mission report for grydo2life (part 1 of 2)
Mission report for grydo2life
Delivered by: nanyakanya
Title: Among the Hidden Things
Groups/Pairings: NEWS, slight Tego/Massu if you squint
Rating: R
Warnings: elements of horror, gore, violence
Summary: Everything in Massu's life was perfectly pleasant. Or it was until he helped fish the boy out of the canal.
Notes: grydo2life, I was really excited reading through your prompts and decided to go a, uh, interesting way when it came to interpreting them. I hope you enjoy this, and that it's not too weird. A million thanks to all the people who helped me in the writing of this, and again, I really hope you like it!
"And when, with gladness in his face, he placed his hand upon my own, to comfort me, he drew me in among the hidden things."
- Dante Aligheri, Canto III, Inferno - The Divine Comedy
: : :
Masuda chastised himself for walking out of the swim house with his hair still damp and tugged his wool cap down tighter. The weather wasn't as bad as it could be; his lungs didn't yet feel like they were on the verge of collapse if he took too large of a breath. But it was still cold enough to be unpleasant where still wet hair curled at the nape of his neck and behind his ears. Masuda readjusted his scarf as best he could against the bite of the cold and walked quicker along the canal.
Nighttime in Gothenburg wasn't all to different from Tokyo. And then, in some ways, it was worlds apart. The weather was the most obvious difference, followed shortly after by language, people, and architecture. But in essence, all large cities were the same at night. The locals wove through the crowds on their way home or out for a bite to eat. Sometimes they'd stop to help the random beleaguered tourist, wide eyed people clutching their street maps to their chests as they fumbled their way through phrase book Swedish.
Neon lights illuminated the shop fronts on either side of the canal, and to his right, a tiny yacht full of tourist sailed past him, a dark shape on darker waters, engine puttering over the sounds of their guide pointing out landmarks in heavily-accented English. He was a little surprised that they were still running tours this late-it was hard to take in the sights when it it was too dark to really see them-but there was something to be said for floating along the canal at night. It had been one of the first things he'd done after moving here as well.
The sound of something heavy dropping into the canal caught him off guard, breaking him out of his musings with a loud splash and a slight spray of water. When Masuda got closer to the water's edge, he could see it was a person, struggling to stay afloat and find their bearings.
Masuda crouched down and began yelling in an attempt to help the person orient themselves in the dark. It seemed to work-they began to paddle over toward Masuda. As soon as they were close enough, Masuda leaned over and yanked the person-a boy-up to safety. He wasn't at all dressed for the weather, wearing only a thin t-shirt and jeans, and the dunk in the canal couldn't have helped much.
"Mår du bra? Behöver du hjälp?" Masuda asked, patting the boy on the back when he started coughing.
"I don't speak Swedish," the boy wheezed between coughs, each word spoken in perfect Japanese.
Masuda stilled, eyebrows knitting together as he switched over to his mother tongue. "You're Japanese?" Now that the boy wasn't splashing around in the dark waters of the canal, Masuda could get a better look at his face. He was Asian-Japanese, if his speech was any indication-though the mop of ash blond hair plastered to his head had thrown Masuda momentarily. Built a little slighter than Masuda, with thin, bony wrists and a pretty face. He was also drenched to the bone and shivering.
Instinctively, Masuda shrugged his coat off and wrapped it around the boy. It was going to be a hassle to clean later, but he couldn't stand there in good conscience and not offer to help the young man. "Did you fall off a boat? Are you a tourist."
The boy smiled, giving him answers that were more evasive than informative to every question Masuda posed. The only reply that didn't feel like a diversionary tactic was a name-Tegoshi.
Masuda sat back on his haunches. Now that Tegoshi was safe on dry land, he finally noticed how a crowd had begun to form around them. Masuda stood and helped Tegoshi to his feet, placing an arm across his back. Tegoshi seemed to be disoriented-when Masuda asked him about where he was staying, the boy had merely shrugged and looked at him like that was an odd question to ask. Dealing with strangers on all sides seemed like a bad addition to the equation. "C'mon, I'll take you back to my place to dry off."
Luckily, they were only a few minutes from Masuda's flat, and he moved them through the streets silently, his arm never leaving Tegoshi's back. For a brief moment he worried that he might be overstepping his boundaries, touching a stranger like that, but when he glanced from the corner of his eye, Tegoshi seemed perfectly fine. Honestly, he almost looked amused by the whole ordeal, which was more than a little strange. But then, fishing a Japanese boy out of a canal in Sweden wasn't exactly normal either.
Masuda's building was average in every way: a little six story building on the corner of the main thoroughfare that ran adjacent to the canal, its stone facade tinged grey around the edges. The agent who had found him the apartment had assured Masuda that it gave the place more character; Masuda thought it looked dirty. The inside of the building was nice and homey, though, and the rent was more than affordable on his instructor's salary, so Masuda lived with the graying brick and the unassuming face of the building, not even giving it a second glance as he pulled Tegoshi through the main entrance and up the stairs to the third floor.
The two of them were just about to enter Masuda's apartment when Eva from a couple doors down popped her head out into the hallway. She had taken one look at the half-drowned boy and launched into a million questions, everything from is this a friend of yours to what happened and even should I call for take-out? Masuda waved the offers off, even though the take-out sounded tempting, and told Eva he'd knock if they needed anything. Tegoshi seemed entirely unimpressed with the show of domesticity; he didn't even deign to acknowledge Eva's presence, too busy staring at the architecture of the hallway until Masuda dragged him into the apartment.
Once they were safely in Masuda's flat, he set about helping his sodden guest feel more at home. Tegoshi looked to be about the same size as Masuda, if not a little smaller, so finding clothes for him to wear wasn't much of an issue. When he walked back out into his living room, a pair of sweat pants and an old t-shirt, Tegoshi was staring at his bookshelf, running his fingers along the spines of the magazines and photo books Masuda had managed to amass, smiling at them softly like their very existence pleased him.
"You can take a shower if you want. The restroom's right over there, and there are clean towels in the cabinet above the toilet," Masuda said as he held the clothing out between them. Tegoshi looked vaguely amused by all the fuss but whatever his thought process, he kept it to himself, merely smiling and walking into the bathroom with the proffered clothing.
There was the click of the bathroom door locking and then, a few moments later, the sound of the pipes groaning in the walls as the shower was turned on. Masuda let out a sigh he hadn't realized he'd been holding in. While his guest was in the shower, Masuda set about making something warm to drink. It was a bit too late for coffee, so tea would have to do, but the point was to help Tegoshi warm up more than caffeinate him.
When Tegoshi finally emerged, borrowed clothing hanging from his bony shoulders, Masuda was already sitting at the dining room table with two mugs of tea steeping in front of him. He motioned to the seat across from him. "I hope tea's alright."
The amused look was back on Tegoshi's face as he sat down and wrapped his hands around his mug. "Hey, what's your name?"
Masuda furrowed his brows. "Anyone ever tell you that you're really forward?"
"A few times. I'm not a big fan of small talk," Tegoshi said with an impish grin. He leaned forward, elbows on the table, like they were sharing a secret. "It'd be rude not to know the name of my rescuer."
Masuda fidgeted, brought a finger up to scratch at his cheek. Being referred to as 'rescuer' felt both good and a little embarrassing. "I'm Masuda. Masuda Takahisa."
"Masuda," Tegoshi said, a distant look in his eyes. He repeated the name again as if he was rolling the syllables around in his mouth, trying to get a feel for them. Tegoshi grinned. "Masuda. Maaaassuda. Massu."
"Massu?"
"It's a good nickname, don't you think?"
The way Tegoshi was looking at him made Masuda feel like he'd be a jerk not to agree with the name he'd had so unceremoniously dumped on him. 'Massu' didn't know if he found it more irritating or endearing. He shook his head. There were more important matters to be discussed. "What were you doing in the canal?"
