The steel gray sky turned even grayer, until it was soon a shade of deep purple. The purple faded, to make way for a rush of dark. It was an unforgiving dark; the kind of dark that didn't care for the little hues nor the small lights most winter skies have. No moonlight penetrated the hotel, leaving any area without torchlight to be devoured by black night.
This was another night of hospitality at the Double Swan Hotel. The wind never ceased, and the snow always fell. The blizzard was unrelenting, like an overeager host who didn't want any of their guests to leave.
Rarely a freak gust of wind would invade the chimney, assaulting the fireplace in the furnace room. This would wound the fire, beating it down quickly and flinging orange specks of ash before the wind dissipated, and the fire sprung up again.
Mimi observed this phenomenon in the furnace room as her thoughts carried her to strange, dangerous places; the places that made her fists clench teeth gnash.
She sat next to Trooma in front of the fireplace, a gray standard-issue blanket tight around her. Fellow soldiers shared the heat; a pair played chess next to the doorway while a group of three chattered away. More excited bits of the conversation drifted to Mimi and Trooma as they shifted closer to the fire.
"-so you did!"
"Annie, you're scum!"
Their laughter perked Mimi's ears; she wondered what they were talking about. Lifting the blanket over herself, she put on her headset. Chirpy and quick, the soldier's voices crackled into her ears.
"I can't believe you."
"That breaks so many rules, Anita!"
"Shhh!"
"-sorry!"
There was a knocking on her dome. Testedly, Mimi gave Trooma a scowl, hiding most of her head in the blanket.
"What" she mouthed.
Smirking, Trooma mimicked pulling something from his ear.
She buried herself back in her cocoon, raising the sensitivity level on her right earpiece. Closing her eyes, she listened.
"...he was like a really bad angel, you know what I mean?"
"Yeah! So what did his-"
"HAAAAAAAAA!"
Quickly she threw off the headset with the blanket, slapping Trooma hard in the nose. Covering her right ear, she cursed him.
"Motherfucker!" she spat.
Mimi curled into her knees, moaning in pain as Trooma's cackling filled the furnace room. She swore some more as she hit him a few times.
"Gonna fucking kill you next time you pull that shit, I-"
A ringing began to sound, so she kept cradling her head, groaning.
It was after many painful moments when she felt well enough to curl out of her ball. Massaging her right ear she scowled to Trooma. His laughter had winded down to a staccato chuckle by now, as he tried to stop laughing so he could sip his tea. The soldiers stared in curiosity, never having seen such interaction between members of the elite forces. Trooma's laugh died completely as he blew on his beverage. Anita's group began to speak in hushed tones, their chatter quickly rising to the volume it was before as they grew comfortable again. The pair playing chess followed, their eyes returning to their board.
"You know what kind of tea this is?" Trooma asked Mimi, raising a steel mug. The mug's lid rested on his hand, it's hinge squeaking as he shuffled his bottom to get comfortable.
"Asshole tea" she grunted. "Tea for assholes."
"Perhaps" he retorted, smiling. "But officially it's called 'oolong' tea, don'tcha know."
She rolled her eyes toward the brick fireplace.
"Alright. And?"
"That's all. Just sharing some freshly-learned trivia."
Mimi stared into the fire. Trooma blinked, his smile growing forced. He was being ignored.
"The man with the flamethrower told me, he did" he continued. "All he did was take a whiff of it as we passed each other, and he said 'mmm, oolong tea. My wife's favorite.' 'So there's a name for this dirty water?' I say, and he goes 'yes, it's very good for you.' Than we had a conversation about tea right in the first floor hall. That Bols man really knows his food, he does. Did you know mugwort tea gives pleasant dreams?"
"You never shut the hell up, do you" Mimi grumbled.
"I have quiet moments, just like anybody else. I'm just not dark and broody, like you."
Mimi reached behind her and retrieved the blanket and headset. She wrapped herself with the blanket and lay down, resting her boots on Trooma's lap.
"However, there is one thing we have in common" he announced.
She met his eyes with a furtive glance.
"We've both murdered our parents" he finished, sending her a wink.
...
The ceiling was a grey, pasty white. The paint chipped in many places, leaving large islands of black wood among the sea of rotting paint.
