Sunset Partings of Sunrise Cliffsides

by Londonette

Summary:

Aionios is gone and Origin restored, but life does not settle into any sort of "normal" for the newly intersected Bionis and Alrest in the days, weeks, and four years to follow. In fact, no one even remembers that thousand-year war lost to a second’s breadth.

No one except Noah, whose past life keeps cycling around to haunt him and his decisions. Torn between what should be a sense of currency and truth and his heart continually yearning for that special girl he sees in silhouettes, shadows, and mirrors of Gran Dell, he embarks on a journey of self-discovery as perhaps the only person who can connect the discontinuous lines that blur his dreams and everyone's reality.

AN 9/13/25: it feels like every week i add one of these...sigh. my schedule's a wreck. week of 9/14-9/20 will have 2 uploads.
dunno where dunno when, but i will make sure y'all are well-fed!

Notes:

Hi hi hi!! This is my first work! :)

I can't promise any real quality per se, but I caaaaan promise at least the first 3 chapters appearing. For now, have the first 2,500 words with the knowledge that all the remaining context and wildness is coming within the next couple of days or so. From there, it'll be a TENTATIVE a once/week upload schedule at around the same chapter length.

I hope you guys enjoy!!

Chapter 1: Commencement

No one remembered it. In fact, Noah was nigh-certain no one wanted to.

 

How they could forget those sunset hues as an opposing cliff-face disappeared into the horizon, those supernatural structures turned into weapons of destruction and violence, those smiling mornings with little more than a sense of purpose and the occasional broiling of coffee beans for the person keeping watch. It was unreal.

 

He could blink and return to a world rich with history and life teeming from every corner. He could blink and return to a world slowly carving itself hollow in pursuit of an endless conflict. He could blink and see everything no one else could.

 

Then, an effeminate voice singing through the pipes of the most delicate musical wind he had heard, and a thought. In that moment, to follow. In hindsight, to hold onto those memories.

 

Slow, steady steps turned into tempestuous tapping against cobbled corners filled with bystanders who most certainly were pretending not to hear it — because how could they miss it? The sound was right there: all Noah needed to do was follow it. A spell had been cast upon him, and the crowds of faces dwindled away; the main square fading from frontal to peripheral views; the sunsetting skies already ahead and the tolling of the bells no longer as important as finding it.

 

It must have had a source, surely. Why else would that melody bounce on the air, growing and fading with each flicker of the eyes and turn of the head? In truth, the question still confounded the young Noah, stumbling over feet and passing through busy intersections perpendicular to their traffic flow.

 

Another blink, another memory: this time of a silver-haired woman with the most peculiar ears. Her smile like a crescent moon, her hands like the sun in his earthly palms. A voice that must have been hers: Our feelings upon these melodies…

 

Then, a dead end. Noah had mistakenly opened his eyes too soon, crashing straight into some poor High Entian woman exclaiming in pain. His gaze flickered up to hers, and a name floated to his tongue without even thinking about it. Sigrún, it was.

 

Apparently they had met.

 

Noah stumbled out a haphazard apology before continuing on his path, finally breaking free of the sea of people settling in for the fireworks show.

 

Mason walls lined with shades of cracking grays filled his sight, the air crisp with the first ether lights churning to life as he began trying to tune his ears in again. A left, then a right, certainly. But then it came to a T — the sound laid unequivocally ahead, and no direction seemed true.

 

Blink: a uniform-clad man set on his knees before a masked woman, the Queen. A crowd just like the one he had weaved through, and the motes of air rising to the sky. The flute melody persisted, but this new one seemed sadder. Emptier. Less…

 

A dead end. His eyes flung open, staring straight at a flickering ether light. A pathway illuminated under its uncertain umbrella: a path up.

 

Noah had never once scaled a building. That was something Lanz and Eunie fought for dominance over during their daily misadventures throughout Colony 9, screaming for Noah to adjudicate their rounds as they placed their feet in cracking bricks between shimmying vantage points before thrusting themselves upward and thumping against cold metal.

 

He always called it a tie; it never satisfied their competitive spirits. They always found themselves digging their nails between more bricks or metal sheets or their bodies thrust in the air with sheer willpower and determination to not be the loser that time. Really, Noah just didn’t want to break that delicate balance: that chorus of excited giggling and grunting that brought them so much joy. In the end, he could care less who won, so long as they kept going for it.

 

Noah let his tender, untrained fingers curl between thick bricks, struggling to find a place where he could place his weight and use it to throw himself to the ledge hanging just outside of his jumping range. Pressing his shoes into the wall, he failed to even attempt that jump. But the flute kept going, kept stealing his attention away from the darkening sky and passing clouds…

 

He eventually ditched the idea of scaling the building like his friends — he just wasn’t built for it, he decided, at least at that moment in time. Struck by a slight pang of guilt and the stings of scratched nailbeds, he almost wished he was as competitive. That he joined in on their reckless abandon.

 

Blink: purple ivies and a Machina boy, the latter showing Noah, the silver-haired girl, and four others how to place their hands properly. Once you have your momentum, you just pull up and the vines won’t toss you. See?

 

A dead end. The Gran Dell City Ramparts didn’t feature any of those special purple vines that boy was talking about. Not even in the Historical District with parts of the old Bionis’ shoulder blade sticking out did vines grow this high up. That was a distinct Colony 9 feature, and even then, not really.

 

All the running was slowly beginning to catch up to the young Noah, with his breath slowly growing shakier and less…together with each step. It was strange: he should not have been out of breath just yet. Perhaps it was all the things he had been seeing beneath his eyelids — they were tiring him. Perhaps it was his attempts at being like his friends — they weren’t there to guide him. But perhaps, it was because of that flute, too.

 

Noah began to recognize the melody the more it played — all those feelings, those flowing souls, those red lights turning aqua…and he knew the song would end soon.

 

Then he’d lose everything. So he ignored his pantings and his legs fighting for an early mercy, eyes intent on that prize.

 

Corner. Strides. Another corner. A turn in the right direction, then, a ladder. Lonely, it offered Noah a way onto the suburban rooftops, and quickly, it gave a new perspective.

 

He sat to take a breath, resting up against the gables behind him as his gaze turned upward, to the passing sky and swimming clouds. Of the ceruleans meeting the scarlets behind the pristine snow-like color of the Alcamoth, floating imperviously off in the distance.

 

Amazingly, his view was perfect. So perfect, that when the first sparks of celebration ignited the air, he had forgotten nigh-entirely about that flute guiding him through.

 

The sky settled with a pop, leaving behind only the gunpowder fizzling away in the wind, and then more. The more it crackled, the less the flute mattered. And the more Noah rested, the more he began to appreciate what he remembered. Even if not the most useful things ever, Noah knew the real beauty was in having them.

 

Instinctively, his fingers coiled around something tubular left beside him, and his trance was yet again broken by the surprise of it all: he was holding the flute. In his grasp, it was silent. When he returned it to its place, it was silent. Noah hadn’t touched an instrument or a craft yet — that was a Joran thing.

 

His careful sculptures and beautiful yarn-weavings made him the perfect artist. Art had been claimed already, but music was an untapped market in Noah’s circle of friends.

 

Blink: of a weary-looking man in a specialized uniform with long, blond hair tied back into a low ponytail glancing at Noah, saying he was good here, and smiling before disappearing.

 

A dead end. Noah could barely even wrap his head around that one.

 

A voice in the distance and the tappings of boots against metal, “Nooaaaah?” Eunie.

 

He sprung up, stuffing away the thoughts of his magical visions with the flute in pockets, searching for the source of the new sound as his hand flailed in the air.

 

“Noah!” She yelled, gasping and dashing out toward him, eventually calling, leading, and settling their other friends, Lanz and Joran, beside him. “Man, where’d you go? You missed the best part of the ceremony!”

 

“I did?” Noah cocked his head slightly, staring up at the gunpowder-stained clouds.

 

Lanz laughed, tapping himself on the shoulder, “Yeah, you knucklehead — the Empress gave a whole speech!”

 

“Oh,” Noah frowned, shifting back up against the gable, “I’m sorry guys. There was just this really pretty flute I heard and…”

 

Joran cut him off, “Flute? What flute?”

 

He was tempted to reach into his pocket and show them — this one, see? It was playing this beautiful melody and I just followed it to its source — but the words died in his mouth, a lie shuffling them away instead, “I thought I heard a band passing through and I suppose I got a little sidetracked.”

 

“Weird,” Eunie slumped beside Noah, “but that probably ain’t the worst thing to happen. Did you get a nice view of the fireworks at least?”

 

A nonchalant shrug. Another lie, but this one of omission.

 

Lanz yawned a little, stretching around before glancing up at the dimming sky and buzzing ether lamps, “Aw man, I think we stayed out too late.”

 

“Aww, you guys have to go all the way back to Colony 9? Maaan…” Eunie grumbled, “Do you have to? Can’t you just stay over tonight or something? We missed Noah at the common…common-sense-meant…stuff.”

 

Noah wasn’t quite sure what word Eunie had missed there, but he was sure he had never heard of it before.

 

Blink: a discussion about 10th-termers and homecomings. About the Queen and of those evil Agnians stealing lives. Little of their terminologies struck with the young Noah, but he definitely knew them when he overheard them.

 

“Sorry, Eunie, I don’t think my Pa’d let me. It already took a lot to get him to let me come all the way to Gran Dell to see the Empress’ 100th birthday stuff,” Joran’s lips sank at the edges, strings of guilt pulling them southward.

 

“Hey, but we’ll see each other in class in a few days?” Noah offered, trying to remain optimistic about it. Even if he, too, would have to take the shuttle down, it was better than letting his own thoughts overwhelm him.

 

“But it’s not the same! It’s only once every two weeks that we get to hang out in-person! I don’t like all that tech stuff!” Her wanting wasn’t unfounded. At the end of the day, she was born in the Alcamoth and she always talked about her parents making her help with a lot of the gardening and clean-ups inside. Because of all the beautifications projects happening with it, school was on the backend of the Empress’ priorities — there was already a school in Colony 9, so why not send the kids there while they dealt with the Entian problems?

 

So that’s exactly what happened to Eunie. Each morning, she’d have an image of herself projected into the Colony classroom, and she’d learn with the rest of 9’s youth. There, she and Noah met. She and Joran met. She and Lanz met. They became friends by proximity, and now that proximity was being stolen from her again — that, Noah knew.

 

He conjured up something to try and cheer her up, “Well, um, there’s a shuttle leaving at midnight, too? Even if Joran can’t stay until then, maybe Lanz and I can?”

 

“Oh yeah, the midnight bus!” Lanz sprung back up, “Oh, but man…my parents might get real mad. They’re still mad at me about that math quiz I failed…I dunno if I wanna give them a reason to not let me come back to Gran Dell.”

