A/N: I wanted to get the prologue done with fast, so hopefully this first fic of mine didn't screw it up too much. Was supposed to be a collection of scenes and potential inspiration maker for a story, but I decided to make it a fully-fledged story which might have led to the beginning being a bit abrupt. Sorry.
Different author from The Strongest Sorcerer of Tomorrow, by the way. I'm Senzai, one of his co-authors who wrote like, 0.01% of his entire main fic.
The stars above the skies were glistening with the greatest intensity they ever have been, with the inauspicious blaring of souls clashing together and squelching in tandem with one another could be heard. The continued the process indefinitely, with billions upon billions of screams uniting as one in tandem with one another to form an orchestra of the dead, with a large body billowing over the skies being a mere byproduct of its entrance into the world.
From all walks of the world, the people residing in the planet clutched at their throat or clung to one another with broken forms, as one by one, each and every one of them would be suctioned upwards from beneath their flesh and bones to become one with the emerging existence. It was an impossibility given form, a being which would encompass all of humanity and once more evolve them, bringing them out of the stagnant state which they had been in for too long.
A creation greater than its creator, which would unite the entire world of Earth as one and liberate the weakness which had plagued them. Beyond humanity and beyond Curse, the creation of its final form was nigh, as it continued to mesh together the souls it was gaining by the second. A low tremor reverberated across the planet, as a charcoal spine stretched beyond the horizon with a near infinite reach.
The skies were longer the domain of the heavenly once it became blotted by the encroaching darkness spreading outwards. There was something on the spiral spine which had formed, sprouting outwards in a shape akin to rib cages and digging into the ground. Large fissures were formed from its extended reach, which ruptured the ground and left gaping holes spanning across a hefty length, stretching as far as the eye can see.
Fibers not of silk but of scratchy and rough wires spread outwards along with them, hanging loosely to the body which was completing its metamorphosis, like a butterfly crawling out of its cocoon and reveling in its newfound existence. With the echoes of the souls merging together reaching a crescendo, a beautiful pitch was found amongst it, but such beauty could only be found in people few and far between.
Then, within the drop of a pin, silence was the only thing that could be heard.
In the orbit of space, a coiled being which bore no resemblance of humanity, creation, destruction, or prosperity was seen. Across the world, not a single soul was left alive to speak their poetry, to live their life, to enjoy their existence, to rage against the world, because they have become as one. Transcendence, a form of Nirvana, the bounds which existed outside of Cursed Energy itself; had been created.
Prowling amongst the sea of existence and non-existence, the clarity of a creature written upon a blank paper with crayons had been made.
Dreadful ebony, the color of his very soul which had been plunged ever darker into the shadows of his Innate Domain. If that veiled barrier of a conceptual existence brought to life through the power of Curses could reveal everything that needed to be known about him, then he was sure that he would be able to spring forth anything that could aid in discovering just who exactly that he was. Even then, the body he was skin and flesh deep inside didn't feel like his own, as if it had been corrupted or tainted in some inconceivable way that he didn't understand. It was disgusting, so much so that he felt like clawing off the hide which clung onto him, to reveal what he truly was underneath for his own eyes to bear witness to, in order to find any clarity or understanding of his situation.
But nothing. It was all a blank, and it continued to be as blank as a white sheet of an unpainted canvas, left to linger in its ivory existence as nothing but an object that held infinite potential. An untapped source which could develop into something far greater, and shoot above the clouds which hang over the world itself, yet it was all just a dream. Even then, he hoped it was all a dream in the first place, with what had happened to him… whoever he was. Nothing helped him in his current predicament, and neither did the splitting headache which made him wince and at the beginning stages of his consciousness—keel over and feel the need to vomit.
Right now, he was sitting in some kind of place which was isolated from the outside world from what he could tell. The rumbling of the outside world and what he barely knew from his limited knowledge scraped together from his scattered mind was closed off, if that was even what it was like in the outside world of where he was. Maybe so, maybe not, it was a confusing subject which continued to grate at him, provoking an emotion which he could hardly mark together even with a dash of his fingerprint. Could it be that everything before him was all that was left? Or was there actually something which would eventually reach where he was?
All he could see was the palms of his own hands, and the pitch-black bangs which hung over his eyes and seldom obstructed his vision. Cursed, Cursed… the word repeated in his mind over again, but what did it mean? What were these familiar terms, yet unfamiliar ones that kept wisping back and forth through his mind, coming back in and out of existence from which he could not observe?
"Who…" He continued to stare at his shaking palms which had become as pale as the snow in the midst of Winter's lullaby. "Who am I…?" A shaky voice left him as he had wholly expected to see the mist of his breath leaving his parched and dry throat, but nothing did. All he could find comfort in was the darkness of the room, where the crawling hands of his mind would continue to bring him ever deeper into his incorporeal ruminations, the safest world which he could confide in.
Powerlessness.
He felt powerless. Perhaps every human intrinsically hated powerlessness, but he didn't know how to make sense of such a complex emotion. Not even his brows or lips could express anything other than a thin frown and tired eyes, with any attempt to make them move continued to make them feel more stressed than he could have imagined. The world was cruel, it was Fate, it was a Curse imposed on him, and it was…
The door creaked open.
An effigy appeared from the blinding white lights of mixed colors from behind, making the black-haired man squint his eyes and raise a hand to shield himself. It was a strange feeling, but one which he didn't feel much fear from, only curiosity. How strange, and it was… it was… how should he put this? It was provocative. Provocative in the sense that it was bringing some sort of light to his emotions—no—memories, that was right, it was his memories which it was gracing. But… what was…
…A pale light sent from the skies, the blue heights which stored a vast world beyond his reach. A sigil or a symbol was formed at the epoch of such beauty, presenting itself as a near god-like force of nature meant to be struck toward the earth and make its mark known. Indeed, it was blinding, vaporizing his lens from its intensity, making his skin burn, and searing off the folds which…
SNAP!
SNAP!
The black-haired man blinked twice as a finger was snapped in front of his face two times, bringing him out of the immaterial world which had been forged from the confines of his own mentality. He looked toward the hand in front of him, then to the extended limb, and then toward the… person who had executed such a motion. It was a woman with blue hair, with short pants, a jacket, an ID badge, and a white dress shirt underneath; with the white dress shirt being opened at the bottom and revealing a small portion of her belly. Turning upwards, he could see her face, a perpetual frown which gave off a stern emission. He didn't know if it was his mere bias, but she could be considered traditionally beautiful by society's standards.
"Are you there?" Stern indeed, because the woman had spoken in such a way that made him feel as if he were speaking to an authoritative figure. "Good, it seems like you've regained your bearings." The blue-haired… Did she have dragon horns on her head? Along with a tail? Why… Why did it look so absurd to him? Why did it… "What are you staring at?" Blinking a few times when the woman started glaring at him, the black-haired man let his dry lips part while the fluorescent lights of the roof—which had been sparked on—continued to blind him.
He turned his stare elsewhere, his half-lidded eyes and irate expression perhaps not giving off the friendliest demeanor. "Where…? Where…" He said, his lips not making a clear sound from them aside from that single word that he knew. At that point, the speaker started to feel like he was pathetic with how utterly ridiculous he must have sounded, making him furthermore delve deeper into his vices.
"…Sigh, do you know what happened?" The blue-haired woman stepped back, and moved toward the other side of the table when the door closed behind her, making the two other figures behind disappear. "And why are you here in the first place?" A sleight of the hand was all that was done before a chair was flicked from its position and spun into place on the other side of the table. She plopped down on it with her arms crossed, and only then did the other man notice the files placed on the table once his vision cleared completely.
"I… don't," he admitted wholeheartedly. There was only confusion dressed in his eyes as his clear vision finally made the details of the room that he found himself in. From whatever his brain had decided to keep attached together as memories or experiences of his past life before this mental affliction that had overtaken him, he could recognize it as an interrogation room. It looked like a sterile grey, with rather clean sheens aligning each side of the wall. "I really don't…" he mumbled.
