Chương 87: Book 1, Chapter 87: The Sun Rises

John settled down upon the tiled roof of the main residence of his home, staring towards the distant horizon peeking out from the sea of green below. The faint colours of dawn had begun to tinge the sky, an edge of faint blue creeping in. With its glow, he could just barely see the hole where Yuki's use of Transcendent Alchemy had seemingly erased the land overlapping where the Nameless' sealed realm had once existed. Climbing out of the crater had been an experience.

Then came the walk back, and, boy, Rin was sure… animated when recounting the tales of her adventures. By the time they got back to the fort, John had needed an escape from her and Yosuke. It wasn't as if there was anything wrong with either of them, but whatever had happened during their little solo expedition had certainly brought them closer together. For whatever reason, he hadn't quite believed her tale of fighting an actual tide of elite Nameless warriors.

Fortunately, both Rin and Yosuke's ideas of a victory celebration involved beating each other senseless in the courtyard, so John found it easy to slip away. Yuki herself decided to take a hot bath, which bought him some time to just sit and think. These last few weeks were the type where decades happened, weren't they? He leaned back, feeling the coolness of the tile soak through his shirt into his curiously unmarred skin. Years of hard living and old, aching wounds had been erased with nothing but a warm embrace.

Honestly, despite all the injuries he was covered in not an hour before, he felt better than he had in a decade; Yuki had even fixed that persistent twinge in his knee that he had simply learned to ignore. It would probably be best to sleep, but… eh. He couldn't sleep now, and even if he found a way, it'd probably ruin his sleep schedule. He'd just blame any groginess tomorrow on the aftereffects of his healing. It wasn't as if this was the first time he pulled an all-nighter.

What the hell type of response was all this going to get? Yuki unmade a portion of the landscape, even if the Shape of All Things meant it would repair itself. Rumours were going to find their way to someone of importance, and they were going to investigate how a seemingly powerful yokai sprang up out of nowhere. Broadstream was still likely to starve come winter, so he had to figure out a way to restore trade and get a good influx of food incoming before the cold set in.

Ideally, they would have been able to claim the Nameless' hoard, but Yuki had wiped it out in the process of flattening the hive itself. Truth be told, he was still trying not to think too hard about her being able to seemingly delete matter without the energy going somewhere. From the report of that okuri-inu, it had also seemed like Kiku had some Unbound forces on standby, but nothing came of it.

It was a damned shame that Yuki hadn't acquired that fragment of memory when Kiku's soul was divided between the surviving kitsune. Had they chickened out? Were they actually some unaffiliated force who performed some act of sabotage they'd only find out about come morning? He doubted that they'd seek direct conflict after seeing what Yuki did, but… Moreover, there was also what his kitsune friend herself would do next. Would she need to flee to avoid scrutiny or her other sisters?

Something about the thought of Yuki leaving him alone once more filled him with bottomless dread. Would he have to flee, too? John had, after all, helped her, and if her true identity became known, he doubted that the authorities would look kindly on him for aiding her. Well, hopefully if it came to that, it would only be after he fixed up Broadstream. Those poor people didn't deserve what happened to them.

Maybe he could figure out a way to take his show on the road; in spite of everything, that fox was probably the best thing that happened to him since he got here. John sighed, looking up at the fading stars that dotted the vast expanse above. He supposed those were all problems for later, weren't they? He really should be celebrating what they accomplished. The tax collectors were either dead or captured.

The Nameless were effectively eliminated as a threat, although there might be weeks or months cleaning up survivors in the surrounding woods to prevent a resurgence, as even one could lead to a fresh outbreak. Kiku herself was gone, broken into shards and split between the remaining sisters. How many were left now? Five, six? It felt like so long ago when Yuki explained the whole deal to him. While he felt a weight lifted from his shoulders, he couldn't help but imagine he should feel absolutely elated.

Unfortunately, there was just so much that he had to do. Had all this just fried his ability to feel truly happy?

"John?" the kitsune asked. He almost jumped, but managed to restrain himself. Instead, he managed to turn to face her smiling face poking out from the side of the eaves with dignity.

"Oh, hi Yuki!" he greeted.

"What brings you to this rooftop?" Without waiting for permission, she swung herself around, mantling the edge cleanly before sitting next to him, careful to leave perhaps a foot of distance. Outwardly, the kitsune hadn't changed much, but the colours of her fur and eyes felt more defined; they hadn't changed shades so much as become sharper, like he had been seeing her through an out of focus lens until now. She bore gold richer than the coffers of any lord, and whites purer than freshly fallen arctic snow.

Blacks deeper than a lightless abyss at the bottom of the ocean, and an endless cavalcade of mixes between.

"I was checking up on you. It has been a hard day, and your injuries—" Yuki began, cutting herself short when John raised his hand.

"I'm fine," he replied, shaking his head.

"Sure, getting cut in two was a bit scary—" Which might be the understatement of the century, even if it was overshadowed by the fear of losing Yuki.

