2 - Songbirds in a Tattered World
It had been a few years ago, Khun thinks. His memory is usually immaculate, but in that time, before he'd needed glasses for more than reading, it was blurry. He'd met a boy with short hair and golden eyes. Charming face, innocence everywhere, following him like a lost puppy. And that's where the memories stop. He's sure he's spent time with that boy. He's sure that he enjoyed that time. But he'd woken up one day and the boy had not come to greet him and had never come to greet him again. And none of his friends had ever known him.
And he had needed glasses for everything ever since that day. It should have felt weird, but it doesn't. It never has. Nothing feels weird. It should be suspicious, at his weirdest points, the points where no one visits him and there are absences on his record he doesn't remember taking. Tests he doesn't remember passing, though the information is clear as day.
It isn't that he's pleased by his good fortune alone, he is, but the niggling itch that something is lacking has always been there, and it's led to him looking out the window.
Maybe that is why his head itches at him now, watching these two strangers, the former nostalgic, the latter making his skin crawl, chat as they walk towards the nearest shrine.
"I'm not particularly religious," he says coolly. The thought of higher powers, more than organized, faulty religion, makes his skin crawl.
"The gods don't mind either way," says the redhead with a knowing grin. Viole beside her makes a face. "We're just going to pay our dues. It's much quieter to talk about fun topics there, isn't it?"
She says it's quiet, but for some reason, the second he steps foot on the shrine, his body chills despite the warmth of the air around him. He looks around and it fades.
But there are eyes on his spine and he dislikes them.
Viole watches the waterfall as it sings down the rocks. He doesn't acknowledge the whispers behind him. He's quite used to them. The long haired teenager wearing a girl's uniform, who walked with a pretty friend and stayed late. All the rumors that follow the people in this tiny pocket of the world are less concerning.
That is the reason he does it, mostly. Let the stares be for something insignificant rather than the knowledge of -
Fire, crackling over skin, great teeth the size of trees and screaming sobbing cries.
The great things overwhelming us, the great world, its endless space awaiting us.
The spell running through his skin -
The gods and their laughter.
The end as it comes.
He pulls himself up from his daze. Hwaryun is talking with Khun-ssi. It's better that she does. The fact that he's kept his mouth shut for months, no, years, is a miracle in both of their opinions. Not that lying to Khun-ssi's face will be any more beneficial but at least this will be able to get him started on remembering.
As long he doesn't remember the… end. The hopelessness. He'll figure something out. He can figure it out.
He has to.
Hwaryun glances at him with her good eye and smiles. He raises an eyebrow back at her, hopefully sending his feelings on this as clearly as he can without opening his mouth.
Because if he keeps trying to open it, he will start crying. It's been years but he's not stupid. He knows he's a crybaby at moments like this.
His phone buzzes. So does hers. He waves her off. He knows what to do. He's always known what to do, really.
It was thanks to Khun-ssi that he could remember.
She places a hand on Khun's knee, sees his face twist with disgust and nods, like nothing is wrong.
He steps away so Khun can't see him disappear and presses the image of the lotus flower on the screen of his phone. The world blurs into a monochromatic haze and everyone disappears. All that he's left with is the colorful grass, the blood left on the ground, and himself, holding the rapier.
The air is filled with a piercing shriek. Viole sighs, taps the symbol on his phone again, and lets the flower petals briefly obscure his vision.
When he is ready to fight, off he goes. No holding back. No more destruction and risk to the lives of others. Not today.
"Where did he go?"
Of course he notices immediately. Hwaryun had expected him to. He's forgotten much, but he's dreamed enough. And it would be strange to miss the boy you had walked with minutes before suddenly no longer standing guard in a place that buzzed with power
"I will explain that to you." She is clearly enjoying this too much. "First though, since you have been dodging the question, there are gaps in your memories, yes?"
His family's teachings must be blaring loud sirens of "do not show vulnerability, humans do that" or something equally useless and inane. How does she know, or something? This is why she finds the noble ones the worst to work with, or at least the ones aware of the nobility. Fun to play with but they waste so much time. It's hard to play with someone before they can get to the game board. She watches his face growing more and more taut, suspicion playing across the furrow of his brow.
"Do you have something to do with it?" It's phrased like a question, but said as a fact. Cute.
"Yes and no." She folds her hands together. "It was the process of our higher ups, but the loss of your memory was a result of your time with us. Under the guidance of Enryu's Thorn, you helped us keep the end of the world at bay for just moments longer. You and quite a few others."
There's a skepticism. She understands. It isn't in his nature to help people. It's his nature to order people around. It's a very fair concern. But Hwaryun knows it wasn't about helping people. For Khun it has never been about being kind or cruel. It is about what is possible and what isn't, but also who has looked him in the eyes and who hasn't.
"Tell me," she says, to prod at him. "Do you remember anything of the Twenty-Fifth Bam?"
Khun freezes, pales, and puts a hand to his head. "Nothing."
"You just saw him," she says. "He just left us. Do you remember anything of the Twenty-Fifth Bam?"
He repeats that he doesn't.
"You will," she tells him. "Because you are the reason he is able to endure this all alone."