Even by the window’s side, the afternoon daylight shone through onto the desk by the side of the room. Articles of folded clothing stacked on top, stretched out hair ties, pens, docunts—a few half-heartedly painted canvases were leaned against the legs.
Using cloth and a bowl of water, Jotou cleaned off brushes that had long dried with paint within the bristles. Eyes hazy and warm—each movent of her hands going off reflex at this point.
’I want pizza...’ The blonde grimaced. ’Might be too greasy. Is it the dicine? Hmm.. I guess pizzas in this world are less fast food-y.’ Her hands stopped working.
Realizing how slouched she was, she stretched back up in her seat, limb by limb; low mutters of relief escaped her lips until it was a full yawn. ’What if I paint my sword?’
Her ragged yellow coat was splayed across the floor. She reached down and took the blade that laid sheath-less atop it. Under the light and her gaze, the armite blade still shined as pristinely as when she first won it.
Her thumb grazed along the broad side of the sword; however unbreakable it was, it certainly would be paintable... The paint would surely fall off in flecks or dust by the ti she sparked it, but that was a different problem.
All the clashes and the shocks; not a single dent or a scratch- Wait a minute. She narrowed her eyes and leaned in close; was that? Her fingernail lightly scratched a spot at the base of the blade and a flake of armite chipped off of it.
The chair scratched forward and she hunched over the table. It did not matter how much she squinted nor how much closer she got; the dots and tiny patches of discolouration were apparent.
She quickly took the towel she had been using and rubbed the sword up and down. A sword she never polished nor maintained ever since she got it.
Bit by bit, like peeling off long-dried stickers off of a wall, no more flecks ca off. Now the patches, tiny as they may be, were much clearer to the naked eye. Specks of brighter platinum-golds peeked through the more faded colour of the overall blade.
There was no specific part that had a higher concentration of them, it was randomly dotted throughout. And the damp cloth splayed out in her hand had all the bits that had fallen off.
She searched through her aching mind of the cause and recalled a similar occurrence; one that caused the plates of the Frosting Wind’s armour to flake off—Beauregard’s acidity.
The blonde breathed a little easier; at least it was not the enchantnt on the blade disappearing or that she had overused or mishandled it. The Skyslayer was not going to fall apart the next ti she entered the fray.
Around the upper half of the blade she also noticed a scratch mark, unlike the other patinas along the tal. Sothing singular had skimd across it, making a very light impact.
She had not inspected this too closely before, however this was a scar from the prior year; when a mage-piercer-like bullet was shot out of a rifle in Hartamat.
’Maybe Niah was more right than she realized.’ Was the age of magic truly at a decline? ’...Indestructible my ass.’ Only then did she check the handle. It was as she feared.
Due to her hand around it, the two beads of the grey cords had been singed off, but the cord her master gave was at least half present, just not dangling. She sighed deeply.
Sword in hand, she walked out of the room and saw Kazuo who was leaving his room as well.
Detective Namora glanced at her and then the armite blade. "Going sowhere?"
"The fridge."
His eyes gestured to the sword.
"Oh," Jotou lifted it up. "Just holding it, it feels nice; makes feel a little more powerful I guess, even if it’s corroded."
He observed it, "I figure that’s because of Beauregard."
"That level of magic was enough to start breaking through the enchantnts. Then again, it being made out of armite probably doesn’t help its case."
"Does the enchantnt dull over ti?" he asked.
Jotou pivoted the blade around, "I, don’t actually know. I don’t think it should. Do enchantnts fade if they’re not maintained properly?"
"I’m not soone to ask that. Logically, things can’t last forever. Everything deteriorates without maintenance, I assu the sa goes for magic," he held a hand to his chin.
"Well... magic’s magic, but I don’t know if it’ll stay magical," her eyes waned. She displayed the bullet scratch to Kazuo more clearly. "All the potential power that Beauregard had with the aid of all the souls the cult had collected, made even an indestructible sword start to crack.
But a bullet made by a madman in a desert made nearly as much as an impact on it. It makes ... hopeful," she smiled faintly. "Human ingenuity will persevere. Sad about the sword, but co to think of it, how did you manage to catch a new god of all things?"
Kazuo contemplated for a mont. He then unholstered his pistol, "With an illegal firearm made by a friend. I don’t consider the Deuctus Cult to be the underestimating type, but it’s no secret the leaders look down on everyone not in the sa pantheon.
The Unknown bit off more than he could chew. He left a trail—not carelessly, it was deliberate but confusing. He made a ga of not being able to be tracked down or caught. He didn’t gloat too much, but it was enough for .
Soon enough I cornered that greedy bastard in the burnt ruins of Castle Nexie. All his followers gone and no more tal around to use for his magic. I shot him thirteen tis across the body."
"...Bit much, but understandable."
"I proved a point," he exhaled. "They’re not as untouchable as they think they are. I can’t say for sure he underestimated . The cult itself disappeared after that happened, but I can assure you they didn’t plan on that happening."
"Hm," Jotou spun her sword between her fingers. "D’you think sothing similar’s happening now? Like the gang thing you investigated yesterday, how’d that turn up?"
"Nothing tangible. I don’t have the authority to just brutalize and arrest whoever I want—without sufficient evidence. But you shouldn’t be worrying about that right now. I was gonna ask you to watch over Kineko today."
"Do you even need to ask at this point? It’s sorta standard now."