 

Eunie looked at Noah expectantly, and Noah just shrugged. The midnight bus was his idea, and Noah didn’t quite have an intense adult presence looming over him. “I can stay.”

 

— [] — [] —

 

That was four years ago.

 

Nowadays, Noah snuck up to Gran Dell for different reasons. He would always find some excuse to go if he had the funds to, whether it be to see Eunie up in her ivory prison or to try gaining a few extra Gs or even to just go back up to the spot he first saw the sky light ablaze — he practically spent more time on the Shoulder than he did in Colony 9.

 

That, naturally, didn’t come without its consequences. And today, his expert disguise wasn’t enough.

 

“Noah?” An older gentleman’s voice struck out as he faced the young teen, a tired ring shining from his eyes as he folded his arms and sighed, “I thought we talked about this.”

 

“I have my fare this time,” Noah protested, showing the gentleman his G, “I’m not sneaking on.”

 

“Well, you know the deal. Colonel doesn’t want you out to Gran Dell anymore.”

 

“And you know mine, all due respect — I’m not doing anyone any harm up there.”

 

“Okay, kiddo, look. I kinda like having a job, y’know? The Colonel’s my boss’ boss’ boss or whatever the ranking actually is. Can you just…not today?”

 

Not until I see her again, Noah’s tongue fell like a brick in his mouth. Not until I hear that melody again. He wanted to say what he was thinking, but he knew not to.

 

He sighed, just conceding his position, “Fine. I’ll come back with permission.”

 

Noah wasn’t quite so proud of that rule. Minors had to get permission by their guardians to go between the Colony and Shoulder — someone had snuck aboard and gone missing too many times. Now it acted as a thorn in his side.

 

But.

 

Noah waited for the gentleman to process someone else’s request, slowly trudging away from the scene before making a dash for the ship’s entrance.

 

He heard his name thrown out in the wind behind him and didn’t care one bit. The Colonel and his rules could find someone else to harass. And eventually, the ship would fly anyway — Gran Dell needed a shuttle, and they wouldn’t settle for a delay like kicking off one small teenager.

 

Noah was wrong. The ship didn’t fly. He had to be escorted off by multiple Colony Defense Soldiers (CDSes) and was then yelled at for reckless abandon of security and safety protocols.

 

Blink: That silver-haired woman with the funny ears staring off into the moonlight, reflecting on her time slowly slipping away. She snapped at Noah and ran off, apologizing the next morning. Her hands were the sun in his earthly palms.

 

A dead end: because Noah was now threatened with never returning to Gran Dell. Threatened with being put at the top of a no-fly list. And he had to listen.

 

But their hands would meet again soon, that he knew.

Chapter 2: Running Rampant

Notes:

hello everyone! another delicious 2500 words for you all this fine evening

i apologize for the slight delay; i took the november sat this morning so i had to spend some time prepping for that

chapter 3 should be out soon, but again, no promises on exact times because that's unrealistic and i hate lying to people

enjoy :33

“Clearly, you just simply don’t understand how this is menace of the highest degree!” He scolded, practically screaming at Noah for his reckless acts, “In fact, I don’t understand, either. So why don’t you try explaining to me what exactly you’ve got running you up the wall?”

 

Noah grumbled, fiddling with his thumbs as he avoided the Colonel’s gaze, flickering between hotspots and dead space alike to try and maintain more of his due diligence to the man. With a sigh and a heaving of his shoulders, he gave the same story he’d been giving him: “I’m going to visit them. They were heroes—“

 

The Colonel waved a hand to stop him, at least slightly troubled by the repetitive tale, “Don’t even start with that. You have family down here, too.”

 

Right, because of course Noah did. A family — because of course everyone else did. So he shouldn’t have been an exception, certainly.

 

“Okay, then what story would you like to hear? You already know my reasons. If I weren’t stuck down here, I’d never have even come back to 9,” Noah smoothed his lips into a fine line, struggling to maintain what little composure he had left. He wasn’t going to budge on this, even if he had to lie straight to the Colonel’s face.

 

“Would you stop saying things like that? You are 14 years old, damnit! You are NOT capable of running off on your own yet!” The Colonel turned a shade pinker, hands flailing about in rhythm with each word he spat out at the teen, “Go hang out with your friends! Go to class! Go, I dunno, get a hobby! Just stop—“

 

He had all those things.

 

The Colonel’s rantings began to fade into the background, each word echoing meaninglessly between walls and ears to Noah’s brain as he let his mind wander.

 

It was nowhere near the first time he’d been yelled at by the Colonel; the way he was going, it wasn’t going to be the last. When did I become like Lanz?

 

Lanz had always gotten into trouble when they were younger, usually for his poor academic record, but much more harshly for the shenanigans he, Noah, Eunie, and Joran would get up to.

 

That was his charm: being untouchable. Unbotherable.

 

Being able to run around the Colony like he owned it, throwing the day’s hours right back to the sky as he blazed about, making and finding new fun along every path…

 

“—are you even listening to me, boy?” The Colonel raged, “Look at me when I’m speaking to, no, yelling at you!”

 

Noah snapped out of his trance, adjusting awkwardly in his seat to meet the man’s gaze again. He didn’t actually start listening again, though — that would require the Colonel to say something new.

 

Something other than I know you’re a good kid — you’re just going through puberty or a tough time or some weird growing pains (whatever the situation called for) but you can’t keep breaking the rules like this.

 

Something other than a ridiculous lecture, because they couldn’t exactly take anything else away from Noah other than his time anymore.

 

In that moment, he wished he were Lanz. If he were going to get into trouble like the kid, he might as well know how to handle it like him, too. Brush it off, say something nonchalant and just show up the next day like nothing happened.

 

That’s not fair. The thought sprung into Noah’s mind, not quite his own. Not fair to him.

 

Well, what about it? He tried opening a dialogue with that strange reasoning, but it was futile. Innately, Noah knew the answer: that he was idealizing someone else’s risky behaviors. But why did he know that?

 

His fingers slid along his pockets, left hand eventually settling on the grooves of the flute he salvaged half a lifetime ago, mind reciting the old melody that drew him to it.

 

Then, miraculously, something happened. The Colonel said something new: “I’ve known you for too long to let you just explode like this.”

 

Oh, he calmed down…a little.

 

The Colonel shuffled around in one of his multiplicities of pants packets, eventually handing Noah a small, folded sheet of green paper — a flyer of some kind — and saying, “So, you’re getting a hobby. One that isn’t disappearing for days at a time.”

 

Noah gently unfolded the paper, reading the bold header text on it: COLONY 9 JUNIOR SYMPHONIC ORCHESTRA.

 

His eyes glazed over the rest of the flyer, lips pursing as he tried to ignore his excitement from bubbling up. He’d never heard of an actual orchestra playing in 9. Then again, he hadn’t exactly been spending most of his time there.

 

Gran Dell had its share of musicians — the loud, arrogant brasses and the dramatic flavoring of drums and guitars. Between Eunie and I wonder what the sky looks like up there visits, Noah never once missed a band play (at least as far as he knew).

 

He would go early, stay late — schmooze with the coolest-looking performer before getting dragged back to the Colony sometime between midnight and dawn, just to repeat the cycle all over again.

 

But then again, he was mad at the Colonel. For stopping him today — Noah was actually going up to try and meet one of those musicians to go beg for lessons. Without saying anything, more of giving a glare to the man staring all anticipant at him, Noah gave his answer.

 

“You can act all defiant all you want — it’s happening. Mandated. By me. It adds an extra hour to your school day. Every day.” He gave a smug grin, his unreasonably-sized mustache hiding the growing wrinkles and smile lines beneath.

 

It took a moment, but Noah realized.

 

The public shuttle to Gran Dell ran four times a day: once at dawn, once at midday, once in the afternoon, and once at midnight. Private services had appeared over time, but many of them either charged ridiculous prices or didn’t service minors (especially Noah, considering his track record) — so he was stuck with just those four times.

 

He would have to miss class to take the morning or midday busses, and that would tip off the Colonel way faster than anything else. The midnight shuttle was often too late in the night for Noah to sneak out and try getting to, even though it was his most reliable method upward with the fewest, sleepiest Colony Defense Soldiers.

 

So that afternoon shuttle was the most frequent time Noah hopped on. Only problem? It left almost right after class got out.

 

The Colonel didn’t care about his musical interests. He cared about stopping Noah from reaching that shuttle on-time.

 

Finally, the words escaped his lips, “You’re kidding me.”

 

“What, not up to your liking? Unfortunately for you, you’re already all signed up.” Gloating.

 

He was gloating.

 

“I would be thinking of what instrument you’ll play now. You pick tomorrow afternoon.”

 

That’s fine, Noah slowly re-folded the flyer and placed it in his front pocket, right beside his flute, Because I’ll find another way up there anyway.

 

Even though I think you know that.

 

— [] — [] —

 

“Wait, what? I thought you loved music?” Joran seemed confused when Noah told him about it the following day, “Isn’t this a good thing?”

 

Yes, absolutely, Noah wanted to say, but he was still too annoyed with the circumstances to admit he was excited. So instead, he shrugged it off, “It’s more about being forced to do it that I don’t like.”

 

“Well, I mean,” Joran began, fidgeting with a small carving project between his fingers, “…maybe it has merit outside having to do it.”

 

Noah’s eyes drifted downward a little, meeting the beady gaze of Joran’s signature miniatures — this one of himself. He often kept them as little charms or as birthday presents for friends, delicately shaping and painting small bits of old oak near the perimeter of 9 until they fit on keychains.

 

Blink: fires, all around. The thwips of flame lashing out and lurching up at masoned buildings, curling around metallic crates and beams until they shone as fervently as the heat itself. Cries from dozens upon dozens of first and second-termers, struggling to breathe or to follow evacuation patterns in the empty, hollowing ruins that surrounded them.

 

That green hair glinting and flying with the chaotic winds as names kept being screamed, limbs kept finding themselves crushed under continuously-crashing rubble, and eventually: a smile.

 

“Noah? Noooah?” Joran waved his hand in front of Noah’s face, snapping him back to attention, “You good?”

 

With a jolt, he gave a swift, almost practiced response, “Yeah, I’m fine. I just zoned out a little.”

 

“Right, well…” Joran stood, pointing to the clock, “I’ve got to get on home. My parents want me to help stock shelves and stuff — you know the deal.”

 

He did. Ever since they entered secondary school, all Joran did was go to class and help with his parents’ business, usually supplying a few special trinkets or manning the store.

 

No further words passed as the two split paths, Noah having stood still as Joran exited the now empty classroom, now tempted to just prop himself against his desk and stare at a wall for a few hours, pretending to have gone to practice.