"—But you healed me up before the shock wore off. Fixed the way my ankle clicked, too, so thanks for that." For a moment, the two simply lingered in each other's company. Just two friends, ending one chapter of their lives, and moving on to the next.

"You could have not destroyed my flying disc and crossbow, though," he dramatically sighed.

"You owe me new ones." To her credit, Yuki only let out a ladylike huff of amusement.

"Oh? I suppose I'll have to go out and shop for a new pair," she theatrically sighed, lying back beside him.

"Alas, there's only one man around here, nay, the world, who can produce such wonders. Whispers on the wind say that he's a recluse, so it might take some time to track him down." John couldn't help but snort in return, rolling on his side to face her.

"Your sources say that, eh?" he half-mumbled, scratching his chin.

"What else do they say about this mysterious inventor, then?" A smile, ever so radiant, flickered onto her face.

"People the land over speak of how kind he is; more than is healthy, even, despite the world's attempts to crush that kindness. They even say he'll take any stray that wanders onto his steps," she said, still facing the fading night sky.

"Others only said that he is a genius unlike any other, but remains grounded, solving the problems of the people rather than only dreaming of distant horizons."

"Well, uh…" John started, stopping a moment later as he tried to come up with a response. How the hell do you even follow that up? He felt blood rushing to his cheek and, if he didn't know better, he could have almost sworn that it was making him lightheaded.

"They say plenty of things about you, too. They say that you're scarily smart, and always know what to do next or what someone needs to hear to set them right. Some folks are scared of you, sure, but I think that all the ones that take the time to get to know you think that you're a damn treat to be around." Finally, Yuki rolled over to face John, borderline glowing eyes gleaming with mischief as they met his own, duller, more mundane gaze.

"It seems like my reputation has far improved greatly," she mused.

"A few weeks ago, a mere whisper of my presence would have sent thousands into panicked flight." The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. John harrumphed, mouth puckering at the thought as if he had bitten into a lemon.

"Not here in my home, at least. You're welcome as long as you wish to stay." At that, the kitsune's ears perked, swivelling to lock onto him like he was the most interesting thing in the world, her nine tails stilling.

"What, do I have something on my face?" he reflexively grouched, breaking eye contact first.

"It's nothing," Yuki tittered in her very characteristically vulpine way, making him believe it very much wasn't nothing.

"I did think that a victory like this should be celebrated, though, and you're up here on your own. Care to share a drink?" A furred hand drifted down and reached through the front opening of her clothing before she somehow managed to pull a whole ceramic jug of what he was pretty sure was shōchū from his stores and two cups from the depths, hidden in some inner pocket he must have entirely missed while cleaning them.

Desire to share a moment with a friend clashed against the potential for awkwardness, as he had mostly certainly not had any time to research drinking customs around here, and he'd hate to look like an inconsiderate fool. You had to fill each other's cups when they were low, right? There was also something about toasting to the gods, but with what he knew about Yuki… well, John was pretty sure he could skip that one. You know what? Screw it.

"Yeah, sure," he answered, holding out a hand, which Yuki promptly plopped one of the small ceramic cups into before popping the jug's wooden seal effortlessly with a single claw—a feat of precision that would have doubtlessly made her popular at bars. Then, she poured him a more than generous portion of rich, deep drink. While clear, it gave off a heady scent, a rich combination of something akin to rice with undernotes of something flowery he had never quite been able to identify.

Reaching over, he took the jug and poured Yuki a matching dose, although he could not manage to match her impressively smooth pour. Supernatural grace was some nonsense. He did, at least, manage not to spill, and carefully nestled the jug against the upper edge of a tile once he was done.

"To better days!" John toasted, holding his cup high in the air as he dared.

"To brighter tomorrows!" Yuki echoed, and they both took deep draughts from their respective cups. The flavour punched him in the chest. The alcohol burned on its way down, of course, but it was accompanied by a potent, earthy flavour, accented with a sweet edge and something that tasted of fresh blooms. John let out a single strained laugh as he came up for air, having emptied a good third of his drink in one go.

"There's no way in hell I just happened to have an alcohol that tastes like spring in a bottle when we were just talking about new beginnings," John muttered to himself.

"When I smelled a wisp of it leaking through the seals in your storeroom, I could hardly contain my excitement," Yuki admitted with a sigh.

"I've always had a soft spot for the theatrical." John took another sip, this one much smaller than the first.

"If there's such a thing as fate, it sure has a sense of humour," he sighed.

"Many Unbound back in my era became such to flee its capricious whims," Yuki noted, fingers drumming the edge of her cup as she took a matching drink from her cup.

"Fate is mostly just the fiddling of heavenly accountants going over ledgers and trying to reach quotas. The vast majority are absolutely dreadful at their jobs and use what little freedom they have to cheat on bets."