Masuda didn't miss the way Tegoshi's face fell a little at the switch in conversation. He covered his disappointment quickly, replacing it with something much more nonchalant. "Looking for something."
"In the canal? In the middle of autumn?" Masuda deadpanned. "You could have died!"
Tegoshi snorted softly. "It'll take a lot more than cold water to do me in."
Masuda frowned but didn't let himself voice the reprimands growing on his tongue. Somehow he felt they would be entirely wasted on the grinning idiot seated at his table. "Well, whatever it was you were looking for, I hope you found it."
"I always do." Tegoshi was still grinning, but there was something to the way his mouth was curving and his eyelids had drooped that made Masuda feel more than a little uneasy. Masuda broke his gaze to stare down into his mug. He was in the middle of thinking up the nicest way to ask Tegoshi if he had a hotel room waiting for him somewhere when Tegoshi spoke, voice sounding almost wistful. "Massu, do you ever feel like you want something more?"
"I thought you didn't like small talk."
"Humor me."
Masuda shrugged. "Not really. I'm comfortable where I am."
"But does that mean you have everything you want?"
Masuda frowned. He had no idea where Tegoshi was going with this line of questions, and to be honest, he felt a little insulted at the implication that his life wasn't as great as he thought it was. Given, not everyone thought teaching swimming at the local pool was all that glamorous, but Masuda was happy enough.
Even more disconcerting though was that some tiny part of him wanted to hear what Tegoshi was saying. Maybe it was just curiosity-they'd only known each other for less than an hour and he could still tell that Tegoshi was a fascinating person. Perhaps playing devil's advocate and posing a million questions was just how Tegoshi got to know people. Masuda was willing to play along, if only to sate his own curiosity. "What do you mean?"
Tegoshi leaned in closer, practically halfway across the table and encroaching on Masuda's personal space. "You're not from here originally, but you came because you were looking for something, didn't you? There was an itchy feeling in your bones, like you knew something wasn't right, but that the answer was out there somewhere. You just had to find it."
"Are you sure you're feeling okay? You didn't hit your head on the way into the canal, did you?" Masuda reached out a tentative hand to brush some of Tegoshi's hair from his forehead. He hadn't seen any bumps or bruises initially.
He wasn't expecting for Tegoshi to grab his hand, couldn't help the surprised yelp that tumbled off his lips. Tegoshi wrapped both of his hands around Masuda's, holding them captive halfway across the table. His fingers were thin, much smaller than Masuda's own, and surprisingly soft. "Massu, you're still looking, aren't you? Everything on your bookshelf says so. Travel magazines. Books full of pictures of far off places. You go on vacation often, don't you? But no matter how you tried, the restlessness never leaves you."
Masuda stared at Tegoshi, entirely lost for words. He wanted to write Tegoshi off as crazy-between the intense stare, the low, excited tone of his voice, and the grabbing, it wasn't too hard to do-but he couldn't deny the cold chill that had shot down his spine. There had been entirely too much of himself in that statement. Lucky guesses made by a crazy man could only account for so much.
Out in the hallway, he could hear the sounds of people shouting. Some of his neighbors coming home from a stint at the pub, maybe. All it did was add to the anxiety winding itself around his guts. There was something not right going on here.
He felt Tegoshi squeeze his hand. When he met the other man's gaze, he could see the excitement in Tegoshi's eyes, dark and gleeful. "You don't have to go it alone, Massu. I'm looking, too."
"Tegoshi, I don't-this is crazy." Masuda tried to pull his hand back but Tegoshi's grip was tight, barring on painful. The voices in the hallway grew louder, sounding less pleasant with every rise in pitch. Masuda swallowed hard. "You're crazy."
He'd expected Tegoshi to look offended or try and refute the claim, not laugh. The sound clashed with the shouting outside, far too cheerful and bright against the anger boiling over like an angry pot. "You say you're comfortable but you know that it's not right. It's written all over your face. Nothing is exciting in your life-it's too typical. Too perfectly normal."
"You're not normal," Masuda said, the only sensible thing that popped into his mind. He looked from Tegoshi to the door of his apartment. The voices just seemed to grow louder and louder, and Masuda knew he needed to go check, but his legs felt like lead. Tegoshi was stroking the back of his hand with those soft fingers of his.
"I know how to buck the system, Massu," he cooed. Someone screamed on the other side of the door. It sounded a lot like Eva. "I can show you how."
Masuda clenched the hand Tegoshi was holding into a fist. When he looked back to his house guest, Tegoshi was staring like he could see right through him, knew everything that made Masuda tick and, worse, knew exactly how to take him apart.
The screaming was joined by someone pounding on the door to his apartment, and yes, that was definitely Eva. Her words were like gibberish to his ears; all he could focus on was Tegoshi's offer, his steady gaze, the play of soft hands on the back of his skin, each stroke like the call of a Siren.
Masuda let his hand go lax, fingers curling around Tegoshi's own. The pounding got louder, more frantic, matching the frenzied beat of Masuda's own heart. Speaking felt laborious, each word wrenched from him like the syllables scorched his mouth. "And... that will... fix things?"
Tegoshi smiled and squeeze Masuda's hand. "It'll fix everything, Massu."
Behind them, he could hear the wood of his door begin to splinter and crack under the pummeling it was receiving. Masuda bit his lip and squeezed Tegoshi's hand in return.
"Okay."
: : :
Ryo grunted, muscles straining to lift the shovel. Another spook, another day in the dismal wasteland he called home. If he was lucky, the creature at his feet would be the only body he had to dispose of all day. He wasn't really that optimistic, though.
He paused long enough to wipe at the sweat beading across his forehead. The sky had taken on that ashy red hue that meant dusk was almost upon him. Ryo's fingers twitched and tightened on the handle of the shovel. He had to finish with his business before darkness fell-it wouldn't be good for him to be outside when the terrors awoke.
Sighing, Ryo hefted the shovel under the rotting mass of flesh and, with one good shove, managed to set the body rolling down into the chasm below. In the beginning, he used to watch the things tumble, staring in sick fascination as flesh and bone tore on the jagged rock faces, sometimes snagging on ledges before continuing the fall, the flesh still pliant enough to make disgusting wet noises on every impact. Crunch, smack, sploosh, chok-round and round it goes, where it stops, nobody knows.
Now-well, now he couldn't care less. The years had hardened him, endless days of dispatching things that should have been long dead but weren't. The spooks were his only company, crawling and moaning and grasping with their bony fingers, and one by one he sent them all down the canyon walls. So long as they didn't come crawling back out at him, he was just fine. Well, as fine as he could be, having to battle for his existence daily in the equivalent to hell on Earth.
He peered over the edge just long enough to see the corpse make it past the first major hurdle-there was a rock shelf about ten feet down the canyon wall, and sometimes the bodies got stuck there. The spook went ricocheting past it, arms and legs cartwheeling wildly like a Whirling Dervish gone all sorts of wrong. Ryo snorted at the mental image and walked back to his truck, shovel pinging against the rocks as he dragged it behind him.
Ryo shouldn't have been entirely surprised when he saw a figure lurking around his truck. The last spook had been too easy to deal with; of course that bitch they called karma would throw another one right in his face.
The guy looked a little cleaner than the usual fare, a little more lucid too, but you never could tell with spooks. Sometimes they looked human enough to pass and Ryo wasn't taking any chances. The machete was out of its sheath and in Ryo's hand before he'd even taken two steps towards the intruder. "Hey! Back off!"
The would be spook jumped back, more alert than Ryo was used to out of the walking dead. He waved his hands up in front of his face, backing away from Ryo and his less-than-friendly weapon. "I'm not a threat! I swear!"