The blue-haired woman tapped her arm with her index finger even when they were crossed, repeating a pattern that seemed to tell the other person that she was impatient. "Is that so?" she said, sounding unamused. "Let me guess, amnesia or something? Please don't tell me you're making such a half-assed excuse." The way she looked at him told the black-haired man all he needed to know, she was unamused. Well, that much should have been expected.
"…I don't know what to say, then." The black-haired man locked eyes with her, his own despondent ones relaying the only message he believed he needed to relay. "Because it's just as you said…" He felt the glare from the other person start to deepen, boring what would have been a sizable enough hole to obliterate all of the internal organs in his torso. "Who… who are you?"
"…Ch'en Hui-chieh, Senior Superintendent of the Lungmen Guard Department." A brief pause was given before the woman with draconic features replied, in a restrained annoyed voice. "Does that ring any bells with your amnesia?" She grabbed the badge by her jacket and pulled it off, presenting it in front of her with a frown. "Because the L.G.D. had found you at quite an interesting scene before you were brought here."
"I don't recall," he mirthlessly replied. "I awoke in a hospital room while the doctors were… attempting to change my clothes?" His memories were fuzzy, but he remembered at least that much when his consciousness was bordering the conscious and unconscious world, "and then I was brought here."
"Nothing before that?" She raised a brow, before snapping her, snapping the badge shut and placing it back at the right side of her jacket. "Not an occupation, not a name, not a goal, not a memory?" All the woman received was a nod. "Yet you still retain the ability to converse and speak… and yet everything else is zilch, huh?"
"They're fuzzy, my memories," the black-haired man said. "I… there's nothing much else to say."
"I honestly can't tell if you're lying or not, and I'm not in the mood to entertain this any further." Ch'en took in a sigh, before her hands moved across the files in front of her with practiced precision. "Since you apparently don't remember what had happened, then shall I show you images on why you were in the hospital in the first place? And why you were brought here with questioning?"
"Is that… a rhetorical question…?" He asked, feeling a faint familiarity with the speaking style she had employed.
"What the hell do you think?" The blue-haired woman snapped at him with an annoyed expression, as if it were the most obvious thing.
"…Sorry."
"Ugh." Ch'en closed her eyes as she picked out a photo from one of the files. "Pardon me for my rigid stance today, but with all the events in Lungmen, I am not in the mood to deal with an amnesiac who has the potential to be lying. Do you know how many criminals have used that excuse against me?"
He didn't know what to say to that. "I don't know…?"
"Forget it." She rolled her eyes and slid the photo toward him, which prompted him to hastily raise his arms—which shifted his black haori's sleeves—and grab onto the object. "Higashinese… potentially an Aegir… everything we already know." A few words left her mouth. She watched him receive and take a look at what had been slid toward him.
"…What is this?" He blinked owlishly when staring at the photo that had been tossed toward him. The contents were as he saw, a gigantic crater which was superheated to the degree where steam was rising from it, and at the center was a very familiar body which made his eyes nearly widen. "Is that… me?" The black-haired man didn't even know what he looked like aside from the attire he wore and the bangs hovering over his eyes, but now…
"17:57, a streak across the sky was seen above Lungmen. It was thought to be a shooting star, but lo' and behold something comes crashing straight into a District of the Slums. Can you assume who it was?"
"…Er, it was me." The black-haired man nervously replied in the process of staring at the absurd scene. It didn't help that the crater was quite sizable, and the fact that he fell from the sky like a shooting star was sending alarm bells in his head. 'How did I survive that? What? Is this some sort of lie?' His eyes were filled with turmoil as he gazed over the contents over and over again, as if everything had been staged, made for some kind of sick joke that would have a hilarious punchline at the end.
"It's hitting the headlines, and the "mysterious Higashinese star man" is plastered all over them. How you survived a fall from such a height and how the hell that had happened in the first place are all what had been confusing both the public, the L.G.D., and whatever scientists are interested in such a strange phenomenon happening. Scratch that, how it happened in the first place is having many people scratch their heads over it, and you're at the epicenter of it." Ch'en gauged his reaction, as the black-haired man anxiously set down the image with a complex look crossing his features. "You were brought into a hospital to be treated for any injuries, but hilariously enough, you were quite literally without a single scratch despite falling from such a height. Now here we are, what do you have to say for yourself?"
"…I don't know," he repeated.
She closed her eyes at his response, not replying to him as if she were mulling something over. Her action caused silence to permeate the scene as the lights up above continued to hum its electrical currents, producing a surreal sound that did not help with both the resident's current moods. One was filled with an unnatural uncanniness as he sat where he was at and gazed at the other person's strange draconic features, while the woman was feeling a sense of frustration wash over her like a tidal wave.
Ch'en talked once more, "No name?"
"I don't remember. I told you that."
"Of course." Her index finger and thumb moved to pinch the bridge of her nose. "Then what do you plan on doing now? We've run a background check on you, and your fingerprint doesn't match any database in Lungmen. You don't have an ID either, not on your persons or in Lungmen as we said before. In fact, some have been theorizing that you came all the way from Higashi with that attire you're wearing. Your race matches the possibility, too."
"Higashi? Race? What race am I?" He already had enough of a clue to know that Lungmen meant this city, but he didn't know what Higashi or his implied race was.
"…You're really clueless." Ch'en's lips thinned together as her teeth pressed against one another. "Well, you fell from the sky out of nowhere, some brain damage should be expected, if the scans showed any damage, and trust me; the doctors have done multiple scans in order to see if what they were seeing was right."
He kept silent as he watched the blue-haired woman move through her files once more.
"I doubted your amnesia because it all seemed like such a convenient excuse. But I guess the results from the scans and from what you're saying here already tell enough of a story for the both of us to understand, even if you've suffered zero damage from… that fall of yours. It's all so contradictory." Another image was taken as she flipped the paper toward him, and slid it toward him again. "Now I just have to ask, what the hell are you?" This time, the draconic woman actually bore a disturbed look.
"I told you before…" He was about to give her the same response of unknowing before, because he really didn't know anything, and it was starting to frustrate him. However, when staring at the second image, he couldn't help but blink once and stare at it over. "Is this my… brain?" The images were showing multiple hypodense spots on the brain, some more prominent in certain areas, along with multiple overly dark and light spots.
"Your brain is—pardon my unprofessional language—fucked," the L.G.D. woman cussed, which would have caused the black-haired man to blink in surprise, but he was already too surprised when looking at the image. "Multiple scarred tissue predominantly on the surface of the brain as they say, and most likely under there too. They were hesitant to release you from the hospital, but the way you were still walking fine while coherently replying to questions, albeit in a dazed way, had led you to be brought here. By all means, you should be a dead man a hundred times over. As the doctors have said, a living miracle."
"A miracle? That… It doesn't look like that." A flood of emotions started to overcome him as his hands started to shake. Just looking at the deformed organ which was vital for life to be left in such a state made him unconscious of what was happening in his noggin, further making the coursing feeling worsen in its intensity. Disgusting, almost mutated-looking, and it was deformed in a way that… reminded him of… something…
Ch'en stared at him, as he had become unresponsive to her. His eyes continued to remain ever-so-slightly widened when staring at the image she had given him, and she had to wonder if he had short-circuited. It wouldn't be implausible, seeing the state of his brain which had an entire hospital's worth of doctors start freaking out at what they were seeing. Then, a small feeling of understanding or sympathy started to come over her as she remained there in the silence, with only the soft rustles of a finger pressing against a piece of paper being heard.
She had decided to cut through it. "Listen. Your state is bizarre, and your appearance in Lungmen is just as bizarre—if not a thousand more." Her curt voice cut the amnesiac man out of his stupor as he stared up at her dumbly. "So, be completely and brutally honest with me here, do you recall anything that could make this investigation any easier, about yourself or what had led to this entire fiasco?"
