The Telling of One Billion Ghost Stories (draft) - Part 21
...so just to really confuse everyone before I finished up with the flashback chapters, I went and wrote one about how Kurogane met Fye.
Uh, yeah, I think that's about all I can say in introduction to this one this week. >.>
Other parts: The original ficlets, Plot notes, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20, Side Story 1
Kurogane had never deliberately gone out looking for the Flowrights. Even if they’d survived, finding them would be like finding a needle in a haystack out in this country with the trail so many years cold. So it wasn’t until a single, promising rumour reached his ears and he found himself abandoning all his travel plans overnight to follow it - four months and over a hundred kilometres from where he’d had to leave Souma’s body - that he had to admit how hard some part of him had gone right on listening for any hint of them all along.
The rumour involved a gang who made camp a day’s travel away, and a man with white hair, unusually clean teeth and skin and mechanical skills of a calibre practically unheard of to the deadlands gangs. The explanation was far too obvious to ignore. Kurogane had brought himself within walking distance of the place before sunset the next day.
Through his binoculars, from as close as he dared go to an unfamiliar camp, the residents looked like a typical example of their kind - a gang of a medium size, probably just organised enough to keep themselves running. None of the people he saw matched the description he was watching for, but something unexpected had obviously transpired there in the recent past. Smoke still wafted from the carcass of one of their larger vehicles, much of which was still buried in the sand in which had been piled on to it in a rudimentary attempt at fire fighting. As Kurogane watched, four angry, tired men on motorbikes pulled up, argued loudly with some of their fellows, refuelled and set off again in another direction. There were a couple of buildings which men disappeared into or appeared out of from time to time, and Kurogane’s binoculars were no help to him in discovering what else might lie inside, but by the end of the first couple of hours he’d decided that if there’d ever been anyone by the name of Flowright at this camp, he was gone.
Tilting his binoculars a little to the East revealed a hilly area, probably only a few hours travel away. It occurred to Kurogane that, although none of the riders from the camp had seemed interested in that direction, there ought to be a good supply of places to hide in terrain like that.
He took the long way around the camp, though, to be sure to stay out of sight.
***
The hills were even worse country than Kurogane had supposed from a distance - steep and rocky, barren of even the poison grass that was taking over the better parts of the other lands. It would be hopeless to try and bring a party of vehicles through here, but one person could slip out of sight quite effectively and not be seen again, which was not a greatly encouraging thought. As it was, it took him two days to find any sign of any other human being there at all.
The encounter happened largely by accident. Kurogane rounded the top of a hill in one of the rockier areas, and discovered that the land over the peak was flatter and sandier than he’d anticipated, and nested in a cosy little hollow of it, someone had set up camp. It was the most basic of one-man affairs - marked only by a pack and a few unremarkable possessions which lay scattered around; there wasn’t even a fire to give it the semblance of anything more homely. The person who’d made the camp had their back to Kurogane, all features concealed by a long coat and hood, but barely had Kurogane rounded the last rock to bring the site into view when there was the softest of footsteps behind him and the unmistakable click of a gun being brought level to aim. He swore at himself under his breath - apparently the camp wasn’t too basic to be guarded.
The figure in the cloak turned around, pushed back the hood and gave the intruder a thoughtful once-over. Kurogane had been more or less expecting the soft, white hair and the unusually pale complexion that greeted him, though these also came with a smug sort of smile that as good as said, ‘By all means, do feel free to have a look behind yourself. No sudden movements, thank you.’
Kurogane took the invitation, turning slowly and deliberately. Behind him stood a skinny girl with long, blonde hair and oversized, pointy earmuffs protruding from both sides of her head. She must have stepped out from a crack between two of the boulders he’d just passed - she’d easily fit. She had a businesslike looking weapon trained on him in the manner of someone who’d listened to the instructions on how to use it very carefully. She didn’t look obviously threatening, triumphant, nervous, or any of the other expression you’d expect to see on the face of a young girl who might soon be expected to shoot someone she’d just met. She looked as though she’d simply been told what to do if anyone came between her and the camp, and was following their instructions as she would any other.
“She’s a computer,” said Kurogane before he could think better of it.
“Hmm?” said the man behind him, sounding truly fascinated by Kurogane’s observation. Kurogane knew when he turned back around again he’d be facing one raised eyebrow and mentally cursed himself again for being so careless with what he said.