"Where the hell did you come from!" The guy wasn't acting like your typical spook, true, but that didn't make Ryo feel any less on edge. There wasn't any sort of civilization for miles (Ryo had checked many, many times). In all the time he'd lived out among the badlands, he'd yet to see a single friendly face. To have one suddenly appear seemed like a cruel joke. Ryo hefted the machete up and pointed it at the guy's face. "Who are you!"
"I don't-" his new friend started, then huffed a sigh. He still had his hands up in front of his face but he was looking more resigned now. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you. But I swear, I'm not a monster or a zombie or anything."
Ryo came to a stop a few strides from the guy. He was about Ryo's height and around the same age, but without the deep set exhaustion that was carved into every line of Ryo's face or the vacant hunger that haunted the eyes of the walking dead. He was just some hapless kid who was two wrong steps from becoming one more wandering spook. Unless Ryo helped him, of course.
Ryo lowered the knife, bouncing the butt of the hilt against his thigh in time with his thoughts. Trust was dangerous; he was sure he was letting his loneliness cloud his judgement. Still, leaving someone unarmed on the wastes this close the nightfall was manslaughter via apathy. Ryo clucked his tongue and sheathed the machete. He jerked his head in the direction of the truck. "Get in. It's not safe out here at night."
The boy cast a skeptical glance first to Ryo, then the truck, then the knife and finally back to Ryo. Ryo waited for an objection, but if there was one, it didn't come; the guy nodded and ran around to the other side of the truck, climbing into the passenger's side dutifully. Ryo wasted no time in joining him, tossing the shovel into the truck bed before climbing into the cab and setting off.
Talking felt strange. There'd been no one to talk to except himself, and even that grew tiresome after a while, so Ryo had just stopped. He didn't quite know how to operate now that there was a real, lucid human being sitting next to him.
Thankfully, the boy seemed more than happy to take the lead. "I'm Massu."
"Ryo," Ryo spat out, more a grunt than a word. His tongue felt clumsy and unused in his mouth, like a slab of clay.
"Ryo. Thank you."
Ryo shrugged and rubbed at his face. From the corner of his eye, he could see Massu smiling at him, his ear to ear grin looking out of place against the backdrop of the wasted desert streaming past in the window behind him. No one should have been able to smile like that while the dead still walked.
He let the conversation die off, the rattle of the truck's body as it strained to traverse the rocky plains on its shoddy suspension filling the void. That was familiar, normal. The whine of an engine never demanded much of his attention, the clank of metal wouldn't disapprove of his lack of manners.
"So, uh," Massu started, and Ryo was torn between cursing him for throwing a spanner into Ryo's routine and latching onto every syllable like he was starving for them. "What are those, uh, things?"
"Don't have a name. I call 'em spooks. The ones at night are worse."
"Have you seen a lot of, uh, spooks lately?"
Ryo huffed something that almost resembled a laugh. "That's all there is out here."
"More than usual, then?"
Ryo chanced a look up from the terrain to fix Massu with a glare. This kid looked serious, if not a little cautious. It made the hair on the back of Ryo's neck stand up and his stomach start churning. "You know something I don't?"
Massu blinked back at him guilelessly. Now it was his turn to shrug, turning his head away to stare out the windshield. "No, not really. I was just wondering."
Ryo frowned. His instincts were screaming that there was more to that story, that Massu was hiding something from him. Then again, he'd lived the past few years of his life in a state of constant paranoia, so maybe it was nothing. Ryo let his lips twist into a bitter rictus. In all his years alone, he'd forgotten how complicated people were. "No. Things are the same as always."
Massu didn't say anything in response, eyes still firmly on the world outside the window, but Ryo didn't miss the way his shoulders sagged or the soft, relieved sigh that escaped him.
The rest of the drive was spent in silence, much to Ryo's relief. Even better, they didn't run into a single spook on the way back to Ryo's place, though he did notice that one of the traps along the perimeter of his property had been sprung. There was a large chunk of foul smelling flesh stuck between the teeth of the trap and a trail of even worse smelling ichor leading back out into the wilds. Normally Ryo would set off to hunt the thing down, but it was nearly dark and he had Massu to contend with. The spook wouldn't get far anyway, not once the terrors descended.
He reset the trap, then grabbed his things from the truck and guided Massu through the pitfalls that littered the area around his ramshackle home. Massu looked uncertain as he stood on the threshold of Ryo's home, like he was an intruder on something holy, someplace he didn't belong. Ryo just grunted and muttered something about being nervous with the door open as he pulled Massu into his home and locked the entrance behind him.
They shared a dinner of tinned peas and dried venison, huddled over the tiny folding table Ryo had managed to scrounge up while exploring. Neither one spoke much, but little by little, Ryo could feel his dour mood lifting just the slightest. He hadn't realized just how incredibly lonely he had been, dulled as he was by the hardships of his daily life. His existence had become almost mechanical in its routine-wake up, eat, shit, sleep, destroy every evil thing he came across in between, don't forget to breathe. For the first time in years, he found himself wondering if this was all life had to offer for him. Struggle and strive until he died alone, or worse, became one of the rotting things that roamed about outside. Would there be anyone there to send him tumbling down the canyon walls?
Thinking about it made something clench in his gut, so he willed himself not to think about it, turning to Massu and goading him into playing a few hands of poker. He was rusty and Massu was awful at the game-the kid couldn't keep a poker face to save himself-but it was good. Fun, even. He could feel himself grinning, laughing even, and tried not to wonder at how long it had been since he'd felt this relaxed.
They were just settling down to sleep when a storm began to roll in, thunderclaps sounding eerily across the barren plains. The apprehensive look was back on Massu's face, as if each lightning strike was the footsteps of the the hangman come to string them both up. Ryo said nothing as he pulled his mattress and sparse bedding into the living room.
When Massu gave him a questioning look, Ryo muttered something about strength in numbers, and tried to ignore the way the embarrassment fluttered up in his chest when he saw the soft smile Massu gave him in return.
He didn't sleep very well that night. Not that he ever slept well, but the storm seemed to have parked itself straight over the house with every intent of staying for a while. Thunderclaps rattled the walls, shaking everything within them down to the core. Ryo could feel his meager meal swirling anxiously around in his stomach with each minute of lost sleep, and if the rustling from the couch was any indication, Massu was feeling much the same.
Ryo finally gave up sometime after daybreak, though he had to rely on his internal clock for this information, as the skies outside were still dark with rain. Massu seemed to have finally dozed off, so Ryo was careful not to make too much noise as he moved about the house. Not that he could fight with the racket going on above them, but it was the sentiment that counted.
He woke Massu when breakfast was ready-coffee, a tin of fruit, and watery oatmeal that was mostly weevil free. They ate silently, Massu throwing wary looks up to the ceiling every time another thunderclap sounded above them. Ryo tried making a quip about Massu having never lived through a lightning storm before, but Massu only looked guilty and pushed back his chair.
"I should probably get going. I've imposed on you enough," he said softly. His hands were clenched in his lap and he seemed suddenly unable to meet Ryo's gaze.
Ryo stared down at his mug, swirling the dregs of his coffee around idly. "You can stay if you want. I could use the help." And the company, he thought, biting on his cheek to keep himself from blurting it out. "Storm looks too nasty to travel in anyway.."
"No, I've stayed here too long as it is. I-" Massu sighed and brought his eyes back up to Ryo. The guilt was still there, but there was something else, too-a quiet determination set in his boyish features. His lips formed into a tight smile as he said, "I have to find someone. I'm sorry."
Having said his piece, Massu got up from the table, returning the mismatched dishes Ryo had served them on to the sink. Ryo didn't get up to stop him. He should have known Massu couldn't stay. Getting his hopes up had been stupid. All he managed to grind out in reply was, "Yeah, okay."