He stared at her expression which looked like it was being as genuine as it possibly could. So, he could do nothing but give his own genuine response, "I don't recall anything."
A low cuss was heard.
"So…?"
Ch'en Hui-chieh had her arms crossed and her eyes closed, ignoring the words which had been spoken toward her. She knew who the woman beside her was, poking and prodding at her patience with each and every word she would speak, and the Lung would not humor her in the slightest.
"How did it go? Got any information on that guy who made headlines from his fall?"
"…Figure it out yourself, Swire," Ch'en said, not being able to hold it in anymore. "Or go ask the amnesiac yourself, his brain's been scrambled like an apple in a blender." She turned upwards to the blonde-haired woman who stood beside her. "Besides, are you deaf? You were there with Hoshiguma listening on the other side the entire time."
"Tsk, keep your temper lower next time, and maybe he would have answered your questions more clearly. In fact, what do we even do with that guy now?" Swire rolled her Ch'en, before it turned and settled at the black-haired man who was nervously sitting at a seat in the corner of the L.G.D. office. Some other officers and agents passed him by and gave a small wave, as a majority of them recognized him as the "meteor which fell from the sky."
"I don't know. I'll figure it out soon," she replied half-heartedly. "Don't you have an auction to attend tomorrow? Go doll yourself up and focus on that instead."
"Huh?" She almost sounded offended from her words, but ignored it after. "Alright, I'll go see if I can get any information out of him, unlike a certain somebody." Swire tossed her car keys upwards and grabbed them, before walking toward the black-haired man, with Ch'en shooting her glare in the process.
On the side of the stranger who fell from the sky, he was sitting with a straight posture on a chair which was in the corner of the office, and his eyes were kept still in only a single place. He felt overwhelmed, being in the presence of multiple people who he didn't know, and he was glad that they paid no attention to him. Only those who saw him in passing gave any hint of recognition, with a wave or a small greeting.
Now that pulled the amnesiac to where he was, blinking once and turning to the side of footsteps clacking against the ground. It was already a common sight the moment he had found himself waking up, but he saw a blonde-haired woman dressed in attire that… didn't quite match that of a police officer unlike everybody else, but then again, the woman named Ch'en didn't fit the bill either.
"Hey there," the woman said and gave him a small wave. "Name's Swire, hope little old Ch'en over there didn't give you any trouble, she can be hardass at times." Shade was thrown the blue-haired Lung's way as the now-named woman pointed a thumb behind her with a smug expression when the aforementioned person reacted visibly to her words. "Could I catch a name, or…?"
"I don't know my name."
She noted that he was speaking Higashinese, and she had also started the conversation with Higashinese. Thankfully, language courses in Lungmen and by extension, Yan, most commonly had Higashinese chosen by students. The same was applied vice versa to Higashi. "Ah, figures." Swire turned her hand downwards to her side as she continued, "amnesia, huh? Well, given the scans to your brain, I can't say that wasn't completely out of expectations, I mean, you quite literally fell from the sky. Jeez, how'd you even survive that?"
"I don't know."
"Was internal damage all you suffered? Now that I'm looking at you, and back at the image, here, look." She took a phone out while speaking, bringing up an image from during the time the black-haired man was unconscious in the crater he had created from his crash. "You don't even look like you've taken any damage. Like, damn! If you took some damage, maybe the entire thing wouldn't be so absurd, but look at you, do you have access to Healing Arts or something?"
"…I don't know."
"Is that all you know how to reply with?"
"I don't—" The black-haired man paused dead in the tracks of his words when the last part of Swire's words was registered, like a deer in headlights. It was only after a second or so when seeing the blonde-haired woman's amused expression, did he snap out of his stupor and turn away from her. "Sorry."
Swire let out a long-winded sigh as she crossed her arms and stared at the black-haired man. He had hair that resembled that of a sea urchin if she had to hazard a comparison, along with an attire that looked like it belonged to Higashi. Now that was strange, was he traveling to Lungmen from Higashi and was blasted into the sky and fell down, or was he in Higashi from the beginning? Especially with his outfit.
The Feline walked toward him closer and pointed toward his attire. "Hey, that outfit you're wearing… let me guess, you don't know what it is either?" she inquired to him, who shook his head in response.
"Not a clue."
"Does Higashi ring any bells?"
"Ms. Ch'en…" His gaze turned toward the blue-haired woman who was looking at them. "Already mentioned it. It didn't ring any bells either."
"That's a shame, because I'm confident the outfit you're wearing would be atrociously expensive," Swire stated with a confident gleam in her eyes. That had wrung forth a reaction from the black-haired man, who glanced down at his black haori. "I mean, the only kind of people who would wear something with such expensive fabric would be a noble. I would know, because I've met a lot of Higashi people before."
"This?" The amnesiac pinched the black sleeves of the attire he was wearing. "How can this be expensive?" He didn't feel much of a connection to it, or see any value which it could hold. It just looked like clothes.
"The fabric. I can see a high-quality fabric when I look at one, my parents—you know what? Nevermind." Swire shook her head eventually in order to clear her mind. She didn't want to tell him about what her parents had taught her when it came to social gatherings. "So? What do you plan to do from here on out?" She changed the subject.
He shook his head and stopped staring at the clothing he was wearing. It was a weird combination of outfits, white clothes for martial arts under the accompaniment of an apparently luxurious black "Higashinese" robe known as a haori. No… wouldn't Japanese be accurate? Actually, where did he get that word—Japanese—from?
"No clue? Well, the L.G.D. already has some connections in Higashi, so they could search for anything relating to you there, but that would be too much of a hassle. The only reason why they are even doing so is because they suspect you're a noble from there."
"Me? A noble?" The black-haired man flinched at her words and pointed to himself. "But what if I'm not? You're going to waste your time looking for somebody that might not… even exist…" The words were hard to make out as it continued to apply an invisible weight on him and continuously pressed down on his shoulders.
Their conversation was eventually cut off when Ch'en had arrived to where they were, holding new information to give to them. Once her steps came to a stop, all attention was turned to her as the activity of the other L.G.D. officers had never once come to any pause in the room. Her voice when raised, mixed in with them as she gave her message.
"You—the one with amnesia." She gave a scowl to Swire before turning to the black-haired man. "It's likely you don't have a place to return to with your amnesia, and also because you have no identification in any of Lungmen's databases."
He listened to her.
"So, while we attempt to find anything from you in Higashi, the best place we can give you to stay is in one of the headquarter's holding cells."
…That didn't sound too good.
"Well?" Ch'en turned to the black-haired man as she glanced inside the cell. "If you're worried about being locked inside, the door will be unlocked, and you can walk out freely. Do note, there will be guards around who frequent the headquarters even at night, so don't even think of attempting to escape."
"I wouldn't dare to try that." The black-haired man looked inside. "It looks… far better than I thought?" Although it seldom resembled a jail cell, the quality was far from what he would have expected from one, based on his very limited memories. There was an average bed, a sink nearby, but no toilet. The Superintendent who had guided him to the area said that he would have to notify the guards to go to the toilet.
"Of course, the cells under the headquarters aren't necessarily meant for prisoners, they're meant for suspects more than anything else. That's why it has a higher standard of quality compared to other cells, because the suspect could always be innocent, who knows?" Ch'en crossed her arms and stepped to the side. "So, how much do you remember despite your amnesia? The fact that you still know how to speak coherently, and in Higashinese to boot, shows that some parts must still be intact."
He continued looking at the room for a second, and then replied, "I know how to speak, and some concepts. I knew what a cell was, along with a lot of things. But it's… memories and experiences I have undergone, along with any name that I have… they all just come to a blank." His hand reached upwards and massaged his temple, which made his eyes closed in order to concentrate.
What are you?
What do you want?
What is it that you wish to gain from this?
