Chương 9: Migration

Wiping sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, Steven stood at the base of the aluminum ramp. The yellow box truck created an incline from the concrete driveway. With a tight grip on the dolly handles, he pulled backward, tilting the gun safe until the load balanced directly over the rubber tires.

"Alright," Steven muttered, rocking his weight back and forth to prime his rush.

"Momentum!" He charged the ramp, the tires popping over the metal lip smoothly as they carried the safe upward. He pushed three-quarters of the way up the incline before gravity stalled the box and rolled it backward down the grade.

"Fuck!" he yelled, stepping back as he tried to catch the weight. The runaway load shoved him down the slope, forcing him into a frantic backpedal until his boots tangled, sending him falling backward. Driven by hundreds of pounds of dead weight, the hand-truck pitched forward, dropping straight for his chest as the safe closed in. Steven threw his arm up and squeezed his eyes shut, bracing to be flattened.

He blinked, opening his eyes to find the metal box frozen in mid-air, hovering inches from his nose, and noting that he too hadn't finished falling. Beside the ramp, Kurisu had a one-handed grip on the tilting safe, arresting the steel while his other hand held Steven's shoulder suspending him above the ground." Te o kasō ka?" Steven stared at him, panting.

"Yeah… Yeah, that'd be great." Kurisu reached over the tilted frame to flick the release catch on the ratchet strap, letting the nylon webbing snap loose. With his left hand slipped under the bottom edge of the box, he assumed the load.

"I shall bear this burden." Without bending, he lifted the safe free of the dolly, the weightless hand-truck clattering against the ramp while Steven yanked himself upright and scrambled backward.

"Kurisu, put that down! You're going to snap your spine!" Kurisu adjusted his fingers along the metal, holding the box like a piece of luggage.

"It is light," he assured. Walking alongside the ramp, he stepped straight from the concrete to the loading deck to carry the safe inside, setting it in the back corner next to the washing machine before finally turning and brushing dirt from his duster.

"What is next?" Steven looked at the empty dolly, then shifted his gaze back to the truck.

"Right, uh, the sofa, I guess." Several hours later Steven threw the latch down as he secured the rear door of the loaded truck. Beside the retaining wall, Kurisu ran his hand along the warm capstone. Tiers of stone making six feet held back the hillside, the sweaty work of digging the trench weeks prior having provided a necessary anchor for his restless mind. Making his way across the grass, Steven joined him.

"Hopefully it stands for the next hundred years." Kurisu kept his eyes on the rough stone as he nodded.

"It required multiple endeavors, but we have seen it done."

"I bet you could have done it in a day with your magic," Steven said.

"It is not sorcery," Kurisu replied.

"Indeed, it would have been effortless, yet it is folly to resolve all matters with Ki. To do so would erode one's reverence for labor."

"Even as we erect it, we simply depart," Kurisu murmured, tapping the stone. With a sigh, Steven tapped the face of his watch.

"That's the thing about moving. You leave a piece of yourself behind, but you take the important stuff with you." Pointing toward the driveway, he gestured toward the vehicles.

"I'm taking the box truck; you ride shotgun with Charlotte in the pickup. You looked ridiculous in that back seat." His gaze dragging across the yard, Kurisu finally turned his back to the wall.

"Very well, let us depart," he said, walking toward the front of the house. Steven led the convoy onto the highway in the yellow truck, Charlotte following closely in the pickup with the loaded cargo trailer in tow. Sinking into the passenger seat as he wedged the sword bag between his leg and the door panel, Kurisu rested his palm over the fabric and stared through the glass.

As the truck drove for hours across the desert, heat waves shimmered over the asphalt to distort the horizon, leaving the dry dirt and withering vegetation to mirror the dead zones of his home world.

"How far does this desolate wasteland stretch?" Ace called out from the back seat, his thumbs flying across the buttons of his handheld.

"Just the dry part. Wait until we hit Utah; it looks like Mars." When Charlotte pulled the truck to a stop beside a fuel pump, Kurisu pushed the passenger door open, met immediately by the desert heat and the scent of gasoline. He stood by the pump, observing the rows of idle semi-trucks vibrating the pavement. Steven walked up beside him and pointed toward the rigs.

"I used to drive one of those for the Corps," he said, rolling his shoulders.

"Taking freight from one base to the next, at least until they sent me to Kuwait." Kurisu nodded, noting how the tractors resembled the armored wagons of the traveling merchants, reminding him of the constant supply lines that ran out of the capital. A man in a white t-shirt dropped to the asphalt from the cab of a truck, walking across the concrete before disappearing inside the store. This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Ace hopped from the back seat and made a beeline for a row of machines humming against the brick exterior. Kurisu followed, watching the preteen feed a paper bill into the soda dispenser, wait for a plastic arm to drop a bottle into the chute, and then turn to the adjacent snack dispenser. Pushing another crumpled bill into a flashing slot, Ace punched a sequence of buttons, only to groan when the internal coil turned halfway and jammed, leaving a chocolate bar suspended.

"Oh, come on, it ate my freaking dollar," the boy said, slapping his palms against the plexiglass before looking up.

"Hey, help me out here. Just give it a little tap on the side." Kurisu pinched his chin in thought before giving a brief tilt of his head; he casually extended a hand, tapping his knuckles against the steel panel with a gentle strike. The cabinet rocked on its leveling feet with a clatter, shaking loose the entire front row of candy bars to drop into the retrieval tray in a cascade of crinkling wrappers.

