Chương 1: Earthfall

Cold. The scent of singed cloth. His stomach lurched as he tumbled. Releasing a groan, he forced his eyes open, tracking pale streaks repeatedly blurring past his vision. What? He pressed outward with his Zanshin, recognizing a familiar Ki signature before his spiritual awareness brushed against the boundary of a sphere of air surrounding his body. Beyond the bubble, he felt nothing. Stretching further out, to the limits of his ability, he still found nothing. Ah, so he's sent me away then has he.

But if he was traveling through a hole, how was he aware of it? Aren't they meant to be near instantaneous? His perception turning inward with a start, he checked his arms and legs; his injuries were gone. So he hadn't been sent away a cripple. Or destitute, he noted, as a leather-bound bag of coin drifted into his periphery. But what was this? A violet energy was coiled around his ribs, weaving through his Keiraku, leading back to his own Tanden as the source.

As he vocalized an inaudible hum, noting he must be traveling at incredible speed, he attempted to direct this Ki that clearly belonged to him but received no response in return. Such an odd sensation; he could feel it, but also not. He abandoned the effort, a blue sphere expanding ahead of him, its swirling clouds parting to reveal lush islands set within a sapphire expanse.

As he grew closer, he saw how the coastline framed a glassy lake, its shores holding a gilded structure built with tiered roofs and gold leaf over timber that resembled a temple pagoda. This appeared to be his destination, and so, uncertain of how to land this strange "bubble in a hole" he really shouldn't have been able to perceive in the first place, he braced himself, preparing for impact.

With a hum he could now hear, the strange energy grew more active, pulsing around his body as his trajectory shifted, the pagoda vanishing beneath him, traded for a blurring rush of water as he was dragged skyward across an aquatic expanse. A coastline of brown and gray broke the horizon, with numerous sea vessels resting off the shore and metallic shapes crawling along ribbons of stone while barren trunks, crowned by singular tufts of green fronds, dotted the coastal hills and cliffs.

Staggered white characters stood on a brush-covered mountain, growing larger as he now plummeted. The purple Ki expanded in a blinding flash. Blackness. Jolted by a thunderclap rattling her windows, a woman rushed out her back door, squinting up at a clear blue Southern California sky. The stench of charred dirt stinging the air, she snatched a garden hose and sprayed down the smoldering lawn.

Amidst the fading flames, a large figure lay sprawled in the blackened soil, barefoot and locked in iron shackles, wearing a tattered juban that was likely once beige, beside a spilled leather pouch that revealed a glint of gold in the afternoon sunlight. After dousing the last of the flames, she stepped closer to peer through the shifting smoke, taking in the broad shoulders and thick, calloused knuckles of the large frame.

"A... man?" she murmured. Yet, when inspecting his features, she found smooth skin devoid of laugh lines or wrinkles, his jet-black hair falling past his shoulders to frame a black-and-purple choker around his throat.

"No... a boy?" Through the shifting smoke, she scanned the yard.

"Where did you come from?" With a sudden hiss, a patch of grass reignited, prompting her to douse it and the boy with the hose. He lay sprawled in the dirt, his limbs jarringly light, the air painfully thin. As a stream of cold water shocked him out of the fog, he struggled to sit up, clanking the iron shackles on his wrists. A woman stood over him, holding a green tube, spraying him and the smoldering grass down." Nani wo shite oru?" he barked, his grave voice haughty and commanding.

Startled, the woman jumped back.

"I... I don't understand," she said, her gaze fixing on the iron locked around his wrists.

"Oh my god... those chains..." Reaching out a tentative hand, she paused as he pulled away.

"Do not approach!" He commanded in his native tongue, though he was unsure if she'd understand him.

"It's alright," she said gently.

"Please... you look terrible. You're covered in soot and you're bleeding." She pointed toward the open door of the house. While straining against the walls of his Tanden, his Ki refused to circulate into his limbs. With a glance from the open door to his bare feet, he finally lifted his shackled wrists to inspect the iron." Ki -sealing irons?" he muttered. B ut how? He recalled the strange energy from before. With another gesture toward the house, the woman pleaded.

"Inside. Please." He hesitated for a moment, unable to speak her language and blind to his surroundings, he considered his options, not that he truly had any. He supposed he could lash out, seizing the yard by force, but what would that actually achieve? Surely this domain possessed its own dōshin to enforce the peace. The woman projected no killing intent, bearing neither armor nor blade. Until he understood this strange land, cooperation remained his safest tactic.

Lowering his head, he snatched up his pouch and followed her into the house. Inside, he paused to stare at the surroundings. A flat, black slab rested on a low wooden table, positioned across from an absurdly large blue cushion. A futon, perhaps? The floor was unexpectedly soft under his bare feet, a gray square of fibers bordered by peeking wood grain. Down a narrow hallway, she led him to a small room lined with a white, square-patterned floor. As he stepped over the threshold, he stopped.