A small headache overcame him as he groaned, resulting in his fingers applying more pressure toward where it was pressing at. A small step was taken back as his body felt like it was losing balance. The world became a small blur as he could feel his body's motor function become useless, having lost complete track of what his brain's neurons were sending them.
"Hey!" Ch'en called out toward him, moved forward, and grabbing him. It wasn't difficult to do thanks to her superb strength. "Hello? Can you hear me? What's going on?" She watched as his eyes started to become a haze, already imagining some sort of ringing sound occurring inside of his head. "Should I bring a doctor?"
"No… no, don't bring a—doctor…" the black-haired man requested and then winced from the pulsating sensation. "Just bring me to the bed over there, set me down and let me… fall asleep." That was the only thing he wanted at the moment, especially when everything had started to become a blur around him.
"I can't overlook this. With the scan results of your brain, a simple headache or migraine can have far bigger implications than some common affliction." She creased her brow as the black-haired man was set down on the ledge of the bed, his body falling backwards and onto the object. He looked like a doll with its strings cut. "Hey… are you even listening."
"I'm fine. It's cleared out, there's no need to bring a doctor." He let out a sigh as his eyes closed, the palm of his hand having been placed over the bridge between his eyes and forehead. "Please, just turn off the lights, I want to sleep."
"…This guy." Ch'en placed a hand over her forehead. She gazed upon the traditional sandals that he wore fall off as he inched his legs upwards, to enter a fetal position on the bed, and turn away from her. "Ugh, fine, if something happens, just scream your damn lungs off. I'm sure the guards will come running your way." She took a step out of the cell and moved to close the door.
Giving one last look to the amnesiac who had his body turned away from her, the Lung could only sigh and shake her head.
Zero Originium in his veins.
She hadn't told him, but that had caused an uproar between the doctors who had discovered it. Although the Superintendent of the L.G.D. just happened to be at the place, she had also demanded them to keep their mouths shut on the matter. For something like this to occur… What could have caused it? To an amnesiac who fell from the sky, no less?
What a day.
She would have inquired about it much more, but the fact that he was an amnesiac would get her nowhere.
It was the next day.
A certain amnesiac was staring at the sun hung above the skies, the light bleeding off into the horizon and lighting up the entire world around him. A hand was placed over his eyes as he found himself squinting when staring at the object wearing the wreath of radiance in the form of a ring. Sun, it was the sun. He knew what it was, and the importance it held for both life and symbolic meanings.
Somebody else was standing beside him, and somewhat forward. However, she came to a stop as she turned around and regarded the black-haired man who was distracted at the thing hanging above him.
"Are you going to just stand there?" Ch'en made her impatience be known, but there was nothing else behind her tone. "We have places to be, and getting you an ID for Lungmen would be one of them."
"Sorry, I got distracted," he replied. "It's just that… is this necessary?"
"Yes, it's necessary. It means I can arrest you much easier if you turn out to be a criminal."
"Oh…" The black-haired man didn't know how to respond to the blue-haired woman's statement, and all he had received was an exhalation from her. Whether it was supposed to be a joke or not still confused him.
"Let's get going, we don't have time to waste, especially not for myself." The Senior Superintendent motioned for him to follow her. "Crime doesn't sleep even for a single hour, I hope you know at least that."
"Crime?" he said while trailing behind her. "I'm aware of it, and I know that the police are supposed to suppress it."
"At least you can comprehend that."
The lot they had come to were filled with cars of various different shapes, sizes, and colors. They had come to one that looked rather moderate, bearing a symbol of the L.G.D. on it. In fact, all of the vehicles from where they were at had the symbol of the L.G.D. placed onto the side of them.
"Get in, we'll be leaving as soon as possible."
They were in a car which traveled through the streets of Lungmen at moderate speed. Many things had caught the amnesiac's eye as they continued through, especially the digital billboards which aligned almost every single skyscraper as they passed by. The neon lights were also a commonality which was present in most structures, especially in the smaller stores which were closest to them.
"I'm still attempting to understand how you survived a fall such as that," Ch'en suddenly brought up.
"The one that left a crater?" He tilted his head. Everything was still difficult to wrap his head over, especially when he didn't know anything from his past.
"Yes. It was heated and sizzling from your fall, you should be a bloody paste." She had seen people fall from skyscrapers many times, and that had been expected with the line of work she was in. "You're a tough cookie if you can take something like that, but that only brings up even more questions about you. Some which you can't answer."
"Honestly," he said. "I have a hard time believing I survived it too." His hand pinched at the thigh of his skin, feeling a small sensation of pain overcome it. "I bumped my arm over a corner once, and it hurt a little bit."
"Seriously?" Ch'en kept her eyes on the road, but found that notion to be absurd. "You bumped your arm, and it hurt? And this is the same guy that was recorded falling from the sky at terminal velocity, and crashing into the ground leaving a sizable crater?"
"Don't look at me like that." A deadpan was all he could give to the woman who held an exasperated look toward him. "There's a green light, by the way."
"Alright, whatever you say." A sarcastic remark left her as she turned back to the road, and pressed down on the accelerator once the light had turned green. "What name should we even go for? Mr. Guy Who Fell From The Sky?"
"Please, don't." He wasn't in the position to make demands as he practically didn't exist in the city, but having that as his name would be devastating for many different reasons. "I still don't know my name, but if I get one, I wouldn't want it to be… what you suggested."
"Whatever, you'd better make your decision fast before we get there."
There was nothing else said as they continued on in silence, with the sound of the wheel rolling against the ground being the only thing that could be heard after. The scenery passed them by faster and faster based on their memories' perception, a lull where they both could take a breather in order to make plans for the rest of their day. Or rather, only one of them could, as the other would be stuck in a holding cell not knowing what to do with his life.
Ch'en's finger tapped against the wheel as she kept her focus for driving. Even then, she could still turn her focus to other things, such as what to do with the black-haired man beside her. He was a complete anomaly who possessed no Originium in his body, and had no features which match any race. There were also scans of his body structures which were wildly different from what most Terrans—even Aegirs—possessed. He was almost like an alien.
That wasn't even mentioning the fall he had somehow survived, while presumably unconscious. Unless he had some sort of regeneration factor that could survive leaving his body as nothing but paste, then all she could attribute his survival as an instinctive activation of his "Arts" in order to survive. Such an occurrence would then most likely leave him in the state that he was currently in… but there was one simple detail that put a wrench into that theory of hers. His clothes. They were completely undamaged and looked to be in pristine condition.
So, regeneration factor couldn't be a thing, but maybe Arts which could enhance his body and make it resistant enough to survive from such a fall? Then did it not account for protecting the inside of his body? Even then, his internals were completely fine except for his brain which had looked like it had been scrambled in a way that wouldn't match a physical impact toward it. There was further confusion in that, and she had to wonder if this is what it was like attempting to investigate a case which held all the most ridiculous factors possible.
Goddamned amnesia—
Her line of thought was cut off when a booming explosion was heard off in the distance, but it was far enough where the shockwave could have never reached them. The occupants of the car blinked a few times, before the driver stepped on the brakes causing the vehicle to come to a screeching halt at the side of the road without much trouble, a testament to the driver's skill. The other cars on the road had halted from driving too, slowing down and causing many other cars to start honking their horns.
The black-haired man who was sitting beside the blue-haired Lung turned toward where he had heard it traveling from. Smoke was rising off in the distance as he saw Ch'en swiftly pick up her radio with her expression shifting to a serious one. It was a complete turn into professionalism, like a turn of the switch which set the room from bright dark.
"Hello? Anybody, respond, this is Senior Superintendent Ch'en radioing in, what was that explosion just now?" The radio in her hands started to crack with sounds, while the amnesiac with her stared at the scene with boiling confusion, wondering what exactly had happened.
"Officer Hong reporting in. We've just spotted it too from our position, but all we can assume is that it must have been some terrorist attack or another gang war happening outside of the slums. Are you driving toward the location right now? Because we're sending in reinforcements to aid you in… what looks to be downtown Lungmen, and the smoke should be visible enough even from where we're at."
