Chương 21: Shelter in Place

Kurisu broke his meditation, opening his eyes as vibrations carried through the ceiling beams, the front door slamming shut on the floor above, rattling the new drywall.

"Boys! Living room!" Steven's voice boomed through the house. Footsteps thundered from the second floor, a stampede of unbroken horses rushing to answer the call. Upon stepping into the living room, Kurisu scanned the space, noting Charlotte had yet to return from the market, watching Ace and Kellevra skid to a halt near the coffee table, and tracking Steven as he strode past the sofa to snatch the remote and flick the television to the local news.

"Dad?" Ace asked.

"What happened?" Ignoring the question, Steven's gaze darted between the kitchen and the dining area before settling on the boys.

"Where's your mother?"

"She's at the store," Ace said, pointing toward the entryway.

"She left an hour ago, said she'd be back in maybe two. Why?"

"Ah, shit!" Steven cursed, dialing up the television's volume.

"Just watch. This came on the radio on my way from work." The screen shifted to a breaking news alert. A scrolling banner cut across the bottom: CIVIL UNREST AND ANIMAL ATTACKS REPORTED CITYWIDE.

"We are receiving confirmed reports of violent disturbances in multiple residential neighborhoods," the news anchor stated.

"Police are currently responding to over two dozen calls regarding home invasions involving small rabid animals. Authorities are advising all residents to lock their doors and remain inside." The broadcast swapped to shaky cell phone footage of a poorly lit suburban street as a small, green shape scuttled across a lawn, tackling a pedestrian before the camera jerked away. Ace leaned closer, his eyes wide.

"Is that a goblin?" Steven turned slowly toward the hallway, extending a finger toward Kurisu.

"You. You see that?"

"Indeed," Kurisu said.

"No playing hero this time," Steven said.

"You need to be invisible. You understand? No flashy moves, no unnecessary trips. We are not having another I-70 debacle. You go to school, you come home, you stay inside." Kurisu gave a nod.

"Understood. Ware... quiet." The front deadbolt clacked, drawing Kurisu's attention to the entryway as Charlotte hurried inside, her purse hitting the floor before she locked the door back up.

"Steven," she said, spotting him in the center of the room.

"Oh, thank God you're home." Steven exhaled.

"Ace said you were at the store."

"I tried to get there," Charlotte said.

"Traffic was gridlocked. Police blocked off the main road four miles east. They routed everyone through the neighborhoods. There are cops everywhere." She turned her attention to the television, where the screen displayed a city map covered in red warning markers.

"It's real, isn't it?" she said softly.

"Yeah. It's real." He walked to the window, adjusting the blinds to leave a narrow gap for monitoring the street.

"Alright," Steven instructed.

"They issued a shelter in place. Char, call your sister, make sure she's home. Boys, stay away from the windows." Taking a seat on the sofa's arm, Steven kept his focus locked on the feed. Gathering around him, the family watched the broadcast cut to a live shot of a large cathedral on East Colfax, where people streamed through wooden doors. Out on the stone steps, a priest stood clutching a silver crucifix, shouting prayers into the night air as police cruisers sped past.

Tracking the silver object in the man's trembling hand, Kurisu narrowed his eyes." Jūjika," Kurisu noted.

"In this realm... You know the God of the Cross?" Looking over his shoulder, Steven frowned.

"The what? The cross?"" Ikanimo," Kurisu nodded, pointing at the television." Jūjika no Kami. Deusu." Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

"We call it Christianity," Charlotte provided from the sofa.

"Do you have that in your world?" Kurisu nodded.

"He bears the Sigil of Deusu... why does he not manifest its power?" He studied the screen. The ko-oni was closing the distance, yet the priest merely stood there, brandishing the silver icon as if the metal itself would save them.

"Is his faith lacking? Or does the voice of Deusu not reach this world? Why does he not burn them to ash?"

"It doesn't work like that here," Steven said.

"That's just a symbol. It's more about faith and kindness here. We don't get special effects." Processing the words, Kurisu watched the priest retreat inside the cathedral, the wood doors shutting behind him. No blinding flash of holy judgment. No smiting of the wicked. It was akin to an archer drawing a bow string to its limit, aiming at a charging beast, and simply refusing to loose the arrow. The Gods of this place are quiet.