Contrition had joined the guilty look on Massu's face as he headed for the door, gathering up the oddly heavy winter coat he'd brought with him and sneakers that looked far too new. Ryo met him at the door with a spare knife he tried to force into Massu's hands. The stupid bastard refused it, assuring Ryo with a small smile that he wouldn't need it. Ryo had snapped and called him stupid; Massu laughed and nodded his head. "Yeah, probably."
As if it were watching the whole exchange take place, the storm had begun to pick up even worse, the wind howling angrily outside. Massu stood with the door open for a long moment, looking up at the sky. When he turned back to Ryo, he looked tired. "Things aren't as bad as you think they are."
Ryo frowned. "The hell does that mean?"
Massu chewed on his bottom lip, stared back out at the storm like he had to ask permission to say whatever was on his mind. Ryo sighed. "Just spit it out already."
Massu turned to Ryo, looked at his face like he was both searching for something and begging forgiveness. "It's just-you're not alone. There's more out there if you want to look for it."
"Bullshit," Ryo spat out the word like it could injure if he said it with enough venom. He crossed his arms across his chest. His mind was screaming that there was something very wrong with the whole conversation, but he was too stubborn to drop it. Not when something had finally pierced the emotional dead zone he'd constructed around himself. "There's nothing out here but death."
"No," Massu said, soft but sure. He shook his head. "There's more. A lot more." And then he was bowing slightly and tugging his coat around him tightly. "Thanks for everything. I'm sorry."
He was out the door and gone before Ryo could stop him, running straight out into the rain. Ryo was so thrown by the conversation that he momentarily forgot about the traps outside, only to be blindsided by the feeling of dread at Massu accidentally stumbling into one. He called out the boy's name a few times, tried to peer out into the darkness, but it was no use; the storm was too heavy to see or hear anything else, rain coming down in sheets. Running out to search for Massu under these conditions would only endanger them both. It was cowardly, but Ryo couldn't afford the consequences.
Still, he stayed in the doorway for a long time, eyes trying to scan the yard through the downpour. A jag of lightning crackled across the sky, the resulting boom of thunder so loud, it felt like the earth was being cleaved in two. Ryo swallowed hard. He felt like a red hot poker had been jabbed up into his ribcage and started to root around, igniting everything it touched as it stirred his guts around.
Another flash of lightning streaked its way down from the clouds as Ryo realized two things: he was truly and utterly alone, and he was terrified.
: : :
If Koyama hadn't seen it with his own eyes, he never would have believed it.
Hell, he had seen it and he was still having a hard time digesting the thought. People just didn't fall from the sky.
He had been drifting along on the air above the Athasian mountains, their nets dragging lazily along behind his schooner. The Elders had foreseen the bandywhips having moved on by this point in the season, but the sky was clear and the aether was willing, so Koyama didn't see the problem in taking the ship out. If he caught a few beasts, that was great, and if not, he still managed a few hours away from the all encompassing boredom of his home village.
Dubious pretense or not, Koyama still went through all the motions, gauging the currents and casting out the nets, making sure all of the rigging was tight. He managed a full half hour before giving in to temptation and retrieving the volume on heroic lore from his knapsack. The winds were too calm for him to worry about being blown off course, and he'd hear it if another ship was approaching. With nothing more to do but wait for the passing bandywhip, where was the harm in engaging in a little recreational reading?
And that was when the body fell into his lap.
Koyama sputtered and flailed, fingers running along the deck boards as he tried to simultaneously right himself and shove the intruder off of him. He scrambled backwards until he felt his shoulders hit a bulwark, legs still moving until his knees were pressed to his chest. He waited, curled up on himself, but when no more attacks or flying objects came hurtling his way, he let himself uncoil a little and stared at the new arrival.
It was a body, obviously, probably human. The frame suggested a male, possibly around Koyama's age, though the person's head was buried in its arms so Koyama had no real way of knowing yet. Koyama chewed on his lower lip. There wasn't any blood or any sort of contusions, but the body wasn't moving either. The skin looked a bit too ruddy for a dead man, though.
Koyama had just uncurled and begun to creep over to the person's side when he heard them groan. Koyama bit back a yelp and flinched away, only to immediately feel embarrassed at the reaction and move forward. So a person had appeared out of thin air and landed on him; they were still a guest on his vessel, and clearly in need of aid. A hero wouldn't shy away from something like that.
"Hey, are you alright?" Koyama asked, hoping the way his voice had cracked a little had gone unnoticed. He moved over the the person's side and pushed at a shoulder tentatively, only to be greeted with another groan. Koyama gave another, slightly larger shove. "Hello?"
It took another shove before the person finally moved, pulling themself up on wobbly arms. They slumped back into a sitting position, legs crossing in front of them, and Koyama could barely hear them laugh and mutter a few words that sounded like "never get the landing down", whatever that meant.
Now that he could see a face, Koyama was almost certain the person sitting next to him was a boy, though one of the most effeminite males he'd ever seen. Everything about him was confusing-his clothing looked like Lorullian fare, but his face and build was clearly Athasian. And yet, when he spoke-from what little Koyama had heard-it was with an accent Koyama couldn't recognize.
Oh, and he had fallen out of the sky and landed straight in Koyama's lap.
Most puzzling was that the boy seemed almost entirely nonplussed with the situation, like tumbling out of the aether was something he did daily. Koyama was expecting a freak out or an apology or-well, he didn't know what, but something more in line with someone falling out of thin air.
Instead, the boy merely rubbed his cheek, looked around silently for a moment, and then turned a toothy grin to Koyama. "So you're the captain here, huh? Thanks for breaking my fall."
Koyama blinked. Okay, so not only was the stranger, well, strange; they were also a bit presumptuous. Still not the weirdest thing about him. "Where did you come from?"
"I'm... not sure?"
"You're not sure."
The boy pasted on a smile that was so innocent it had to be fake. He was clearly hiding something, but Koyama would not be outdone. He was going to get a straight answer out of him come hell or high water. "How'd you get here? Did you fall from another ship? Are you being chased?"
It was the last question that caused the slightest of changes in the boy's grin. Koyama leaned forward, eyes honing in on the boy's face like he'd finally found the missing piece of an ancient puzzle. "You're on the run from someone."
"You could say that," he said, dipping his head down so he could stare at his hands. "I was looking for something but I think my tactics worked too well, so I had to run and now I'm here."
That was a total non-answer, but it still set Koyama's blood pumping. Wasn't this how so many of the tales of epic journey and heroic conquest began? An unlikely hero meeting up with a mysterious dams-err, well, stranger in distress, and together they quested to restore balance alongside a ragtag team of those they met on their quest. Koyama could feel his heart begin to thump wildly in his chest. For years he'd never done more than daydream, his nose stuck between the pages of a book, wishing more than waiting for a sign of some sort.
If this wasn't a sign, then Koyama had no idea what one was. People falling from the sky didn't happen normally. This was the start of something, it just had to be. Sure, there were more than a few missing pieces, but he was sure they'd fill in along the way.
There was one essential step that needed to be taken first, though. "What's your name?" Koyama asked.
The boy looked up, locking eyes on Koyama's and offered him another smile, this one much less fake than the one before it. "Tegoshi."
"I'm Koyama," Koyama said with a nod. He stood up, finally sparing a look to the rigging above him. Everything seemed to be in working order, though there was a hole in the main jib and the boom was bent at an odd angle-no doubt a product of Tegoshi's tumble. Koyama winced. That was going to be costly. "I'm not sure what you're running from, but I'll need to head to Olosia to find a shipwright to fix this. It's a few days north of here and, uh," Koyama coughed, scratched at his cheek idly. He hoped he sounded nonchalant. "You're welcome to come along if you'd like."
When he looked back at Tegoshi, the odd young man was grinning up at him, as if the entire reason he'd tumbled down onto the schooner was so Koyama to ask him that very question. Tegoshi held out a hand to Koyama, wordlessly asking to be helped up and smiling harder when Koyama accepted his hand without hesitation. "This is your journey. I'll go wherever you take me."
