Chương 68: Book 1, Chapter 68: Responsibility

John felt it strange how little he was panicking, aside from that first little burst. The noon sun shone from above as he and Yuki flew through the sky on the hover disc, rapidly approaching the perimeter of the town. Yesterday had been a hell of a day, and the kitsune had barely managed to convince him to head to sleep before the witching hour. He couldn't get it off his mind. The march into town. His life on the line in the fight with the Arakawa man for a brother he still didn't know much of.

Stumbling onto the duel between two impossible forces. The terror of Yuki passing out. Learning that he himself might as well be fake, but—Well, that wasn't quite right, was it? If Yuki were more 'real' than him in that way, the kitsune wouldn't bother having casual conversations with him. Like a monolith emerging from the depths of time, he barely recalled bits of a philosophy class that was one of the courses he picked for his mandatory non-STEM credits. It was more like Plato's Theory of Forms, wasn't it?

The core idea of there being some archetypal form that was more real than the physical world was an ancient one. However, he doubted that many philosophers ever seriously imagined it turning from theory into practice. He had heard Yuki mention a Spirit Realm several times now. Presumably, it was a plane or a dimension closer to the Shape of All Things, more suffused in its powers and thus more 'real'.

Part of him insisted that he should be breaking down, locking himself away in his room as he pondered whether his emotions were even real or just paper-thin approximations. Yet, they were real enough to him, and he pressed on. His first year or so of constant terror and having mental breakdowns in the woods seemed to have hardened him against existential dread. He supposed that there were only so many times you could go down some dark rabbit holes before you became inured to the ideas within.

When you really drill down into it, having a good reason to question "Am I real?" wasn't that much worse than "If I have a soul, what happens to it after I die if I'm not native to this plane of existence? Would he be trapped in his decaying body in a state of agonized limbo forever?" Well, at least now he knew Yuki could tear it out and stick it in a glass vase with a good view or something.

Maybe she could even rig some sort of text-to-speech device to it, and then he could annoy everyone for a few centuries like a particularly passive-aggressive haunting. Despite himself, he snorted.

"What's so funny?" Yuki inquired from above him, her furred form pressed close to his back. At first, he considered turning to face her, but decided against it. It wasn't as if they could maintain an appropriate distance for conversation on what might as well have been a bedside table with a jetpack strapped to it. He really had to look into making some sort of flying carriage when things calmed down.

This really wasn't designed for more than one rider, and the lift-to-weight ratio worked out damn well for something larger.

"Nothing," he responded.

"I guess I'm just thinking about how weird my life has gotten lately." That, and trying to avoid what was going to happen when they landed. Yuki was silent for a moment, and he could almost feel her eyes burning into the top of his head.

"If it makes you feel better, I'm making you take a week off once everything settles." He tried to rub his wrist, but the newly finished wood and metal monolith of his war gauntlet didn't allow him easy access. Objectively, it was probably between thirty and forty pounds. Subjectively, it felt like two or three, thanks to all the telekinetic burden-bearing. It was a small miracle that his arm didn't get twisted out of its socket yesterday, and that he only felt slightly sore right now.

If the Unbound hadn't liked to take his time when trying to break him, John would have probably lost the limb entirely. In any case, he had to make time to properly try the gauntlet out, once he figured out somewhere away from prying eyes to do so. He hadn't yet tested it beyond some basic target practice to ensure it worked properly. A tactical choice, which Yuki insisted on, just in case Kiku had spies dispersed throughout the woods. There were an awful lot of yokai that could shapeshift into birds, after all.

Flow tests under laboratory conditions looked good, and it should work properly, but there was no substitute for live field testing.

"You can try," he finally returned with a faint smile, although it faded as Broadstream Town came into sight. He supposed that there was no place to run from his responsibilities. If he had thought things through a bit better, if he hadn't acted so rashly, fewer people would have died. If they had taken a bit more time, he could have figured out how to locate the ofuda from the air, and then detected and knocked out the Arakawa man with something non-lethal before he had a chance to burst from the well.

But he didn't, and people had died because he was lax. Dread bubbled in his gut as they descended towards the edge of town, gently setting down outside the field just in case Kiku had already managed to subvert the ofuda back to her control. Perhaps, in retrospect, John should have considered clogging the rest of the writable area of the allowlist with fake names to stop her from sneaking in any extras. He'd have to remember it afterwards.

First, they had to meet the militia and make sure that they were ready for this evening. Things were moving fast, faster than he'd hoped for. Even now, Yosuke was operating the now fully operational coin machine while Rin stood guard, patrolling the fort's walls for any sign of danger. He had briefed her on the rough functions of the security tablet, though he didn't go too far into detail about how it actually worked. The two probably could have swapped roles, but…

Well, John had felt at least a little bad about giving Yosuke all the trash jobs lately, so this time he got one where he could sit down and pull a lever, at least. If he fancied, he could even read a book while he worked. Stepping off the disc, Yuki and John headed into town, easily passing the edge of the ofuda's protective field without a hitch, much to his relief.