 

It’s the first day, they’re probably going to check that I show up. He rationalized, sighing as he pressed his pocket for his instrument, gathered his bag, and trudged over a few halls to find that, in fact, he was being waited on.

 

“Oh, hello!” What looked to be a teenager with long, blonde hair greeted him at the door, “Are you Noah?”

 

“I am,” he said, gauging the person in front of him. He stood a few inches taller than Noah did with sad, tired-looking eyes and an upward crescent moon for lips. Noah recognized him — in flashes of blinked memories, he had seen this man. The two knew each other intimately, or at least so by Noah’s standards, but there wasn’t a hint of recognition in his eyes now.

 

As it was with everyone.

 

“My name’s—“

 

“Crys, right?”

 

“Oh, uh, I didn’t realize you knew it. Did the Colonel already give you my information?” Crys laughed awkwardly, trying to hide the distinct tones of shock lacing his voice as he quickly extended a hand out to Noah.

 

Noah just nodded and curled his lips into a half-smile, shaking his hand, “Something like that.”

 

“I suppose this is a little easier on the both of us, then, haha,” he smirked to match Noah’s (though by no means did it feel the same), and guided him inside a large, dome-like practice room.

 

A large, empty, dome-like practice room.

 

Crys gave him a quick tour of the room, perfectly set up for any new student to try out any instrument set in front of them. The brasses laid in rows beside the woodwinds beside the strings beside the small and then large drums. Trumpet, trombone, four saxophones, something that looked impractical, circular trumpet, tuba; really small flute, flute, clarinet, slightly larger clarinet, really big clarinet…

 

Noah recognized maybe a fraction of the instruments, letting his gaze wash over them absentmindedly. He already had his pick. He’d been fighting with his flute to rekindle that melody for four years at that point.

 

The longer Noah stared, the more Crys explained: that’s a euphonium, that’s an oboe, that’s a timpani — it wasn’t going to change his pick.

 

He simply reached into his pocket and showed Crys his salvaged instrument, “It’s not metal like the one on the table, but it’s a flute.”

 

“Uh, sure, okay. Why not? Half of these instruments are the only ones of their kind, anyway. Not exactly a whole lot of bassoon players in Colony 9.” Crys nodded, “There’s quite a few flautists, though, myself included, so you’ll have plenty of help reading music and whatnot, I’m sure.”

 

“Who else?” The words slipped out of Noah’s mouth without any restraint. He swore if he recognized any of the names that Crys was about to list, he would implode.

 

A shrug: “Um, well, there’s Url, a Nopon named See-Mee-Mee, me, oh, and someone through the Alrestian Exchange Program. I think her name was…uh, it started with an M.”

 

Noah didn’t know anyone coming from that exchange program — they were always in different classes with different lunches or some ridiculous circumstances like that. He did, however, know there were a grand total of 8 of them just because of how new the idea of holographic technology was to most of the people across the sea.

 

According to Eunie, the High Entia just gave them the blueprints to their projection technology, but the Alrestian people were still just too far in any direction to make a proper exchange program. Neither of them had any specifications or specializations in the subject, but Eunie did know one of her fellow High Entian projectees who knew a guy.

 

Apparently, the Alrestians used something synonymous with the word sword to boost the frequency projections, but it was nowhere near good enough to actually integrate any meaningful percentage of their populations. Thus: the 8.

 

Noah had seen some of them in the halls sometimes; they glowed a trademark green rather than the Entian blue and they dressed in some of the strangest styles Noah had ever seen with weird crystals and spikes for limbs and accessories.

 

He couldn’t judge. He didn’t even want to — that girl he kept seeing in his dreams, she was Alrestian. Silver hair. Beautiful smile. Warm hands. A kite-shaped crystal flickering between blue and red in her chest.

 

It would be interesting to meet someone of the exchange program for real, especially a girl who played the flute.

 

It checked off all the right boxes.

 

“I see,” Noah smiled at Crys slightly, re-centering himself in the conversation they were having, “so…is this it? Was there not practice today?”

 

“Oh, no, there wasn’t. Wednesdays are reserved for individual practice or just…going home. All that I really needed you to do today was pick an instrument. You know, try something out for a bit, see how it feels, make a sound…I didn’t think you had an instrument of your own.”

 

It’s not really mine, Noah could have said, but he let the words die on his tongue. Because how was he going to explain anything to a guy that didn’t remember all the time they spent together?

 

All the time washed away by a series of pink lights turned blue.

 

All the faces washed away and separated by sea by diverging landmasses.

 

All the memories lost.

Chapter 3: Skylights

Notes:

chapter 3! i'm actually pretty damn proud of this one lol

future chapters will be out a little slower i'm sad to say -- once a week from here on out, probably tuesday nights CST?

anyway, thanks to all of ya for reading this early in; i can only promise more words (good and bad) from here on out :))

enjoy!

He just couldn’t make a sound out of it.

 

Eunie just stared at him awkwardly as he tried explaining what he’d heard earlier that night: the singing it had been making. And, in her defense, Noah sounded insane.

 

“Sorry, just to…recap,” Eunie grumbled at him, seemingly trying to wrap her head around what exactly he was trying to say, “you ditched us and the whole comments-meant ceremony with Empress Melia because you heard that flute making music?”

 

“Yes, exactly!” Noah grinned, letting it softly fade as he let his fingers coil around his new instrument, “Err, I didn’t ditch you guys. I just got distracted.”

 

His eyes flickered upward, toward the light of the full moon overhead, letting his flute glimmer nigh holographically in its silvery glow. Examining the instrument didn’t make it any less puzzling: there was an obvious bigger hole where Noah’d been haphazardly blowing into and then all the little smaller holes off to the side (7 total), but it seemed no matter what he tried or how he blew into it, it didn’t make that pretty sound.

 

Eunie shrugged, hand outstretched to inspect it herself, “Can I try? I think I’ve seen a few people using something similar.”

 

Really? Noah perked up, quickly handing over the flute. Even without saying anything, he was sure Eunie knew exactly how much he wanted information like that. She had just listened and processed his inane story about a magical instrument stealing away his attention.

 

And it wasn’t the first time that had happened: he remembered one of the memory flashes that hit him. The one with the golden man and the Queen, arms stretched wide as if welcoming all of his essence to raise to the sky. The one with the sad, empty melodies. The one that first drew his gaze to the sounds and symphonies erupting before him — not just with his ears, but his heart.

 

Maybe it was the nature of the flute being magical and only wanting to play on its own terms, only to lure Noah in and tease him with the prospects of singing those same tunes he’d heard but never actually bend to his will the right way, but a fire raged within that boy.

 

One so determined to get it right that he almost didn’t want to let it leave his grasp, but…maybe it was necessary. Just this once.

 

“Okay, well…it’s definitely a flute,” Eunie’s shoulder’s drooped a little as her hands delicately felt around the wooden stem.

 

Well, duh. Noah did his best to keep his interest in her words piqued rather than dulled. Even if she only knew the same things he did, surely she could at least say it was also a very real, very playable instrument?

 

“But it’s made of wood, which is weird,” she continued, “all of the flutes I’ve seen are made of metal and they have little flaps to press down onto the holes.”

 

“Maybe that’s an Entian thing?” Noah offered, unsure of it himself. He hadn’t exactly had any intimate experience with flautists in 9 either. Perhaps wooden flutes are Machina inventions? Aww, I wish Lanz hadn’t gone home already.

 

She returned the now incredibly mysterious instrument to him, not able to offer any real insight into it. “Probably. I know how those guys hold their metal flutes, if that might help?”

 

Eunie made a gesture with her arms, pressing them into a sort of W shape with her hands affixed as claws on the air, lips sculpted into what looked like a pucker. Noah did his best to copy her form with the real instrument, feeling his shoulders cramp up a bit at the awkward position.

 

“Yeah, something like that,” she grinned, “but I think I saw the flautists’ mouths. Like the upper half of it?”

 

What does that mean? Don’t you have to blow into the hole to make sound?

 

Noah searched his memory — something beneath his eyelids would offer help, surely. He tried returning to that golden glow with the Queen, but he saw little more than fuzzy silhouettes and blips of words that associated themselves with them. The gray-and-black silhouette was Queen. The glowing-golden man was…golden. He saw that same W shape in the flautists’ forms, but without any faces in focus, he couldn’t make out any clear techniques to replicate.

 

He groaned a little, dropping his arms back to rest and shaking his head, “Man, why’s this gotta be so hard? Why can’t I just play it like I heard it earlier?”

 

Eunie had no answer for him. How could she? The whole situation was ridiculous from top to bottom. She just leaned back and wriggled around in the underfoot grass a little, relaxing and waving with the blades.

 

Noah joined her on the ground, placing his back against an adjacent tree before slipping his new keepsake into a pocket and taking in the night as it grew older.

 

Sure, there was the moon: the wonder of the night sky, the thing everyone looked at always. But then he began to notice the rest of it. Not just the big, bright stars and the fancy constellations, but the lone, dimming ones fading in and out like tattoos. They pulsed and flickered just beside the shinier lights, giving a sort of life to the world above the Bionis’ Shoulder.

 

It didn’t seem to matter just how tall the Bionis was (and was as in before it collapsed into the sea) — those stars would be taller. Farther.

 

Eunie could tell old Entia stories all day — of Prison Island, of Telethia, of all the wonders and leaps in technology they had. None of them seemed to compare to what they had right in front of them: open fields. Trees built on hoverstone.

 

“Hey, Noah?” Eunie eventually broke the silence growing between them, head resting back against her palms.

 

He turned his stargazing eyes back down to her, inviting her to continue speaking.

 

“Thanks for sticking around a little extra tonight — even if, no, especially because, you’re gonna get yelled at for disappearing or whatever.” Her lips curled at their edges, the moonlight reflecting off to give the impression she was smiling far wider than she actually was.

 

Noah was nonchalant about it: “I didn’t have any other plans. ’Sides, you helped me with my flute problem…a little.”

 

“Whaaat? No way, I totally helped out a ton — I showed you the perfect form and everything.” Eunie giggled, almost jolting upright as she spoke.

 

“Okay, fair, but I still can’t make it play.” Noah slipped the flute out of his pocket again, running his thumb over its grooves.

 

She gave a smug grin, “Well…then I’ll just have to get you a book on flute stuff and bring it the next time I’m in Colony 9.”

 

“Whoa, you’d do that?” He gaped, snapping off his lean against the tree behind him, “Like, you’d really do that for me?”

 

“Wh—yes, obviously,” she readjusted her demeanor to be slightly cooler about the whole thing, “you’re getting yourself into trouble for me. It’s the least I can do.”

 

“Oh come on — Colonel Vangarre doesn’t care that much. He’s real loud, yeah, but he’s not gonna like…do anything. And I’m sure Lanz and Joran will…err, nevermind.” He was going to finish that with defend me, but it didn’t take long for Noah to realize that they’d also be chewed out (and probably by their parents) for leaving Noah up on the Shoulder. Their defense of him would be shattered by virtue of he wasn’t there.

