Chương 16: Love and War

Machi walked upstairs first. Aren followed two steps behind her and tried very hard to keep his mind professional. It did not help. Meteor City did not give children the luxury of innocence. Machi understood men, women, and the kind of eyes she had learned to avoid. Aren knew she understood. His old world had not exactly protected childhood innocence either. That did not make the situation less awkward. Inside her room, Machi shut the door. The thread on her finger remained visible. Aren noticed and approved.

Trust was one thing. Dropping every guard was stupidity.

"Turn around," she said. Aren turned. Cloth rustled behind him. A few seconds later, Machi's voice came low and tight.

"Done." Aren turned back. Machi stood with her back to him, shoulders bare, spine straight, one hand holding her clothes against her chest. Her skin was pale in the dim light, almost impossibly clean compared to the poisoned trash heaps outside. The contrast made her seem even more unreal. Aren's thoughts almost drifted somewhere they should not have gone. Meteor City produced monsters. The Phantom Troupe would one day gather more than a few dangerous beauties among them.

Pakunoda, Shizuku, Machi; even the names from the future carried memories he needed to handle carefully.

'Focus.' Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. He stepped behind her.

"I'm starting." The sentence sounded wrong the moment it left his mouth. Machi's shoulders tensed. Aren coughed.

"Opening your aura nodes. I mean that."

"I know." Her voice was calm. Her ears were not. Aren placed his palm against her back. Machi's skin was warm. He pushed aura in. Her body trembled. Unlike Uvogin's violent eruption or Nobunaga's sharp flare, Machi's aura slipped out in fine, delicate strands. It tried to scatter, then curved back with frightening sensitivity, as if her instincts were already learning the shape of Ten before his instructions finished.

"Hold it close," Aren said softly.

"Picture it covering your body. Don't fight the flow. Guide it." Machi's breathing grew unsteady. A faint sheen of sweat appeared at the back of her neck. Aren kept his palm steady and controlled the pressure. Too much aura would hurt her. Too little would leave the nodes half-open and unstable. Seconds dragged out. Then the leaking aura settled. A thin, precise layer formed around Machi's body. Ten. Aren withdrew his hand. Machi pulled her clothes back on with more speed than dignity.

"Rest a little," he said.

"I'm fine."

"You're pale."

"I'm fine." Aren accepted the lie and left first. He had barely reached the stairs when Uvogin's roar shook the house.

"Nobunaga, you bastard!" Aren went down and found Uvogin half-crouched in the yard, one hand clutching his backside while Nobunaga laughed so hard he could barely hold his sword.

"A fair duel," Nobunaga said, wiping tears from his eyes.

"You stabbed downward!"

"A battlefield has no forbidden angles."

"I'll kill you!" Aren stopped on the porch.

"What happened?" Uvogin pointed at Nobunaga with shaking fury.

"He used Ten on a cheap shot!"

"A historically effective technique," Nobunaga said solemnly.

"You little..." Uvogin lunged. Nobunaga fled. The two of them circled the yard, yelling and laughing, until the tension left the house by force. By dinner, Machi had recovered enough to come downstairs. Food covered the table: rice, meat, soup, vegetables, plates and bowls all created by Aren's ability. Compared to the trash heaps outside, the meal looked like a crime against reality. Uvogin shoveled food into his mouth with both cheeks full.

"Aren, I love you."

"Don't say that while eating."

"How do you make stuff this good?"

"They're dishes from my homeland." The table quieted a little. Nobunaga looked up.

"You had a homeland?"

"Everyone comes from somewhere." Aren took a bite and let the flavor sit on his tongue. For a moment, the room in Meteor City blurred against memories of another life: parents, siblings, streets that did not smell of rot, meals that had not been conjured from aura and desperation. His parents still had his siblings. They would grieve, but they would not be alone. That thought should have comforted him. It only made the distance feel larger. Under the table, small fingers touched his hand. Aren looked sideways.

Machi did not look at him. She kept eating as if nothing had happened. But her hand stayed where it was. Aren smiled faintly and did not pull away.