Within three minutes, Qrow smashed two onigiris into his mouth and drained an immense bowl of ramen without savoring them. Grains of rice littered his fast food tray which he gathered and finished off his finger-tips. Broth wetted his chin until he mopped it away using his thumb.
"How long were you transformed?" asked the man sitting across Qrow's table.
What sounded like the man's alarm and pity made Qrow roll his eyes. "Shut up." He squeezed soda through a straw like a desert survivor squeezing his last drops of water. Carbonation spiked his throat, and it was the first texture he perceived of that day's lunch.
Wicked was the name of this fast-food diner serving rice balls and noodles, soda and boba tea. Its logo, a wide yellow W, was designed to resemble two bowls of ramen side by side, and the yellow bowls could be seen above every diner from many street blocks away in any direction. Every town and city in the nation of Patch had a Wicked of its own, but the largest metropolises like Spot, Mark, and Punctuation had a few of them.
Each diner was founded near highway routes, train stations, and road intersections with heavy foot traffic.
Wicked's mascot, a stereotypical witch with a laughably large nose and skin the color of a sour apple, invited hungry people through its glass doors into a dining room large enough for dozens of people.
Kitchen staff who wore uniforms of white, green, and gold ordered each other around. Shoes stamped back and forth on stone floor. Metal tools clattered and steam hissed while the cooks prepared meals at break-neck speed, for a line of customers was forming at the front desk at the same time as a line of cars formed outside the drive-thru.
The man who had bought Qrow's lunch and sat with him took their first bite of onigiri since Qrow finished eating. With their mouth full, they said, "You didn't eat before you changed, did you?" except it wasn't a question.
Healthy curls of sandy hair matched the stubble growing on Taiyang Xiao-Long's jawline. The sleeves of his black button-down shirt were rolled halfway up both forearms, and the top few buttons were undone over his chest. Exercise built his shoulders wide and sinew wired his form. He had a body like a warcat lying at ease, drinking daylight through his skin and flexing his muscles without so much as blinking. As easily as frightening a corvid by turning his gaze, Tai forced the answer to his original question out of Qrow.
Tai was talking about the transformation. Qrow mangled his insides each time he took the size and shape of an ebony bird, so when he returned to the form of a man, his bones grinded and reset themselves. His muscles stretched like rubber bands. And his appetite—Qrow's empty insides fiend for a meal.
Qrow twisted a soda cup in his grasp. "It was an emergency. You know. I couldn't waste time."
"Not even long enough to grab a snack first? I heard your billion and one voice messages this morning. Tell me what's wrong."
Qrow spoke of the events that followed his discovery of Mantis.
Even while Qrow described the rotten foods and the photographs, Tai continued sipping ramen broth, as if they didn't bother him.
Once Qrow confessed his search of the school buildings, Tai remained unflinching.
The results of Qrow's findings—he insisted on connections between the nets and the same shade of green in the outfits at both locations—fell on Tai's silence like a bird on a gravestone. Tai didn't budge or prod for any more information than what Qrow gave him.
The men exited Wicked together during mid-afternoon after refilling their drink cups, and they crossed the parking lot between drive-thru vehicles. Qrow shuffled and hunched over his drink while Tai strode erect and face forward.
"You gonna say something or let me croak until my throat gives out?" Soda and ice chilled Qrow's hand. Occasional sips tasted like sassafras root and it tingled the back of his mouth.
Tai said, "Maybe you're right to be worried. Just because I haven't noticed anything doesn't mean you're wrong. You've better intuition than me. Something or someone outside of school might be influencing Signal Academy."
"So you'll help me?"
Early autumn daytime illuminated the metropolis around them and perfumed the streets with combustion exhaust from vehicles. Sky went on for miles overhead like a cerulean sea, but several towers reached for it. The buildings reflected light against their windows and cast shadows between each other.
Oak trees also grew in the uptown area, ten feet tall here, up to fifteen feet high in a few places, but their jade foliage wilted in comparison to the concrete jungle. Afternoon beams of sun only reached the trees because skyscrapers allowed it.
Thirty-seven thousand adults lived in Spot including Taiyang Xiao-Long: human, faunus, all different colors of skin, and all different gender identities. Almost two thousand of them were clustered in those buildings, staffing cubicle jobs at miniature desks. They were a variety of white-collar experts and gentry employed under corporate executives.
Some of them had to lead congregations of faith, right?
Where were the ministers and their masses?
Where was the church and its servants?
They hid from sight under shadows of towers.
They masked themselves and their doors between stones.
The pews had descended into cellars where only rodents and mold may grow.
The men who'd known each other since childhood stalked next to each other on street-sides. They took the same path away from Wicked as when they arrived, passing one street intersection and then eventually the next, and eventually another. Buildings became squat and made more of russet-red brick. Storage warehouses and industrial depots took up entire blocks of land. Iron-link fences wrapped around dirty plots, where brown grass sprouted and old vehicles were broken down.
Some experts still lived in neighborhoods like these, but they wore blue jeans and leather aprons. They sweated in mechanic shops under heavy metal machinery. Blow torches roared in workshops behind closed garage doors.
"Yes? No?" Qrow broke the silence again since his question went unanswered. "You're not worried about this at all, are you."
Tai itched at his right temple. "The truth is I've been designing a test this whole time for my Friday morning kids."
The impact of Tai's words clubbed Qrow between steps, and a scowl slashed his face. "Did you even listen to a single thing I said?" Soreness echoed up both legs at the same time as it spread from his back. He hadn't fully recovered from his flight or his search in the school buildings. He needed to lie down. He needed a real bed.
"Yes, I have." Tai steadied his tone, but prickling made his words sound like thorns. He spoke so quick to defend himself from the accusation, he even had to prove he understood what Qrow was talking about. "I have literally been listening to you all afternoon about your new conspiracy theory."
"I'll show you a conspiracy theory with my fist."
"Maybe you've found something I haven't. I believe you. You have a right to be worried and whatever you're feeling is valid." During their walk, the tiniest slouch had brought Tai's shoulders lower, but it didn't become obvious until he adjusted and stood straighter. It impressed how much taller than Qrow he was and how broader was his stature. They were young men in their prime, but Tai peaked in muscle mass and fitness more plain to the eyes than Qrow would ever be. Tai shook his head and kept his voice even. "You want an answer, though, fine—I will not help you."
The whole point of this discussion and Qrow's hope to get a reliable partner sighed and deflated. "Guess you don't care what's happening to your own stupid school or this whole stupid island," Qrow snarled, before he sucked the last of his root beer. "Terrible place to raise a family, if you ask me."
"We did ask you," Tai said. "We reached out again and again for you to visit our girls."
Qrow's lips flinched with retort, but he couldn't put his thoughts into words. He'd already spoken his regret to someone else about how he missed his neices.
Tai went on, keeping his voice the same level as always. "You weren't there, Qrow."
"No, but I could've been."
Tai repeated with more emphasis, "You weren't there, Qrow. Instead, you've been chasing mission after mission like you can't settle down. I have students and faculty now, and family. I've done what you can't, bro."
"You're as good as owned," Qrow hissed. "You and everyone else this cult is watching. You're gonna walk away being okay with that?"
"I'm not walking away from anything." Taiyang Xiao-Long warned his old partner, his childhood friend, and the man who would be his brother, by holding a finger in front of Qrow Branwen's face. "It's you. Keep doing what you're doing, but don't distract me from the life I'm making. I have more responsibilities now than you know."
"You're making a mistake, dude."
"You're wrong. I'm counting my fortunes. I'm sorry, bro. Ask someone else to help."