 

Eunie smirked a little, rising to her feet, “Nuh-uh, don’t wanna hear it. I’m gonna pay you back for hanging out extra, you’ll see.”

 

Oof, that sounds ominous. His gaze followed her as she stood, prompting his body to follow her lead and copy.

 

“In fact,” she strode up beside him and gave a little tap on the shoulder before darting off, “if you wanna play it off, you’re gonna have to catch me first!”

 

“Hey! No fair!” Noah yelped, quickly storing his flute back in a pocket and chasing after.

 

— [] — [] —

 

Crys gave a gentle wave as he saw Noah off, the sky’s fading scarlet hues reflecting how the teen felt: tired.

 

He tread the line between walking and stomping home, frustrated with the thought of having to tucker in for the night. Having to go report in to the Colonel about all the everything (and really, all the nothing) that happened earlier in the day.

 

Noah started practicing what exactly he was going to say: oh, hi, good evening. Yes, my day was fine. Yes, I went to practice. I’m going to play the flute.

 

But he couldn’t quite focus his mind on any one thing at a time — he was tempted to take a nap and try sneaking aboard the midnight shuttle, but then he worried he had too much heat on him for the night. And who knows what would happen if he missed school the next day. Especially practice — the first real meet.

 

It wasn’t just about what Vangarre thought of him; Noah could care less what that idiot had to say. It was now about what Crys thought of him.

 

In Aionios, he was sure they shared at least some kind of brotherhood bond as fellow flautists from the same Colony — but then he reflected on some of the deeper intricacies of their relationship, fuzzy though they were, and a lot of it didn’t make sense.

 

Noah only remembered that world in flashes. Whatever little event it was that popped into his mind’s eye when the real ones were shut, that was all he saw. Sure, he could glean extra context outside of just those scenes because of repeated phrases and words, but he was never going to return there. He could never experience his time as a Kevesi soldier turned fugitive turned Ouroboros again.

 

He had to live in the present, not the past. And sometimes, he wished he could crawl back there. Not have to deal with all the residual mess that flooded his mind and made Colony 9 and Gran Dell and Alrest and all that everything the way it was now.

 

But the past wasn’t kind to him either. He was a rare survivor to make it to his 9th term. Most people died around their 5th. Almost no one made it to their 10th, and even fewer received that prestige of hitting their Homecoming and returning to the Queen or…whatever the rhetoric was. Noah was unique in his draft-dodging: he did more fighting while evading his soldierly duties.

 

He wished he remembered more key moments — things like why he started running from the law. Why he went on a big journey to the thing that looked a lot like the Mechonis Sword did in textbooks and pictures. Why he had met that Agnian trio.

 

Or, wait, weren’t they Alrestian? That always got him — the uncertainty between terms and ideas. The sheer difference in the worlds of the past and present, and perhaps also the future.

 

Either way, it didn’t matter. The past was the past. In four years, he had made next to no strides toward finding that woman with the moonlit hair and the warm hands. In four years, he had been running from the Colonel and normal life in 9…for nothing.

 

Maybe that’s why he became Ouroboros all those years ago: because his dreams kept getting in the way of reality, throwing him further and further into the dirt until he had no other choice but to stand up, dig himself out, and take a stand as a fugitive outcast.

 

Man, I want confidence like that. Noah sighed to himself, pressing on through the Commercial District and its cacophony of families enjoying meals and browsing stalls and haggling aggressively with faces just looking to spend their hard-earned profits and eat the next day.

 

Making a beeline for the Residential District wasn’t exactly going to be easy, not with all these distractions and shiny lights and fun objects to look at. Besides, Noah wasn’t looking to rush home and go explain each second of his day to the Colonel — he would in fact rather do anything but that.

 

So, he took a gander around the stalls. The night’s specialties didn’t call for anything in particular to pop out and call to Noah like his flute did. Nothing seemed to pique his interest the right way.

 

Nothing material, at least.

 

He noticed one perusing couple that stood out amongst the crowd of Homs and Machina and visiting High Entia: two stony people. Grayish, like the Machina, but not mechanical. Tall and rugged, like the Homs, but their facial markings told a different story. Noticeable in a crowd, like the Entia, but no headwings or regal garb.

 

They seemed about as normal as could be — their garb was fairly typical for Colony 9 — but they simply seemed different. They held an air of the exotic about them, unintentional though it certainly was.

 

Noah gave the thought of speaking with them pause. They must have been tourists: the couple must have already been pestered by Colony residents plenty. But he just couldn’t shake the desire to learn more.

 

With a breath, he approached. Curious, he had to reassure himself, I’m curious, not nosey or creepy or…

 

And the more he thought about it, the less he liked his own line of reasoning. Noah was stupid to think it was OK to just throw himself at people he didn’t know — what was he doing?

 

He hung back a little, deciding to just observe their behaviors with the hope that he’d learn whatever nonsensical information he wanted out of them without having to confront them.

 

The couple he was following in particular was made up of two women, visibly joined at the hip. They looked like twins, though one was taller than the other and had darker hair, wearing a brown top instead of a yellow one.

 

This is insane. Why am I following two very much adult women. Because they look different? Come on, Noah, you’re better than this! How in the world am I even supposed to explain any part of what it is that I’m doing? I don’t even know myself! You know what? This is ridiculous, I’m going home before—

 

“Can I help you?” Oops, he’d been spotted, caught being too obtuse with his now obvious spying. The taller of the two women noticed him and turned to face him, a justifiably displeased tone hovering about her voice.

 

And a name floated to his tongue for no reason whatsoever. He had never seen this woman before, never even seen any one of her kind before, and yet, he knew her: Moraine, the off-seer from Colony Lambda.

 

“I’m sorry, miss,” Noah quickly stumbled over himself to apologize and try justifying his wildly disorganized thoughts, “I just…”

 

What am I doing.

 

“Do you know how to play the flute?”

Chapter 4: Bravado

Notes:

phew! chapter 4 complete!

see yall next week with the next 2500 or so words

i had fun with this one :33

“Excuse me?” Moraine just blinked at him, seemingly appalled by the question. Not out of fury or frustration or offense — by the sheer unorthodoxy that was Noah’s question.

 

Of all the things he could have asked her to make his first impression upon this face he’d seen once or twice or thrice in Aionios who happened to play the special kind of flute Noah does, he could be certain that she had not been expecting “do you know how to play the flute” as any sort of question asked period.

 

But at this point, he was determined. Noah had already gone out of his way, bothered these poor women, and asked his question. So, he stood his ground: “Do you know how to play the flute?”

 

Same tone, same intonation, same question — except now he was fishing out his wooden flute to show it to her.

 

And upon seeing it, her tune changed. First, her stance shifted. What was once combative and defensive drew back and relaxed into a gentle curiosity; her near-twin had a similar disposition, turning from what appeared catty to intrigued like switching on an ether lamp.

 

Moraine leaned downward slightly, scrutinizing the object resting atop an open palm, just asking, “Where’d you get this?”

 

Okay? Step in the right direction. Maybe. This is still so weird. Noah shifted slightly himself, trying to rationalize the line between their responses to him.

 

“I found it — it’s not like other instruments in the Colony or even up on the Bionis’ Shoulder, so, um…because you’re Alrestian, I thought you might…” his words came out jumbled, playing leapfrog with each other as they formed an awkward line.

 

Noah now knew how they must have felt with his initial approach.

 

She leaned back to her original height and smiled, turning to her twin and whispering something Noah didn’t entirely catch.

 

That’s when her twin — although Noah wasn’t too sure about that anymore the more he really looked at them —, Nootka, spoke up, “One of our friends plays a flute just like that one — same shade of white, too.”

 

Wait, what? Noah froze for a moment, trying to recollect his thoughts. I thought Moraine was one of those off-seers? Maybe this Nootka person’s just talking in the third person.

 

“Oh, yeah! That’s where I’ve seen it before,” Moraine giggled, now just happily chatting with her traveling partner, “I can’t believe shinobue flutes diffused faster than, I dunno, Blades.”

 

Now Noah was really lost. He was so certain he had the right person — he had perfectly matched Moraine and Nootka’s faces with their Aionios equivalents; he was entirely certain that’s who they were. He expected them not to know anything about Aionios — that’s why he just asked about the flute itself rather than…anything else.

 

But did something change? Was Moraine…not an off-seer? Did he misremember something?

 

“I’m sure Blades exist here too, just nowhere near to the same level,” Nootka rolled her eyes at Moraine, “but we’re not here for you to geek out about human development stuff.”

 

Ice. Pure ice running through Noah’s veins. He shoved the flute back into his pocket and swiftly stepped away from the duo.

 

The only reason Noah drummed up the courage to approach those two to begin with was because he was sure Moraine knew something about what she called a shinobue flute — something other than its name. Because she and him shared a role in their respective colonies, as off-seers. Players of those flutes to bring peace to the fallen after a battle’s brutal, bloody, total end.

 

He had remembered people from Aionios all the time. Most everyone he knew had a role in eternity excluding most adults and the grade schoolers. And for the most part, they were the same people.

 

One day, he had bumped into a kid with silver hair named Ethel — the prodigy turned disgraced commander of Colony 4 — and she was taking up fencing recreationally. Another, he’d seen this one Machina named Layla who was still close with Hoope and Garvel, though Noah could be fairly certain that had changed recently: some drama erupted between the latter two and Hoope had become friends with Joran, the one guy she utterly loathed when they were younger.

 

But this was new. Moraine still looked like herself. Perhaps she was the same age now as she was when Noah met her in Aionios, he didn’t know (or particularly care as age in Aionios was just determined by how recently someone was rebirthed). Her meeting someone from Tau, especially someone of the same apparent heritage as herself — nominal. Fine. Them becoming friends? Sure, a lot happens in four years.

 

Perhaps too much, though, because it seemed like Moraine hadn’t touched a flute. She knew of them, knew someone who played them, but Noah’s intuition was wrong. Dead wrong.

 

He went straight home after that encounter, going through all the daily motions with the Colonel before plopping himself into bed without any hesitation. One question had engrained itself into his mind now, one question that killed him to even dare think about.

 

If Moraine’s life is way different now, what’s happened to her?

 

He forgot about his plans to sneak up to Gran Dell that night. He didn’t particularly care for class that morning. Noah practically acted on autopilot for the next 18 hours of his life, living in shell-shock from that idea.

 

The idea that the silver-haired woman he’d been chasing for four years, been trying so hard to meet, would never cross paths with him because…

 

Because she had a life across the sea that Noah would never know about. That thought numbed him.