"A mall?" Ch'en squinted her eyes as she undid her seatbelt and the locks of the door beside her. "Why is there an explosion in the mall? Forget it, you! Amnesiac!" She turned toward the black-haired man who was a deer in headlights at the escalating situation. "Come with me, but stay to the side! There will be reinforcements arriving, you'd better stay off in the far perimeter with them, and away from danger."
"…Yes, ma'am." He became baffled at the prospect of a terrorist attack suddenly occurring, and the fact that he would be brought close to the scene so the risk of him turning tail and running to escape from her custody would be lessened. Thankfully, he wouldn't be dragged close to the mess and would have people watching him over. The suddenness of the entire event unfolding before him, though, was not something he was thankful for.
He had to come to question what Lungmen's crime rate was, with the sudden occurrence of an explosion which had interrupted the both of them.
"Sir…?" The black-haired man watched the mall that was surrounded by officers from the L.G.D., while they were evacuating citizens from it. "What exactly happened?" He turned to the uniformed man decked out in what looked to be the standard gear of the L.G.D., which looked rather advanced to him with the way they were designed.
"You're the guy from the headlines, huh? Ah, well, forget it." A look of recognition was given to the amnesiac who was standing beside the agent's car, and he dropped the topic when he received an uncomfortable look from mentioning the headlines. "A gang war, in broad daylight too. Can you believe that? I heard it's from the Cat Mafia and some other unknown group."
"T-The Cat Mafia?" He had to do a double-take when hearing the name of it. "And… Ms. Ch'en and Ms. Swire are in there dealing with them?"
"Yeah, which is sort of an overkill in my opinion." A relaxed response was all the agent had given the black-haired man. "I heard you have amnesia, so you probably don't know much about them. For us, it would be best if we focus our efforts in evacuating the citizens… but for me, I guess I'm just watching over you on Madam Ch'en's request. If you want a clear answer, then they're both from the Special Inspection Unit."
"Special Inspection Unit?"
"Along with Madame Oni herself, Hoshiguma, yeah. The Special Inspection Unit is just as it is described—special—boasting the best officers the L.G.D. has to offer. They're all monsters in their own right, but uh… I don't really think Madam Swire fits with them. I haven't seen her in action because I'm not under her jurisdiction, but I think she got the position because of nepotism, ya' know…? But don't tell them I said that, though."
"…I won't." He turned away from the officer as he saw the citizens evacuate from the scene. For some reason, it didn't sit well with him watching the entire scene from a safe distance, even if he didn't like the prospect of rushing in like an idiot. In fact, wasn't his instincts practically telling him to rush in and do something rather than being useless. He knew better, though, and intruding in on the L.G.D.'s business would just make him a thorn to their sides.
Still… Why were they called the Cat Mafia? That was one of the most unintimidating names they could have ever chosen, and he was an amnesiac!
"Ah, that was easier than I thought," Swire let out a breath while stretching her arms upwards, along with the L.G.D. officers around her started rounding up the members of the Cat Mafia and the unrecognized gang which looked to be an upstart one. They all had been arrested during their bout, an especially vicious one to boot. "They've got some nerve waltzing into some mall and pulling off some of the most ridiculous crap. I was just spending my break, too." She continued to walk in the outskirts of the mall, heading in the same direction as her blue-haired companion to where their amnesiac stranger was.
"Of course, what can you expect from them?" Ch'en sighed. Her hand rested on the two sheathed blades by her side she had picked out from her car while dragging the black-haired man toward the general location that they were at now, which had caused him to look owlishly at them. "And stop acting so relaxed, don't think I haven't noticed the many flaws of your activity during this abrupt operation."
"What? Flaws? What are you even talking about?" The tiger lady who had been stretching felt as if the progress of her relaxing posture had been thrown into the trash. "If you want to talk about flaws, I'll have you know you would have already had your assed bombed three different times if I hadn't warned you."
"I could have dodged them on my own, thank you very much," Ch'en countered in the process of the two of them continued to move through the parking lot.
"Blah, blah, blah, that's all I'm hearing from you whenever you open that mouth."
"Think of a better insult next time, it's just as lacking as your performance over the past week."
"My performance? Oh, please, I've arrested more criminals than you have—"
"Madam Ch'en, Madam Swire!" A voice came to cut the two of them off as they turned toward the officer who had walked up to them. A black-haired man was following him from behind, a perturbed look coming across his features, but nothing else that was alarming. "I take it everything has been cleared out?"
"Yes, the operation's done, be at ease." Ch'en waved him off and turned to the black-haired man. "You may leave to assist the other officers in escorting the criminals to their rightful place." She eventually motioned for the black-haired man to approach her.
"Huh? He's here too?" Swire raised an eyebrow as she turned toward the black-haired man, ignoring the officer who had nodded and moved onto his newly assigned task. "Why'd you bring him here to a place? So he can watch how ridiculous you look while also putting him in danger?"
"First of all." Ch'en shut her eyes.
The black-haired man hadn't much of a clue what to say in the situation, as the blue-haired Lung had grabbed his arm.
"I was in the process of getting him an ID, and this whole event just served as a small distraction. Second of all, I made sure to keep him far away from the scene and be watched over by an officer, off a far enough distance where he wouldn't be at all close to the crime scene."
"Wait, you're getting him an ID?" Swire blinked in confusion, before a sense of hilarity started to overcome her. "Y-You're actually getting him an ID at this time? Pfft~! Do you know how ridiculous you look right now?" The Feline placed a fist over her mouth as she attempted to stop herself from laughing.
"Ch'en…? What is she talking about?" The black-haired man turned toward the woman who had grabbed his arm. He was sure she was going to drag him back into a car and drive him to the location they were going to before, but the way she paused in her steps and turned back to Swire had made him question what had made her so bothered.
"I don't know. She's probably acting stupid," Ch'en replied.
"A-acting stupid, is that right?" Swire let the last bits of laughter leave her as she wiped the corner of her eye which had a small teardrop forming. "Ah… that's funny to hear. Do you even know what today is?"
"Of course I do, It's Sunda—" The blue-haired Lung was just about to complete her sentence, when a sudden bid of realization overcame her. "It's Sunday…" Her lips thinned together as her eyes narrowed.
"And what times do all ID places close?" The blonde-haired tigress asked with a playful tone.
"…Fuck you."
They were atop a stand, as he nervously stared around the room which he had found himself in. There was a table with silverware beside them, and some attendants walking around outside their door in order to deliver food to the other people atop the vast stands. It was a large room in front of him, and before the railings which were perched over like a balcony was an even larger room. It held a vast alignment of seats dressed in traces of an aureate tint along with cultural patterns that evoked the creativity of the mind.
"Come on, take a seat."
He heard Swire's voice from behind him as the woman grabbed him on the shoulder, making him toward her. She was holding a smile with one hand on her hip, the expensive purse hanging over her shoulder dancing lightly beside her as Ch'en was not too far away—crossing her arms with an annoyed look coming across her features.
"Uhm, should I be here?" Eventually, the black-haired pointed to himself while staring at the blonde-haired woman who simply chuckled and shook her head. For some reason, Swire had decided to bring the both of them here to kill time. Although Ch'en didn't want to, the fact that he had agreed to her request without thinking it over had also caused the Superintendent to go along with Swire in order to spend her break.
The agreement was on some strange instinct, and he hadn't even thought over her request or the implications it would bring. It was most likely a small hint of gratitude toward her for asking him to come along with her elsewhere rather than leaving him to be dragged back to the cell at the Lungmen Guard Department. Still, it left Ch'en glaring daggers at him for that.
"Eh, whatever, you're in the VIP stands, it's not like anybody can see here anyways. Besides, I hear guys really like food or something, so are you not going to indulge yourself here a little bit?" The Feline nudged him with her elbow, which only proved to further the black-haired man's confusion.