White surfaces and metal fixtures protruded from a hip-high basin. A larger white basin dominated the room, shielded by a privacy screen featuring art of a long-nosed, gray-skinned creature, likely aquatic given the fins. Next to it sat another ceramic fixture, this one featuring a bulky back block topped by a split metal circle. Apparently, they favored white... a lot.

For a long moment, the woman stared at him, shrugging before reaching over to turn the handle of the faucet with a squeak, sending water rushing noisily from the spout." Suiton no jutsu?!" he recoiled, his back hitting the wall with a thud, his shackled hands rising as his eyes widened. Once he realized no subsequent attack followed, he lowered his guard, smoothing his expression to mask the undignified outburst. Stepping forward, he inspected the tap.

"From whence did you summon the water?!" he hissed. Upon tentatively pulling the diverter, he watched the rush die with a gurgle. The hiss of trapped air preceded a sputter of cold water that sprayed across his scalp and face.

"What sorcery is this?!" he flinched back, his heel slipping on the wet tile before he crashed to the ground. The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings. The woman let out an amused sounding gasp, slapping a hand over her mouth to stifle the rising laughter that he endeavored to ignore.

"It's okay!" the woman said, turning off the showerhead.

"Water. See? Just water." She put her hand under the stream, pantomiming washing her arms.

"Wash. You need to wash." As he watched the steam rise, he crept forward, noting the lack of scents common to apothecary powders or the sulfur of curses, the steam carried only the tang of clean water and a faint metallic edge. Beside the filling basin, he looked at the woman, blushing at his earlier overreactions.

"Ah, furo ya?

"he breathed before looking at her, pointing a finger toward the door." Sagare," he commanded softly. The woman nodded, raising her hands in a placating gesture.

"Wait, there's no way you'll actually fit in the tub though." Stepping forward, she pulled the diverter once more, dragging the curtain across the tub as she straightened back up.

"Oh, also!" she said, pulling back the curtain a fraction to point at a plastic bottle.

"This goes on your head." She pointed at her own hair, ensuring she had his attention. Turning, she retrieved a stack of towels and a navy bathrobe from the closet, set them on the counter, and stepped out, clicking the door shut. Leather pouch pulled from the tattered remnants of his juban, he glanced at the gold within before setting it beside the towels. Alone in the rising steam, his normally dexterous fingers clumsily fumbled with the knot of his tattered juban until the rags finally fell away.

Slipping on the porcelain as he stepped into the tub, he threw out a hand, nearly tearing the curtain down before catching his balance. This lacked the depth of a proper soak-tub, but the hot water offered an undeniable mercy. How long had it been since his last proper bath? The scalding heat was a staggering contrast to the icy dousings Grahk's servants had thrown over him like a dog, a pathetic slave bath meant only to stave off the rot.

Beneath the pounding spray, he let the water strike his shoulders, standing for a long moment while breathing slowly in and out. Swirling around the drain, the water turned pink, then red as the blood of the valley and the grime of who knew how long all ran down his skin. He snatched the plastic bottle, squeezing it until the lid popped off, spilling half the contents over his palm and onto the tub floor. He scrubbed. He scrubbed until his skin burned raw.

He scrubbed to wash away the phantom sensation of his own hands crushing throats, of being a prisoner locked behind his own eyes while that thing piloted his flesh.

"Get up, boy." the phantom sting of a lash bit across his back as he squeezed his eyes shut, ignoring the iron manacles clanking against his ribs, and sniffling as the filth of his servitude washed down the drain. After drying himself, he slipped into the navy bathrobe, pulling the sash tight until the strange fabric strained, his trembling hands mimicking the familiar bind of an obi.

As he inspected the floor, he wondered where the spilled water flowed without a proper drainage channel, ultimately shrugging before turning to the door. With an exaggerated sigh, he opened it, releasing the steam into the hallway like a fog. At the sound of the latch his host came into view, bringing pinched fingers to her lips in a repetitive tap.

"Kitchen," she said.

"Food?" Unfamiliar with the word, his stomach gave a convenient growl in response as he guessed at the pantomiming, prompting a single nod in response. At the kitchen table, she offered him a chair, producing a small blue box.

"Hello?" the woman said softly, leaning in.

"Can you understand me?" Across the wood surface, he stared at her moving lips, shaking his head." Kotoba ga tsūjinu," he muttered. On the table, the blue box lit up, catching his voice with a rippling green waveform. A mechanical voice announced: "Language Detected: Japanese." He frowned, staring at the glowing glass. Was it a spirit trapped in a mirror? A familiar? Scooting forward on her chair, the woman clapped her hands.

"Oh! Okay, progress. Japanese, alright." After she tapped the screen, she spoke slowly into the device.

