Monster—
—it's a monster, RUN—
—the child— GET AWAY FROM THE CHILD—
MONSTER—
—MONSTER—
The mid-day sun's warmth tiptoed across his cheeks, while its light worked fervently to infiltrate his eyelids. It begins - a slow unfolding, a gentle invitation to exist. A warm bright flame boldly displacing the darkness to the vast reaches in the corners of his mind.
The sun's attack was super effective.
The chaos, the frenzied shouts and disembodied voices, the shrill, piercing screams. All faded. In their place: little mountainous ridges pressing gently into his back. The mighty carapace of his ancient friend. Solid. Permanent. Warm.
I am safe.
He sank a little deeper into the feeling.
Mm.
Something curled around two of his fingers. Small. Unhurried. It held for a moment and let go.
Aw where ya going cutie?
The crashing of a waterfall off to his left somewhere, so distant, and yet, so constant, permeating. Birdsongs. Buzzing insects. The babbling of a brook. The soft rustling of small creatures in the grass. The trees swaying along to the push and pull of a gentle breeze. Their leaves, a soft hush filling the air. All the World's breathing, in sync, inhaling and exhaling. Underneath nature's symphony, low and slow, rising up through the shell beneath him — the two distinct whistles of the Stewart and Zero – one much softer and lower than the other.
..almost..but…not.. quite just yet..
He was very nearly asleep again, but he knows the sun is not the only one who had plans for him this day.
He opened his eyes. The world above, a cerulean firmament. A sky so clear and blue, with only sparse, delicate wisps of clouds, the texture of spun sugar, begging to be memorialized.
I should paint it.
At the edge of his periphery, a haze of vibrant green. Sun-drenched wildflowers strewn about the meadow. The silken whispered wishes of the seeds of this season's dandelions, unbound by gravity, gliding on a zephyr, aspiring to rest upon the clouds above.
"Hey Miss Stewart!" He tapped her shell.
No response.
"HEY — MISS — STEWART! YOU'RE — LOOKING — WELL!" He slowly enunciated, giving her a series of firm pats.
Aoi started to smile because the great tortoise beneath him was swaying — now so was Aoi. Stewart was doing her happy dance.
Mm. The air is sweet with magic.
The mana in the meadow is dense and alive; thick and woven into everything — just breathing is to drink in a benevolent, nurturing force gently guiding the body's every cell toward homeostasis.
He took another indulgent breath.
Yes. This place.
Something small landed on his chest. He planted his chin on his sternum to see who it was.
A teeny little sprite
"Oh, hello there."
The cheery little sprite presented something to Aoi.
"Wait — is this a seed, is this for me? Are you giving me this seed to have?"
Aoi adjusted himself.
"NO WAY!" He took it. "Thank you, it's perfect."
"❤️" The little sprite beamed at him. Taking a pregnant pause to fawn over Aoi before running off.
Was that sprite blushing?
PHEWW blppbbb - clearly Stewart.
"…Gggg..uuuu…gghhh…"
"Oh so that was Zero huh?" He said to Stewart smiling enough to show teeth..
"Pharghhhhh...…..Warrrgghhhh.." Stewart was laughing.
Aoi laughed back.
"Apparently I haven't been starving you, isn't that right young lady? You know–"
"NNNNnnnnnnlllllaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!"
He heard her before he saw her. Hell, he heard her before he even sensed her — which he hadn't even managed to do yet.
∗ ∗ ∗
Damn she's incredible.
"Aoi baby!! oOOOOoooo hhhhhoneeyyyyyyyyyyy… Oh! Sweetie thank you, yes I am, at times, well always, extraordinary and difficult to comprehend — however you mustn't distract me with watermelons. Err compliments I mean. I'm fragileeeeeee."
"Ha… are you okay though? What's the matter, Yaya." he tried matching her singsongy tone, and before he could even begin to move his lips to invite her to sit beside him, she was already settled, lying back, feet in his lap.
"I'm dyinggg. I need a foot rub, wine, ugh I need a man… for starters. But what I really need is.."
"..coffeeEEE?"
They stared at each other — eyes wide in recognition that, yes indeed, they had both just spoken the same word, identically, simultaneously."
"Hey Yaya."
"Whats goodie"
"Stewart trying to pull a fast one earlier blaming Zero for -."