Tatsumi looked to the left. There was a small lantern flickering away, the light slightly purple at the flame's edges. Judging from how bright the room was, he guessed there were several lanterns lighting the room.
The floor was hard.
It pressed against his back, making the bones ache. Or was it his back pressing against the floor? Logically, it should have been the weight of his body forcing his bones onto the cold, wooden floor, so why did it feel like the opposite was happening?
A greater question was: why did any of that matter?
His mind told him to get up. If he got up, the bones in his back would stop aching, and everything would be fine and he would stop thinking about stupid things.
He got to his feet, noting how rough the floor felt under his hands. He knew the floor was rough before, but at this instant, it felt a new kind of rough. No, wrong word; the floor was spiky.
Tatsumi shook his head, he was starting to think about stupid things again. Stupid, stupid things.
So stupid, so worthless...
Something was wrong; he didn't feel right. In fact, nothing felt right. Not the ground, nor the ceiling, not even his boots felt normal. They were suddenly so heavy.
"Upstairs, lil' sir."
He quickly turned toward the deep, sardonic voice, and found a young man lying on the bed behind him. He had a slim, athletic build and minimal dark clothes; he only wore a black t-shirt and gray pants, which accentuated the healthy amount of black hair on his angular head. His equally black eyes peered over a small red book he was reading, a bored expression in his eyes.
"Who are you?" asked Tatsumi.
The young man gazed into Tatsumi's eyes for a moment, expression unchanging. Than, he gently closed the book and set it beside him. He sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. Despite all that movement, the old bed frame didn't creak. The bored look on his face transitioned smoothly to a serious one. Making perfect eye contact, he spoke.
"There are a lot of things...about you, humanity...that I don't understand."
His voice was earthy and rough, contrasting with his slender build. Gingerly he crossed his legs.
There was something wrong here. Tatsumi needed to leave.
"I need to go" Tatsumi stated.
The dark-haired man tilted his neck disinterestedly, a small grimace forming on his face. With a finger he made small circles in the air.
"Leave, leave, leave. Leave if you want. They always leave; they leave when they've had enough."
Wondering why he told the man he wanted to leave in the first place, he opened the door and shut it behind him. After all, it's not like he needed the guy's permission to do anything.
Ahead of him, the hall moved.
It moved soundlessly around Tatsumi, twisting and squirming slightly, as if it were alive. Every lantern was alight; balls of dim golden light shined throughout the deep blue hall. The flickering both dazzled and confused his senses in ways he couldn't even describe.
Despite the new sensations, walking was easy. In fact it seemed he was having the best posture he'd ever had. His footsteps seemed silent on the blue carpet and his boots didn't feel as heavy as they did before. In fact, he was fully energized; ready for anything. Plus, if he focused straight ahead, the hallucination had no effect on his cognition.
His legs carried him further, the lanterns passing him. Each one seemed to be a star among the dark space of the hallway, making Tatsumi think of himself as a comet shooting through space. He had read about them at his village; one local farmer had joked that they were made of ice.
In a gray parka Stylish appeared, about to stroll past him. Tatsumi wondered how he didn't notice him until now, when he had been looking straight ahead this whole time.
They made eye contact.
"Have you seen a ...syringe lying about, Tatsumi?"
"How are you."
Stylish stopped, eyebrows raised as he watched Tatsumi shuffle forward.
Suddenly someone began to scream.
Tatsumi looked to Stylish.
"Where's it coming from?!" he questioned urgently.
"Er-excuse me?"
The person continued screaming, not even stopping for breath.
"We have to help them! Do you not hear screaming?"
"Wh-Tatsumi, what are you-"
Memories of Wave and Sayo flooded through his mind. Drawing his sword, Tatsumi rushed to the end of the hall. No one was dying today, not on his watch. Entering the lobby, Tatsumi looked around, trying to ascertain where the screeching was coming from.
"Tatsumi!" called Stylish's voice.
The balcony above was empty, none of the lanterns lit. Behind him the giant ice wall that blockaded the entrance loomed. Urgently facing it, sword outstretched, he entered a fighting stance, expecting to see a fellow soldier struggling for their life.
Nothing was there; just the deep, purple snow outside Esdeath's wall met his fierce gaze.
"Tatsumi!" called Stylish's voice, though much closer now. "Tatsumi, do you mean the wind?"
Still looking around, focused on the source of the noise, Tatsumi answered.