Ace reached through the flap and pulled the snacks out with a wide grin, looking at his haul before turning his gaze back to Kurisu.

"Okay, now let's get out of here."

"Well, apparently you're good to go," a voice called out, making Ace jump. Charlotte stood behind them, a hand on her hip. She stared at the mountain of chocolate filling her son's arms, shaking her head before looking at Kurisu.

"Do you need anything? Gatorade? Jerky?" Kurisu looked toward the fluorescent lights of the store as he answered.

"Water, and meat." Kurisu tore a strip of jerky with his teeth, chewing slowly as the truck continued east. The preserved meat tasted like salt and smoke, reminiscent of the dried rations issued to the marching infantry, carrying enough familiarity to warrant a slight shrug as he swallowed. As the highway sliced through the canyons, the tan dirt transitioned into towering red cliffs flanked by walls of rust-colored rock.

"Does this stone bleed iron?" Charlotte glanced at the passing cliffs and nodded.

"Yes. Oxidized iron in the sandstone. Beautiful, right?" The cliffs reminded him of his home world, mirroring the crimson-painted strongholds of the northern daimyo, Ōura was it? The truck's engine whined against the incline of the highway while the surrounding peaks faded into the dark, a long line of red taillights winding up the mountain pass ahead of them. The pressure shifted in his inner ear, bringing a faint smile to Kurisu's lips as the change signaled their climb into a cooler climate.

Ace and Kellevra slept in the back seat with their heads resting against the side windows, while Charlotte kept one hand on the wheel and the other loosely holding a coffee cup. Lowering the passenger window, Kurisu invited a roar of highway wind into the cab. A whistle pierced the interior as the pressure popped his ears, carrying the dry scent of hot asphalt and pine needles, but the abrasive noise prompted him to roll the glass back up. Charlotte spoke quietly.

"We're crossing the Divide. It's all downhill to Denver from here." Following the box truck through the dark interstate traffic, Charlotte frowned as Steven skipped the southbound turnoff and continued straight East.

"Where in the hell are you going, Steven?" Charlotte muttered. Kurisu gagged slightly, covering his face with his sleeve as a rancid odor wafted through the cab, gradually flooding his nose with the stench of boiling animal fat.

"What manner of stench is this?" Charlotte groaned, pressing the air recirculation button on the dashboard.

"He missed the I-25 exit, so we're driving right past the Purina dog food plant. Wet food day, by the smell of it." The brakes of the box truck squealed as it came to a stop, echoing down a street lined with brick facades and peaked roofs before Charlotte parked the pickup along the curb just behind it. Leaving the street quiet, the truck's engine cut off.

As he stepped out onto the sidewalk, Kurisu found the night air still holding the lingering warmth of the sun as he tilted his head back to stare at a sky washed out by the amber glow of city lights. A door slammed as Steven slid out of his cab, rubbing his eyes with a groan.

"We made it. We're here." Turning his attention to the house, Kurisu examined the structure, noting the two-story building's beige exterior and wide glass windows. It looked brittle, easily compromised by a dedicated thief, yet its elevated position offered a clear view of the street, resembling a merchant's dwelling rather than a warrior's estate.

While Steven wrestled with the new keys at the front door, Kurisu walked the edge of the property line to note the wooden fence enclosing the rear yard, providing them with more or less the same level of privacy they'd had previously. As he pushed the front door open, Steven whispered, "Okay, crew. We aren't unloading tonight, so grab your sleeping bags. We camp on the living room floor." Ace and Kellevra dragged their pillows over the threshold, following Kurisu into a foyer smelling of fresh paint and new carpet.

Past the kitchen island, Kurisu pulled open a door to reveal a stairwell where a set of steps vanished into the darkness, a cool draft drifting upward.

"What is this?" Kurisu asked. Steven dropped a rolled sleeping bag onto the counter.

"That? That's the basement. It's unfinished, just concrete floors and insulation." Staring down the stairs, Kurisu remembered how subterranean levels held immense strategic value in the past, serving as reinforced bunkers to protect the vulnerable.

"Underground, is it?" Kurisu said. Steven yawned, stretching his arms over his head.

"Yeah. It stays cooler in the summer." In the living room, the family began arranging their blankets directly beneath the large glass windows, establishing a highly vulnerable sleeping position exposed entirely to the exterior. Kurisu turned his gaze back to the stairwell, nodding.

"I shall rest below." Steven blinked, tilting his head in confusion.

"In the basement? There's no padding down there. It's bare concrete."

"Concrete is unyielding," Kurisu replied.

"I need not fear falling through it." He retrieved his sword bag and sleeping roll, gripping the handrail to descend into the basement. Flooding the subterranean space with soft yellow light, Kurisu pulled the string on a hanging bulb to reveal a massive footprint wrapped floor-to-ceiling in reflective silver insulation and resting on poured concrete.

A faint smile crept onto his face as he surveyed the area, realizing the unexpected height and open space provided a wide training floor that also allowed him to practice without damage to the ceiling. He unrolled his sleeping bag in the center of the room, sliding the single gold coin underneath his makeshift pillow for security before placing the sword bag parallel to his right hand. As he lay flat on his back, the surrounding earth blocking the wind and city noise created a zone of quiet.

"This is acceptable," Kurisu whispered to the shadows.