: : :
Part 2.
Delivered by: nanyakanya
Title: Among the Hidden Things
Groups/Pairings: NEWS, slight Tego/Massu if you squint
Rating: R
Warnings: elements of horror, gore, violence
Summary: Everything in Massu's life was perfectly pleasant. Or it was until he helped fish the boy out of the canal.
Notes: grydo2life, I was really excited reading through your prompts and decided to go a, uh, interesting way when it came to interpreting them. I hope you enjoy this, and that it's not too weird. A million thanks to all the people who helped me in the writing of this, and again, I really hope you like it!
"And when, with gladness in his face, he placed his hand upon my own, to comfort me, he drew me in among the hidden things."
- Dante Aligheri, Canto III, Inferno - The Divine Comedy
: : :
Masuda chastised himself for walking out of the swim house with his hair still damp and tugged his wool cap down tighter. The weather wasn't as bad as it could be; his lungs didn't yet feel like they were on the verge of collapse if he took too large of a breath. But it was still cold enough to be unpleasant where still wet hair curled at the nape of his neck and behind his ears. Masuda readjusted his scarf as best he could against the bite of the cold and walked quicker along the canal.
Nighttime in Gothenburg wasn't all to different from Tokyo. And then, in some ways, it was worlds apart. The weather was the most obvious difference, followed shortly after by language, people, and architecture. But in essence, all large cities were the same at night. The locals wove through the crowds on their way home or out for a bite to eat. Sometimes they'd stop to help the random beleaguered tourist, wide eyed people clutching their street maps to their chests as they fumbled their way through phrase book Swedish.
Neon lights illuminated the shop fronts on either side of the canal, and to his right, a tiny yacht full of tourist sailed past him, a dark shape on darker waters, engine puttering over the sounds of their guide pointing out landmarks in heavily-accented English. He was a little surprised that they were still running tours this late-it was hard to take in the sights when it it was too dark to really see them-but there was something to be said for floating along the canal at night. It had been one of the first things he'd done after moving here as well.
The sound of something heavy dropping into the canal caught him off guard, breaking him out of his musings with a loud splash and a slight spray of water. When Masuda got closer to the water's edge, he could see it was a person, struggling to stay afloat and find their bearings.
Masuda crouched down and began yelling in an attempt to help the person orient themselves in the dark. It seemed to work-they began to paddle over toward Masuda. As soon as they were close enough, Masuda leaned over and yanked the person-a boy-up to safety. He wasn't at all dressed for the weather, wearing only a thin t-shirt and jeans, and the dunk in the canal couldn't have helped much.
"Mår du bra? Behöver du hjälp?" Masuda asked, patting the boy on the back when he started coughing.
"I don't speak Swedish," the boy wheezed between coughs, each word spoken in perfect Japanese.
Masuda stilled, eyebrows knitting together as he switched over to his mother tongue. "You're Japanese?" Now that the boy wasn't splashing around in the dark waters of the canal, Masuda could get a better look at his face. He was Asian-Japanese, if his speech was any indication-though the mop of ash blond hair plastered to his head had thrown Masuda momentarily. Built a little slighter than Masuda, with thin, bony wrists and a pretty face. He was also drenched to the bone and shivering.
Instinctively, Masuda shrugged his coat off and wrapped it around the boy. It was going to be a hassle to clean later, but he couldn't stand there in good conscience and not offer to help the young man. "Did you fall off a boat? Are you a tourist."
The boy smiled, giving him answers that were more evasive than informative to every question Masuda posed. The only reply that didn't feel like a diversionary tactic was a name-Tegoshi.
Masuda sat back on his haunches. Now that Tegoshi was safe on dry land, he finally noticed how a crowd had begun to form around them. Masuda stood and helped Tegoshi to his feet, placing an arm across his back. Tegoshi seemed to be disoriented-when Masuda asked him about where he was staying, the boy had merely shrugged and looked at him like that was an odd question to ask. Dealing with strangers on all sides seemed like a bad addition to the equation. "C'mon, I'll take you back to my place to dry off."
Luckily, they were only a few minutes from Masuda's flat, and he moved them through the streets silently, his arm never leaving Tegoshi's back. For a brief moment he worried that he might be overstepping his boundaries, touching a stranger like that, but when he glanced from the corner of his eye, Tegoshi seemed perfectly fine. Honestly, he almost looked amused by the whole ordeal, which was more than a little strange. But then, fishing a Japanese boy out of a canal in Sweden wasn't exactly normal either.
Masuda's building was average in every way: a little six story building on the corner of the main thoroughfare that ran adjacent to the canal, its stone facade tinged grey around the edges. The agent who had found him the apartment had assured Masuda that it gave the place more character; Masuda thought it looked dirty. The inside of the building was nice and homey, though, and the rent was more than affordable on his instructor's salary, so Masuda lived with the graying brick and the unassuming face of the building, not even giving it a second glance as he pulled Tegoshi through the main entrance and up the stairs to the third floor.
The two of them were just about to enter Masuda's apartment when Eva from a couple doors down popped her head out into the hallway. She had taken one look at the half-drowned boy and launched into a million questions, everything from is this a friend of yours to what happened and even should I call for take-out? Masuda waved the offers off, even though the take-out sounded tempting, and told Eva he'd knock if they needed anything. Tegoshi seemed entirely unimpressed with the show of domesticity; he didn't even deign to acknowledge Eva's presence, too busy staring at the architecture of the hallway until Masuda dragged him into the apartment.
Once they were safely in Masuda's flat, he set about helping his sodden guest feel more at home. Tegoshi looked to be about the same size as Masuda, if not a little smaller, so finding clothes for him to wear wasn't much of an issue. When he walked back out into his living room, a pair of sweat pants and an old t-shirt, Tegoshi was staring at his bookshelf, running his fingers along the spines of the magazines and photo books Masuda had managed to amass, smiling at them softly like their very existence pleased him.
"You can take a shower if you want. The restroom's right over there, and there are clean towels in the cabinet above the toilet," Masuda said as he held the clothing out between them. Tegoshi looked vaguely amused by all the fuss but whatever his thought process, he kept it to himself, merely smiling and walking into the bathroom with the proffered clothing.
There was the click of the bathroom door locking and then, a few moments later, the sound of the pipes groaning in the walls as the shower was turned on. Masuda let out a sigh he hadn't realized he'd been holding in. While his guest was in the shower, Masuda set about making something warm to drink. It was a bit too late for coffee, so tea would have to do, but the point was to help Tegoshi warm up more than caffeinate him.
When Tegoshi finally emerged, borrowed clothing hanging from his bony shoulders, Masuda was already sitting at the dining room table with two mugs of tea steeping in front of him. He motioned to the seat across from him. "I hope tea's alright."
The amused look was back on Tegoshi's face as he sat down and wrapped his hands around his mug. "Hey, what's your name?"
Masuda furrowed his brows. "Anyone ever tell you that you're really forward?"
"A few times. I'm not a big fan of small talk," Tegoshi said with an impish grin. He leaned forward, elbows on the table, like they were sharing a secret. "It'd be rude not to know the name of my rescuer."
Masuda fidgeted, brought a finger up to scratch at his cheek. Being referred to as 'rescuer' felt both good and a little embarrassing. "I'm Masuda. Masuda Takahisa."
"Masuda," Tegoshi said, a distant look in his eyes. He repeated the name again as if he was rolling the syllables around in his mouth, trying to get a feel for them. Tegoshi grinned. "Masuda. Maaaassuda. Massu."
"Massu?"
"It's a good nickname, don't you think?"
The way Tegoshi was looking at him made Masuda feel like he'd be a jerk not to agree with the name he'd had so unceremoniously dumped on him. 'Massu' didn't know if he found it more irritating or endearing. He shook his head. There were more important matters to be discussed. "What were you doing in the canal?"
