then, and it was her when…

Arihiro’s left arm forms into a cannon, charging a red beam of destruction. 

Abigail sighs. A little bit further, then. She throws her right arm forward, catching the remains of Arihiro’s fingers in hers, and forces both arms straight up as she unleashes the full strength of her fire. 

Red and purple lights scream into the sky. She grips Arihiro’s shoulder with her left arm, and makes sure her feet are firmly planted.

Arihiro’s eyes haven’t left hers. His are open wide, frantic, his face twisted into a mix of terror and shock. 

Abigail’s eyes begin to squint shut from pain, but she forces them to stay open. The skin on her arm is crackling, the veins on Arihiro’s chest are spreading and darkening. 

“Stop!” Arihiro shouts, attempting to pull his cannon away, “Just let this happen! It’s okay if we both die!” 

“No.”

Tears stream from Arihiro’s blue eye. “Please, Abigail! I can’t! I can’t! You have to, please, even just me, I have to die, please Abigail - “

“Stop.” Abigail mimics. “You don’t get to die until you get to live.”

Arihiro’s lip quivers, and he stops firing his beam, instead focusing the rest of his energy to form rocket boosters in his hands, shooting both of them over the ocean. He thought the sudden shift in momentum would make her let go, but he was wrong, so completely and foolishly wrong, she was holding on tighter than ever. “Let go! LET GO!” 

They skip and collide over the water, direction changing on a dime as the crashing waves knock them into different trajectories, but Abigail holds steady. 

“WHY WON’T YOU JUST LET ME DIE?!” Arihiro screams.

Abigail places her hand on his cheek. 

She leans in close to his ear. 

“‘Me Arihiro’. You said that, and that’s the only time I’ve seen you really smile. And it’s such a sweet, gentle, beautiful smile. It reflects the man inside you. And the world would be worse without that smile in it.” 

Arihiro gasps out the beginning of a cry, and his tank hits empty. 

Abigail uses the last of her energy to shoot them both back to the beach, flying at max speed into a sand dune that immediately cuts their momentum. 

The sand and dust settle, Arihiro and Abigail lay next to each other in the pile of crushed Earth, panting. They’re both quiet for a moment, and Abigail stares up at the stars above her. She has no strength left, and no intention to continue this fight if he decides to get back up. All she has is her hope that Arihiro understood. She hears a whimper next to her. 

“I’m so scared…” he mutters. “I’m so, so….so, so unbelievably scared…”

“I know…” Abigail whispers. 

“I thought…I thought that this…bottomless pit…it would feel better if I chose when to hit the ground…but…” Arihiro gasps, barely catching his breath amongst his sudden flush of emotion, “I don’t want to hit the ground. I don’t want…” He looks over to Abigail. “If you’re serious Abigail…if you really mean it…then please don’t let me fall.” 

Abigail stares at him for a beat. “I didn’t think I’d need conditions…but on one condition.” She manages to say, her voice quiet and hurt. “All those things you said…about you being a parasite, a monster, a….” She sniffles, tears welling up in her eyes, “Those things you said about yourself…don’t ever, ever, say those things again.” 

Arihiro is already crying. “Why?”

Abigail’s tears turn a translucent purple, bubbling down her face. She reaches out and places her hand on Arihiro’s cheek again. “Because it breaks my heart.” 

As Abigail and Arihiro both sob, curling towards each other on the sand dune, Actias flies high in the sky above them. Through his insect eyes, he can see colors and patterns beyond what the humans below him can see, and in the night sky even further above him, the usual darkness was filled in with galaxies of red and purple, star systems and clusters beginning to rotate into each other’s orbit. 

He didn’t realize he could feel this - he didn’t even realize he had the physical parts to do so. 

But still, he smiled for the first time.

And he decided this new emotion was the most beautiful one of them all. 

“Thank you, Miss Abigail.”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It’s dark. [HELP] There is no air, and breath cannot be drawn. [SOMEONE] It’s empty. The nothing stretches across visibility and beyond boundary. [PLEASE] It’s cold. It could never be warm. Not here. Not like this. [I’M JUST A KID] Flesh drips and twists, a form of condensity wraps and suffocates and pulls tighter and tighter but can never fully wrench it out not like this [SOMEONE IT HURTS] not like this. The mass is shaking, it’s quivering, it is broken and reformed and shattered beyond repair. It wants. [I NEED] It doesn’t know if it can want. [WHAT DO I DO] If it’s allowed to want [NEED] but it wants [NEED] it wants [HELP] it wants. 

Wants what? [SOMEONE HELP ME]

It reaches. [I CAN’T BREATHE] It reaches out [SOMEONE] and tries to stretch and [IT HURTS] reach in a direction [I’M BEGGING] but here there is no direction no ending [IT CAN’T END LIKE THIS] no beginning [IT HURTS SO BAD] not here not like this. [COULDN’T SOMEONE] It reaches. It must. [PLEASE]

A reason. [I WANT TO LIVE]

A single blue eye opens wide. 

              {Across all of time and space, 

                From life until death,

                    For all that is and could be and should’ve been,

               I will always, always love you.}

A flash of purple light, brighter than hope. 

A single blue eye begins to cry.