"What the hell d'you mean? Someone needs help!"
"Nobody's screaming, Tatsumi. That's just the wind."
The scream continued, lowering it's ghastly pitch to a half-growl, half-screech. Whoever was making the noise had been doing so for the past minute without taking a breath.
Slowly and embarrassedly, he sheathed the sword. His voice a frustrated growl, he expressed his confusion.
"What the hell is going on, Stylish?"
Eyebrows raised, the doctor gestured to himself.
"Me?"
The arrogant, goody-two-shoes look on his face angered Tatsumi more.
"What the hell did you give me? This isn't what I agreed to!"
"Hey, hey, let's not get all loud and angry. Tell me what's going on with you."
"I'm pissed off! That pill I just took, it-I...feel weird..."
Stylish's unsmiling, pragmatic gaze studied him, locked to Tatsumi's face. A small pang of paranoia shot through Tatsumi's spine, which left almost immediately.
"Hmm... let's take a look" said Stylish, moving toward a lantern behind Tatsumi.
The doctor gestured for him to follow, which he did.
"Look into the light, please" Stylish instructed, steadying himself with a hand on Tatsumi's shoulder.
Noticing again how purple the flame's edges were, Tatsumi stared into it, trying to ignore Stylish's studious eyes, which were so whimsical only a minute ago.
A few moments passed, Stylish scrutinizing Tatsumi's face. Tatsumi began to take interest in the lantern; the flickering yellow slowly beginning to resemble a figure waving their hand at him.
Goodbye, Tatsumi, have a nice night.
He raised his hand slightly, waving back.
Tatsumi...hello...
Now the flame was greeting him. Strange, he thought; wasn't it originally waving goodbye? What the hell did the lantern want? Was it toying with him? Was it playing with him, like a lynx, like Esdeath?
"Tatsumi! I'm talking to you!"
He shook in surprise, remembering Stylish was next to him.
"Sorry, Stylish" he said sleepily. "I seem to be, well..."
"Yes, I've figured that out" finished Stylish; "having fun, are we?"
"Yes, yes indeed."
The doctor smirked.
"Get some good shut-eye upstairs" he instructed. "Drink as much water as you can, too. I'm sure you'll have some nice dreams."
"My room...no, I can't go to my room..."
Tatsumi's tone was whimsical, as if he was talking in a pleasant sleep.
"Well, all the same, you need rest. It wouldn't be healthy for you to roam the hotel like this. Need help getting to your room?"
"No, don't need it...I think. I'll...go..."
Nodding unconvincingly and smirking, Stylish turned, continuing his way toward the end of the hall. Tatsumi guessed he was heading to the baths.
Tatsumi faced the ice wall. Strolling over to touch it , he felt the frozen surface grip his fingertips. It must have been very cold indeed; he was thankful he was immune to the chill.
In some places the ice was rough, probably because of a little inattention on Esdeath's part. Perhaps something was on her mind as she made the wall.
One of these imperfections caught his eye. It was only a few scratches in the ice, but to Tatsumi it looked like a nose. It was a small nose, with a delicate oblong shape, like an almond. Who did he know that had a nose like that?
Sayo.
Now it was all he could see. The thin lines above the nose became roughly hewn eyebrows, and the small bevels below formed a soft-curved chin. A swirl in the ice became her left eye, while a small reflection of dancing lantern light formed the right one.
There was one thing missing: her mouth.
Sayo had no mouth.
"Sayo...stop..."
A strong, perverted sense of terror threatened to take over. To combat it he grinned. Tears began to break into his eyes.
"Don't look at me like that...please..."
The screaming began again, but Tatsumi reminded himself it was just the wind. Sayo's right eye flickered mockingly.
I'm so sick, Tatsumiii...
"I-I'm going to get your medicine."
Sooo sick, Tatsumiii...
"Don't worry, Sayo. I'm helping you. Ieyasu is too."
Please help me, Tatsumiii...help me get out..."
A new voice sounded. On the right side of the wall glared Ieyasu.
Cheater. I hate you so much.
Tatsumi fell to his knees.
I can't believe you'd ignore me for a woman. You know how long I've waited to see you? Two months. Than I arrive and find you avoiding me. What'd the bitch do to ya, huh? HUH?
Tatsumi's teeth gritted.
"Shut up..."
