Chương 2: Cardboard Reality

Still reeling from the previous day's relentless bombardment, Kurisu opened his eyes to the sunlight cutting through the window blinds, his core tensed against the expectation of his world's heavy atmosphere only to find his muscles pushing against thin air. At the touch of his fingers against the choker, the memory of Bahamut surfaced.

Then came the familiar sensation of Ryū's technique, the floor of the carriage dissolving into a void hole, the blinding flash of the lightning strike dropping him into this strange place, the shock of Charlotte's water, the flat voice translating from the metal slab, the rushing colors, the noise, the suffocating weight of it all. Operating purely on survival instinct, his mind had bypassed the unsettling reality of the environment.

With the lingering adrenaline evaporated, the tension finally bled out of his shoulders. For three years, the brutality of his servitude had held the past at bay. Now, in the stillness of this foreign room, the permanence of his isolation caught up to him. His parents dead, his home reduced to ruin, the girl he loved gone, he had been severed from everything that tied him to his birthright.

Clenching his jaw, he drove a trembling fist into his bare thigh, his nails biting into his palms until the sting anchored him in the present.

"So… I've become a rōnin, have I?" Kurisu murmured. Focusing on the rhythm of his lungs, he pulled in a slow, measured breath to quiet his racing pulse. He was a masterless dog, yes, but he was free; his time as a weapon was over. For all intents and purposes, he was safe, at least for the time being. Exhaling, he forced himself to calm down, only for an image to flare behind his eyelids: a three-story pavilion wrapped in gold leaf beside a mirrored pond.

Before the chaotic snap of purple lightning shunted him off course, he had been drifting toward the structure through a dark sky. What was that estate? The strike had dragged him here instead. Where was he now? Was he even on the same world as that golden building? How was he to reach it? Tightening his jaw, he frowned; regardless of the force that had diverted him, he needed a heading, and the pavilion was a lead he would have to look into.

Slipping through the cracked window, a mild draft brushed across his bare skin, leaving him feeling dangerously light, entirely stripped of the pressure that normally anchored his bones. Against the gentle pull, he braced his shoulders, digging his fingers into the mattress fabric as his panicked brain convinced him the moving air might push him right off the bed. After the breeze finally ebbed, he shoved the blanket aside, the fabric launching across the room to slap against the drywall.

As he sat up, the sudden momentum lurched him forward, nearly pulling him off the mattress. Burying his face in his palm, he released a long sigh. Navigating this world was going to be like crossing a frosted log. As he stepped across the room, he reached for the brass knob. Attempting to slide it like a panel, he gripped the metal, applying his standard pressure to force the wood along a track. Beneath his fingers, the fixture crumpled flat.

Before he could halt his sideways pull, the crushed brass dragged straight through the hollow door, tearing a jagged trench through the veneer until the mangled panel popped inward against its hinges. Hearing footsteps on the stairs, Kurisu cocked his head to inspect the damage. A moment later, Steven appeared, holding an "I Heart Beaver" coffee mug in one hand with a bundle of clothes under his arm.

At the sight of the splintered wood, the older man stopped dead, letting out a long sigh before rubbing his tired eyes.

"This mechanism is exceedingly frail," Kurisu stated in his native tongue. Handing over the clothing, Steven gestured down the hall.

"Yeah, morning to you too, just leave it. Get dressed, then we have more important things going on." When he emerged from the bedroom a few minutes later, Steven's gray sweatpants and black t-shirt pulled snug across his chest and thighs, the adult clothing having to stretch to accommodate the youth. Stripped of the pull of his native world, he descended the staircase with deliberate care, measuring each step to keep from bounding into the corridor.

Reaching the kitchen, he took a seat at the island counter, the manacles dragging across the marble. As Steven pulled his phone from his pocket, he shook his head with a dry snort.

"And I thought they fit snug on me." Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings. After tapping open a translation app, he set the device between them before grabbing a glass and filling it with water, sliding it across the counter. Reaching out to close his fingers around the vessel, Kurisu applied his standard pressure to lift the drink, the glass popping instantly in his grasp, splashing water across the countertop, shards settling into his palm.

For a long moment, he stared at the broken pieces, a muscle twitching near his left eyebrow. Tightening his jaw against the frustration, he gazed down at the puddle, exhaling sharply through his nose.

"Okay, stick to the plastic," Steven sighed, grabbing a dish towel to mop up the spill.