"Baby, today, yesterday, tomorrow, last year. She's a big girl! She's a hustler baby give her some more food baby she's hungggggryyyyy–"
"No, well yes that's very true, but I'm talking about her fart, it was so loud Yaya, she laughed wh-!"
"WHAT." She sat up slighly. "Shut your fucking FACE!!!! Quickly, tell me everything. Posthaste lad!!!"
And then, more to herself than anything:
"You know that there're still so many things, too many things, we don't know about these guys yet — actually we just found out they weren't guys, now that I think about it. Ugh, sorry for the misgender Boys, oh and haha just now too, yikes …but no one has ever documented that they laugh. What a discovery, I mean it would be arrogant and presumptuous of me to assume that we were the only ones in such close proximity to these magical creatures. Actually what am I, B, eminent philosopher, visionary pioneer, masterful researcher and leading expert in all things, even saying? The only known recordings of Testudo Tempus, naming brought to you by moi, thank you, is from the age of myth…that is except, of course, for my own extensive and frankly masterful investigat–."
"It sounded like whale vocalizations?" B asked.
"Yeah, exactly!"
"I wonder how and why we can even hear them. They distort time, not true — technically they distort time and also accidentally SLIGHTLY distort space –But that's whatever!"
B grabbed Aoi's face.
"Aoi. You, my Son, my child, are the fruit of my loom."
"Womb*, Yaya."
"See, you are the fruit of thy womb. Yes, exactly and as such you listen to me and you listen well Boy. I birthe—"
"Did not."
"–d you!" I did too! I used to be so hot! You should see the damage you did on the way out — I swear you were trying to steal the furniture. I know, crazy right? It's not just you, it truly is difficult, nay, nigh impossible to imagine me hotter, but Aoi I'm going to ask you to try."
"Yaya. Sorry, I have no idea what you are talking about."
"Shit — the point is I brought you into this world—"
"False."
"—and I am hungry and I need my handsome little fruit loop to start planning the menu!"
She gave him the most dramatic kiss on the cheek — leaving an identical matching set of lips behind, which, against Aoi's asmarani skin, popped, highlighting his deep rich, warm undertones.
Then B gave Aoi a noogie.
"Come on witch boy, get to brewin! Yip yip!"
The lipstick.
An unapologetic, opulent red — voluptuous, lined just a shade darker at the edges, perfectly following her cupid's bow. A color that, in this, lush, calm sun highlighted green meadow was in complete contrast and starkly foreign. Yet here it was, exactly where it belonged. Blood red against her highly melanated skin, that deep luxurious roasted chestnut, glowing like she was lit from somewhere inside her chest. Petite and full-bodied and impossibly, intimidatingly, unapologetically sexy.
That dress.
B was draped in sheer ivory and cream. Off the shoulder, blush roses, sunflowers of the faintest goldenrod, appliquéd across the gown like they grew there. The hemming, lace. Ornate doilies, scalloping at ankle level.
Everything.
B's hair was platinum — architectural, baroque, piled high at the crown in voluminous structured curls defying gravity, then gathered and braided into a thick rope that cascaded over one shoulder all the way to her tiny waist. Woven through the length: glistening gossamer, and, reflecting the sunshine, small golden charms punctuated the ends of curls.
B's hair was not like Aoi's. His was stark, stoic where hers had warmth and tonal variation, and the faintest shadow of dusty lilac at the root where it lifted highest.
"Yaya, you look devastating."
"Oh, this?" B flourished her hands gesturing at her entire situation.
Her hands — rings on nearly every finger, delicate and intricate, boho in spirit but specific in detail. Thin golden chains connecting each finger to her wrist. Small stones set in the fine gold — mostly opal, that iridescent play of color shifting green and blue and amber depending on how the light hit. The effect of the ensemble; effortless.
"..just Tuesday." She blushed.
"But, honeyyy? I'mnot one to leave crumbs."
Transcendent. Iconic..
He started to fix his — until very recently, perfectly coiffed hair. Brilliantly glistening, subtle, loose waves, the longest length, his fringe, when pulled straight down would reach the bridge of his slightly bottonesque nose. Aoi's hair, pure as the driven snow, almost painful to view in the bright direct sun. Not grey, not silver. White.
"Okay. I'm going to get the coffee ready and start to cook."
"Yesssssss, ugh, we need to eat — I'm wastingggg away. Oh and I want, no, I demand watermelon."
He mouthed the word watermelon along with her through a huge grin.