Masuda didn't miss the way Tegoshi's face fell a little at the switch in conversation. He covered his disappointment quickly, replacing it with something much more nonchalant. "Looking for something."
"In the canal? In the middle of autumn?" Masuda deadpanned. "You could have died!"
Tegoshi snorted softly. "It'll take a lot more than cold water to do me in."
Masuda frowned but didn't let himself voice the reprimands growing on his tongue. Somehow he felt they would be entirely wasted on the grinning idiot seated at his table. "Well, whatever it was you were looking for, I hope you found it."
"I always do." Tegoshi was still grinning, but there was something to the way his mouth was curving and his eyelids had drooped that made Masuda feel more than a little uneasy. Masuda broke his gaze to stare down into his mug. He was in the middle of thinking up the nicest way to ask Tegoshi if he had a hotel room waiting for him somewhere when Tegoshi spoke, voice sounding almost wistful. "Massu, do you ever feel like you want something more?"
"I thought you didn't like small talk."
"Humor me."
Masuda shrugged. "Not really. I'm comfortable where I am."
"But does that mean you have everything you want?"
Masuda frowned. He had no idea where Tegoshi was going with this line of questions, and to be honest, he felt a little insulted at the implication that his life wasn't as great as he thought it was. Given, not everyone thought teaching swimming at the local pool was all that glamorous, but Masuda was happy enough.
Even more disconcerting though was that some tiny part of him wanted to hear what Tegoshi was saying. Maybe it was just curiosity-they'd only known each other for less than an hour and he could still tell that Tegoshi was a fascinating person. Perhaps playing devil's advocate and posing a million questions was just how Tegoshi got to know people. Masuda was willing to play along, if only to sate his own curiosity. "What do you mean?"
Tegoshi leaned in closer, practically halfway across the table and encroaching on Masuda's personal space. "You're not from here originally, but you came because you were looking for something, didn't you? There was an itchy feeling in your bones, like you knew something wasn't right, but that the answer was out there somewhere. You just had to find it."
"Are you sure you're feeling okay? You didn't hit your head on the way into the canal, did you?" Masuda reached out a tentative hand to brush some of Tegoshi's hair from his forehead. He hadn't seen any bumps or bruises initially.
He wasn't expecting for Tegoshi to grab his hand, couldn't help the surprised yelp that tumbled off his lips. Tegoshi wrapped both of his hands around Masuda's, holding them captive halfway across the table. His fingers were thin, much smaller than Masuda's own, and surprisingly soft. "Massu, you're still looking, aren't you? Everything on your bookshelf says so. Travel magazines. Books full of pictures of far off places. You go on vacation often, don't you? But no matter how you tried, the restlessness never leaves you."
Masuda stared at Tegoshi, entirely lost for words. He wanted to write Tegoshi off as crazy-between the intense stare, the low, excited tone of his voice, and the grabbing, it wasn't too hard to do-but he couldn't deny the cold chill that had shot down his spine. There had been entirely too much of himself in that statement. Lucky guesses made by a crazy man could only account for so much.
Out in the hallway, he could hear the sounds of people shouting. Some of his neighbors coming home from a stint at the pub, maybe. All it did was add to the anxiety winding itself around his guts. There was something not right going on here.
He felt Tegoshi squeeze his hand. When he met the other man's gaze, he could see the excitement in Tegoshi's eyes, dark and gleeful. "You don't have to go it alone, Massu. I'm looking, too."
"Tegoshi, I don't-this is crazy." Masuda tried to pull his hand back but Tegoshi's grip was tight, barring on painful. The voices in the hallway grew louder, sounding less pleasant with every rise in pitch. Masuda swallowed hard. "You're crazy."
He'd expected Tegoshi to look offended or try and refute the claim, not laugh. The sound clashed with the shouting outside, far too cheerful and bright against the anger boiling over like an angry pot. "You say you're comfortable but you know that it's not right. It's written all over your face. Nothing is exciting in your life-it's too typical. Too perfectly normal."
"You're not normal," Masuda said, the only sensible thing that popped into his mind. He looked from Tegoshi to the door of his apartment. The voices just seemed to grow louder and louder, and Masuda knew he needed to go check, but his legs felt like lead. Tegoshi was stroking the back of his hand with those soft fingers of his.
"I know how to buck the system, Massu," he cooed. Someone screamed on the other side of the door. It sounded a lot like Eva. "I can show you how."
Masuda clenched the hand Tegoshi was holding into a fist. When he looked back to his house guest, Tegoshi was staring like he could see right through him, knew everything that made Masuda tick and, worse, knew exactly how to take him apart.
The screaming was joined by someone pounding on the door to his apartment, and yes, that was definitely Eva. Her words were like gibberish to his ears; all he could focus on was Tegoshi's offer, his steady gaze, the play of soft hands on the back of his skin, each stroke like the call of a Siren.
Masuda let his hand go lax, fingers curling around Tegoshi's own. The pounding got louder, more frantic, matching the frenzied beat of Masuda's own heart. Speaking felt laborious, each word wrenched from him like the syllables scorched his mouth. "And... that will... fix things?"
Tegoshi smiled and squeeze Masuda's hand. "It'll fix everything, Massu."
Behind them, he could hear the wood of his door begin to splinter and crack under the pummeling it was receiving. Masuda bit his lip and squeezed Tegoshi's hand in return.
"Okay."
: : :
Ryo grunted, muscles straining to lift the shovel. Another spook, another day in the dismal wasteland he called home. If he was lucky, the creature at his feet would be the only body he had to dispose of all day. He wasn't really that optimistic, though.
He paused long enough to wipe at the sweat beading across his forehead. The sky had taken on that ashy red hue that meant dusk was almost upon him. Ryo's fingers twitched and tightened on the handle of the shovel. He had to finish with his business before darkness fell-it wouldn't be good for him to be outside when the terrors awoke.
Sighing, Ryo hefted the shovel under the rotting mass of flesh and, with one good shove, managed to set the body rolling down into the chasm below. In the beginning, he used to watch the things tumble, staring in sick fascination as flesh and bone tore on the jagged rock faces, sometimes snagging on ledges before continuing the fall, the flesh still pliant enough to make disgusting wet noises on every impact. Crunch, smack, sploosh, chok-round and round it goes, where it stops, nobody knows.
Now-well, now he couldn't care less. The years had hardened him, endless days of dispatching things that should have been long dead but weren't. The spooks were his only company, crawling and moaning and grasping with their bony fingers, and one by one he sent them all down the canyon walls. So long as they didn't come crawling back out at him, he was just fine. Well, as fine as he could be, having to battle for his existence daily in the equivalent to hell on Earth.
He peered over the edge just long enough to see the corpse make it past the first major hurdle-there was a rock shelf about ten feet down the canyon wall, and sometimes the bodies got stuck there. The spook went ricocheting past it, arms and legs cartwheeling wildly like a Whirling Dervish gone all sorts of wrong. Ryo snorted at the mental image and walked back to his truck, shovel pinging against the rocks as he dragged it behind him.
Ryo shouldn't have been entirely surprised when he saw a figure lurking around his truck. The last spook had been too easy to deal with; of course that bitch they called karma would throw another one right in his face.
The guy looked a little cleaner than the usual fare, a little more lucid too, but you never could tell with spooks. Sometimes they looked human enough to pass and Ryo wasn't taking any chances. The machete was out of its sheath and in Ryo's hand before he'd even taken two steps towards the intruder. "Hey! Back off!"
The would be spook jumped back, more alert than Ryo was used to out of the walking dead. He waved his hands up in front of his face, backing away from Ryo and his less-than-friendly weapon. "I'm not a threat! I swear!"