"The fire department will be here any minute. Child Protective Services and the police are on their way, so let's head out to the porch and let the pros handle those shackles." As he stepped through the front door, Kurisu froze on the threshold the moment the emptiness of the sky hit him. Unlike his homeworld where the atmosphere pressed down on his shoulders like a cloak, this air felt non-existent, leaving him feeling unmoored.

As he tilted his chin to observe the expanse, vertigo gripped his stomach, his chest hitching and his throat tightening. He knew it was impossible to simply drift up into the sky, yet he couldn't help the suffocating dread. His hands gripping the wooden porch rail, his frantic instinct screaming that letting go would cast him up into the clouds like loose ash, he locked his knees. Closing his eyes while he leveled his breathing, he forced a slow breath through his teeth to calm himself.

Parking in the driveway a minute later, two men in dark uniforms approached with an angle grinder, stopping on the porch to stare at Kurisu. With a shake of his head, one of them raised an eyebrow.

"Sir, why is this… boy? In shackles?"

"We found him like this," Steven said.

"We've already called the police, but I can't very well have him sitting in these until they arrive now, can I?" After sliding a metal shield between the cuff and Kurisu's skin, the firefighter drove the blade into the shackle, showering sparks across the porch.

As the disc bit deeper, carving into the cuff millimeter by millimeter, the pressure on Kurisu's Tanden released with a pop, bleeding an arc of electricity down his arm just as the grinder bucked against the dense metal, the wheel shattering into pieces, sending a jagged fragment ricocheting straight toward Steven's face. Snapping his hand up, Kurisu caught the piece an inch from Steven's eye, the older man flinching a full heartbeat after the shrapnel had already stopped.

The firefighter blinked, his jaw slack as he stared at the object held pinched between the youth's fingers. Keeping his arm outstretched, Kurisu held the fragment for a moment, shaking his head as he dropped it onto the floor. If this reaction was the standard for this world, its people moved to a much slower rhythm. Well, at least his own reflexes remained sharp. Standing with a shaky exhale, the man shook his head at the broken machine.

"What the hell is this? It's too thick. I'm not breaking another tool on this. I need to radio dispatch to bring the hydraulic cutters." As he studied the groove carved into the cuff, Kurisu slipped his fingers into the space between the iron and his skin, drawing Ki from his Tanden until the metal snapped cleanly in half. Before the pieces could settle onto the wooden planks, he repeated the motion for his right arm, tearing the second manacle open like dry clay.

Rubbing his bare skin, he gave a slow nod, ignoring the men staring in silence, the first man slowly lowering his radio, the transmission button left untouched. While the men remained frozen by the snapped shackles, Steven stepped in, his hand clamping onto the youth's shoulder before steering him toward the far end of the porch. He leaned in close, his voice dropping to a low rasp as he pulled his phone from his pocket, his thumb swiping the glass to queue the audio.

"Listen to me," he said, holding the device up while the speaker relayed the Japanese translation, his eyes locked on the youth.

"The police are going to be here in seconds. Whatever just happened here, whatever you did to those cuffs, leave it alone. You have got to be careful." Absorbing the warning, Kurisu tightened his jaw.

"Are these the guardsmen?" Kurisu asked. A rushing hiss echoed past the corner of the block, the grinding friction of rubber on asphalt growing steadily louder as Kurisu turned his head to watch the black and white carriage round the intersection.

"Not guards, but they enforce the law," he replied, glancing back at the firefighters.

"They're going to see those marks on your wrists and think I'm the one who did it. Just stay behind me, look confused, and let me do the talking. We tell them who you are, but nothing about where you're from." As the vehicle traveled down the block, Kurisu tracked its movement, his fingers curling into a loose fist.

"I am no coward," Kurisu insisted, taking a step forward.

"Even should the guard appear, I refuse to cower within the shadow of another."

"This isn't about cowardice, it's about not ending up in a lab," Steven hissed, shifting to block his path. Kurisu could hear the man's heart beating as Steven glanced back toward the approaching vehicle.

"I don't know who you are or what you can do, but to these people, you're a victim. We need to keep it that way if you want to stay out of a cage. Do you understand?" Upon meeting his gaze, Kurisu studied the sweat beading along the older man's hairline, the warrior finally releasing a breath as he felt the panic radiating off him in waves.

"Very well," Kurisu ground out.

"I shall... adopt the guise of a feeble lamb." Steven gave a short laugh, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Great. Just... maybe a little less 'lamb' and a little more 'quiet foreigner?' Here we go." When the carriage rolled to a stop at the curb, it yielded a woman in a dark uniform who stepped out onto the pavement, her approach across the lawn causing Steven to stiffen as he stepped in front of the youth.