It wasn't even close to the first time he'd heard about it today. Merely moments earlier Aoi purposefully ignored B's provocation. AND B had been smuggling it into every sentence she could all morning during training. "Ok Aoi sweetie, once you attune to the frequency of each watermelon, you can cut the watermelon. Aoi. I want watermelon."
Subtle.
Aoi stood and bent at the waist. He kissed B on the very crown of her head, pausing for an extra moment, to catch the lingering scent of spirits; of juniper and aged oak; of incense and sacred myrrh; of ancient and unfathomable sorcery.
"Coffee incoming! Me or a neighbor… posthaste!" His cheeks now flush.
"POSTHASTE–" She grabbed her chest.
"I live." She settled back, glass balanced on her stomach, face tilted toward the sun. "Okay sweetie thank you, 76 hours of labor and you are so worth it"
Only 76 today..
He was almost out of earshot when she called after him.
"Pleaseeeee save me the leftover puck."
As if I'd forget? "The secret to her glow"; B's Enchanting Espresso Exfoliant. And secretly the secret to mine…heh heh heh.
And now Aoi's distance, which for someone other than B, would be too far for the sound of a shout to travel. Nonetheless..
"Oh — Kujou is on a rampage by the way. Cursing you left right and center. Apparently you're late. I'd be scared if I were you" spoken as if directly in Aoi's ear.
He sighed through his nose and kept walking.
Kujou.
Aoi quickened his pace at the thought. His trot toward home was a now lively one, made cushy by the obvious choice of following one of many corridors Zero had carved from the land.
He came to a clearing.
A lone plum tree, in full blossom, had broken Aoi's stride.
Breathtaking.
The breeze first wove through the surrounding broadleaf canopy, causing movement in the filtered light from the Sun. The plum tree was next to join the winds dance. Swaying this way and that, sending coruscated blossom confetti toward the already petal bestrewn blue-green of the grass below it.
I'm home.
"Casita", affectionately monikered by B, was beautiful.
Casita was piecemealed together, like she'd grown with age rather than been constructed and then built upon. The tattered lace of her chipped paint. The cracks in her foundation allow for the floor to be level with the terrain. Rebel vines have taken the stairs, and green ivy lay claim to the exposed brick of a lopsided chimney. The windows were nearly floor to ceiling, and bright. This house wasn't just standing the test of time — it persevered and was proudly showcasing her battle scars.
My beautiful sanctuary.
Aoi grabbed the door knob.
Rattle, clack.
I should fix that.
A tug on his right earlobe brought a grin to his already cheery face. He turned — nothing. Maggi was already taking the little coffee bean from his hand, so fast he'd barely felt it happen, Maggi disappeared doubly so.
He opened the door. Before he could even soak it in —
FLY TIME FLY TIME BARK BARK FUCKING BARK!! 😡
∗ ∗ ∗
Kujou was on a rampage.
"Hello hello crazy head!!! I'm so sorry, thank you for being patient — it would be my honor to have you on board, Sir."
Kujou kinda mumbled to himself, stepped onto Aoi's outstretched arm and walked up his ramp.
Kujou's feet were small and warm — that first grip spreading four points of pressure into Aoi's skin, then lifting, then finding skin again a little higher. Grip. Lift. Grip. The alive-weight of him shifting forward with every step was a little more than you'd expect from someone so small. The brush of feathers against his forearm. The little pinch of it — not painful or anything, just Kujou, working his way up Aoi's arm, with complete confidence, unhurried, his runway.
He reached the shoulder. Settled. Danced.
He's happy.
"Okay let's get to it, grumpy boy. We have some coffee to make."
Kujou mumbled something but didn't elaborate and Aoi let him be.
He grabbed the Bialetti.
The most perfect metal creation ever produced by human hands.
Its name? B only ever said: "It's Italian, just like Pinocchio… or a Fiat!" Not a word more.
I always assumed Yaya named it. But her answer made it sound like it already had a name — like I was the weird one for not knowing. Or maybe she named it so long ago it just feels obvious to her by now. Anyways..
It caught the light as he lifted it. Cool smooth metal, familiar weight, little pointy angles.
Mmm this is psychosomatic and I couldn't care less.
He reached for the grounds.
BAD! OLD! BARK BARK! POISON!
"Kujou — obviously I prefer freshly as much as the next guy." He pulled the bag. "But we don't have the time. I ground this yesterday, it's fine."