But I can forgive you. All you have to do is let us out.
Sayo cackled in agreement. Both voices began to chant.
Let us out. Let us out. Let us out.
"Shut the fuck up!"
Let us out. Let us out.
"You're not them! SHUT UP!"
Suddenly, besides the now groaning wind, there was silence. The faces in the ice were gone, replaced by the wall's misshapen scratches. He quickly turned away from it, trying to push what just happened out of his mind.
Ahead stood the ladder to the second floor. It was a wonder the thing was still standing; since it had been years since anyone had stayed in this place.
Carefully he climbed upstairs. He was suddenly wary of every creak and groan the old wooden steps made. The frozen ladder was hard, but it couldn't last long, not abandoned like this. One day, the wood will be frozen brittle, cracking under the smallest pressure. The hotel will continue it's slow decay, descending into a spiral of cold rot and dead filth. Snowfall after snowfall will accumulate above, until finally, the roof gives out and collapses onto the third floor, contents of the attic scattering among the debris. In the shape the ladder is in now, Tatsumi estimated it had two years, maybe three, tops.
"Is something wrong, Tatsumi?"
He was on the second floor, having just finished climbing. It was a short trip, yet it felt so long.
"Huh? Yeah, nothing is wrong" he replied, startled.
A dark fur hood regarded him with a curious gaze. It was Kurome, holding her sword casually in her left hand. Candlelight glittered on the black scabbard.
"Hmm...the ladder will be fine, you know" she assured.
"What?"
"The ladder. You were muttering to yourself...about the ladder's dead filth or something."
"Uh...yes. Got it..."
Something was strange about Kurome. Despite her monotone voice, she seemed to be in a better mood than before. There was a cheery, joyful energy about the way she moved, turning her weapon's sheath over and over energetically. Blaming Stylish's pill, he gingerly moved past her, planning to find a room to sleep in again.
"Tatsumi."
He stopped and acknowledged her aloud.
Lanterns had started to go out by now, giving Kurome a mysterious dark aura as she looked to him over her shoulder.
"The dead..." she said softly; "they're loud aren't they?"
He played the words over in his head. Did she really say that?
"The...dead?" he questioned, brows raised. The faces in the ice suddenly shot through his mind.
"Nothing...nevermind" she muttered.
She turned her whole body to him, looking at the floor as she took off her hood. He noticed her body shaking beneath her brown cloak. He watched her, worry growing inside him.
"Oh, Tatsumi...Tatsumi..." she muttered.
Head snapping up, she looked into his eyes. Numerous tears fell from her own, and a smile of joy spread across her visage.
"Tatsumi!" she choked. "It's Wave! He forgives me! And he'll forgive you too!"
Orange, glittering steel erupted from her sheath. The dark cloaked form charged at him, the scabbard falling to the floor.
"KUROME!"
His hands moved on their own. Sword drawn instantly, he met her blade with force. Weapons crossed, they pushed against each other's blades before he parried her katana. Backflipping away, she positioned herself for another charge. He had to get out of this quick; he wasn't sure how long he could fight while inebriated.
"What the hell're you-"
Quickly, she came again. She swung from his right, shaving a small amount of brown hair as he ducked and brought the flat of his sword sharply against her wrist.
The move worked; Yatsufusa fell from her grasp, clattering onto the floor. He held his gladius against her neck to keep her still. Kurome crossed her arms, studying Tatsumi.
"Kurome...stay still" he instructed. "We can talk about this."
Behind him he heard a door open. However, his hopes that this would deter her were dashed when, with a rosy smirk, she advanced.
Kurome took two steps forward, letting the blade slightly cut into her neck. Arms uncrossed, she brandished a syringe in her right hand. With his left, he grabbed her hand before a thumping pain shot between his legs. His grip temporarily weakened, her hand tore from his before something jabbed into his shoulder.
...
Anita awoke with a start.
Scattered images of her dream shot through her mind: a whale breaching from a pink waterfall, a cave in the clouds, and a grinning polar bear, with sharp, jagged teeth.
She quit trying to figure out what they meant when she heard shouting outside of the bedroom. Urgently she slipped from the thick blankets, the arm around her waist falling flat onto her side of the mattress. Already shivering, she fought back the cold with lounge pants and a heavy bathrobe. She gasped in surprise when she heard the sound of metal clashing.
