Stay of Execution 1.2

Tokyo's nights never failed to befuddle Nigi. Everything he knew—or that he'd thought he'd known—told him that humans retreated indoors when the sun fell below the horizon. Be it for the purpose of resting their mortal bodies or to shelter from predators, that was the understanding Nigi had held.

Clearly, humans had changed. The sun had long since set, but the brilliant lights streaming from building after building outshined the stars, and the labyrinthian roads of the capital were filled with humans, uncaring of the hour.

A little over a day had passed since the sorcerer bargained for their lives with the same indifference one might discuss the weather. Nigi's thoughts turned inwards, picking apart each word, action, and tic that might've set him off. Why had the man threatened them so casually, when they exhibited no malice and demonstrated the ability to speak and reason? Would things have ended differently if he himself was different? Or was servitude truly the only way the two of them could leave the scene alive?

Much like the modern humans' behavior during the night, Nigi didn't understand.

On the other hand, Ara's thoughts quickly spiraled into restlessness- pacing, drumming her fingers, and occasionally plucking stray flyheads from the air to splatter them across the wall with an overhand pitch.

It was to her benefit that he suggested taking a walk, not only to soothe her nerves, but to attempt to mitigate any property damage that might occur as a result of her own foul mood.

The time would better be considered early than late- the sun was due to rise in a handful of hours, and he doubted the streets would get any emptier.

He intended on making a simple lap around a small section of the city before Ara stopped in place, scrunched up her face behind the mask, and started leading them in a different direction. This was something she had done before; though unsure as to its specifics, he assumed it was part of her cursed technique, except Ara didn't seem to be able to explain it, either.

She had an uncanny sixth sense that let her interpret sources of negativity. It wasn't useful for much apart from identifying locations of unrest or tracking swarms of flyheads, and seemed to cause her more distress than not, especially in large crowds, but it had yet to lead her astray, so he saw no harm in letting her take the lead. It was better for her to have a direction to channel her energy, rather than become bored and aimlessly cause chaos.

When distressed, she tended to chatter aimlessly, so he figured the best way to let her get it out of her system was to nod when appropriate and make commiserating noises. Right now, most of her dialogue was muttered just beneath her breath, and despite the fact that he heard about one in every three words, he found himself following familiar patterns.

She led them across roads and alleys, occasionally stopping to change direction or to emphatically degrade a certain someone's lack of manhood with a vehement remark. Eventually, they reached an area punctuated by a notable lack of the clutter that made up the rest of the city. He doubted it was anything but deliberate, but the small sea of greenery amidst the sheer rush of everything artificial was soothing nonetheless.

It certainly didn't seem like a cesspool of negativity, but he'd learned to keep an open mind. A few flyheads buzzed aimlessly about, no more or less than usual—nothing that stood out to his more limited senses. Maybe Ara had picked up on a cursed womb of some sort?

When he didn't immediately follow, Ara grabbed onto one of his sleeves and made to drag him forwards, which he placidly allowed.

"C'mon, something's funny here." She explained at long last. From Ara, 'funny' could mean anything from an especially stupid-looking curse to legitimate threats to their safety—though she rarely ever clarified until after the fact. "You're gonna help me look."

"Of course." Nigi acquiesced easily, having no particular reason to decline and plenty of reason to play along. What was the worst that could happen?

Nigi had found two very compelling reasons to decline.

Unfortunately, hindsight wasn't especially helpful in the face of the two extraordinarily powerful curses. The taste of their cursed energy was cloying to the point that Nigi could scarcely feel his tongue—it made him want to vomit.

"I told you I found something funny," Ara spoke first, because of course she did.

"What'd you just say, brat?!" A wave of scathing heat brushed against the back of his neck, a threat as much as a warning. The curse in question looked considerably more human than most, though he didn't come quite as close as he or Ara; despite his small stature, even while sitting it seemed that he was looking down at them with a single eye the size of Nigi's own palm. He possessed a bluish complexion that seemed to crack around the joints- like clay left out to dry rather than typical human signs of age.