“Indeed she is, how nicely picked!” the Flowright went on. “And a far finer one than you’ll see anywhere else nowadays, if I do say so myself.”
“Ah,” said Kurogane vaguely.
The man gave him another speculative look. “You’ll have to excuse me, I was expecting someone else. But you’re not from the gang after all, are you?”
“What gang?” asked Kurogane, finally gathering the sense to remember how to go a conversation without giving away everything he knew in one shot.
“Recently-former acquaintances of ours,” the man explained mildly. “A shame - they seemed so eager about getting a good technician to work for them at first, but before long I’m afraid some of them started to get some funny ideas in their heads about just what else my Chi might be used for, and we had to make a bit of an unscheduled exit. But a fine young man like you wouldn’t have anything to do with anyone like that, would you?”
“I’m freelance,” Kurogane confirmed, letting the ‘fine, young man’ part go for the moment.
“Splendid!” the Flowright beamed. “Then why don’t you put down that nasty big gun of yours and we can have a nice bit of a chat like civilised individuals. Don’t worry, Chi will take excellent care of it for you.” He patted the spot next to him invitingly.
“Chii,” said Chi. Kurogane didn’t wonder too hard how to interpret that. She didn’t lower the gun at all until Kurogane’s own weapon had been safely deposited on the ground.
“Now then,” said the man, beaming even wider now that Kurogane was proving so cooperative, “I’m Fye D. Flowright, by name. And you would be?”
“Kurogane.”
“Just Kurogane? No last name?”
Nothing he wanted to remember at this point. “Orphaned from too young to know,” said Kurogane, which was at least most of the truth.
“Well, I won’t hold it against you. Why don’t you have a seat? I was just about to have some dinner. Nothing fancy, but I’m sure I’ve got enough for two.”
“I’ve got my own,” Kurogane replied, wondering what in anyone’s diet counted as ‘fancy’ out here.
“Then you can return the favour by sharing out some of yours tomorrow,” Fye replied, as if nothing in the world could possibly make him happier. “So, tell me a bit more about yourself….”
***
It was vaguely offensive just how fast Fye took a liking to his companion as the evening progressed. Kurogane knew himself well enough to know he was a good deal more trustworthy than most of the tough, well-armed loners who could be found wandering the deadlands (putting aside a couple of particular past indiscretions, which he’d forgiven himself for as far as he deserved) but he doubted he did much to project that. Someone in Fye’s position shouldn’t have been able to afford the risk of trusting a stranger in any case, but as it was, Kurogane wasn’t even kept apart from his weapon very long. Fye was quick to make it known he was very open to the idea of teaming up with someone like his new friend, with enthusiasm which bordered on offensive in a whole other respect. Kurogane seemed to have been given very little choice in the matter.
Fye - that was how he’d introduced himself, Kurogane thought later, when they were both preparing to get to bed and his new acquaintance had finally shut up for enough consecutive seconds to give him the chance to think at all. But then, both of the boys had gone by ‘Fye’, hadn’t they? And there’d been a father with them originally - a madman by all accounts (and the world might be lucky if he hadn’t passed the same madness on to his sons, going by the rumours about what had gone into raising them). Whatever had passed in the years since the familiar part of that story ended, however, had clearly left this ‘Fye’ completely alone. Kurogane couldn’t imagine there were any nice reasons for a change like that.
There were far too many reasons why he couldn’t ask about it. Not without his questions prompting a whole new string of questions about just how one well-armed loner from out here could have heard so much of the Flowrights’ story to begin with, which he wasn’t remotely ready to answer yet - possibly not ever. Kurogane wasn’t sure whether he even wanted to know the details. Some things were better left in the past.
It was past sunset by then, though not yet completely dark, but Kurogane must have spent rather too long staring in Fye’d direction while he was thinking, because that was when Fye took on a happily thoughtful expression of his own that could only mean he’d taken all that attention to mean something much more flattering than he should. All in one motion, he rolled his long-limbed body over into Kurogane’s personal space, to suspend himself crouched over Kurogane’s lying form in a very expectant sort of way.
Kurogane pushed him off again with as much dignity as he could manage.
“You’re not expected to do that,” he said, the first useful words that came to him. Lord knew worse favours were expected for the privilege of joining certain gangs.
Fye deigned to look not nearly as offended as he might. “But what if I’d like to, Kuro-sama?”