 

Instead of focusing on whatever assignment lay in front of him or which page of which book the class was reading, he was busy cataloguing every memory he had of that girl.

 

There was the obvious first one: that one where she placed her delicate hands in his and smiled at him tenderly. Another where she and Noah were swimming in a pool-sized crater while in the desert because she had…gotten tired? The details with that one were fuzzy. A third where they had both dove into the ground with a thin sword stabbing downward to defeat some kind of purple enemy. And a fourth, where Noah felt so much despair for a reason his present self couldn’t quite place that he did something that he also couldn’t remember to see her again.

 

Everything else was either too fuzzy, irrelevant, or didn’t make enough sense. Just like the problem staring him down from the other side of his pencil.

 

It was math. Geometry, in fact. Something about pentagons and the angles inside and outside of them. Noah would have probably blown off the assignment in favor of his mental ventures had he not actually wanted the distraction from the fact that he only remembered four significant memories with a woman he felt an innate attraction to and longing for.

 

Joran tapped him on the shoulder, “Hey, what’d you get for number 12?”

 

Noah’s eyes scrolled down his page, skipping over unanswered numbers 3 through 11 to look at the problem Joran asked about.

 

Something about regular polygons with n number of sides.

 

He was initially going to give Joran his usual remark about him not being as good at math as the latter, but then his eyes remained affixed to that letter. N.

 

Blink. For miles, chaos and destruction ablaze. Agents of this evil, purple spider-like creatures, crawling about as burnt flesh and cooling ash enveloped the air with their insidious scents. The scene was eerily silent — only the crackles of slowly dying, drying flames and the unsteady re-grasping of a palm’s sword reached his ears. Even gloved, nothing stopped his hands from shaking.

 

“Ugh, never mind, I’ll just ask the teacher,” Joran’s voice brought him out of the memory, dismissive as though he hadn’t experienced a lick of what Noah had.

 

And, to give him credit, Joran didn’t. There wasn’t a soul alive in that memory except the person whose eyes Noah borrowed.

 

Because he never would be standing over rubble and carnage like that. Staring at what could only be inferred to be his handiwork, live and dead debris strewn edge to bleeding edge alike. Because Noah would never do something like that.

 

He fluttered his eyes a little and sat up in his chair, deciding that maybe the Colonel could yell at him all he wanted today, tomorrow, and forever — Noah was not accounting for n number of sides and angles on a regular polygon or whatever that evil question was trying to evoke out of him.

 

Noah would instead, perhaps, just focus on practice that afternoon. One bell ring away, he would be able to properly hone his skills to bring that thousand-and-four-year-old memory back to life. The smooth contours of air flowing around, through, and out of his instrument. The sweet intonations of notes flowing in harmony. The sunset and the fireworks aligning again for the final retreat up, out, and away from all things present and pressing…

 

Surely, it would be nice to escape.

 

Noah let his fingers curl around his pocketed flute, developing fingers now barely large enough to properly cover the holes and correctly play the sounds he had been struggling to master for years prior. In truth, he didn’t know a lick of musical theory. Crys proved that the day prior.

 

Outside of providing the names of instruments, Noah had no idea what a staff was. Or a measure. Or a bar. Or a whole versus a half versus a quarter versus an eighth note. Or tempo. He had just been playing to that single melody all his musical career.

 

He could play it, sure — he wasn’t good at much else flute-wise. Poor Eunie was often his victim when it came to early posture practices and sound tests. Her book came in handy more often than not, even if she stole it more often than not as well.

 

Noah was almost certain she had no idea what a library was. That sliver of uncertainty was in him being unsure whether or not public libraries were a High Entia thing at all. Then again, an even tinier sliver of it was Eunie just being a wild handful for her parents and Noah.

 

But today, her in-class presence was different.

 

“Eunie, can you do number 5 on the board?” Picking her blue, cross-armed silhouette out of a sea of raised hands was already an insult to the poor teen enough, but Noah glanced down at his mostly blank paper anyway and still smirked a little knowing he was not being asked to present anything.

 

She sighed, standing with a holographic copy of her page, her form incorporeal to every item not bolted to the floor as she trudged over to the chalkboard and provided a lazy but apparently satisfactory explanation of her work.

 

Noah knew something was off with her — she usually wasn’t so annoyed with presenting her work in front of the class and didn’t often wear a frown while out and about, especially not toward the ends of the day.

 

But instead of saying anything just then, Noah kept his mouth shut and his worries silenced. In truth, he had been worrying sick about everyone lately. He hadn’t been seeing much of them, and Lanz most of all — maybe he found his escape, a dark little piece of his mind prodded, found a way out of the daily monotony like he always wanted to.

 

He held his tongue until class ended, which wasn’t much longer after Eunie had grumbled out her answer, to ask.

 

“I’m fine,” she scoffed just a little too harshly for comfort at Noah’s concern, eyes betraying her nearly vicious words, “don’t worry about it.”

 

Oh, how I’m going to worry about it now, Eunie.

 

“I can tell something’s up. Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?” Noah offered, knowing he didn’t have much time to spend with Eunie even if she took the time to vent her visible frustrations properly.

 

She shook her head, “…I’ll show you tomorrow, I guess. I know you’ve got band practice or whatever it is, so…”

 

He hadn’t told her about his daily entrapment in Colony 9. The only person he’d really told at that point was Joran, and it was just because he had stayed late to chat with their teacher, and it was clear confusion shone in his gaze.

 

But Eunie gave no further indication of anything other than frustration word or body language-wise as she excused herself (really just blipped herself out of existence) home.

 

Somehow, in the span of 48 hours, Noah’s life was on an implosion path. Too much had been happening too quickly, and his previous interest in escaping the day’s woes by playing with the band had turned into woes worrying about his existential future into woes worrying about the people right next to him.

 

Am I doing something wrong here?

 

That question joined his earlier one, the two practically joined at the hip as Noah stalked his way over to the small orchestra room.

 

Crys’ friendly face was a welcome change of pace from all the awfulness brewing in Noah’s life at that moment, even if brief and awkward in and of itself.

 

“Hey band,” Crys spoke as he closed the door behind Noah, the straggler for the day, “we’ve got a new flautist joining us for what’s hopefully gonna be a season or two.”

 

Gazes converged on him. Noah’s hand seemed to gently and by no means casually return a wave to the crowd of Nopon, Entia silhouettes, Homs, and Machina faces staring at him. A few fellow flautists gave a little cheer hearing they had a new addition to their section, as Crys had once called it, seeming the most eager of the other musicians there.

 

“This is Noah. Noah, meet See-Mee-Mee,”—he pointed to a small blue Nopon and his special Noponic flute—“Url,”—he pointed again to a Homs boy looking just slightly older than Noah and his metallic flute—“and it doesn’t seem like our exchange student’s here yet?”

 

The Homs boy Url spoke up, “Oh, she said she was running a few minutes late. She had to talk to her reading teacher about some essay she forgot to hand in.”

 

“Okay!” Crys shrugged the topic away with a smile, “Well, either way, welcome Noah in or I will personally make it my problem until we all get along.”

 

Whoa, okay, Crys. You weren’t anywhere near that spiky when we were together in Aionios. Maybe it’s just a bad day for everyone, myself included.

 

A croaking of yessirs emerged from the cohort of instrument players Noah stood before as he shuffled into the nearest empty seat with his new section.

 

As he did so, See-Mee-Mee tried ushering him out of it, “Noah is new, See-Mee-Mee, know that, but Noah shouldn’t sit in that seat.”

 

“Why?” He asked, more curious than concerned.

 

And as he asked, a holographic girl veiled by enough layers of green to make her monochromatically so opened, emerged from, and closed the large band doors behind her, approaching Noah callously.

 

“You’re in my seat,” she said, pointing at him, and a name floated to his tongue.

 

She didn’t quite look the same as those memories would have him believe, but the name and the visions flooded back anyway.

 

Mio.

Chapter 5: Seen It All Before

Notes:

angst hurt/comfort tag finally comes into play here muahahaha

also a few more tags have been added

Eunie could run. Noah was slightly taller, but he couldn’t keep up with her in the slightest. Maybe a byproduct of Eunie often being more active than him in this sense, but a little tingle in Noah’s freshly Aionios-nostalgic brain wondered if Eunie also being there made a difference.

 

It probably, really didn’t. Noah knew a little better than that: it hadn’t affected him physically, just mentally. Just in memories and the weird flute he had.

 

The weird physical flute he had. Perhaps it had, then? It was a lot to process, especially with his second life so fresh in his mind — pieces of it flew at him like bullets and he only really knew what happened when they hit him head on. But then it hit him: that maybe Eunie remembered as well.

 

He would have to ask her when he caught up, and considering her strides and leaps across the green plains on the outskirts of Gran Dell, where knolls met farms and skylines finally converged with distant shorelines — where the moon glistened brightest between passing puffs of air trying to shy its light away from the earth — it would have to wait.

 

Noah tried calling out to her, “Hey! Wait up! Slow down!” But she seemed a little too far to hear him at this point, off digging near old ruins between trees and stones worth their weight thrown. So instead, he settled down to take a little breather.

 

The night is still young, he assured himself, and she’ll probably notice I didn’t catch up with her and turn back around. It’s fine.

 

Plopping to the soft blanket of earth beneath him and letting his hand run across the delicately swaying blades of grass, he let his eyes just follow his friend as she darted around different hotspots — that one glistening rock to the next old pillar left behind after the Bionis crashed into the sea next to that darker, less-glowy boulder beside it.

 

Eventually his gaze settled upward at the circular moon overhead: its silver subtleties keeping the evening from ending in shade. Noah could bask in its light as much as he wanted to without the Colonel breathing down his back about school and about the types of people he hung out with.

 

Because wow, at 10, Noah simply couldn’t imagine any reason why Colonel Vangarre would hate Lanz so much. He was such a good, fun-loving kid. Practically a model citizen! Minus the occasional roughhousing near the Ether Lamp that more than once resulted in it shattering. And the one-off time Noah and Lanz were caught tree-passing or whatever that word the Colonel used was.

 

He mostly didn’t understand how one man could have so much hate in his heart to be that angry all the time — it was a rare sight to see that guy calm, even to less reckless kids.

 

That was the word Noah was searching for: reckless. Not for Lanz. Maybe a little for Eunie at the moment. But for himself. Taking in the night’s silver sun was nice, but he made the choice on a whim. Everyone else in his life planned everything out.

 

Even the moon — Noah could always count on it to show up when the sun shied away. Some days it was shier than the sun; some days it was thinner and dimmer; some days guarded by clouds; some missing behind skylines…but it always came.

 

The sun always came back, but maybe Noah wasn’t the biggest fan of just how radiant it was. How he always had to turn his gaze from it to try appreciating it. How looking it in the eye meant losing his.

