Sometimes I pick characters for my stories with specific purposes, knowing precisely what their roles will be and how they'll fit in. Sometimes, though, I'll work a character in without any fucking clue what I'm doing, just to see how they fuck shit up.

This is one of the second kind.


.


He saw her four times before deciding that it was worth further investigation. The girl looked out of place, even though she dressed to fit in, probably deliberately. There was something about her that felt patched-in, somehow, like God forgot to place her in the scene on time and made a shoddy job of fixing the error. She was too bright, somehow.

Gozaburo Kaiba did not think of himself as a superstitious man.

But he remembered the last time a dark-skinned child with bright blue eyes and a golden necklace crossed his path, too many times to call random, and he knew better than to ignore her.

She approached him when he was seated outside a coffee shop one morning. He drank from a cheap Styrofoam cup. "Gozaburo Kaiba," she said, and her accent was almost buried. "I have been searching for you."

Gozaburo took a long pull from his drink and regarded the girl silently.

Eventually, he said: "I hope you weren't trying to hide from me."

"I'm . . . sorry?" The girl looked confused.

Gozaburo waved dismissively. "Never mind," he said. "If that trinket around your neck is any indication, I can ill afford to ignore you. What business do you have with me, girl?"

She was fifteen years old at the oldest; she was probably younger. She carried herself like a person much older. When she spoke, her voice had a weight to it that Gozaburo wasn't sure he trusted. She said: "Things are moving out of concert with how they should. It is wrong. It shouldn't be this way." Gozaburo was about to tell her to get to the important part when she added: "Paradius shouldn't be moving yet."

". . . You know about Paradius."

The girl nodded.

Gozaburo scowled. "What is your name?"

"Isis."

"All right, Isis," Gozaburo said, "sit here." He gestured; she sat. "What will you drink?"

Isis looked surprised at the question. She eyed him suspiciously. Then she said: "Chai, please."

He stood up. "Fine."


.


The way Isis drank made it clear to Gozaburo that she was used to getting by on very little. She had a child's inability to hold herself back when presented with something she liked. She drank her tea with abandon, with no concept of savoring.

Gozaburo sipped from his refill and waited.

"What do you mean, Isis, when you say that Paradius shouldn't be moving?"

Isis wiped her mouth with a napkin. "I have watched the future unfold many times," she said. "You needn't believe me, sir. I'm used to being doubted. The point remains: Paradius does not make itself known for many years yet. It is known. It is written. Yet, here they are, in this world, forging ahead far too early."

Gozaburo thought about telling this girl that he didn't find her proclamations nearly as ridiculous as she seemed to assume he would; she wasn't the first person to discuss the concept of a multiverse with him, an eternal branching tree of time and space, and she certainly wouldn't be the last.

He decided it wasn't worth the trouble.

"What is their aim?" Gozaburo asked instead. "What do they seek to accomplish?"

"Their ultimate aim?" Isis asked. "Or the reason they have . . . jumped the gun?"

"Let's start with their primary mission," Gozaburo said. "What is this cult's endgame?"

"They wish to summon a ravenous beast into this reality," Isis said. "Most would call it Jörmungandr. They call it the Great Leviathan." She gestured dismissively. "The key to understanding this situation is that Paradius is a death cult. Lord Dartz is its leader, and his soldiers worship him as a living deity. He claims to be a servant of fate, a great orchestrator, but he is much simpler than that: he is a little, little man."

Gozaburo had little trouble believing that part, at least.

Isis reached into a little bag she carried against her side. From it, she pulled out a sheet of paper. On this paper was a charcoal sketch of a fair-skinned boy with shoulder-length hair, dressed in heavy army-surplus-style clothes.

"He has set one of his children, one of his favorite victims, after you." Isis tapped the sheet of paper with one finger. "The actions against your children have been taken for two reasons. One is to correct fate. The other is to further cement this boy's loyalty to his . . . father."

"A child." Gozaburo's lip curled. "I don't know what I expected, but it was more than this."