"Well, damn," John muttered to himself, placing the new source of existential dread on the pile with the rest.

"What's the easiest way to trip them up?"

"Besides becoming an Unbound?" Yuki asked, raising a curious brow.

"Well…" They faded into a comfortable rhythm, sharing stories and knowledge back and forth with the casual ease of friends that had known one another for years, despite the short length of their contact. Yuki had to carry most of the conversation, of course; he had yet to spill the truth of his origin and needed to obsessively censor anything that might give her a hint of his extraplanar nature. … Or, did he have to? From a practical point, they were pretty much as tied together as they could be already.

She helped knit him back together when he was about to fall apart, both mentally and physically, and he knew of her nature as one of the greatest "villains" in this land's history and faced down one of her sisters without flinching. Even putting that aside… he trusted her. A month ago, he would have thought the idea foolish, but he was not the same man as he was a month ago, or even the same man as he was yesterday. Maybe he would regret this one day, but he wasn't the man he would be tomorrow, either.

He was just the John of today, and that would have to be enough.

"Yuki," he began before abruptly halting, alcohol staining his breath. Thankfully, he was barely buzzed; he would have hated to spill his heart while a slurring mess.

"You asked about my home before, and you promised not to rush me. I think I'd like to tell you now." Her eyes narrowed, darting to the cup.

"Are you sure?" she asked.

"I don't want you to do anything you'd regret come tomorrow."

"I'm sure. I try… not to think about it much. It hurts, you know? Knowing I'm probably not ever going back, but I'd like you to know at least this much," John cut himself short once more, taking a deep, shuddering breath as he steeled his will. Every word fought to stay within, but he had to continue. Yuki, for her part, only shifted closer before flaring her Presence, bathing him in the warmth of her aura.

It was not something forceful, demanding obedience, nor did it have a proper emotion imbued within its expanse. It was a declaration that she was here, and here she would remain.

"Pardon me," he continued.

"Where I come from… it isn't in a direction you can point, Yuki. You could spend a thousand years scouring the world and never find a trace of it, for I don't come from here. I come from another world." He stopped, waiting for her reaction, waiting for something. Yet, only her patient gaze remained. Curious, sure, but solid, steady. What did he expect? Disgust? Greed? Yuki remained Yuki, after all.

"There's no Unbound, no yokai, no magic that we can prove, not even the Shape of All Things… although we found our own way forward. There's myths of beings like you—some of which you match up eerily with, mind you—but that's it. It gave me a bit of an existential crisis when I first showed up, I'll tell you that," The words tumbled out of him slowly, and he ended with a choked sob. What was wrong with him? He wasn't going into anything too personal. How was he going to handle what came next?

Breaking eye contact, he flopped back onto his back, staring into the fading night once more.

"The day you arrived was the fifth anniversary of when I dropped into the forest alone," he breathlessly muttered.

"I want to go home, but… I know I can't. I know that I won't see the people I left behind again. Whatever traces of why and how I showed up must have long faded by now. At first, I thought that it was the design of some invisible god, but then why leave me here alone for so long, soaking in my sadness?" His vision blurred, smearing the sky beneath his tears.

"Maybe if I weren't a coward and started adventuring back then, I would have found something, but that wasn't the man I was. Probably not who I am now, either. Maybe whoever or whatever took me gave up and stole some other poor soul for what it needed me for." Could he live with himself if he ran into someone who had only been here for a year or two?

"John. Take your time. I know," Yuki lowly whispered in his ear, so terribly close now, sending shivers down his spine.

"I promise you, if knowledge of why you're here exists upon the face of this world, I will find it." As if he had been spotted by a stalking predator, John paused mid-breath. She knew. How? She couldn't promise that, either. Yet… He struggled to find his words, each slipping from his grasp like grains of sand.

"When'd you figure it out?" he asked after an uncomfortably long silence.

"It's less about what you did say, and what you didn't," she admitted, a curious lilt he couldn't identify entering her tone.

"Although, your talk with Rin about how weather worked back home was rather telltale, and I would have been hard-pressed not to notice that your body was untouched by spirits when I was putting you back together." And yet, the way she treated him hadn't changed. Tension flooded from his body and, despite himself, a goofy smile snuck onto his face.

"Well then," John began, glancing in his friend's direction. Perhaps it was just him, but he swore he saw a bit of wetness at the edge of her eyes, too.

"Would you like to hear about it? Maybe it would do me some good." Hesitantly, he lifted an arm and snuck it around from the side, wrapping it around Yuki's shoulders, gripping her as if she might disappear like the morning mist. In response, a tail crept up, snaking under his head like a pillow, raising him off the harsh ceramic.

"Of course," Yuki responded with a gentle smile. Under the brightening sky, he told her what he could bear of his home, of skyscrapers, logistics, telephones, and more besides; the bottle left forgotten upon the edge. When he finally looked back towards the horizon, he beheld the rising sun, casting the sky in blazing orange.