Kujou said nothing. His silence was loud.
"It's FINE."
He opened the bag EXTREMELY amused by Kujou's ranting.
BAM!
An aromatic awakening.
A sudden, heady spell.
Oh. Melt.There it is.Dark. Warm. Earthy.
One second. Just one more.
In…..hale...…..exhale....innnnnmmmmhaaaaalleeeee
"Ahhhhhhhhhhh."
"Let's begin!"
"Okay Kujou, step one…"
Kujou's "flying" already phew, hopefully he wont notice me while I fumbl–
"BARK OPEN THING!!! STEP ONE OPEN THING BARK!!!"
This comedy routine!
"Okay, cough cough, Step One. Room temperature water. Up to—" he bit his lip— "the valve."
Yaya calls it the tiny titty because she hates the word 'valve'.
He filled it to the tiny titty. Exactly.
"Step two. The little basket."
He packed the grounds in carefully, leveling the top with the back of the tablespoon and then a clean pass of his finger.
Perfect.
Even.
Art.
Yaya "sneaks" unpacked grounds on the top, she swears she's a 'naturally gifted swindler'.
"Step three—" he assembled the Bialetti together, piece by piece. — "we assemble and get to cookin!"
The craftsmanship. The meticulous construction..
He set it over a small controlled flame.
He looked at Kujou, who was on approach to somewhere. Fully committed.
Aoi smiled to himself.
Ha, I'm happy.
∗ ∗ ∗
Divine.
The aroma hit him.
Heavy, thick and then a humidity wrapped itself around Aoi's face.
Toasty. Nutty. Warm and caramelized, and — just for a second, something redolent of the holidays, but it was gone before he could ruminate on it.
Then came the chocolate. Dark and malty and creamy and – WARM. The steam rose through the kitchen, slow and generous, dancing atop everything in its wake.
Intoxicating.
"Wow! It's ready." He said to Kujou who, surely, had tuned out by this point.
He was already salivating as he grabbed B's mug.
*B's Mug: "xo..Still That Bitch..xo"
A deep dark velvety stream left the mouth of the Bialetti and blessed her chalice. He picked up the pace — his own cup was waiting now. He was halfway through pouring his own before he realized he'd already handed hers off. Some little somebody or other dolefully carries B's fix straight to her.
The house was silent. Silent enough to hear the faint soft sloshing of liquid filling his cup.
*Aoi's Mug: "Dog Dad".
He wrapped both hands around the ceramic.
I'm pretty sure my hands can absorb the heat and make it cool faster. Something about thermoconductivity… omg I don't even care! It's all mine. No more wait-
"OWESW—"
Worth it.
A hot soak. The first bite of freshly baked bread. A hug from a long lost friend. The house. Our house. MY house.
I
Heart
Coffee.
∗ ∗ ∗
"To the greenhouse!"
The closer they got the more Kujou came alive.
The clicks started first — little rapid-fire sounds right in his ear, Kujou was directing Aoi forward. Then the dancing, the shoulder sway becoming something more committed, more full-body. Then the earlobe. A gentle nibble. Then another.
He's vibrating.
Maggi was at the threshold.
Aoi held out the bean. Maggi took it, stashed
it…waited.
Aoi looked at Kujou.
Kujou already had a second bean in his beak — Aoi hadn't even seen him take it.
Kujou made a sound, one he rarely makes.
Maggi grabbed it.
The whole transaction took less than a second.
Kujou is in love with Maggi I swear.
Aoi pulled open the door.
Fresh. Earthy — much earthier than coffee. Wild. Green.
The smell of fresh rain wrapped around a whole world of botanicals — freshly opened lily, coffee trees, banana, mango, plum in bloom. A breeze carried the sweet green smell of the rice stalks through everything.
And the sound. The loud constant buzz of cicadas. Birdsongs. Frog calls. Crickets crooning. Water bugs skittering across the surface of the pond. The slush and splash, the whole place is alive.
The smells and sounds of Hea—
"BARK!! FUCKING LOVE THIS PLACE!!"
Aoi laughed so hard he had to grab the doorframe.
"Kujou." He wiped his eyes. "Me too buddy. Me too."
Aoi and Kujou, both in awe, breathing in sync, took a spell just to bask in the glory. A veritable Garden of Eden.
The first to take notice, Bait.
Aoi waved him over.