"What is your name?" The box chimed, converting her words into a synthesized voice. With a wince at the phrasing, he spoke.

"I am Nodaichi Kurisu."

"Where are your parents?" she asked into the phone. As he looked from the woman to the glowing screen, the memory seized him. He held his father's heart, slick with blood, as he tried to press it back into the ruined cavity of his chest. His mother's pleading " mite wa naranu" echoed in his skull, the light vanishing from his eyes.

"My parents were reduced to ash," Kurisu answered, staring down at his shaking hands. Upon hearing the translation, the woman covered her mouth, her eyes widening. With a shake of his head, Kurisu chased the memory away. He leaned forward, speaking directly to the box." Nanji wa nanimono zo?" he demanded. The phone loaded briefly before beeping: "Translation Error. Syntax Mismatch. Detected: Japanese - Archaic." She frowned, tapping the screen.

"Archaic? Like... ancient?" Remembering the boy's tattered clothes, she looked at the strange shackles.

"Okay... let's try a different setting." She switched the input filter to "Formal/Classical."

"Try it again," she whispered. Kurisu stared at her, annoyed by his reliance on the small box.

"Speak your name."

"Oh, um, I'm Charlotte, sorry." She grinned sheepishly, giving him a slight shrug. After retrieving the leather pouch, Kurisu set it on the table.

"This serves to express my gratitude for your aid. The gold of the Nodaichi is never cheaply acquired!"

"Gold?" Charlotte stammered as she opened the bag. A dozen coins tumbled onto the wooden table with a thud.

"Just who are you?" She asked.

"I have already declared it! I am Nodaichi Kurisu, of Terra!"

"Terra?" Charlotte repeated, furrowing her brow.

"What's a Terra?"

"Terra is a foreign land," he made a simple falling motion with his hand.

"I descended." Before Charlotte could inquire further, the front door swung open.

"Charlotte? Why is there a hose running in the backyard? The swamp's made it all the way to the front yard."

"Dining room, Steven," Charlotte called. Steven stopped in the entryway, freezing as he stared at the broad back of a large frame wrapped in a bath towel.

"Charlotte," he said, his voice tight.

"What is this?" The large shoulders turned towards him. Instead of the face of a man, Steven stared at the face of a young boy affixed to a large frame.

"This is Kurisu," Charlotte whispered.

"He um… He just kind of appeared in our backyard."

"Mom! Was there a fire?" An older boy burst into the kitchen, followed closely by a younger child. Both boys stopped, staring open-mouthed at Kurisu.

"Whoa," the taller one breathed.

"That guy's huge!" The younger boy walked forward slowly, offering his puzzle cube to the massive teenager. Kurisu looked down at the simple toy, then shifted his gaze to the children.

"Ace, Kellevra, living room. Ace, shut the hose off," Steven commanded, sending the boys trudging off, grumbling, the older boy continuing outside to turn off the water. Once they were gone, Steven turned on Charlotte, his voice lowered.

"Did you call the police?"

"I contacted DCFS, they said they'll be here tomorrow," Charlotte admitted.

"DCFS? The guy's bigger than I am!" Steven exclaimed.

"We can't manage this. Look at him, Char. He's shackled. He could be extremely dangerous."

"He's a child, Steven!" Charlotte snapped in protest.

"You know damn good and well how I feel about state facilities. Think of my sister, my nieces. We wouldn't know those wonderful girls if Mary hadn't adopted them." She pointed at the pouch.

"And look at the table, he brought that."

"Adoption?!" Steven sputtered, incredulous, before his eyes finally dropped to the table. Steven shifted his gaze between the gold, the large 'child', and his wife, letting out a sigh.

"How do you know he's a child, did you ask him? And the gold? That honestly might make it worse. If the cops see that, they'll seize it and throw him into detention as a John Doe. Probably us too!" Beside the table, Charlotte turned to Kurisu.

"How old are you?"" Jūyon."

"Fourteen." Charlotte pleaded, "Look at him Steven, look at his face. Does that look like the face of an adult? We can offer Emergency Kinship for a little while. Just until we can figure out who he is. Let him sleep in a bed, Steve, not a cell." Steven looked at Kurisu, who was now tentatively spinning the colored layers of Kellevra's abandoned puzzle cube. With a sigh, Steven's shoulders sank, the rigid tension leaving his frame.

"Forty-eight hours. When the police arrive, we tell them we found him, we provided sustenance, and we are willing to work with him. That gold goes into the wall safe, now." Walking over to the table, Steven gave Kurisu a curt nod.

"I hope you prove to be worth the trouble, kid," he muttered. After a pointed glance at the pile of gold coins on the table; wealth enough to feed this household for eight years, Kurisu met Steven's gaze.

"The Nodaichi carry no debts. The compensation for this shelter is already paid," Kurisu replied, gesturing to the gold.