"Where the hell did you come from!" The guy wasn't acting like your typical spook, true, but that didn't make Ryo feel any less on edge. There wasn't any sort of civilization for miles (Ryo had checked many, many times). In all the time he'd lived out among the badlands, he'd yet to see a single friendly face. To have one suddenly appear seemed like a cruel joke. Ryo hefted the machete up and pointed it at the guy's face. "Who are you!"
"I don't-" his new friend started, then huffed a sigh. He still had his hands up in front of his face but he was looking more resigned now. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you. But I swear, I'm not a monster or a zombie or anything."
Ryo came to a stop a few strides from the guy. He was about Ryo's height and around the same age, but without the deep set exhaustion that was carved into every line of Ryo's face or the vacant hunger that haunted the eyes of the walking dead. He was just some hapless kid who was two wrong steps from becoming one more wandering spook. Unless Ryo helped him, of course.
Ryo lowered the knife, bouncing the butt of the hilt against his thigh in time with his thoughts. Trust was dangerous; he was sure he was letting his loneliness cloud his judgement. Still, leaving someone unarmed on the wastes this close the nightfall was manslaughter via apathy. Ryo clucked his tongue and sheathed the machete. He jerked his head in the direction of the truck. "Get in. It's not safe out here at night."
The boy cast a skeptical glance first to Ryo, then the truck, then the knife and finally back to Ryo. Ryo waited for an objection, but if there was one, it didn't come; the guy nodded and ran around to the other side of the truck, climbing into the passenger's side dutifully. Ryo wasted no time in joining him, tossing the shovel into the truck bed before climbing into the cab and setting off.
Talking felt strange. There'd been no one to talk to except himself, and even that grew tiresome after a while, so Ryo had just stopped. He didn't quite know how to operate now that there was a real, lucid human being sitting next to him.
Thankfully, the boy seemed more than happy to take the lead. "I'm Massu."
"Ryo," Ryo spat out, more a grunt than a word. His tongue felt clumsy and unused in his mouth, like a slab of clay.
"Ryo. Thank you."
Ryo shrugged and rubbed at his face. From the corner of his eye, he could see Massu smiling at him, his ear to ear grin looking out of place against the backdrop of the wasted desert streaming past in the window behind him. No one should have been able to smile like that while the dead still walked.
He let the conversation die off, the rattle of the truck's body as it strained to traverse the rocky plains on its shoddy suspension filling the void. That was familiar, normal. The whine of an engine never demanded much of his attention, the clank of metal wouldn't disapprove of his lack of manners.
"So, uh," Massu started, and Ryo was torn between cursing him for throwing a spanner into Ryo's routine and latching onto every syllable like he was starving for them. "What are those, uh, things?"
"Don't have a name. I call 'em spooks. The ones at night are worse."
"Have you seen a lot of, uh, spooks lately?"
Ryo huffed something that almost resembled a laugh. "That's all there is out here."
"More than usual, then?"
Ryo chanced a look up from the terrain to fix Massu with a glare. This kid looked serious, if not a little cautious. It made the hair on the back of Ryo's neck stand up and his stomach start churning. "You know something I don't?"
Massu blinked back at him guilelessly. Now it was his turn to shrug, turning his head away to stare out the windshield. "No, not really. I was just wondering."
Ryo frowned. His instincts were screaming that there was more to that story, that Massu was hiding something from him. Then again, he'd lived the past few years of his life in a state of constant paranoia, so maybe it was nothing. Ryo let his lips twist into a bitter rictus. In all his years alone, he'd forgotten how complicated people were. "No. Things are the same as always."
Massu didn't say anything in response, eyes still firmly on the world outside the window, but Ryo didn't miss the way his shoulders sagged or the soft, relieved sigh that escaped him.
The rest of the drive was spent in silence, much to Ryo's relief. Even better, they didn't run into a single spook on the way back to Ryo's place, though he did notice that one of the traps along the perimeter of his property had been sprung. There was a large chunk of foul smelling flesh stuck between the teeth of the trap and a trail of even worse smelling ichor leading back out into the wilds. Normally Ryo would set off to hunt the thing down, but it was nearly dark and he had Massu to contend with. The spook wouldn't get far anyway, not once the terrors descended.
He reset the trap, then grabbed his things from the truck and guided Massu through the pitfalls that littered the area around his ramshackle home. Massu looked uncertain as he stood on the threshold of Ryo's home, like he was an intruder on something holy, someplace he didn't belong. Ryo just grunted and muttered something about being nervous with the door open as he pulled Massu into his home and locked the entrance behind him.
They shared a dinner of tinned peas and dried venison, huddled over the tiny folding table Ryo had managed to scrounge up while exploring. Neither one spoke much, but little by little, Ryo could feel his dour mood lifting just the slightest. He hadn't realized just how incredibly lonely he had been, dulled as he was by the hardships of his daily life. His existence had become almost mechanical in its routine-wake up, eat, shit, sleep, destroy every evil thing he came across in between, don't forget to breathe. For the first time in years, he found himself wondering if this was all life had to offer for him. Struggle and strive until he died alone, or worse, became one of the rotting things that roamed about outside. Would there be anyone there to send him tumbling down the canyon walls?
Thinking about it made something clench in his gut, so he willed himself not to think about it, turning to Massu and goading him into playing a few hands of poker. He was rusty and Massu was awful at the game-the kid couldn't keep a poker face to save himself-but it was good. Fun, even. He could feel himself grinning, laughing even, and tried not to wonder at how long it had been since he'd felt this relaxed.
They were just settling down to sleep when a storm began to roll in, thunderclaps sounding eerily across the barren plains. The apprehensive look was back on Massu's face, as if each lightning strike was the footsteps of the the hangman come to string them both up. Ryo said nothing as he pulled his mattress and sparse bedding into the living room.
When Massu gave him a questioning look, Ryo muttered something about strength in numbers, and tried to ignore the way the embarrassment fluttered up in his chest when he saw the soft smile Massu gave him in return.
He didn't sleep very well that night. Not that he ever slept well, but the storm seemed to have parked itself straight over the house with every intent of staying for a while. Thunderclaps rattled the walls, shaking everything within them down to the core. Ryo could feel his meager meal swirling anxiously around in his stomach with each minute of lost sleep, and if the rustling from the couch was any indication, Massu was feeling much the same.
Ryo finally gave up sometime after daybreak, though he had to rely on his internal clock for this information, as the skies outside were still dark with rain. Massu seemed to have finally dozed off, so Ryo was careful not to make too much noise as he moved about the house. Not that he could fight with the racket going on above them, but it was the sentiment that counted.
He woke Massu when breakfast was ready-coffee, a tin of fruit, and watery oatmeal that was mostly weevil free. They ate silently, Massu throwing wary looks up to the ceiling every time another thunderclap sounded above them. Ryo tried making a quip about Massu having never lived through a lightning storm before, but Massu only looked guilty and pushed back his chair.
"I should probably get going. I've imposed on you enough," he said softly. His hands were clenched in his lap and he seemed suddenly unable to meet Ryo's gaze.
Ryo stared down at his mug, swirling the dregs of his coffee around idly. "You can stay if you want. I could use the help." And the company, he thought, biting on his cheek to keep himself from blurting it out. "Storm looks too nasty to travel in anyway.."
"No, I've stayed here too long as it is. I-" Massu sighed and brought his eyes back up to Ryo. The guilt was still there, but there was something else, too-a quiet determination set in his boyish features. His lips formed into a tight smile as he said, "I have to find someone. I'm sorry."
Having said his piece, Massu got up from the table, returning the mismatched dishes Ryo had served them on to the sink. Ryo didn't get up to stop him. He should have known Massu couldn't stay. Getting his hopes up had been stupid. All he managed to grind out in reply was, "Yeah, okay."
Contrition had joined the guilty look on Massu's face as he headed for the door, gathering up the oddly heavy winter coat he'd brought with him and sneakers that looked far too new. Ryo met him at the door with a spare knife he tried to force into Massu's hands. The stupid bastard refused it, assuring Ryo with a small smile that he wouldn't need it. Ryo had snapped and called him stupid; Massu laughed and nodded his head. "Yeah, probably."