It was strange how sure Kurogane found himself feeling that if he’d tried to argue that only one of the two of them would like it, he wouldn’t have been believed.
Uh, yeah, I think that's about all I can say in introduction to this one this week. >.>
Other parts: The original ficlets, Plot notes, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20, Side Story 1
Kurogane had never deliberately gone out looking for the Flowrights. Even if they’d survived, finding them would be like finding a needle in a haystack out in this country with the trail so many years cold. So it wasn’t until a single, promising rumour reached his ears and he found himself abandoning all his travel plans overnight to follow it - four months and over a hundred kilometres from where he’d had to leave Souma’s body - that he had to admit how hard some part of him had gone right on listening for any hint of them all along.
The rumour involved a gang who made camp a day’s travel away, and a man with white hair, unusually clean teeth and skin and mechanical skills of a calibre practically unheard of to the deadlands gangs. The explanation was far too obvious to ignore. Kurogane had brought himself within walking distance of the place before sunset the next day.
Through his binoculars, from as close as he dared go to an unfamiliar camp, the residents looked like a typical example of their kind - a gang of a medium size, probably just organised enough to keep themselves running. None of the people he saw matched the description he was watching for, but something unexpected had obviously transpired there in the recent past. Smoke still wafted from the carcass of one of their larger vehicles, much of which was still buried in the sand in which had been piled on to it in a rudimentary attempt at fire fighting. As Kurogane watched, four angry, tired men on motorbikes pulled up, argued loudly with some of their fellows, refuelled and set off again in another direction. There were a couple of buildings which men disappeared into or appeared out of from time to time, and Kurogane’s binoculars were no help to him in discovering what else might lie inside, but by the end of the first couple of hours he’d decided that if there’d ever been anyone by the name of Flowright at this camp, he was gone.
Tilting his binoculars a little to the East revealed a hilly area, probably only a few hours travel away. It occurred to Kurogane that, although none of the riders from the camp had seemed interested in that direction, there ought to be a good supply of places to hide in terrain like that.
He took the long way around the camp, though, to be sure to stay out of sight.
***
The hills were even worse country than Kurogane had supposed from a distance - steep and rocky, barren of even the poison grass that was taking over the better parts of the other lands. It would be hopeless to try and bring a party of vehicles through here, but one person could slip out of sight quite effectively and not be seen again, which was not a greatly encouraging thought. As it was, it took him two days to find any sign of any other human being there at all.
The encounter happened largely by accident. Kurogane rounded the top of a hill in one of the rockier areas, and discovered that the land over the peak was flatter and sandier than he’d anticipated, and nested in a cosy little hollow of it, someone had set up camp. It was the most basic of one-man affairs - marked only by a pack and a few unremarkable possessions which lay scattered around; there wasn’t even a fire to give it the semblance of anything more homely. The person who’d made the camp had their back to Kurogane, all features concealed by a long coat and hood, but barely had Kurogane rounded the last rock to bring the site into view when there was the softest of footsteps behind him and the unmistakable click of a gun being brought level to aim. He swore at himself under his breath - apparently the camp wasn’t too basic to be guarded.
The figure in the cloak turned around, pushed back the hood and gave the intruder a thoughtful once-over. Kurogane had been more or less expecting the soft, white hair and the unusually pale complexion that greeted him, though these also came with a smug sort of smile that as good as said, ‘By all means, do feel free to have a look behind yourself. No sudden movements, thank you.’
Kurogane took the invitation, turning slowly and deliberately. Behind him stood a skinny girl with long, blonde hair and oversized, pointy earmuffs protruding from both sides of her head. She must have stepped out from a crack between two of the boulders he’d just passed - she’d easily fit. She had a businesslike looking weapon trained on him in the manner of someone who’d listened to the instructions on how to use it very carefully. She didn’t look obviously threatening, triumphant, nervous, or any of the other expression you’d expect to see on the face of a young girl who might soon be expected to shoot someone she’d just met. She looked as though she’d simply been told what to do if anyone came between her and the camp, and was following their instructions as she would any other.
“She’s a computer,” said Kurogane before he could think better of it.
“Hmm?” said the man behind him, sounding truly fascinated by Kurogane’s observation. Kurogane knew when he turned back around again he’d be facing one raised eyebrow and mentally cursed himself again for being so careless with what he said.
“Indeed she is, how nicely picked!” the Flowright went on. “And a far finer one than you’ll see anywhere else nowadays, if I do say so myself.”