"These creatures," Steven said, refocusing on the immediate threat.

"Are they from your home? Did they follow you?" Kurisu shook his head.

"They likely did not follow me. As for whether they hail from my home, I cannot say. Ko-oni are but dregs. Refuse." He gestured toward the screen.

"Upon Terra, upon Earth. Across myriad realms. They are like the filth that gathers in the corners of the world."

"So they aren't an invading army?" Ace asked, shifting on the carpet.

"They're just... pests?"

"Accurate," Kurisu said in English. Feeding his assessment through the device, he continued.

"I doubt they are an invading force. However, creatures of this low caliber do not usually possess the power to cross between worlds on their own." Kellevra spoke up from where he was sitting on the floor.

"So... have they always been here? Like, hiding in the woods or something?" Kurisu looked at the boy and shook his head slowly.

"I am not of this world, so I cannot say for certain. Yet, if this is the first time you have laid eyes upon them, it is unlikely. It is far more probable that someone is causing this, pulling them through in a repetition of the hole upon the road, though to what end, I do not know." Before turning his attention back to the television, Kurisu provided a final observation.

"They are feeble beasts. Yet, they remain a peril. There is no steel here. There is no Ki." On the screen, a police SUV stopped hard on a residential street. Stepping out of the vehicle, an officer fired a handgun toward a moving shadow. Leaning forward, Kurisu furrowed his brow as he studied the stuttering footage. Frame one: the muzzle flared. Frame two: suspended in the air, a blurred, cylindrical distortion hung halfway between the weapon and the ko-oni.

"What is that projectile?" Kurisu asked, pointing at the screen.

"It lacks the shaft of an arrow." Frowning, Steven looked at the television.

"What are you talking about?"

"There," Kurisu said, tracing a short trajectory in the air, though the video had already moved on.

"It is as plain as day, though the image itself is terribly grainy." Turning to Kurisu, Ace stared at the older boy.

"Dude. People can't see a bullet on a TV screen. It's moving too fast."

"I saw it just fine," Kurisu said.

"It is the image that lacks clarity." Looking from Ace to Kurisu, Steven pointed at the screen.

"Listen. You said there's 'no steel' and 'no Energy' here. We have that. That officer isn't using magic or a sword. He's using a gun. Steel and gunpowder. It works just fine on these goblins, ko-oni, whatever. It's loud, it's fast, and it kills."

"Firearms, I see," Kurisu conceded quietly. He had heard of matchlocks, hinawajū. They were clumsy, unreliable tools for ranged encounters. A skilled swordsman could cross a courtyard and sever a gunner's hands before the weapon ever fired. To imbue a wooden arrow with Koka-in required minimal Shin, while shrouding one in Kaki demanded a wasteful expenditure of Ki that often incinerated the shaft before it struck a target. But this modern contrivance delivered lethal velocity through a simple mechanical trigger.

"Yet, should the threat grow far greater," Kurisu asked, "can these men withstand it?"

"Maybe, maybe not," Steven said, running a hand over his jaw.

"But this isn't Terra. If this keeps up, they call in the military. The National Guard. They'll bring armored vehicles, heavy machine guns, and jets." Steven paused.

"You see a world without swords, Kurisu, because we left them behind hundreds of years ago. This is a world of guns, and if necessary, we can go bigger. They don't need magic to deal with trash. They just need enough firepower to turn the trash into paste." Turning the logic over in his mind, Kurisu realized he had prematurely dismissed the people of this world as defenseless, having equated their firearms to the mere nuisance of a solitary matchlock.

Yet an entire army equipped with weapons capable of firing faster than an arrow, requiring no lifetime of Keiraku conditioning or elemental attunement, presented a vastly different reality, a true storm of iron. I see. The arms of this world are vast indeed.

"Understanding... new."

"Exactly," Steven said.

"And until this resolves, we stay down. We lock the doors. And you don't go outside and give them a reason to call in an airstrike, okay? We blend in with the rest of the powerless humans tonight." Rubbing the back of his neck, Steven grimaced as he kept his gaze on the scrolling news banner.

"Just out of curiosity though," he asked, "how much larger can these threats actually get?"

"Upon my world, entire mountains move," Kurisu said.

"And even those are not the apex." Steven let out a slow breath.

"Oh."