As if it were watching the whole exchange take place, the storm had begun to pick up even worse, the wind howling angrily outside. Massu stood with the door open for a long moment, looking up at the sky. When he turned back to Ryo, he looked tired. "Things aren't as bad as you think they are."
Ryo frowned. "The hell does that mean?"
Massu chewed on his bottom lip, stared back out at the storm like he had to ask permission to say whatever was on his mind. Ryo sighed. "Just spit it out already."
Massu turned to Ryo, looked at his face like he was both searching for something and begging forgiveness. "It's just-you're not alone. There's more out there if you want to look for it."
"Bullshit," Ryo spat out the word like it could injure if he said it with enough venom. He crossed his arms across his chest. His mind was screaming that there was something very wrong with the whole conversation, but he was too stubborn to drop it. Not when something had finally pierced the emotional dead zone he'd constructed around himself. "There's nothing out here but death."
"No," Massu said, soft but sure. He shook his head. "There's more. A lot more." And then he was bowing slightly and tugging his coat around him tightly. "Thanks for everything. I'm sorry."
He was out the door and gone before Ryo could stop him, running straight out into the rain. Ryo was so thrown by the conversation that he momentarily forgot about the traps outside, only to be blindsided by the feeling of dread at Massu accidentally stumbling into one. He called out the boy's name a few times, tried to peer out into the darkness, but it was no use; the storm was too heavy to see or hear anything else, rain coming down in sheets. Running out to search for Massu under these conditions would only endanger them both. It was cowardly, but Ryo couldn't afford the consequences.
Still, he stayed in the doorway for a long time, eyes trying to scan the yard through the downpour. A jag of lightning crackled across the sky, the resulting boom of thunder so loud, it felt like the earth was being cleaved in two. Ryo swallowed hard. He felt like a red hot poker had been jabbed up into his ribcage and started to root around, igniting everything it touched as it stirred his guts around.
Another flash of lightning streaked its way down from the clouds as Ryo realized two things: he was truly and utterly alone, and he was terrified.
: : :
If Koyama hadn't seen it with his own eyes, he never would have believed it.
Hell, he had seen it and he was still having a hard time digesting the thought. People just didn't fall from the sky.
He had been drifting along on the air above the Athasian mountains, their nets dragging lazily along behind his schooner. The Elders had foreseen the bandywhips having moved on by this point in the season, but the sky was clear and the aether was willing, so Koyama didn't see the problem in taking the ship out. If he caught a few beasts, that was great, and if not, he still managed a few hours away from the all encompassing boredom of his home village.
Dubious pretense or not, Koyama still went through all the motions, gauging the currents and casting out the nets, making sure all of the rigging was tight. He managed a full half hour before giving in to temptation and retrieving the volume on heroic lore from his knapsack. The winds were too calm for him to worry about being blown off course, and he'd hear it if another ship was approaching. With nothing more to do but wait for the passing bandywhip, where was the harm in engaging in a little recreational reading?
And that was when the body fell into his lap.
Koyama sputtered and flailed, fingers running along the deck boards as he tried to simultaneously right himself and shove the intruder off of him. He scrambled backwards until he felt his shoulders hit a bulwark, legs still moving until his knees were pressed to his chest. He waited, curled up on himself, but when no more attacks or flying objects came hurtling his way, he let himself uncoil a little and stared at the new arrival.
It was a body, obviously, probably human. The frame suggested a male, possibly around Koyama's age, though the person's head was buried in its arms so Koyama had no real way of knowing yet. Koyama chewed on his lower lip. There wasn't any blood or any sort of contusions, but the body wasn't moving either. The skin looked a bit too ruddy for a dead man, though.
Koyama had just uncurled and begun to creep over to the person's side when he heard them groan. Koyama bit back a yelp and flinched away, only to immediately feel embarrassed at the reaction and move forward. So a person had appeared out of thin air and landed on him; they were still a guest on his vessel, and clearly in need of aid. A hero wouldn't shy away from something like that.
"Hey, are you alright?" Koyama asked, hoping the way his voice had cracked a little had gone unnoticed. He moved over the the person's side and pushed at a shoulder tentatively, only to be greeted with another groan. Koyama gave another, slightly larger shove. "Hello?"
It took another shove before the person finally moved, pulling themself up on wobbly arms. They slumped back into a sitting position, legs crossing in front of them, and Koyama could barely hear them laugh and mutter a few words that sounded like "never get the landing down", whatever that meant.
Now that he could see a face, Koyama was almost certain the person sitting next to him was a boy, though one of the most effeminite males he'd ever seen. Everything about him was confusing-his clothing looked like Lorullian fare, but his face and build was clearly Athasian. And yet, when he spoke-from what little Koyama had heard-it was with an accent Koyama couldn't recognize.
Oh, and he had fallen out of the sky and landed straight in Koyama's lap.
Most puzzling was that the boy seemed almost entirely nonplussed with the situation, like tumbling out of the aether was something he did daily. Koyama was expecting a freak out or an apology or-well, he didn't know what, but something more in line with someone falling out of thin air.
Instead, the boy merely rubbed his cheek, looked around silently for a moment, and then turned a toothy grin to Koyama. "So you're the captain here, huh? Thanks for breaking my fall."
Koyama blinked. Okay, so not only was the stranger, well, strange; they were also a bit presumptuous. Still not the weirdest thing about him. "Where did you come from?"
"I'm... not sure?"
"You're not sure."
The boy pasted on a smile that was so innocent it had to be fake. He was clearly hiding something, but Koyama would not be outdone. He was going to get a straight answer out of him come hell or high water. "How'd you get here? Did you fall from another ship? Are you being chased?"
It was the last question that caused the slightest of changes in the boy's grin. Koyama leaned forward, eyes honing in on the boy's face like he'd finally found the missing piece of an ancient puzzle. "You're on the run from someone."
"You could say that," he said, dipping his head down so he could stare at his hands. "I was looking for something but I think my tactics worked too well, so I had to run and now I'm here."
That was a total non-answer, but it still set Koyama's blood pumping. Wasn't this how so many of the tales of epic journey and heroic conquest began? An unlikely hero meeting up with a mysterious dams-err, well, stranger in distress, and together they quested to restore balance alongside a ragtag team of those they met on their quest. Koyama could feel his heart begin to thump wildly in his chest. For years he'd never done more than daydream, his nose stuck between the pages of a book, wishing more than waiting for a sign of some sort.
If this wasn't a sign, then Koyama had no idea what one was. People falling from the sky didn't happen normally. This was the start of something, it just had to be. Sure, there were more than a few missing pieces, but he was sure they'd fill in along the way.
There was one essential step that needed to be taken first, though. "What's your name?" Koyama asked.
The boy looked up, locking eyes on Koyama's and offered him another smile, this one much less fake than the one before it. "Tegoshi."
"I'm Koyama," Koyama said with a nod. He stood up, finally sparing a look to the rigging above him. Everything seemed to be in working order, though there was a hole in the main jib and the boom was bent at an odd angle-no doubt a product of Tegoshi's tumble. Koyama winced. That was going to be costly. "I'm not sure what you're running from, but I'll need to head to Olosia to find a shipwright to fix this. It's a few days north of here and, uh," Koyama coughed, scratched at his cheek idly. He hoped he sounded nonchalant. "You're welcome to come along if you'd like."
When he looked back at Tegoshi, the odd young man was grinning up at him, as if the entire reason he'd tumbled down onto the schooner was so Koyama to ask him that very question. Tegoshi held out a hand to Koyama, wordlessly asking to be helped up and smiling harder when Koyama accepted his hand without hesitation. "This is your journey. I'll go wherever you take me."
: : :
Part 2.