"Thank you for your generosity, but…" His eyes darted across the room with a skittish speed. "I don't believe I…"
"Oh, please," Swire sighed while slamming her palm against the amnesiac's back, making him jolt from the impact. "Somebody invites you out for a meal and you turn them down?" She let out an indignant huff after, and crossed her arms.
He was left scrambling over his words for any response, but didn't need to as somebody had come to his assistance in order to pull him out of the embarrassing dilemma he had found himself in.
"Swire, knock it off," Ch'en said with a miffed tone. "There's a time and place for everything, and you were the one to drag us here." She had almost decided to leave the black-haired man entirely in the hands of Swire, but something had possessed her not to. "I could be spending my short break on something else rather than here."
"What do you mean by that?" Swire placed her hands on her hips while registering the blue-haired woman who had just spoken up. "I didn't drag you here at all, you're the one who decided it was a good idea to tail me, what do you have to say for that? If you really don't like it here, then just scram."
"Tch…" Ch'en's expression was one of irritation. She had nothing else to do to spend her break, and the only reason she had decided to come here was because the black-haired bastard of an amnesiac had said he would prefer to be under Swire's jurisdiction when the Feline had requested to bring him to the auction! The nerve of him!
They stared each other down, and were ready to break off into yet another argument. This had made the black-haired man decide it no longer involved him and went to take a seat at one of the chairs. A waitress had peered into the room, but was ushered away when he gave a small motion that told them to leave. He was also sure that the bickering between the two other people inside had prompted her to leave.
A few more minutes passed by as he kept away from the two, before they had completely settled down in their own seats. His gaze was focused on the stage and hadn't shifted to them during the entire duration, so he couldn't give much of an opinion on what had happened. He could, however, see the lights turning on with greater intensity and illuminate all aspects of the room with its all-encompassing reach.
There was a host of the auction entering the stage dressed in a formal suit of black and white elegance, along with bearing ears atop his head that denoted him as a Feline. An amicable air swam around him, clinging onto both his clothes and skin, and a permanent smile was plastered upon his face. In front of a microphone, he spoke.
"Ladies and gentlemen! I'm confident you've all been aware of the items on the menu, from vague jewelry brought in from times of old, and other significant objects which have been said to be lost from time; remember, this is all just for the sake of tradition! Just as our ancestors from Yan had done this before, we're—"
He glanced at a grumbling Ch'en and an absorbed Swire, both women who were stuck in their own world, while the black-haired man was stuck in between the both of them in his seat. So, he opted to silently stare at the auction host who was presenting his piece toward the crowd of rich folk in the audience. Even when he was here with somebody who held considerable status from what he understood, he still did not fit the bill for somebody who could be considered a noble, a rich person, or a successful entrepreneur. Even Ch'en held a high position, being the Senior Superintendent of the L.G.D., one of the highest authorities in Lungmen.
In comparison to him? He was some amnesiac Higashinese man who was sure that this world wasn't even his, from the scraps of memories he was able to gather together and piece into small bits. Animal features weren't something his shattered brain remembered about humans, yet all other compartments which made a human… human, still stuck to him as a reminder. His thoughts continued to linger on his scattered memories, attempting to make any sense of them, before zoning out the host as white noise.
Pompous. It felt too pompous for him, so much that the bright lights and golden dragon patterns upon the walls became an overwhelmingly boring sight after a few minutes of staring off into space. There was still the mystery of how he activated his… "Arts" or whatever it was that strengthened his body and senses to the point where he had launched an apparent mafia boss into a statue. Attempting to recall the feeling was as easy as taking candy from a baby, applying it right now… not so much.
He glanced toward Swire once more. She looked to be engrossed in whatever was happening in the auction. 'She said it was more of a social gathering than a buying what you want thing, or served more as a way to show off wealth. I don't really get it.' Maybe it was because he was some poor sod who was thrown through the sky and was sent crashing into this city, that he couldn't understand how the high-class society worked. Whatever gilded structures filled with artistic depictions of traditionalism there were out there, he could understand the appeal. But it really didn't feel like it was for him.
"Hah, wow, somebody really paid 1.5 million LMD for that?" Swire said while cupping her mouth, leaning in with slightly widened eyes. "Even if I splurge my money, I wouldn't want to spend such an absurd amount on just a piece of cloth!" A small chuckle left her lips as Ch'en continued to cross her arms with a grumpy demeanor, most likely having decided that thinking about other matters or watching out for any transmissions she would receive from her communications device was far more important.
He stared at the blonde-haired tiger lady as her tail swished, attempting to find what was so amusing about watching people waste their money away. Was she even finding it amusing? Actually, why had the woman wanted to attend a place such as this, anyways? It didn't seem to suit her at all, even if she lived in a high-class society.
"Wondering why I had decided to come here?"
"…Huh?" He recoiled back when Swire at turned toward him with a side-eye. "Did you…"
"Read your mind? I actually got my predictions right, didn't I?" A smirk came across Swire's lips. "Well, what do you think this entire auction is for? I'm sure if you think that over, then you'd find out pretty quickly why I'm even here."
"I don't know," he admitted. "I don't know any underlying message or… other meaning for this auction."
"Oh? Really?" The Feline turned toward him when receiving those words. She seldom looked shocked. "Ah, well, I should have expected as much. To put it short, it's a form of a social gathering, you know? Gotta meet up with the other nobles and entrepreneurs, build up rapport, and then look good for my family so they stop nagging me everyday to keep building up connections. As if we already don't have a hundred outside liaisons…"
"I think…" The black-haired man listened to her words, slowly nodding. "I understand some parts…"
"The main selling point of this isn't just showing your wealth by buying the main prize or as many items as you want—heh, get it? Selling point?" She received an apathetic look from the person she made a joke to, which made the Feline feel a tinge of embarrassment before coughing into her fist. "Would be nice if you could show some more humor?"
"…What humor?" He genuinely looked confused at that moment. "There was humor…?"
"…Nevermind," Swire replied with a deadpan at the black-haired man, wherein he could do nothing but stay silent. "I guess it's more serious than I thought. But really, just forget it, how are you enjoying the little show down there?"
He took her advice and really did decide to forget it. "It's weird." The entire auction thing really was weird to him, because he had expected the items sold to hold at least some value, but they looked to be more… useless luxury products more than anything else. He was also sure… auctions could sell services? Or was he getting things wrong?
"Took the words right out of my mouth." Ch'en's voice came up this time, diverting the two's attention on the peeved woman. "Ignore it, this is probably one of Swire's guilty pleasures, and there's no need to understand it at all. She's just weird in some ways, you get used to it."
"Hey!" Swire's voice was still low as she yelled toward the Lung, but it didn't matter because the chatter amongst the audience was still loud enough to drown her voice out like a coursing river. "I never said I enjoyed this sort of stuff!"
The two silently argued with each other from where they were at as he felt lethargic at that moment. Instead of just zoning out the auction host, he had also decided to do the same for the two bickering people beside him. There were still many things he had to decide and think over at his current state, especially with the many revelations and surprises that had come his way. The auction should end soon, too, allowing him a brief rest—
—What was that?
Something pulsed in his heart. There was another item that had been loaded onto the stage and placed in a moderately-sized box with a large golden cloth placed over it. His heart constricted before it started beating faster and faster, as the veil placed over it had been released, revealing an ethereal object inside of a transparent mode of guarded viewing.
When the item inside the glass display was fully revealed onto the stage under the glistening lights as a three-pronged object which held a wide berth of power which only he could sense, he found his breathing nearly come to a stop. Perhaps it would even make his knees buckle and force him to kneel in its presence if he had been standing, no matter what indomitable straight posture he held. Furthermore, just staring at it continued to make him uncomfortable. Truly, it was an accursed object, one which was making his neck want to turn away from it.
It was powerful, bearing a resemblance to something far greater than what could be understood, a symbol of an item which had also contradictorily forced everybody's attention to be turned toward it. The chattering and whispers of the crowd had died out in anticipation of its arrival, and he, himself, was no exception.