 

The moon shone as bright as it was ever going to that night, and he met its gaze with tender confidence.

 

He could have sworn she was staring back at him from on high.

 

In fact—

 

“I’m first chair.” Mio clarified, leaning forward to physically look down at Noah, “You are in my seat.”

 

In fact…she was. But she wasn’t silver; she was a flickering, wavy emerald green. And she wasn’t quite staring back — she was correcting him condescendingly.

 

Noah could hear the tone in her voice — something superior, something so sure of herself. Something that he had never heard from her before, even as adversaries in a fight to the bloody end.

 

“I’m sorry,” instead of pursuing that feeling, Noah just took a breath and clumsily fell over himself to get out of her way, “I didn’t know.”

 

His feet worked faster than his mind, shuffling out of the special first chair seat (whatever that meant) and promptly finding their way to the next available empty seat.

 

In a huff, Mio dusted herself off and placed herself professionally on her chair, taking a breath and doing something to the effect of centering herself before turning her attention back to Crys at the front.

 

Crys quickly explained how exactly “chairs” worked in orchestras, apologizing for having failed to give Noah that prior knowledge before throwing him to the wolves. From that, Noah gathered two things: Mio was currently a better flautist than Crys (which was weird because he was leading the orchestra?), and that he had entered a fierce meritocracy.

 

“Anyway,” Crys continued, changing topics, “since the Director’s still away, I’ll be leading practice today. Just follow my tempo cues and play what we’ve been practicing. Noah, can you sightread?”

 

He stared awkwardly at Crys, and that was apparently enough of an answer for him to continue.

 

“Ah, okay. Well, then just follow along with Url there — someone can grab you an extra copy of the music to practice on your own later.”

 

Okay. Noah pressed his lips into a fine line, scooting over slightly in his seat to glance at the hieroglyphics Url was somehow able to decipher, waiting for whatever cue Crys was going to deploy for everyone to start playing.

 

“Ready? From the top.” Crys glanced at the band waving a small stick in his hand, then without another word began rhythmically tapping it against the air in some sort of cursive L-shape, and the music began to swell.

 

— [] — [] —

 

Noah let the door slap against the frame and its hinges behind him, frustrated with himself.

 

The Colonel just stood over him in the brightly lit hall, arms crossed but voice even and smooth, “How’d it go?”

 

Terrible, he wanted to shout, I felt like such an idiot.

 

“Fine,” he said softly instead, practically yanking his shoes off his feet and hurling them to their respective cubby, “just fine.”

 

“I haven’t been in the Colony Defense Service for 30 years for you to stand there and lie to me, boy.” Vangarre raised a brow, finishing his probing with a sigh.

 

“What would you like to hear?” Noah blurted, all the negative energy from that day’s practice and interactions with peers boiling over into his now venomous tongue, “That I apparently can’t play the instrument I’ve been playing for 1000 and 4 years?”

 

Now he was confused, “Huh? A thousand and—“

 

“It’s a hyperbole!” Noah huffed, pushing past the Colonel to set his school stuff down in his bunk. It wasn’t really. Maybe it was. His mind was a mess, and by the Bionis itself was he one, too.

 

Noah didn’t have much to his name: just the clothes on his back, his school stuff, and the flute he picked up off the ground when Empress Melia turned 100.

 

The flute. The stupid flute that had started this mess and his obsession with that girl, Mio — the one that with one glance his way threw him out of her seat and was probably snickering to herself the whole time because, well, she knew how to read sheet music or whatever it was and she could play the tune in tune with the pages and the hieroglyphics and wasn’t turning out to be a delinquent in the eyes of—

 

Joran was definitely mad at him today. Eunie seemed off. Lanz was nowhere to be seen. He got shown up by what looked like a tiny 12-year-old guy named Url.

 

Noah was nothing like the man he was in Aionios. Not the smart, cool-headed leader making all the right decisions for freedom with certainty. Not the kind, compassionate off-seer of the past. Not the brave, bold fighter beneath blue and green fiery clocks.

 

He was a mess. A mess that couldn’t pay even proper homage to the instrument that guided his principles and thoughts from fingertips to winds. A mess that couldn’t hold it together. Couldn’t fight like the noble warriors he stood beside. Couldn’t lead anyone but himself to damnation.

 

Noah pressed his back to the wall and curled his knees to his chest, socks wriggling on his thin comforter as his breath grew ragged and shallow, mind racing with yes and no, with certainties and uncertainties, with successes and failures.

 

Lanz was tough. Eunie unabashed. Joran crafty. Who was Noah?

 

He thought back to that kid, staring up longingly at the moon. He was right about Eunie: she eventually circled back around to him and understood his desire to have a less energetic, more wistful night.

 

The two had done a sort of tango around in the grass, flopping and rolling around for a bit before they were both tuckered out enough to embrace the heavens above as their view — not old rocks and ruins that Eunie eventually tired herself of.

 

Perhaps it was the danger of it all. The freedom. The ability to look back at the city skylines fading to the horizon and see the world as it was meant to be before the Bionis sunk. Before the world changed. Before they were born.

 

“Man, I wonder what time it is. You can’t really tell out here. No clocks in the wilderness.” Noah sighed, resting his head against his cupped hands pressed to the ground.

 

“Who cares what time it is? Aren’t you just excited to be out?” Eunie giggled, kicking a foot up between a few clusters of stars.

 

He shrugged, “I guess. The stars are pretty. So’s the moon. But I don’t wanna be yelled at like Lanz said his parents would do to him if he stayed extra, you know?”

 

“You give that old guy way too much of your attention. Who cares what he thinks?”

 

“He’s kinda my—no, wait. Eh, kinda.”

 

“Oh, that’s right. Sorry.” Eunie began to shy away from the topic, probably trying to avoid what she figured would be sensitive subject matter.

 

Noah sat up, shaking his head, “My real ones are up here somewhere. Or that’s what the Colonel says. He doesn’t talk about them much.”

 

“Up here? Like at Heroes’ Rest?”

 

“…uh, maybe? I’ve never been up to Gran Dell before.”

 

“Right — I know where that is. We’ll have to pass back through town, though. Over to the big pillar ruin east of the main city. You know what I’m talking about, right? The original Gran Dell?”

 

Noah nodded, following Eunie on her march through and beyond the city limits again.

 

Heroes’ Rest was different than Noah imagined it. Only a handful of graves were recently attended, and a fewer handful of them seemed recently mourned.

 

Noah began perusing through last names. A, B, C — all the way to L. He found two people with the same L last name as his, died and buried at different times.

 

One a man, died some 3 months before his birth fighting a remnant of the old fogbeast scourge. The other a woman without combat experience — she had died in 9 a year after Noah was born and made a special request to be buried with her husband.

 

Those were the Colonel’s words — the ones describing their deaths. One of duty, the other of sickness, placed together to rest together eternally.

 

Silence brewed between the duo, the truth of it all finally out for the young boy to live through on his own.

 

Noah didn’t remember how he found himself in Vangarre’s care. He was one of a very select unfortunate few: no connections to bind them to the world around them, tethered only by personal and familial mortality left unchecked in the hands of grief.

 

“I’m sorry,” he heard Eunie whisper beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder, “y’know, I, uh, they…”

 

“It’s okay, Eunie. I’ve known they’ve been gone since the day I could walk and talk. Old wounds, you know?” He felt his fingers twitch a little, worming their ways toward his pockets.

 

She didn’t move, “Doesn’t matter. I couldn’t even imagine life without mine, so maybe I just…”

 

Her hand slinked away from Noah, falling and tapping against her side as she glanced around the collection of graves and markers.

 

His fiddled with the instrument living in his front-left pocket, almost instinctively lifting it from its cage to grasp it in his moonlit palms.

 

The silver wooden finish on the flute reflected much of the now crested moon, its elaborate green and tan patterns shimmering with the white above. Noah’s eyes fell to examine it properly, basking in its radiant splendor for a moment before raising the small instrument to his mouth.

 

He let the small red tassel charm off the playing end dangle and wave as his air disturbed it, and let the wind do the rest.

 

Perhaps an earlier prior he couldn’t even make a sound out of it. Perhaps a moment earlier that was also the case.

 

But he felt a hand that wasn’t his guide his lips, guide his breathing, his posture, his stance, his movements, his finger placements and pressure…and he was able to play.

 

The same song he’d heard flowing at him in the wind — now there was this almost phantasmal force helping him move and sway with the breeze like it had done before.

 

Twice in the span of one night did Noah hear that melody: once to entice him to find the flute, and once to bring his quiet, shivering thoughts to life across the distant horizons.

 

Oh, Aionios was real, alright. He was singing its song over the graves of the fallen, most in combat. Just as the Noah of the past had done time and time again; just as the silver-haired off-seer did, begrudging though her memories of the day proved to be.

 

As Noah remained curled in his ball, clutching his knees and holding them tight as he waited for himself to calm down from the day’s events, he remembered that silver-haired off-seer had a name. That they had met, finally, and their paths would continue to cross so long as Noah stayed with the band.

 

He just wished it didn’t quite hurt so bad to not have the skills he used to. To not know what in the world a treble clef or a staff or a measure or a bar was. To be kicked out of first chair by the woman he’d been dreaming of for 4 years.

 

That kind of rejection hurt.

 

If Noah could do that practice over and say something better, do something more — drum up the courage to say the fears inside him — he would. Just to see her again.

Chapter 6: Changing

Notes:

woohoo! chapter 6!

i say this every time but i had funnnnn :DD

see you guys next week

On his walk to class that following morning, Noah took a gander toward the unloading passengers from the public Gran Dell shuttle, the distinct surplus of headwings reminding him exactly what day it was: every sixth Friday, all the usually holographic High Entian kids got a free trip to attend class in-person.

 

Normally, Noah would be ecstatic — he’d slip out and go find Eunie, Lanz, and Joran and skip the day with them before disappearing up to Gran Dell for the weekend and returning for class that following Monday, but today was different. The stakes were different.

 

For the longest time, everyone had been super consistent with the bi-tri-weekly skip day, but with the advent of secondary school and the slow passing of four years, things went and changed. Now, that was fine — it mainly meant Joran and Lanz came every twelve weeks instead of six, each respectively caring about their education and prospective futures more than Noah and Eunie did — but now Noah, too, had an excuse to skip it.

 

He had to go see Mio at practice again. He had to avoid getting himself banned from the public shuttle service altogether. He was effectively on probation until the Colonel decided he had sufficiently gotten a hobby and cleaned up his recently reckless acts.

 

So he slowed his pace, thumbs looped around his backpack’s straps as he watched the sea of off-white headwings pass and fade into his peripheral. Guilty pangs soared in his stomach, leaving Noah feeling a thousand conflicting emotions at once for what he felt was abandoning friend group traditions in favor of a girl whose only interaction with him outside of Aionios (thirteen whole words) had been negative.