"Your weapons were used in a conflict that made an orphan out of him," Isis said flatly, her eyes unreadable. "He has pinned all his grief, all his trauma, all his anger, upon you. That made him the perfect soldier for this mission."

"He wishes for me to understand the pain I have given him," Gozaburo rumbled, "by giving it to me." He shrugged. "Fine. I can respect that much. If he is using an older man to make reality out of his dreams for vengeance, then there is potential in this boy." His brow furrowed. "Let us move to the second question, then: his mission. What was he selected for?"

"What has already been attempted, and failed," Isis said. "His mission is singular, and simple: bury your son."

Gozaburo's eyes flared. "This is about Noa."

"It is."

"Directly about Noa. This isn't even about striking at me."

"Correct," said Isis. "I am sorry to relay this to you, but in many, many worlds, Noa Kaiba does not survive past the fourth day of April." She looked hesitant, like she felt the need to correct herself, but she eventually shook her head. "I will not complicate this with other talk of potentialities I have seen. Suffice it to say that Lord Dartz has determined thus: fate decrees that Noa Kaiba must die. He has seen fit to place this burden on the shoulders of a boy." She tapped the drawing again. "He has failed once. Twice, now. You will see soon."

Gozaburo grunted. "What is this boy's name?"

"Are you certain you wish to know?"

"I am."

Isis drew in a breath. "His name is Aleister Dòmhnallach."

Gozaburo nodded.

"What will you do?" Isis asked, tilting her head.

"What I must," Gozaburo said. "All responsibilities of the Kaiba name fall on my shoulders. That means the protection of its legacy. If this Dòmhnallach boy and his master want a war with me . . . then I will give them a war."

"You will act," Isis said, "to protect your family."

"I will," Gozaburo said. "Perhaps you expected me to be high-minded about this and believe that the danger this Lord Dartz presents to the larger public is also worth my attention. It is not. I'm not going to take up arms and fight a cult leader to protect society. I'm not noble enough to bloody my hands for that. Will this be a problem to you, Isis?"

She watched him for a time, studying him, weighing her options carefully.

Then she smiled. "No," she said, brightly, "I don't think so."


.


Other men, lesser men, might have avoided telling their wives about the teenage girl following them around on their private mission; Gozaburo Kaiba was no such man. "I have yet to work out precisely what role she is going to play in this," he told Amaya, over the phone, that evening, "but I know she is involved somehow." He eyed the charcoal rendering on the table in front of him. "She has given me more information than I've managed to uncover on my own."

"What's this about a serpent?" Amaya asked.

"Evidently, this cult's leader, Lord Dartz, has woven a story to his congregation about a world-eating serpent. A Great Leviathan. It will herald the end to this world. I have no intention of digging any deeper than that, in regard to his theology. I suppose it wouldn't be the dumbest thing I've ever faced, if the serpent turns out to be real, but for the moment it seems little more than a symbol."

"Lord Dartz," Amaya repeated. "I've heard this name."

Gozaburo straightened in his chair. "Where? When?"

"Here, in the house, not six hours ago," Amaya said. "Mio was taken in by this cult. I took her out of it."

Gozaburo let out his breath; he didn't need to ask for any clarification. He knew what Amaya meant. He eventually said, quietly: "You always liked her. I'm sorry."

"Thank you, dearest." Amaya took a moment, then she went on: "You have never struck me as the sort of man to take stock in fortune-telling. What's so special about this girl that she has you convinced? Don't pretend you don't believe her. I know you do."

"She's wearing a necklace," Gozaburo said, "with a symbol I recognize. From when I was young. Raj saw it too, and he would recognize it. I don't know what that symbol means in this context. I don't know how it matters in the grand scheme. But I can't help but believe that it's necessary. It needs to stay nearby. Whatever it is, whatever it means, I won't let it leave my side until I work it out."

"That boy you met in Germany," Amaya said, quietly, carefully. "What was his name?"

"Shadi," Gozaburo said.