Covering the doorknob with an undershirt from the floor, she shouldered open the decaying door.
The dying lantern on the wall ahead of her was the only one in the hall still lit, but it was bright enough for her to see the dark shapes to her left. The subdued clatter of swords ceased, before one of the dark masses fell to the floor.
"Hey!"
Her shout made the second shape retreat to the other end of the hall. She watched it turn the corner before she rushed to the figure slumped on the dirty blue carpet.
"What happened? You okay?"
The figure seemed to be on it's knees. When she kneeled next to him, she noticed he was gripping his left shoulder.
"Get Esdeath" he ordered. "Something's wrong with Kurome."
"Wrong with who? You know what, I'll get an NCO over here."
He only answered with a grunt. Running past several doors, she briefly looked over her shoulder.
The figure was sprawled on the ground, still as a stone.
"Shit" she cursed.
...
There was a secret River kept from most.
His left eye, the greyest one, was a fake.
There was no real story to tell about it; he was skiing down a steep hill as a young man when he had a little accident. That was it. One moment it was there, the next it was a sopping mess of violet-red. He almost wished he had lost it in battle, that would've been a more interesting story.
"Ideals, River. What do they achieve?" asked the woman at the end of the table.
He watched Esdeath tilt the pitcher over her glass, enjoying the rising sound of the water. They were alone in what was left of the dining hall. River had found her here, sitting by herself in the dark at the only table still intact. There seemed to be something on her mind, but he didn't push it. Instead, he had sat across from her, lighting the lantern on the table and offering some water from his teigu. He asked how her day was and they began to talk.
"I'd rather you answer instead of me, General."
"Nothing. Ideals do absolutely nothing. I don't know why so many can't understand that."
The man shut his eyes and calmly nodded in agreement. There was a cold insight to this woman, and he liked it.
"Why do you believe so, Madam?" he questioned, glancing to her as he sipped from a steel mug.
The general was tracing small circles on the table as they spoke. Without her knowing, they suddenly became figure eights.
"The enemy is a good example" she claimed, tilting her head in thought. "After years and years of saying this and that about justice and..."
With another hand she made air quotes.
"...equality, we finally got sick of it and gave them a good slap on the wrist. That made them angry, so we gave them the paddle. Than they bit our hand, so..."
There was a pebble on the table in front of her. She flicked it away.
"...we drowned them."
"I take full responsibility for that last one, my lady."
She gasped in fake awe.
"You say that like it's a bad thing!"
"I still believe I went too far that night...I may be the reason you have so much public disapproval from other nations now."
Esdeath frowned at him, a cold stare looming over her nose.
"We'll discuss that later. But anyway..."
Her normal tone returned as she swirled the glass in her hand.
"Do you think the rebels' ideals are going to win them anything substantial?"
River shook his head.
"Exactly" she praised. "It's strength that wins battles. Willpower doesn't do much but create a pretty flag."
"Are you complementing the rebel's taste in flag design?"
"Yes. That flag of theirs is stunning. A red bear clawing down a lion? I wish I thought of that."
There was a shuffle outside, and the door was shoved open. A man entered, dressed in the traditional black under clothes of a soldier. He stood in attention and saluted at the doorway.
"Forgive my intrusion. Someone's been attacked in the second floor hallway."
"What?" Esdeath questioned, standing. "Lead me to them."
"Yes, madam."
She walked towards him, nodding for River to follow.
He did, finding it hard to adjust to the dark outside. The lantern from the dining hall's light left spots in his eye, making him struggle to follow Esdeath's white uniform. All he saw were a few large, green shapes, with a pair of pale shoes at the bottom of his vision. He followed Esdeath's boots through a hall and down a flight of steps, careful to keep the spots from concealing her shoes.
When the spots finally faded, the boots had stopped. He looked to Esdeath and saw her gaping in horror, hands covering her mouth. He blinked in surprise at her expression, which was so unusual for her.
The NCO spoke and brought a lantern over, revealing a dark shape beneath Esdeath. She lifted the mass in her arms, cradling it as she began to speak.
"Twenty-plus people on one floor and no one knows who did this?" she growled. "You better find out very soon!"
The anger in her voice had a slight hint of cracking. He had never heard her like this before. The cold judgement she always held about her presence had completely vanished.