Bait began his sojourn, objectively ominous, Bait wades at a glacial pace, just giant yellow eyeballs above the water's surface.
Pyxicephalus Adspersus. Violent ambush predator. A cavernous mouth and a stomach that is essentially a black hole. What a mighty mighty beast..
"But not my baityboi!"
BARK FAT SLIMY BARK FUCKING FUCK
"Kujou." Aoi playfully put a finger to Kujou's beak in an attempt to silence him."That wasn't nice." He cleared his throat. "Thankfully his ears are underwater or he'd eat you."
Kujou squinted his eyes at Aoi but said nothing. Aoi grabbed the cilantro.
The smell hit him first — bright, green, almost aggressive. He pinched a stem between his fingers and it got louder. He worked through the patch methodically, bay leaves next, tucking everything into the basket with the focused energy of someone who knew exactly what he was doing.
He did not look at the tomatoes.
He looked at the tomatoes.
They were extraordinary. Fat and red and warm from the light and he was absolutely going to grab a few because look at them.
BARK GREEN LEMON
"Yes. Right." He put down the tomato he was already holding. "Lemons."
The lemon tree was heavy with them. He pressed one — firm, yielding just slightly at the skin, still warm. He grabbed four. Then the limes, smaller, darker, that sharp clean smell releasing the moment his thumbnail broke the skin testing one. Into the basket.
He swung by the paddies. The water was still and dark and good. The ducklings were frantically purposefully doing, well, nothing, all motion and no destination, soft and ridiculous and perfect. He scattered some feed and watched go berserker about it for exactly one moment before moving on.
Piece de resistance
The watermelons were where he'd left them. He didn't need to knock it. He knew. He picked it up — cool, heavy, peak — and tucked it under his arm.
Then the plums caught his eye.
A few of them, right there, that deep almost-black purple, weighing the branch. Yes wow.
He grabbed them.
He looked at his basket.
His basket looked back.
Ok.
Kujou was humming something tuneless on his shoulder when the tongue lashed the ground at Aoi's ankle.
He had been so focused he hadn't noticed Bait complete his trip to this side of the pond.
"Okay Bait — but before I come any closer — can you lift your head out of the water for me—"
No way I am getting in that pond, not today, every single time I see him he—
Splash.
Splash.
A mossy green living mountain rose from the depths of the loch. A cascading rush of pond water propelled toward them.
Aoi braced himself.
Bait cleared the edge. His tongue shot out at some sonic speed. It found Aoi's ankle with ease, muscle memory.
"BAIT. Come on. Dude. No. Please. Please. Stop stop, stopstopstop — I do not want to swim today—"
BARK FAT FUCK ATE TWINK.
…twink. Really yaya?
Bait released him in a huff. Settled at the edge. Those enormous gold eyes level with Aoi's knees, watching him.
Aoi looked deeply at Bait for a second.
"Hi handsome."
He threw a spare watermelon, or two, then four, to Bait who just had his mouth open anticipating the snacks from his white haired friend.
Aoi went back to work. Wet ankle. Kujou, still muttering something under his breath that Aoi chose not to translate.
He grabbed too much. He'd known it and didn't want to believe it but there he was.
He set down the basket. Grabbed a few fruits and things held them in his hand.
A look of intense focus splashed across Aoi's typically softened face. He was shooting daggers through these veggies.
Feel my own mana.
Feel the mana of the plum.
Gently mark plum with my mana…
Drift off into the void….
Kujou's humming stopped.
Aoi, brandished item after item pausing for a good bit at each piece.
The greenhouse didn't go quiet all at once. It was more like a tide going out — the cicadas first, then the ducks, then the small water sounds, then even Bait's breathing and bubbling at the edge of the pond, until there was just Aoi and the faintest of warmth building somewhere low in his stomach, rising slow, filling him up from the inside.
He then let himself go hollow.
The items left. Not dramatically. They were just there and then they weren't, and a breath later he felt a distant unsettling tug.
Whoa man physics sucks.
Everything came back. Cicadas first, jolting Aoi back.
Bait was still watching him from the edge of the pond. Gold eyes. Completely still.
Aoi picked up his basket, bent down to give a big wet kiss to Bait's left eye lid (about equivalent in size to aoi's own head), and then he heard Kujou.
BARK BARK PLAY WITH FAT FUCK BYE AOI BARK LOVE YOU
And with that he left the greenhouse, but not without first paying Maggi's insanely cute little toll.