"Peace, Jogo." A voice that wasn't cut in, the words themselves unintelligible white noise but their meaning materializing within their minds. "These are clearly fledglings—grant them a measure of face." The one who spoke was tall, much taller than any of them, well muscled and humanoid. Their skin was a light tan, the precise color of treeflesh, and Nigi suspected that the texture would match, were he brave or foolish enough to touch them. Their left arm was notably concealed, covered by a thick white cloth and sewn to their abdomen as though they were an injured human. Finally, in place of eyes, the curse sprouted a pair of delicate branches that curled upwards like horns.

Ara proceeded to ignore this advice. "I said I found something funny. Is that old man stick not just for show?" The 'old man stick' in question was a decorative cane. Nigi clapped his hand over her mouth and desperately hoped she hadn't signed their death warrant.

He had no idea who they were, but for a brief moment, he shared a commiserating look with the arboreal curse.

"Are you mocking me, wearing my face, you little—" The volcanic curse's voice grew in pitch, rising from a gravelly snarl to the sound of a white-hot stone shrieking moments before exploding. Before Jogo himself could explode, though, the tree curse cut in again.

"You are above this—we are above this."

Ara pried his fingers off her mouth long enough to get in one final remark.

"Is being above someone a first?" She seemed genuinely curious, but the slight twitches at the corner of her mouth made it clear it was anything but. Nigi let out a deep, rib-rattling groan.

Jogo's cyclopean eye opened fully as Ara's words registered. His mouth became an even line, and he spoke to his comrade in a dead-even tone. "Hanami. I'm not going to kill this little girl, but I am going to teach her some manners."

The now-named Hanami turned her head towards Nigi and Ara, wordlessly communicating that she tried. Nigi, for his part, took two deliberate steps back from Ara and raised his hands, symbolically washing his hands of the matter.

If they got out of this alive, he was going to have words with Ara.

In her defense, Ara didn't think that would start a fight.

She wasn't thinking much of anything, actually. Needling people was something she knew on some level wasn't good, but the words just came out of her mouth. There wasn't really a reason she could discern as to why she felt compelled to provoke others. For better or worse, it just happened.

The air rose to a blistering temperature. Guessing that the volcano dwarf guy's technique was fire-based was a logical assumption, but there weren't any tell-tale fluctuations in the area's negativity that signified someone was about to use cursed energy.

He lunged forwards at speeds that hurt to look at and she only managed to dodge his arm through virtue of the illusion which obscured her true shape. Punching and kicking looked easy enough, but something told her this wouldn't be so simple.

He wheeled around, ears literally smoking.

It was around then she realized she might be in over her head.

She thrust her open palm forwards and the air itself shattered. A deep, droning thrum accompanied the spiderweb fractures and threatened to burst her eardrums from the inside.

Jogo powered right on through it. He slammed her into the ground with enough force to make her see stars. She slapped the back of his knee and barely felt the resulting vibrations in turn- rather than reducing his bones to fine powder, it offset his balance just barely enough for her to roll away from another grapple.

He whipped around, and in one motion, she grabbed a stray flyhead knocked to the ground in the resulting scuffle and pitched it directly into his eye.

It incinerated mid-air before it reached the intended target.

The resulting look was a combination of disbelief and indignance. A faster fighter might've been able to take advantage of it. A stronger one wouldn't have needed to.

Realistically, there was no way she could've won.

The next grapple ended with an arm twisted behind her back. His skin was searing hot, and the only thing she could think of was pressing her hand against midday asphalt- except this time, she couldn't pull away.

So, again. She wasn't fast. She wasn't strong.

But she was petty.

And Jogo'd already shown that he was easily provoked.

She needed to pull out all the stops for this one.

"Is it hard for you to be the bigger man?" Ara wondered aloud. She could smell her flesh cooking, and were she human, she might've felt it, too. "Or is the volcano compensating for something?"

His grip tightened. "Hanami won't mind if I sear you a little, right?"

She gave her best shit-eating grin. "Little?"

He erupted a moment later.

Nigi stood beside Hanami, blindfold and branches fixated on the sight of Ara becoming acquainted with the consequences of her actions. Absently, the male curse scratched the base of his horn and offered, "I do sincerely apologize for her—Ara is mercurial at the best of times, and today was decidedly less than the best of times."

"Do not trouble yourself over it, young one." Came the garbled but somehow comprehensible reply. "Jogo is much the same—for all he attempts to project the image of a wise elder, his nature is too intertwined with the spontaneity and rage of flame for him to truly succeed."