 

Throwing away what he presently held for a chance at something he once distantly had — something he couldn’t even be sure anyone else remembered.

 

“Noah!” Eunie practically side-tackled him to the ground with excitement, “Did you forget?”

 

“Oh, I guess I did, haha,” Noah swallowed the lie with an awkward, cheesy smile and a slight groan of pain as he struggled to push Eunie’s bear hugging off of him.

 

She seemed in better spirits than she did yesterday, perhaps having forgotten about the foreboding I’ll show you tomorrow she gave him during class. A relief, even if her new enthusiasm was a little much after Noah was about to ditch fun in favor of finagling his way into Mio’s life.

 

Eunie grinned, prattling on gleefully between gasps rather than breaths, “I hope Lanz and Joran show. You’re not going to believe the rumor I heard last night.”

 

Rumor? Well…maybe I have a few minutes before I find an excuse to head to class for the day. Noah dusted himself off and prepared to listen.

 

“So you know that book of herbal tea recipes I have? The really weird one from when we were ten?”

 

Noah knew it — that was one of her favorite mysteries to try solving. He wasn’t there when she discovered it, but her account of the events surrounding it never changed:

 

“I didn’t have it before the fireworks show, but I kinda felt around my pockets once you went back down and like, boom, there it was?” She flashed the white book with the flashy X going down its center, “This one. Anyway,

 

“So I had it out after school and I was kinda just flipping through it and Trish saw it—you know Trish, yeah?”

 

Nope, Noah thought. “I think I do,” Noah said.

 

“So apparently she has class with one of the Alrestian Exchange kids and she was in a group project with this one guy and she swore the handwriting in here was the same as his. So I’m kinda freaking out because that’s so weird! Like I’ve never talked to this guy before and he’s...”

 

Noah let her words flow in one ear and out the other, considering that idea again. His mind lingered too long on it, even.

 

He knew practically nothing about the Alrestian world other than it was discovered a few weeks after the Empress’ ceremony, that somehow the people on the other side of the sea spoke the same language, that their leaders had made fast friends out of Shulk and Melia, and that a select few school-aged kids attended Colony 9’s only school similarly to its Alcamoth-Gran Dell students as part of the Alrestian Exchange Program.

 

But he found an Alrestian flute singing to him the same night Eunie found a strange herbal tea recipe book in her pockets, weeks before Alrest had even been put on the map. And now she was saying the book’s handwriting may match that of some Alrestian boy’s?

 

So he waited for a quiet moment in the conversation he stopped listening to and re-introduced his flute to her, grasping the instrument and letting its glossy, silver finish shimmer in the morning light, “I wonder.”

 

Eunie cocked her head to the side slightly, glancing down at what he held in his hands, “…that’s right, you found that weird wooden flute the same night I found my book.”

 

“I recently learned it’s an Alrestian flute. She-no-boo-ay, or something.”

 

She let out a loud gasp, “No way. Do you think my book’s also like that?”

 

“I guess you’d have to go check with that guy your friend was telling you about.” Noah shrugged, making a gesture toward the school.

 

Eunie frowned, narrowing his gaze at him, “Today’s our hangout day. We can’t cut class in the classroom.”

 

There it was, Noah’s moment to say well, about that and make up and excuse to drag her along, but he felt his tongue weigh down in his mouth and a sense of tradition shying him away from the idea. And then, another, better one:

 

“We don’t have to go to class per se. Do you know what period that guy has?”

 

She nodded, “Uh, yeah. It’s the advanced reading class. There’s only one of them.”

 

“Then we go there after school’s out and go through the teacher’s stuff until we find the matching handwriting and track the guy down from there,” Noah proposed the plan more nonchalantly than he wanted to admit — whenever he was with Eunie, these antics came naturally.

 

“You’re a genius. Let’s go find Lanz.” Starry-eyed and imbued with a burning passion to break, enter, and steal from the only school in Colony 9, Eunie darted off toward the premises to try and catch Lanz before he made it to class.

 

Eunie was still significantly faster than Noah, leaving him in the dust as he struggled catching up to her.

 

But eventually, the both of them caught up to their targets: Noah to Eunie and Eunie to Lanz.

 

“You wanna what?” Lanz frowned, crossing his arms.

 

“It makes so much more sense if you don’t waste all your time thinking about it,” she grinned, “c’mon — you haven’t hung out with us in like forever! What’s one day off, Lanz?”

 

“My scholarship?” He raised a brow angrily, seemingly reluctant to elaborate, “If you guys weren’t too busy messing around all the time, you’d know that I’m tryna’ get a place in the CDF.”

 

Noah was, in fact, confounded hearing this. More confounded to hear that the Colony Defense Force was giving out scholarships to 14-year-olds than Lanz trying out for it, but confounded nonetheless. But it made sense why they had drifted.

 

Noah was remarkably average in school — average effort, average grades. If he didn’t have half his truancy notices, he would be on the fast track to some middling trade or service profession, living an unremarkably average life. Lanz struggled. He wasn’t inept by any means, but the scholarly world was not his; he lived a much more physically active life. He once even confided his life dreams with them: be the biggest, strongest bodybuilder in all the world. It made sense that he wanted an “in” with the military (even if they didn’t do much other than keep the already-attained world peace).

 

“But I mean…one day? It’ll be just like when we were running around in Gran Dell. Some fun nostalgia, y’know?” Eunie tried appealing to his softer heart, but Noah knew Lanz would be at least mostly resolute in this.

 

Lanz shook his head and pulled out a small, crumpled up sheet of paper covered in tally marks, “I…about that. Running, I mean. There’s a girl I really wanna crush in sprints after school. And weightlifting. And press-ups.”

 

Whoa, that’s…weird. I’d never heard Lanz talk about having a rivalry with someone before. Especially not a girl. And that paper…?

 

Noah decided to ask about it, pointing to it unscrupulously.

 

“That’s all the times we’ve faced off. All the blue marks are her wins; all the black ones are mine. Funny story: I actually found the paper half-crumpled up in these jeans like four years ago and just never threw it away. Didn’t become relevant until the whole Alrestian Exchange program thingy — never had a rival before.”

 

It happened to him, too.

 

A remnant of Aionios. An artifact of the past — it has to be. They have to remember, surely?

 

Noah never once envisioned himself in this situation. Aionios never once impacted their lives in the way it did his — they never had flashbacks when they blinked, never talked about a face they dreamed of, never once recognized his ramblings about it.

 

And now, here they were, each talking about someone of the opposite sex from Alrest right after Noah had met Mio.

 

Yet his words still died on his tongue. This was circumstantial evidence built upon coincidence after coincidence at best. Noah was still incredibly insane for thinking his flute, Eunie’s tea recipe book, and Lanz’s competition paper had anything to do with each other.

 

“Hey, you know what, Lanz?” Eunie offered, “If it makes you feel better, we can take a break and let you go compete against that girl if you want. Even cheer you on when you do sprints or whatever it is.”

 

“…that actually does make me feel way better.” Lanz admitted shyly, “Thanks, Eunie.”

 

“And if I may,” Noah interjected, re-entering the conversation after being quiet for most of it, “I’ve got practice for an hour or so after school with, uh…a rival of my own, let’s just say.”

 

“Awe, you’re not coming to go steal the reading teacher’s papers with me?” Eunie frowned, seeming significantly more sympathetic to the idea of an after-school break rather than them each going their separate ways for the one day she gets to spend in 9.

 

Noah just chuckled away the awkward statement, “You would know the guy’s handwriting best.”

 

“…Ugh, fine. But we’d better have a real fun day today. And night! Because if I’m missing the afternoon shuttle, we’re heading up to Gran Dell at midnight.”

 

“Considering my scholarship only depends on my physical strengths, deal.” Lanz nodded, putting out his fist in request for the trio to follow suit.

 

Eunie was happy to. Noah didn’t want to be left behind.

 

…but where was Joran?

 

— [] — [] —

 

Noah had no idea how his fingers moved so fluidly, how his breathing was so steady, and how his flute practically played itself in his grasp. All he had done was think of the two graves in front of him — all the sadness and grief in his heart poured out into the song as his mind wandered away into phantoms of dreams and memories he once had.

 

“Whoa, you didn’t need me at all, Noah! You totally got it on the first try!” Eunie laughed, punching his shoulder painfully proudly.

 

He had no response to that — he had no idea how or why that had just happened. The only word he could think to place upon it was instinct, and even then, that notion was falling apart at the seams because his fingers wouldn’t repeat their spectacle. His form had fallen apart in the span of two seconds, and his flute no longer sang with the fervor it just had.

 

It was like it only worked for that one song, and only when it wanted to. Frustrating, because now the melody’s return had returned a sense of false hope of instant mastery to the boy.

 

“Uhm…practice makes perfect, I guess?” He smiled a little, putting the flute back into his pocket in the hopes that its magical power would charge up faster if it weren’t held.

 

She beamed, “Are you kidding? That was awesome! Was that what you heard? That, y’know, super soft, sweet song?”

 

Noah shrugged, not having much of an answer, “Yeah. I didn’t expect to just get it like that, though. Especially not here.”

 

“Oh, uh, with your parents, you mean?” Eunie’s tone shifted back to a more cautious, careful one out of respect for where they were, “…I think they liked it. Your playing.”

 

Walking on eggshells again, I see. He didn’t respond to her right away, just glancing around at the tombs surrounding the two he had focused in on so intently.

 

“I dunno.” Noah eventually mustered, “I’m sure it’s not the first time someone’s come to serenade them.”

 

She gave a characteristic smirk, “Well they better had liked it — otherwise…otherwise I’d get real mad. Probably go and…ugh…”

 

Noah enjoyed watching Eunie try and justify his mysterious flautist skills without actually knowing how to get back at his folks. “At least you’re determined about this, haha?”

 

“Oh, you better believe I’m serious. I just don’t know what would really drive that point home with ‘em. So…I’ll just have to think of one while you’re down in Colony 9 again. And then I’ll tell you all about it in class. And then the next time you’re back up here, we’ll just have to follow through and make sure your parents get to hear the song again.”

 

“…Next time?” Noah cocked his head to the side, confused. He had certainly enjoyed his time up in Gran Dell, but he couldn’t use the shuttle service alone. Besides — what would the Colonel think? Sure, Noah didn’t particularly care considering his circumstances, but he still had to find a bed to sleep in every night.

 

Eunie shrugged, “I know you’ve gotta go soon, but…this can’t be the only time you get to come up to Gran Dell ever, right?”

 

“No, I’m sure there will be a next time,” Noah quickly assured her, “you’ve gotta get me that book, remember?”

 

“Ohh, yeah, I do! So I will see you soon, then!” Her smile was contagious, but getting that flute book wasn’t the reason Noah wanted to return.