∗ ∗ ∗
"Jesus fucking christ Mary what's takinggg so longggg sniff sniff..I hungwyy"
Aoi headed into his mission aware of the stakes.
Yaya is 100 times the predator Bait could ever be…
He shuddered, refocused.
The beans had been soaking since last night.
Plump, taut, skin stretched tight from a night of heavy drinking. He ran his thumb across a handful. Ready.
The water took the beans with a splash and he turned up the heat and watched it begin to move — a shiver first, then a roll. One bay leaf. Salt. He turned it down to a simmer and let them go.
Annnd now…. the guiso.
The knife came down through the onion and his eyes stung immediately, a sharp sweet spray filling the air before he'd even finished the cut.
wildBattle.Start ( : ONION, lv4, ('Allium Cloud': grass.Spec)).
He didn't stop. Garlic next — the flat of the blade, the heel of his hand, the skin peeling back. Tomatoes. Peppers. The board was loud. Satisfying knocks, each ingredient carried a different tempo.
Everything went in at once and the moment it all hit the skillet-
ssSSSiiizzZZzllleee.
The cilantro's bright green cut through the caramel sweetness of the onion, the garlic now golden at the edges, the tomatoes breaking down and bleeding into everything around them.
Queue Maillard Reaction.
He stirred and, entranced, kept stirring.
Aoi watched the ingredients reduce, combine, thicken, and transmute. They became bubbling magma, jammy and dark.
Voilà. Guiso.
Forty minutes had passed since he put on the beans. The broth was moving. Slow rhythmic bubbles rose to the surface. As each bubble burst, pockets of savory, earthy steam were released. He folded in the giso — watching the blush broth pull its color, mahogany spreading from the center out, the whole pot changing in real time.
He set the spoon down.
Now we wait.
…
The rice was already done. He took a fork, pulled it through in long slow strokes separating each grain, the steam lifting in a clean white cloud.
"Ah! Hot"
He plunged his singed finger into his mouth, unencumbered, Aoi gazed into the pot. The beans had gone quiet, settled into the, now, deep, sanguine broth.
Perfection.
He plated it. Rice first, a mountain of white. Then the beans, slow and heavy, cascading over the side.
B's malevolent, rigid, stare, softened, her jaw followed suit. The scent was carrying her to a time…long since passed.
Casita was filled, to the brim with the nostalgic toasty, buttery scent of the meal. The splash of citrus, the aromatics of the bay and the veggies, a smell only outdone by the lightly woody starchy scent of perfectly steamed rice.
Dinner was ready.
Aoi took a few extra moments to flourish with cilantro here and there, prim and poke; Salt-bae each plate. This was his performance, and the judge?
Well lets just say she has a rather discerning palate.
∗ ∗ ∗
"Aw, babbbyyy, I'm sorry I was just coming to help clean up.
B had already been stuffing her face by the time aoi made it back to the table from cleaning up the kitchen.
"No need to be sorry Yaya, I didn't want to make you wait so I just left the kitchen as is. Thanks!" He grinned.
"Grrroylistaguhessssummuggenice"
Boy, listen that's some good fuckin' rice…probably.
Aoi finally sat down across from this inexplicable being in reverent, debilitating awe.
Both feet on the table, hands somewhere in her sweats, B was burping. Loud. Box braids and a bra adorned her hourglass sculpted frame.
She looks so content.
Aoi was finally ready to eat.
And he did.
That initial bite transported him to the first time B taught him to cook. The slightly bitter uplifting taste of cilantro was immediately pierced with the bright electric zing of the citrus. The beans themselves felt weightless as they melted apart in Aoi's mouth. The brilliant acidity lingered on the outer edges of his tongue as he continued to shovel bite after bite. Aoi was a good eater.
B looked at him knowingly, lovingly as Aoi relished the fruits of his friends and his labor.
"This was the first meal I taught you to cook. And now, it's completely unrecognizable. Baby you have unlimited potential. Ya hear that?"
Aoi, now flush once again, looked toward the window.
Stewart's shell, enormous and motionless and permanent. And Zero — doing her Zero thing, that slow deliberate walk along a straight line, staring directly, intensely at Aoi and will happily continue to do so until Aoi responds.
"I do Yaya, and I love you too."