"His nature, hmmm?" Nigi mused aloud, internally circling back to his previous musings about their disastrous meeting with the sorcerer. Was it because of Nigi's own nature that he had decided to point his metaphorical blade at them? Was it because of Ara's? Or was it because of the sorcerer's nature, perhaps?

Nigi lacked answers, and that troubled him.

Belatedly, he realized that he hadn't replied to Hanami. "My thanks for your understanding, Hanami." He paused, then palmed his face. "I now realize that I have been rude—I know your name, but I have failed to offer my own. I am Nigi."

Hanami, curiously, did not reply immediately. It was difficult to truly tell where their attention was fixated, on account of the fact that they had branches for eyes, but the motion of their head suggested that they were looking between Ara and Nigi. What they were thinking was anyone's guess—between the arboreal curse's stiff, literally wooden face and lack of lips, they might as well have been wearing a full mask.

Following a pause of silence that was just long enough to become awkward, Hanami finally replied, "Despite the…tomfoolery of our respective associates, it is nonetheless good to make your acquaintance, Nigi."

"Likewise," was all Nigi was able to get out before a blistering wave of heat washed over them both. Nigi's head snapped back towards the center of the clearing, which was rapidly being terraformed into a crater by the pyroclasm that'd taken form within it.

Of perhaps even greater concern than the imminent forest fire (that Hanami seemed to be preventing with her own abilities), though, was the fact that Nigi could no longer see Ara's true face. Neither did he see his own, though, painted over hers by the illusion of her multi-faced technique—he saw a twin of Jogo, distinguishable by the mask awkwardly balanced on her suddenly one-eyed face and the cloak that looked even more voluminous due to her height shrinking to match the volcano curse's own stature.

Even the taste of her cursed energy had fundamentally changed—it wasn't identical to Jogo's, but the roaring, overwhelmingly spicy heat was strongly blended with Ara's own, more rustically wild energy.

As both Jogo and Ara started throwing around fireballs, the former with considerably more deftness and control than the latter, Nigi looked at Hanami. "...We should probably intervene, before sorcerers come and complicate matters further."

"Indeed." Despite the fact that their actual physical voice was jumbled nonsense and their telepathy only existed in Nigi's mind, both voices carried the same tone, one all too familiar to Nigi—weary resignation.

As one, the two curses moved, their methods as disparate as their appearances. Hanami waved a hand and a massive flower appeared behind Jogo, its closed petals opening to reveal countless buds with biting jaws. The volcanic curse struggled and yelled as dozens of fanged flowers entangled and dragged him away from Ara, his flames trying and failing utterly to take hold of the curse-devouring plant.

Nigi's solution, by contrast, was far simpler: he gathered cursed energy beneath his feet and erupted forward, transitioning smoothly from a lunging tackle into a headlock. Ara almost certainly could've broken free in the state she was in, but she'd become so familiar with Nigi doing this that she went limp out of sheer instinct.

A few seconds of silence after the fighting died off, her form dissolved back into its default state—like the new one had been nothing more than another illusion. Privately, Nigi was relieved to see Ara's true face again, as part of him had worried that the change might've been permanent.

Aloud, though, he demanded, "Ara, since when were you able to do that?"

She looked at him like he was the crazy one for asking. "That's my cursed technique, duh."

Nigi cocked his head to one side thoughtfully. "...Perhaps this is my fault for not asking just what your cursed technique does after seeing that it is more than simply shockwaves. We will have to rectify this—but later. After you apologize to Jogo—."

"For what?" To her credit (or perhaps to her discredit, Nigi reflected), she genuinely sounded confused—like she didn't think she'd done anything wrong.

Slowly and deliberately, so there could be no room for miscommunication, Nigi replied, "For deliberately antagonizing him and continuing to do so after it became abundantly clear that his anger was exclusively escalating."

She frowned, but didn't reply immediately. He shook her once for good measure.

"...Sorry, gramps."

"And you, Jogo." Hanami followed up. "Apologize for picking a fight with the newborn."

He ground his teeth, and Nigi idly noted that they were black. Jogo exchanged a look with his companion who in turn refused to budge. "...Fine." A few moments passed. "I'm sorry I let you get to me, runt."

He absolutely did not sound sorry, but Nigi wasn't going to contest the point.

Hopefully the murderous sorcerer wouldn't hear about this.