The few men and women they passed by in the outskirts were tense as they tended to their fields; they either politely scattered like frightened rats at the sight of them, or buried themselves in their tasks to make themselves look busier. The ones who remained cast glances in their direction, naked interest clear in their eyes even as they tried to hide their attention. For good or ill, Yuki and John were the talk of the town after yesterday's bloody events.

The slightly familiar, worn roads had emptied out before them, as if some invisible demand to keep clear had echoed out before their arrival. Then again, it very well might have, given Yuki's ability to tactically use her Presence. It would be rather easy to make sure they had a clear path forward, or at least ensure that nobody mortal would dare interrupt them. As they closed on the center of the town, the buildings grew dense, although their route remained conspicuously clear aside from the occasional passerby.

Even so, it was almost as if the walls were lined with eyes, as myriads of townsfolk watched them through barely opened windows and cracked doors. It sent a shiver up his spine, but thankfully, Yuki and John kept well away from the marketplace and all the attention that it would bring. These people had no context for what happened yesterday, after all.

All they knew was that the twitchy woods hermit showed up in town, walked into a random plaza, a disastrous fight broke out, and then two giant pillars of hyper-reality appeared, and the people who went to investigate it never came back. It was a mercy that the area was limited to perhaps two hundred fifty feet in diameter; otherwise, they'd be looking at a hell of a far higher death toll. If Kiku had decided to use her Transcendent Alchemy and sprinted through town at her full, unnatural speed during the day…

she would have easily wiped out the settlement within minutes. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. John spared another glance at the nervous faces in the doors and windows. Well, hopefully they'd be able to quell some of their worries with the meeting they had planned for tonight, although he'd wager it'd replace their fears with new ones.

Knowing that there were a bunch of body-snatching spiders headed up by an evil shapeshifter in the woods would do that. At least their crops were all within the protective field of the ofuda, so they wouldn't have to worry about getting cut off from their food supply. He doubted anyone would take any trips outside of town for some time, though, even if the situation were resolved quickly.

Their route kept them as far away from downtown and the site of the battle of the well as possible as they headed towards the militia headquarters, the squat building eventually appearing from around a street's bend. It was frankly impressive that Yuki had already apparently memorized the town's layout from the scant times she'd been here. The training yard was deserted, reminding him more of an abandoned ruin than what was the closest thing to an emergency response center the day after a major disaster.

Dummies were tipped to the side, left where they had fallen. No murmurs of conversation rose from the slightly open windows. A cold breeze blew through the courtyard, a chill crawling up John's back. Surely they had not entirely abandoned their job? While he couldn't blame them for fleeing in the face of forces they couldn't hope to contest, it would make what came next far more complicated. Hopefully, they were all just out on patrol.

Yuki didn't have the same trepidation and walked up to the door without a word, eyes narrowed. John followed, trusting her superior senses. He was sure she could hear whoever was inside. The kitsune pulsed her Presence softly, layering the area with a strange, almost steely warmth, both showing a desire to speak as allies and leaving no room to deny her.

There was no motion he could detect from the building for a minute or two, but Yuki didn't seem perturbed, standing resolutely at the edge of the building's overhanging eaves. Eventually, the door almost hesitantly cracked open. The man on the other side looked like shit. The squat, chubby man stood professionally enough, with a sharp, formal-looking stance, but he couldn't hide the sheer fatigue. His eyes were red, with deep, dark bags under them, and his clothes had started to stink of sweat.

His hands shook, and he almost tipped over when he bowed sharply at the waist, only barely managing to catch himself by jutting a single foot forward.

"This humble servant greets you!" he said, but even John could hear the sheer tension in his voice, like he was a guitar string drawn too tight.

"Rise," Yuki said, glancing around.

"We shall talk inside." Quickly, the man rose, turning on the spot.

"Of course, Lady Kitsune," he hurriedly said, leading the way through the doors into… what might once have been an office, if it didn't look like a tornado manifested inside it. The low, slightly crude table was utterly covered with scrolls, books, and sheets, detailing a dizzying array of complaints or notes on the current state of things. John felt like he recognized the guy.

It seemed like a lifetime ago, and he looked like he had gone through at least five wars since then, but wasn't he Yashiro's second in command? He was pretty sure that the man's name was Izumi. The sergeant himself must be out in the field somewhere; he always seemed to lead from the front. All three of them settled at the table, although John had to cross his legs to get comfortable while the other two knelt. It was probably pretty rude, but he just couldn't get comfortable on his knees.

"Izumi, I'm sorry to put more work on you, but we have an announcement that we'd like to make tonight," Yuki began. The man solemnly nodded, his expression showing no sign of disagreement, although John could see the light disappear from his eyes.

"Of course, Lady Kitsune," he responded. John saw the man's jaw tense, like he was trying to fight down a yawn.

"You should be able to cut down your patrols a bit!" John interjected.