The NCO ran to the end of the hall, banging on every door on his way and blowing a whistle.
"Wake up! Intruder! This isn't a drill!"
River unhooked a lantern from the wall and lit it. Crouching near Esdeath, he saw Tatsumi's face and suddenly Esdeath's worry made sense. He wondered what could have happened to him.
At the same time, a grim satisfaction grew in him. The sight of Tatsumi's unconscious, stupidly gaping mouth was amusing to him. Suppressing a chuckle, River smirked.
"Stupid boy" he remarked silently.
...
Kurome panted for air, the darkness of the cold cellar swallowing her. The chill made her shiver a little.
She couldn't see a thing. When she had come down here, she had to cautiously yet hurriedly feel her way in; there was quite the commotion above, and though she had lost any pursuers, there was no reason to risk discovery by lighting a lantern. When she made it to the bottom of the steps, she felt around the walls to figure out what kind if room she was in.
Wind howled, and she could hear it despite being so deep below the hotel. There was a sound of old wood groaning from the temperature, as if making a complaint. Her breaths echoed through the narrow passageway, joining the few sounds that accompanied her among the stone walls.
She waved a hand in front of her face. The dark stirred, meaning her eyes were beginning to adjust. Skillfully, she sheathed her blade, letting the thump of the hilt hitting the scabbard echo through the corridor.
At the same time, she thought she heard a footstep.
Giving her full attention to the far end of the cellar, she held her weapon like a cudgel; combat in such a narrow space would be awkward if she drew her sword.
Another step.
Her feet spread and she took a defensive stance. She grimaced in annoyance. Who the hell was down here this late?
There was another step. Whoever this was, they were taking their sure sweet time to confront her.
The darkness spoke.
"Put your weapon down, Kurome."
It was a calm voice, and sarcastically soft-spoken. She gasped in joy, quickly lowering the sword and leaning on a stone wall.
"Wave!" she called excitedly.
"Yeah, yeah, it's me" it replied. "How's it going?"
"Wave...I...I did what you asked of me. I injected Tatsumi with that syringe..."
"I understand. Thank you, Kurome. You were always the most thorough one of the group."
She smiled, warmth spreading through her body.
"Thanks, Wave."
The smile turned to a grin. Standing straight and holding her sword up, she looked to end of the cellar. Her stare suddenly took on a crazed expectancy.
"So...can we do it? Like we agreed?"
Silence answered her.
"I don't even need to unsheath it. Come on, Wave. Join my army. We could use someone of your skill."
Again, the darkness ignored her. Her tone became desperate.
"Wave...I did as you asked. We made a deal" she pleaded. "Please, just-"
"SHUT UP."
Something gripped her throat and pushed her against the wall, lifting her feet off the floor. The sword dropped to the ground. Struggling to breathe, she reached around for the hand on her neck. There was nothing there.
"Wave...what are you."
"You've finished your task. Shut your filthy whore mouth. I don't need you anymore."
Tears trickled down her cheeks. Her hands continued to try to grab Wave, but kept finding nothing.
"Wave-grk-why...why-"
The pressure on her neck tightened until her words transformed into horrible, throaty gags.
"What did I say, whore? Shut your filthy mouth."
The grip on her neck disappeared, only to be replaced by pain in her shoulders and head as she was thrown to the floor. In ragged gasps she caught her breath, backing up as far as she could. A boyish, staccato cackle arose from the end of the cellar. The darkness, in Wave's voice, was laughing at her.
"Kurome, seriously" it chuckled; "shut the fuck up. You're really annoying me right now. Is that what you wanted?"
She coughed violently, reaching around for her sword. Than she remembered it was back where she was choked.
"People are so absolutely disgusting" the voice declared. "Make one deal that suits their greedy selves, and they'll always hold you to it. Like, what? Excuse me, but I don't care about a deal. I don't care about you. What the hell else did'ja expect?!"
Pressure slammed onto her mouth, sending pain shooting through her skull as it hit the floor. Hands restrained her limbs, spreading her legs. Through her shut mouth she screamed.
Suddenly there was a smile in its voice.
"Since you like makin' deals so much..."
Something hard and sleek slapped her thigh before sliding up to her waist. From it's feel she recognized it as her scabbard.
"...lemme play with you a bit, than you can have your sword back. Deal?"