"—So! This is our last object today that we've found scavenged in an abandoned mine in Lungmen, this prized object is said to date back hundreds and perhaps thousands of years from the archaeologists who had dug it out from the mines! It was bought off for 10 million LMD, and will be sold at this auction for 15 million LMD! Yes, although nobody has found its use yet, many can agree that it must have been some kind of ancient Arts Unit which was used—"
The crowd was immersed in the object that had been displayed, along with the black-haired man. He was sure that Swire and Ch'en were also raising their eyebrows at the strange object in the shape of a trident in the front stage, but that was the most recognition they were most likely going to give it. For himself… he hadn't cared for anything that had been displayed on the stage, or what was being sold, but for some unexplainable reason, he found himself drawn toward the item.
"—Although it hasn't been tested, we can only assume it must have been a powerful weapon used during the time of Sui himself! Ah ha ha, maybe I'm exaggerating a little bit, but the age of this three-pronged weapon has been tested nearly a hundred times over, you can trust its validity! Though, I'm sure most of you would rather have it as a display than anything else, did I hit the mark—?"
The auctioneer continued to blabber on as he could feel his palms becoming sweaty. Did nobody else feel what he did when in the presence of the object in front of him? What was it even? Why was he the only one that seemed disturbed when staring at it? Did Swire or Ch'en know? They didn't. They really didn't, and he was starting to become worried that the effects of his deformed brain were coming back to him. He really should have listened to the blue-haired woman's advice, huh?
Another pang hit him, as the host continued to predict the many theories of the item's origins to entertain the crowd.
The Divine Cursed Tool was utilized a thousand years ago to repel the elites of the Heian Era, an object which had come to represent the pinnacle of Cursed Tools themselves. It drove off the Darkness Pacification Force, the Abe Clan's Elites, remnants of the Sugawara Clan, and the Sun, Moon, and Stars Squad along with the Five Void Generals who served under the Emperor of Japan during that time. In tandem, it was paired with another Divine Cursed Tool which…
He gripped his head, making Swire and Ch'en turn toward him when a faint grunt had left his mouth. His eyes saw spirals of red, a force of destruction which passed through a field or valley, desecrating living bodies which had been honed throughout the years with disturbing ease. The crashing of thunder accompanied it, painting a scene in his head of a scene of mass destruction, as if a calamity was passing through. A calamity in the form of…
…It was said to be Lord Shiva's Trishula, but they were merely rumors, so there's not much merit to that theory. I'm sure you already know what I'm talking about, M—, it was a Cursed Tool used by the King of Curses himself, and you already know who he is. Caught your attention yet? Huh? Not really? Gah! Whatever. If you're not really interested in it, then I don't mind leaving it at that. Just gonna say, though, its name was…
"Hey, Swire, I told you he shouldn't have been brought anywhere else…!" Ch'en's hushed voice was heard as she glared toward the blonde-haired woman. "He's experiencing a splitting migraine right now!" Her face was turned into an irritated expression as she watched the black-haired man keel over and start gripping his head, his elbows pressing down on his knees.
"What—I…" Swire could feel her irritation rising along with the Senior Superintendent as she blamed her, but decided to stomach it. Seething in, she let out a breath afterwards in order to keep herself as calm as she possibly could. "Fine, whatever, I'll get him out of here silently and see with the doctors what's wrong with his head." She didn't know this was something that would have happened because she hadn't been informed, but it had clicked in her head that the black-haired man suffered from severe brain deformities and scars. He just looked like he functioned far too properly for there to be any present issues.
"We already both know what's wrong with his head!" She shot back to the Feline as her eyes turned back toward the stage and the other people around them. Thankfully, they hadn't seen the small charade they were showing off, because they were in the VIP stands where privacy was given to them.
"Ugh, I know that! I meant that by finding a way to treat—!" Just as she was about to bring the man suffering from a headache upwards, he stood upwards abruptly and made her step back. When looking at his features, Swire could have sworn she saw his expression take a 180 and abruptly change, as if some unbidden clarity had forced its way into his brain.
Ch'en shared the same sentiment as she stared at the black-haired man weirdly. "Why did you, no, what's wrong?" A hand was reached out as she stood up herself in order to grab his shoulder, but she didn't have the time to inquire about his condition when the black-haired man had raised his voice to the entire crowd and host in front of him.
"That's not an Arts Unit."
The blue-haired Lung winced when his booming voice was heard echoing across the walls, which practically brought everybody's attention to him. A multitude of eyes of different origins and views turned toward him with gazes of varying degrees. Confusion, impotence, shock, and even some ridicule. Despite his vocal cords exerting itself as any person speaking in a normal conversation would, everybody had heard him.
"—Huh?" The speaker talking into his microphone turned upwards toward the black-haired man, his speech and theories made to bolster the value of the item in front of him had been cut off. "Oh, young man! I didn't think anybody would interrupt an auctioneer while they're speaking, haha… but if I may ask, what possessed you to say something such as that? After all, it was archaeologists who had discovered it." The auctioneer was able to professionally recover quickly from his slight stupor.
Whispers from the audience became much more prominent as they gave a small huff at the words the black-haired man had said. Small words and conversations gathered together in their isolated place to create a chorus of which held one sole purpose in spite of its many varieties, creating an order in the chaos; that the black-haired man's statement was merely full of shit.
"…Come on, now's not the time for this." Swire was next to stand up with the corner of her eye twitching. "You shouldn't speak up so loudly during a time like this, and—what do you even mean that's not an Arts Unit? You're not the—"
"It's not an Arts Unit. You heard what I said," he said once more, his voice amplified by an unknown force that not even he knew what he was controlling. "Wherever it was discovered, the information on it is completely wrong."
Swire had suddenly felt the urge to curse, smack him beside the head, and then drag him out of the auction house in an instant.
More chatter was heard, the level of ridicule from the nobles and rich folks draped in opulence had risen to a wide degree. For any commoner that would be the focus of such a negative environment, it wouldn't be inaccurate to say that their social standing would be gone within an instant, a form of social suicide for anybody who had enough confidence to be in the center of such a brewing storm.
"—Sir, I'm quite sure I've already said that this was an item discovered by archaeologists, and the ancient scriptures written on its handle and blade are already telling enough what—"
"The ancient scriptures written on it are not in relation to Yan, they are written in Sanskrit, which are related to an ancient and classical form of Indian language. The line written on the neck of the handle is "Om Namah Shivaya," which is not part of any ancient Yanese language." He didn't know what was bringing him to say this, but the information of an experience he never once had started to flood him.
A four-armed beast with a mask on the right side of head, along with another four eyes in total. He looked deformed, a beast standing amongst the shadows of the world as he saw it in the only way he wished to, with no regard for anything else. He clasped it on two of his hands, the spear which pointed upward and toward the cascading heights of the empyreal azure. Such significance had been long lost to history.
"Where the hell are you getting this from…?" Ch'en grabbed his arm as she glared at him. "This isn't the time to cause a commotion. Seriously, at this point if it bothers you so much, let's just leave—"
"If you're so confident in what you're saying, stranger up in the VIP stands there, then perhaps you could give us a brief background history on this object? After all, you must have some knowledge that holds more credibility than the archaeologists who discovered it?" The auctioneer's hand was placed behind his back as he leaned into his microphone more.
A symphony of chuckles were heard amongst the audience as all attention had been turned to the black-haired man. The two L.G.D. officers who stood beside him had already begun to mentally curse in their mind at the unnecessary attention he, and by extension, them, were receiving at the current moment.
The amnesiac, strangely enough, did not feel a hint of embarrassment in the slightest. He continued to stare at the object serenely sleeping, deep in its slumber as a memory of the past haunted him, enchanting him to speak with the same impotence he had done before. "The item in that case," he pointed with his finger, "is a weapon fashioned in the form of a Trishula, a weapon which holds symbolic significance to the God of Destruction, Lord Shiva. Its actual name—is Hiten."