"Just… where I fought yesterday should be tightly patrolled. There's an ofuda array keeping every yokai that's not on a list away now. You've probably heard about what happened with the priests?" Hesitantly, the man shook his head.

"I don't think I have, Lord Hall," he slowly added, almost as if he was tasting each word before he spoke them to ensure he wouldn't be retaliated against.

"Oh," John said, his train of thought grinding to a halt, forcing him to start over.

"When we rushed out of town the other day, it was because they threw up… something that repelled yokai and yokai-blooded Unbound at the behest of the master of the Nameless. In return, we raided their compound— bloodlessly! —and figured out where the repelling artifact was. When we investigated yesterday, it turned out that they left forces by its core in the well as a trap." John paused, doubt and dread creeping through his mind in equal measure.

"Uh, I'm so, so sorry about that, by the way. How many were hurt? How many were killed?" He asked, trying his damnedest to brace himself for the worst. The man squirmed uncomfortably, knees shuffling awkwardly as he struggled to meet John's eye.

"A dozen were injured, but all are expected to recover… The deaths only number two, thankfully. Umemoto Fuyuki and Umemoto Rei died in an explosion." A smile, however faint, flickered onto his face, yet it didn't reach his eyes.

"My thanks to you, Lord Hall. If you hadn't kept the fighting contained, it could have been far worse." It was praise neither of them truly believed, yet Izumi prefunctionally muttered it nonetheless. Who were they? How many other people's lives had he torn them out of, simply because he went off half-cocked? Something ugly coiled its way through his guts, wrapping them up in knots. Did they have any dependents? He had to look into it. He refused to let any aging parents or children starve because of his mistakes.

Why was this hitting him so hard? He had spent half a decade in the woods, scavenging off the results of others' misfortune like a vulture. Perhaps it was for the same reason the tragedy of the City of Glass didn't faze him when he found out. On some level, he was personally responsible for these tragedies. They were something he could have avoided if he hadn't dropped the ball. For now, though, he couldn't dwell on it; he had to work to save the rest.

John bit the inside of his own cheek, hoping the pain would snap him out of it before he fell fully into a reflective fugue. It could wait until he was in bed, staring up at the ceiling. Warm, calming Presence washed over him like a tide, not directing him, but reminding him that a very dear friend was by his side, one that wasn't leaving him to face it alone. Slowly, his hands stopped shaking, and his heartbeat came under control.

"I'm going to figure out a way to detect any Unbound or yokai coming into the city and pass it on to you," John promised, his lips drawn tight.

"That aside," Yuki interjected, "We would have you prepare to distribute the supplies from the tax collectors tonight at the ryokan that we liberated from them. Have some of your men spread word to the populace." Something dark and terrible flickered across Izumi's face.

"That will be difficult without Yashiro, Lady Kitsune," he lowly responded.

"What!?" John spat the second his mind caught up.

"What's this about Yashiro?" He spun around to Yuki, meeting her eyes. A flicker of sadness lit in her golden gaze as she shook her head.

"I'm sorry, John. He was with the soldiers who tried to join my duel with Kiku." A small, traitorous part of his mind whispered terrors. Did Yashiro suffer as his flesh was reshaped? Did he pass on to the afterlife eternally a brainwashed slave to a mistress who didn't care, her corrupting influence persisting through death itself? John was just talking with him a few days ago. He couldn't be gone just like that; he just couldn't. He was a damn good man.

He wouldn't have rushed to fight Kiku like that, either; he was far too interested in his own survival… but Kiku had several flavours of mental control to draw on. If she needed 'material' to make her army, she would have gotten it.

"You could have told me," he growled out, ungauntled hand digging into his leg.

"There wasn't time," she quietly insisted without missing a beat. Translation: She needed him focused on his work rather than doom-spiralling. Part of him knew she was right. He huffed, tearing his gaze away from hers, thorns curled around his heart as he met Izumi's eyes.

"He was a good man. They all were," John murmured.

"When all of this is done, please give the names of everyone who died yesterday to me. I would see their families taken care of. A stipend won't make up for their loss, but we can at least make sure no one starves because their loved one put their life on the line for others." Almost imperceptibly, something softened in Izumi's stance as the man softly flinched.

"I shall, Lord John," the man replied, his tone perhaps a bit more gentle than it might have been a minute ago. John sighed, rising.

"I'll let you two sort this out. I need a moment. Lady Yuki, I will leave the arrangements to you, please?" He could tell she wanted to argue, even though her gaze remained level. Perhaps he was growing attuned to her. Maybe the tricky kitsune was leaving signals for him that she knew he would subconsciously perceive.

"Will you be far?" Yuki inquired, shifting the way she sat, almost like she was about to rise as well.

"No, I'll be in the courtyard," John said, walking out of the room.

"I need some time to think." A full-body shudder came over him as he shut the door, walking on autopilot out the front door, everything around him buried under a haze. He stared into the cloudy sky aimlessly.