"Just informing you, since you’re the only one left in the house. She prefers any of you over a babysitter. Regardless, how are you feeling kid?"
"Better, I think," Jotou winced an eye. "I don’t feel as sick, but my head’s hurting more. All my senses feel numb; weirdly even my shock-sense thingy. It feels off, like there’s a ntal block."
"And how does it normally work?"
"As far as I know, it warns of any malcontent while my guard’s down and if soone tries to pry into my mind."
"Guard down. Why’s that?" he held a hand to his chin.
Jotou knitted her brows and shrugged, "It’s not like I chose it, it’s just what my affinity does."
His thumb brushed across his stubble. He jerked his eyebrows once, "Maybe I’m applying too much logic here. If it only works with your guard down, couldn’t you train yourself to have your guard down as much as possible, even during danger?"
"I don’t know if I can of all things be relaxed when I’m fighting," she then touched the cord that her master gifted. ’Was he always relaxed?’
"Just a thought. I have a better understanding of Fuko’s affinity these days that all the signs in the past seem more obvious now. She ate so much, yet rarely ever used the toilet."
The blonde’s face crumpled, "Gross, I didn’t need to hear that..."
"It’s a normal thing kid."
"Doesn’t make it any less disgusting or that it needs to be talked about," she scowled.
Kazuo looked down at her expression; he chuckled. He then ruffled her hair and turned for the stairs, "Get well soon kid."
Jotou continued glaring at him as he went... ’Did he just?’ "I’m not a child," she told over the banister.
_
Elsewhere in the afternoon, a carriage sat in wait outside Dolpool Academy. Students went about their final periods or were strolling around school grounds, their classes having finished.
"I wanna go by the company and see what Alicia found," Fuko uttered as she paused from staring out the window.
"Wait for Asobi at least," Hotaru said over the newspaper in front of her.
"I know."
"What pray tell does thou desire to discover? Lest it be mine misapprehension, twas nought more than mislaid hooliganism, was it not?" Tiffany toyed with the band of her eyepatch.
"Things are never what they seem," Fuko replied. "Sothing’s been bothering about their sudden absence too. Why has the cult been playing cat and mouse this whole ti?
Sure, the new gods aren’t exactly as powerful as Beauregard’s true god form, but they’re not exactly weak. Put them all together and they could take over cities in minutes. Instead, it’s just been targeted attacks. So why?" she held a hand to her chin.
"Maybe it’s a part of their final gambit," Hotaru suggested.
Fuko gave a side-eye, "Mind elaborating?"
"Well," Hotaru exhaled. "In a court case, you don’t just throw out your final statent and say the culprit’s guilty in the first minute.
When you have all the proof you need, even if you’re unbelievably sure that you’ll win the case, you still need to lay out your case one thing at a ti and build out your win. It’s also how your opposition can play their cards and prove their claim—by finding holes in single instances of evidence.
It’s all in the na of a fair court, cause there’s always a chance your opposition’s got sothing up their sleeve to win the case too, and you have to make sure you can quash it. Not to say that whatever the cult’s up to is the na of fairness, but If I apply that logic to the cult, I’d say they’re being thodical."
"In case we have sothing up our sleeve? That’d imply we actually have sothing that can defeat them without a doubt," Fuko scoffed.
"Clearly the cult think so," Hotaru’s ears folded down. "Otherwise I don’t see why they haven’t just taken over Burnetrout by force."
Fuko stared out the window, "Fair point. It could also be that they’re waiting on sothing to happen. But who knows the timing for that..."
_
"Tink."
"Kineko?" Jotou’s voice ca through the kitchen.
"Yeah aunty?" the little girl said from the dining table.
"Was that you?"
"Hmh? What was ?"
"That sound," Jotou turned off the stove as the hot pepper soup had co to a bubbling boil.
"No aunty."
The blonde knitted her brows. She walked out of the kitchen, wiping her hands clean on a towel. Kineko sat at the dining table, colouring in a drawing.
"Can we eat lunch?" her legs swung.
Jotou peered up at the ceiling, "In a minute, let it cool first." She unzipped her jacket and rubbed the nape of her neck. ’Am I hearing things now...? I swear I felt a jolt.’ "Don’t touch the soup."
"Okay!"
The blonde kept looking left and right while she approached the base of the staircase. She glanced up.
...
...
’I don’t like this.’ Was her paranoia just getting to her? "Actually Kineko, can you co to ?"
Kineko looked back and tilted her head quizzically, "Is evewrything okay aunty?" She slid off of the chair and rushed over to the blonde’s side.
"No, everything’s okay. Just, stay close to for a second," Jotou held the girl’s hand and crouched down. With her head lowered, she began a slow ascent up the steps.
There was no other sound other than the heartbeat invading her eardrums. Her hand gripped Kineko’s hand a little tighter and as her head poked up the staircase, there was...
...
...nothing. Just a couple of room doors open and the ambient noises of the house that faded back into reality around her. She stood upright on the second floor and sighed. She flicked the side of her head. ’Get a grip affinity.’
"Aunty Spauky-Eyes I’m scawred," Kineko trembled slightly; her jovial expression soured.
Jotou took a breath and smiled at her, "It’s okay, auntie was just-" She felt a jolt of sparks flitter through her hair weakly. She stood alert, her eyes wide open as she twisted her head around all over the place...
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