Hiten, the Flying Apsaras which accompanied the Buddha. It was brought under the control and subjugated by an Imaginary Demon God, rent asunder and reforged into the form of a weapon in order to serve the Fallen Bodhisattva. With flames burning as hot as the inferno of Naraka, there was nothing they could do resist against their fate.
The black-haired man became more ridiculous in the eyes of the people listening to his explanation, along with the two who stood beside him. The clamoring of silk-ladened tongues became more amused as if they were watching a circus show occurring in front of them, with some having already become sick with the interruption and were preaching toward the auctioneer to get on with selling the object.
Just as the auctioneer was about to speak up, he was interrupted once more when the rattling voice of the black-haired man came up once more.
"Hiten, the Divine Cursed Tool utilized by Ryomen Sukuna. That is its origin, is that what you wanted me to explain?" The one stricken with amnesia finished his explanation of the item, his voice carrying a strange sense of authority at the end that left the crowd falling into silence. Something accursed leaked out of his every word near the end, as his eyes narrowed at the object still caged in its box, an unexisting barrier which should have never held it in the first place.
Don't you find your existence to be pitiful? To be celestial existences serving under a being which you see as oh so benevolent, yet one which had also never once existed on this plane where we exist. Wandering from west toward the east, has there ever been a purpose which you have found? Tell me, oh such gracious Hitens, the Flying Apsaras which possess no Buddha—what is it that you shall do now?
Just as the oppressive silence that had overcome the room and pressed down on everybody's chest was about to be dispersed from the population attempting to break out of it, another pressure was exuded in the opulent room. Eyes widened, breaths were hitched, and they all could tell only one thing from the way their instincts had been provoked, by a primordial force baring its fangs once more.
Ch'en had cleared her mind completely, and instinctively reached for a weapon that should have been sheathed by her side, but had come to the realization that she had long since set them aside elsewhere when it came time to enter the auction house. A profane curse exited her lips as she frantically turned to the source of the oppressive air which had afflicted everybody, and it was toward the stage where the auctioneer was standing.
Swire blinked as she turned away from almost grabbing the amnesiac and dragging him out of the auction house to give him a piece of her mind, as her Feline ears and tail sprung upwards from the electric shock that had come over her nerves. Her neck darted toward where Ch'en had also turned to, and came to the same conclusion as her. The item stuck in the container beside the auctioneer was rattling, and the glass surrounding it was starting to crack straight at the seams.
"What the fuck?" The blue-haired Lung was the first to speak as she moved toward the table off to the side where silverware was, and grabbed the knife meant for cutting steak as an instrument of defense for herself. "The hell's happening? Swire!" She called toward the other woman while entering a defensive stance, her gaze shifting between the two other people beside her and the object on the stage, which had caused people to go into a frenzy—completely forgetting the scene that occurred before.
"Why are you asking ME?!" The blonde-haired tigress yelled whilst the oppressive air of the room continued to build up, causing some people to faint, and causing some others were shrieking and floundering all over the place in order to get out of the way of the demented object. "What am I supposed to know? Shit—might as well ask me if I know anything about it like our resident amnesiac here, huh?!" The Feline turned toward the black-haired man who was simply watching the object on the stage continue to pulsate star-crossed energy with… vested interest? The fuck?
Ch'en noticed it too, and called out to him. "You—what did you do?! What happened with that object? No scratch that—" a million questions overcame her as she placed a hand on the black-haired man's shoulder, shaking him in order to get an answer out of him. "Come on! Snap out of it!" The dragon lady growled before the sound of glass shattering could be heard, and an immense zephyr had coursed through the room.
Everybody bore the burden of the gale that had shot outwards, bouncing between walls and sending all sorts of fabric, accessories, and everything in-between flying. The auctioneer who stood at the forefront of it had nothing else to say as he was launched backwards into the wall, tearing the curtain of the stage and sending stilts of broken wood springing alongside him. The microphone wailed amongst the wind, as it spun around at the epicenter of the tornado that seemed to be forming.
The doors all shut from the wind, causing the people who were attempting to exit to screech out in despair at the sudden action which had happened. Heads were turned, and it was toward the object flying in the air as if it were some celestial apparition, all three of its prongs ready to skewer anything in its path. That was what they saw of it, an apparatus of pure decadent destruction, filled with such malevolence that it would drown out the entire environment in which it was present.
The black-haired man's breath stopped at that moment, as it slowly floated upwards at the epicenter of the room, manipulating the wind's unmitigated allegiance to the sky with such ease that it left him captivated. Despite the commands of the two women grabbing at his shoulders and attempting to get him to back away from the railings which were approaching the divine object acting as a totem of his interest, his feet never budged.
As chaos reached its peak, and the cries of the subjects inside had become ever so defined, the object known as Hiten twitched—and pointed its three prongs toward him. The world froze as his pupils constricted, the two orbs becoming tools of analysis that could only project the most defined detail toward him. The many jewels, towels, utensils, and other objects in-between now turned as wayward objects to the Trishula's whims had now become as slow as a turtle before his vision, the same occurrence which he had witnessed before.
"Ryomen Sukuna."
A voice invaded his ears, holding a stature that he could only describe as mighty. The tune of its pitch was magnificent, something which he believed shouldn't belong in this world in the first place. The object continued to hum with a faint rustle of air around it, distorting the very environment which it existed and took precedence in. Utterly immaculate, it was completely, and utterly immaculate…
"Your body has shrunken. Your strength has fallen. Your eyes have become decadentless. Oh, great calamity, where has the whims of fate taken you once more? Have the stars finally aligned at the precipice of your defeat? Answer me not, for we have reunited at long last."
The words made no sense to him, as if he should be knowing what the item—Hiten—was even pontificating about. There was a sense of jeopardy that continued to tear at his nerves and scream at him to do something in the presence of such a danger in front of him. The amnesiac could give no response, as the object twitched once more, a faint shimmer of its exorbitant presence.
"One thousand years ago, and now—how has the test of time changed you? Let us make this discovery."
A blink.
He blinked once.
An object was embedded in his heart.
Two yells were heard behind him with the thundering rustles of footsteps, while he stared downwards.
Hiten had pierced his heart.
A/N: Might have gone a bit too quick on this one, but I really just wanted to get the introductory chapter out of the way. Potentially a slow-burn fic.
With what happened in this chapter, I'll leave it up to the reader's assumptions why Megumi was called Sukuna by Hiten. I had to do some headcanons with the Cursed Tool by researching some of its origins, but hopefully I came up with something satisfactory.
I don't know why, but I really like amnesiac crossovers. Maybe because I really like mystery or smth, even if amnesiac fics are seen to create an artificial sense of mystery for some. For some reason, it's not that case for me (does it feel artificial for you guys?). I guess it just makes reveals feel more impactful, as even the user of them feels surprised by it and not just the other characters seeing it.
I just REALLY love them.
Just like Dhrallis/Thulium (The main author of The Strongest Sorcerer of Tomorrow, I'm one of his co-authors, but only wrote like 0.01% of what he's written in that story), I also really love stakes!
Sadly, unlike Dhrallis/Thulium, I can't write 10k words per chapter every 2-3 days.
This was going to be a Blue Archive x Jujutsu Kaisen Crossover (because Megumi has allusions to Yakushi Nyorai and Avalokiteshvara in Buddhist mythology), but I decided to settle with Arknights, since I've been reading a lot of them recently and have been fiending for more.
ALSO, Idk if I'm gonna include other JJK characters. From the beginning of this chapter, I'm sure you guys probably know what has happened with the description I gave.
Leave some reviews, this is my first ever story, so I'd like to know what you guys know.
Anyways, enough rambling, Senzai out! :)
(P.S. I will be including Hindu, Buddhist, and Shinto mythology in relation to Jujutsu Society in this fic, if Hiten was anything to go by.)