“Ah,” said Kurogane vaguely.
The man gave him another speculative look. “You’ll have to excuse me, I was expecting someone else. But you’re not from the gang after all, are you?”
“What gang?” asked Kurogane, finally gathering the sense to remember how to go a conversation without giving away everything he knew in one shot.
“Recently-former acquaintances of ours,” the man explained mildly. “A shame - they seemed so eager about getting a good technician to work for them at first, but before long I’m afraid some of them started to get some funny ideas in their heads about just what else my Chi might be used for, and we had to make a bit of an unscheduled exit. But a fine young man like you wouldn’t have anything to do with anyone like that, would you?”
“I’m freelance,” Kurogane confirmed, letting the ‘fine, young man’ part go for the moment.
“Splendid!” the Flowright beamed. “Then why don’t you put down that nasty big gun of yours and we can have a nice bit of a chat like civilised individuals. Don’t worry, Chi will take excellent care of it for you.” He patted the spot next to him invitingly.
“Chii,” said Chi. Kurogane didn’t wonder too hard how to interpret that. She didn’t lower the gun at all until Kurogane’s own weapon had been safely deposited on the ground.
“Now then,” said the man, beaming even wider now that Kurogane was proving so cooperative, “I’m Fye D. Flowright, by name. And you would be?”
“Kurogane.”
“Just Kurogane? No last name?”
Nothing he wanted to remember at this point. “Orphaned from too young to know,” said Kurogane, which was at least most of the truth.
“Well, I won’t hold it against you. Why don’t you have a seat? I was just about to have some dinner. Nothing fancy, but I’m sure I’ve got enough for two.”
“I’ve got my own,” Kurogane replied, wondering what in anyone’s diet counted as ‘fancy’ out here.
“Then you can return the favour by sharing out some of yours tomorrow,” Fye replied, as if nothing in the world could possibly make him happier. “So, tell me a bit more about yourself….”
***
It was vaguely offensive just how fast Fye took a liking to his companion as the evening progressed. Kurogane knew himself well enough to know he was a good deal more trustworthy than most of the tough, well-armed loners who could be found wandering the deadlands (putting aside a couple of particular past indiscretions, which he’d forgiven himself for as far as he deserved) but he doubted he did much to project that. Someone in Fye’s position shouldn’t have been able to afford the risk of trusting a stranger in any case, but as it was, Kurogane wasn’t even kept apart from his weapon very long. Fye was quick to make it known he was very open to the idea of teaming up with someone like his new friend, with enthusiasm which bordered on offensive in a whole other respect. Kurogane seemed to have been given very little choice in the matter.
Fye - that was how he’d introduced himself, Kurogane thought later, when they were both preparing to get to bed and his new acquaintance had finally shut up for enough consecutive seconds to give him the chance to think at all. But then, both of the boys had gone by ‘Fye’, hadn’t they? And there’d been a father with them originally - a madman by all accounts (and the world might be lucky if he hadn’t passed the same madness on to his sons, going by the rumours about what had gone into raising them). Whatever had passed in the years since the familiar part of that story ended, however, had clearly left this ‘Fye’ completely alone. Kurogane couldn’t imagine there were any nice reasons for a change like that.
There were far too many reasons why he couldn’t ask about it. Not without his questions prompting a whole new string of questions about just how one well-armed loner from out here could have heard so much of the Flowrights’ story to begin with, which he wasn’t remotely ready to answer yet - possibly not ever. Kurogane wasn’t sure whether he even wanted to know the details. Some things were better left in the past.
It was past sunset by then, though not yet completely dark, but Kurogane must have spent rather too long staring in Fye’d direction while he was thinking, because that was when Fye took on a happily thoughtful expression of his own that could only mean he’d taken all that attention to mean something much more flattering than he should. All in one motion, he rolled his long-limbed body over into Kurogane’s personal space, to suspend himself crouched over Kurogane’s lying form in a very expectant sort of way.
Kurogane pushed him off again with as much dignity as he could manage.
“You’re not expected to do that,” he said, the first useful words that came to him. Lord knew worse favours were expected for the privilege of joining certain gangs.
Fye deigned to look not nearly as offended as he might. “But what if I’d like to, Kuro-sama?”
It was strange how sure Kurogane found himself feeling that if he’d tried to argue that only one of the two of them would like it, he wouldn’t have been believed.