The sunset in the sky behind the two massive tortoises was uncanny. Its color transforming; deep reds battling intense corals and brilliant oranges. It was endless. Completely and entirely. For miles, hundreds of miles even, neither obstruction nor obfuscation, not a shadow, or silhouette to be found. The world still.
As the sun made its final descent taking along with it the last shreds of its light. The final licks of the day's warmth also caught in its gravity, the air itself being pulled asunder.
Wait, where are they?
For the first time inside this home, inside his home; in all the innumerable safe, quiet, happy years spent within these walls…
He didn't know what it was. He had no word for it, no category, no frame of reference. B was here. Nothing had ever been wrong in this place because nothing could be wrong in this place because B.
what the fuck is going on?!
The glass shattered.
Impossible
Pressure. Crippling— crushing, total.
B was already moving, arms wide, conducting, the house responding, growing, shifting, expanding around them.
Something dark is here..
Murderous. Filthy. Evil with no bottom to it.
Yaya. What do we — what's happening.
The door came off its frame.
Slow down…
I can't focus.
I can't distract her.
Are there three?
Four?
More?
BOOM, whooooooshhh!
"Ugni Meisz"
CRACK
Something came at him fast from the left.
Defensive Magic, I need to..
CRASH! A brand new rampart rushed in to meet the spell flying at Aoi's head, while a new door appeared behind him.
The rampart receded toward Aoi, ushering him backward through the newly arrived door.
Once inside the empty door frame quickly stacked itself up with brick.
He could feel it — the house breathing differently, the walls shifting, the air pressure changing.
B was creating some kind of labyrinthine defense system. Keeping the invaders and that evil thing isolated while building more and more rooms, walls and ramparts to add distance between them.
Where is —
Something caught him across the shoulder. Not a spell — something physical, the edge of something, and it hurt. He made a sound he immediately resented making.
Was that a knife, a sword? Where..I need to focus.
YAYA!!!
He was breathing hard. His shoulder, now gushing blood, throbbing and preventing him from thinking.
He doubled over in pain.
From this angle he watched his own blood pour across the floor, staining a life's worth of broken memories in its wake.
B was beside him.
Oh no.
"Aoi."
Her voice was steady.
"Aoi." Again, but different. Shaky? "I love you. Since the moment I saw you. I have—" She stopped. Looked up and started again.
"Shhh. I'm fine. Listen to me you need to– FUCK BALLS FUCK. Aoi, well not that it matters now, but I was going to draw you a hot bath-" Her voice started to crack "- after dinner. You don't know just how good you are, my baby boy. My, Aoi."
What
"Do you remember everything? Everything I taught you. Everything you've learned. Everything you've done." Her eyes were on his, completely still. "Do you remember the washroom spell?"
Is—why is she
She— she's asking me..what
"AOI ANSWER ME. YES OR NO. DO YOU REMEMBER THE SPELL FOR THE BATHROOM DON'T MAKE ME SCREAM IT OUT FOR ALL THESE FUCKBAGS TO HEAR!"
Bathroom, who fucking cares, what, Yaya what are you saying. Stop
"AOI! DO YOU OR DO YOU NOT REMEMBER THE SPELL TO WASH YOUR A-"
"Yes. YES I REMEMBER EVERYTHING M—"
"Good boy." Something moved through her face. "Hamza, he's a hunter. Go find Hamza. I need room to deal with these PIECES OF SHIT and I need you somewhere safe so I can do that without—"
"Aoi I'm so sorry."
He knew he only had time for one breath.
Casita. Beans, still on the stove. Watermelon on the table, I see Yaya's chomps from here through the red of it.
What. Why. M-
B, stared into Aoi.
Chaos, it felt, was growing inside him, twisting his internal organs, and bones but nothing was breaking or bleeding. He was twisting. So was the room.
Through the seam — still visible, albeit skewed, still there for one suspended impossible moment — he saw B turn back to the room. He saw her roll her shoulders. He saw her look at the people who had come into her home and tore her Tuesday and child away from her. B's face twisted, ferocious, inhuman.
Next Aoi heard her address the invaders in some throaty gargle of a language.
A suffocating pressure.
A feral wave consumed the space.
A miracle of blood red light.
"You knew this was coming, didnt ya, you fucking fuckers?"
An indescribable sound coming from somewhere else entirely. Getting closer very fast.
"You lucky losers get to meet Truck-kun."
The fold closed.