 

He glanced up at the celestial silver hanging overhead and at the bountiful lands surrounding him. Something had drawn him to his flute, and something had brought him to playing it in the same perfect tone he’d been hearing it before.

 

There was something special about Gran Dell — Noah just couldn’t put his finger on it.

Chapter 7: Starboard

Notes:

woohoo new chapter's here!

good times with the kevesi cast :)

see yall next week!!

“C’mon, we’ve gotta do something fun today,” Eunie beamed, awkwardly trying to side-hug both Noah and Lanz at once, her arms not quite long enough to properly wrap around their shoulders, “Yeah, yeah, plans this, plans that — but it’s all after class. So we have all day to hang. No being boring allowed!”

 

Even in her cheer and enthusiasm, Noah could sense the venom in those words. It had, in fact, been far too long since Lanz had joined them on a proper skip day, and he could tell a slice of disappointment had been festering in the wild Eunie for a little too long. She meant business today — she would ensure they all had maximum fun, for better or for worse.

 

“Ooh, I know — do you guys remember that old abandoned boat? By the Machina Village?”

 

Too well. It was the last skip day everyone attended together, sometime when they were 13. They had spent their time fumbling around with the old shipwreck, trying to piece back together rotted logs and doctor on new ones to try and get it sea ready (though Noah didn’t remember if they ever actually had plans to sail it anywhere) when Joran accidentally stumbled upon a small family of Skeeters living in what was once the inner hull.

 

Screaming bloody murder, he had dashed out and fumbled his way to freedom, bringing the disturbed family’s wrath upon Noah, Eunie, and Lanz as well. No one walked out that day without a few nasty bites and scrapes; Joran had it worst of all, though.

 

For the next week, he walked about puffy, itchy, and practically miserable as he struggled to focus on whatever asinine daily tasks he had to deal with both in and out of school. And in Joran’s defense, they all suffered — everyone except Lanz, whose Machina genes made him mechanically resilient to his friends’ plights.

 

“Aw man,” Lanz groaned, “how could I forget? That’s when I couldn’t stop all those Skeeters from eating you lot alive.”

 

“We made it out fine, Lanz.” Eunie shrugged, uncomfortably relaxed about potentially returning to an infested heap of rotting planks.

 

Noah shook his head, not quite brave enough to push Eunie off his shoulder, “Is that really the best use of our day, though? It could very easily…y’know.” He shuttered at the thought; Skeeter bites hurt.

 

“That’s actually part of the reason I wanna go back there. Check this out.” Eunie picked herself up off both boys’ shoulders as she extended a staff hanging on her waist to its full reach and thrust a beam of light at a nearby bush from its crown.

 

With a flash, she had shaved the bush a conical hole through its branches, neighboring leaves dissolving from hues of green to shades of black.

 

“Whoa,” Noah gaped, “who gave you that?”

 

She tensed a little, still grasping the rod in both hands — it was clearly too large for her, wielding like a flag staff rather than a proper militaristic one, “…I did?”

 

“Eunie!” Lanz hissed, realizing slightly more quickly than Noah what had happened, “You—“

 

“Hey, shh, keep your voice down. And…yes. But it’ll be totally worth it once we go exact our revenge on those pesky Skeeters.” Eunie insisted, collapsing and sheathing her staff on a small series of belt loops hanging off her hip.

 

“If anything, Joran should be taking revenge,” Noah folded his arms, uncertain about the direction their excursion was on, “poor guy took the brunt of the hits.”

 

“…where is Joran?” Eunie frowned, seemingly having not noticed his disappearance until Noah brought it up.

 

Lanz answered, “Sick at home. I walk with him to class most days; stopped by his place and learned he got hit by something last night.”

 

“Then we definitely have to go avenge him now, are you kidding me? I’m sure he’ll smile tomor—on Monday hearing about our triumphant victory against the evil Skeeter forces trying to steal our awesome abandoned boat from us!” Eunie doubled down, practically running off in a direction and waiting for Noah and Lanz to follow.

 

She had a tendency to charge off on her own, following whatever it was her heart was set on at any given time. A double-edged sword: some days she’d dash ahead straight to wherever she needed to be most, others she’d return in tears and bruises swearing off running ahead. She’d never keep her word on that, everyone already knew, but it was comforting to hear someone other than him struggling with their life a little.

 

Eunie was like that in Aionios, too, Noah pieced together. Bold, brash, unafraid and outspoken; taking nothing from no one, ever. He let his gaze follow in the shape his mind’s eye guided him, footsteps in the physical world tenderly trailing behind both of his friends, but footsteps in the mental world regaling him of those endless, stressful days.

 

The memories didn’t quite coalesce the way Noah wanted them to — they stood as a collection of scattered moments, leaving it up to the boy himself to place each event in a timeline of his choosing. But one thing remained constant throughout all of them: Eunie’s spirit.

 

Sure, she made careless mistakes jumping from one idea to the next faster than even she could handle, making questionable plays on the battlefield in the never-ending pursuit of glory, and struggling in friendly rivalries against both Noah, Lanz, and her Agnian foil (both the name and face eluded Noah for the time being), but she never stopped being Eunie.

 

He couldn’t say that for someone like Joran, who seemed to change with every passing day before his passing day came and crushed all his lost hopes. He couldn’t say that for Consul J, who came with a hateful bitterness of the world but the contradictory desire to prevent its changing. He couldn’t say that for the man he paired with, considering how unsteady and unstable of a mental state he held. Hell, he couldn’t even say Mio held onto herself perfectly.

 

The only difference between her, Joran, J, and that other Moebius was the direction in which their perspectives and lives changed.

 

He couldn’t place a finger on it in space nor time within Aionios’ confines, but there came a day when Mio — that wonderful, silver woman living in the night sky among the stars he could have once only dreamed of meeting — flipped like a switch.

 

And there was a time when Noah, did, too. Painfully so. He couldn’t help but fear that positive change in the both of them came after the sudden switch. It made no sense to his now foreign mind, but it must have made sense when Noah was experiencing eternity in the present.

 

Noah’s daydreaming was cut off by him being clotheslined against Lanz’s outstretched arm, stopping him dead in his tracks as he grunted, huffed, and followed the motions he and Eunie made.

 

They hung behind a series of crates at Colony 9’s port, watching some kind of merchant’s exchange go down between some foreign ship and some Colony Nopon.

 

…Why did we stop. I could care less about Nopon trading.

 

As if reading his mind, Eunie gave a whisper-shout to Noah, pointing at one of the turquoise Nopon from 9, “Hey, look at that little guy. The blue one with the brown spiky afro kinda thing.”

 

Noah tried scrutinizing the Nopon from afar, believing he had in fact identified the correct one by the brown spiky afro part — there were multiple blue Nopon at the exchange, though. He tilted his head to the side without saying anything, hoping his confusion would provoke Eunie to keep talking.

 

“I’ve seen that guy a few times around Alcamoth. That’s Riku, I think. He’s some super special inventor guy who hangs around the Empress, apparently.”

 

“Wait, seriously?” Lanz gaped, “Is he any good with power frames? I could totally use a boost before I go add some tallies to my side.”

 

“How am I supposed to know that?” Eunie frowned, still watching the exchange go down, “All I know is he’s a big deal of some kind.”

 

Riku. Noah knew that name. He was in Aionios and followed Lanz, Eunie, and him around to provide mechanical and emotional support…or whatever it was exactly that he did. He was an enigma inside and out, it seemed.

 

But the thought still plagued Noah: hearing he was associated with the Empress made him wonder what business someone like that had in what looked like normal Nopon trading. If he was an engineer of some kind, would he…care about nominal trade?

 

Noah’s answer came faster than he imagined. He couldn’t hear a word either cohort of Nopons were saying, and trying to lip-read was useless when both dealing with Nopon and lacking the skill entirely, so he just went off of colors and fashion choices.

 

Two Nopon there stood out: Riku, just because Eunie recognized him, and a tan, striped one wearing dark blue overalls and an oversized wrench at the waist.

 

It became obvious, or so Noah was sure, of what was happening: this was a meeting of inventors and mechanics. Some kind of science-y, nerdy collaboration between foreign and local Nopon. Between Alrest and what remained of the Bionis.

 

…Cool, but this is still pointless. Don’t we have Skeeters to exterminate?

 

“Look, they’re all leaving the dock!” Lanz pointed obtusely, seeming to forget the fact that they were hiding behind crates to observe and ogle at things that they definitely didn’t need to be interfering with.

 

But he was right; the Nopon had met in a group and were walking away from the port, off toward a private Gran Dell shuttle in the distance. Noah glanced at his friends. Riding the same brainwave, he knew they were conspiring about something insane — something like sneaking onto that shuttle and harassing the Nopon engineers at work.

 

So Noah was left confused when the two of them ran off in different directions once the Nopon had all piled into the shuttle. Lanz ran for the dust pile left behind from the ship. Eunie ran for the boat. The foreign boat sitting docked at the port.

 

When Lanz quickly changed course to follow Eunie, now equally confused as Noah, that’s when he, too, emerged from behind the crates and followed his headstrong best friend.

 

“Hey! Friends not allowed on board!” Noah heard a feminine Nopon with a funny (the same dialect and mostly similar intonations but the pronunciation of some words had changed) accent bark at the three of them. They didn’t see a face, and considering so, they were lucky she sounded more assertive rather than threatening.

 

“Is the ship talking?” Eunie glanced around wildly, deciding to cup her hands around her mouth to amplify her yelling response at the Noponic voice aboard, “You can see us?”

 

She sounded a bit more deadpan this time, “…yes. Can see friends just fine. Please step off the plank. This private craft!”

 

Lanz took his foot off of the small boarding plank with a sort of curious look replacing his confused one. Eunie’s little comment of is the ship talking put a strange little idea in both Noah and Lanz’s minds — just what kind of technology did Alrestian ships have?

 

“Uh, sorry,” Lanz mimicked Eunie’s hand-cupping motions to respond to the ship’s voice, “Can we talk, though? Won’t board you, promise.”

“Friends want to talk? About what?” Now she was the curious one, voice switching from flavors and shades of mechanical to degrees of Machina — it bared serious similarities to the living, breathing mechanical people Lanz belonged to.

 

That’s where Noah’s question came from: “Who are you?”

 

“Better question is who are friends! This supposed to be special meeting between Nopon of Alrest and Bionis — not recognize any of your faces.”

 

“My name’s Noah,” he responded without hesitation.

 

The ship’s voice didn’t respond. Noah gave a gesture to Lanz and Eunie to give their names to her, and they eventually (given a few strange side glances) did.

 

Another silence, though an imperfect one. A few rustles and jolts erupted within the structure, and eventually, the previously closed, sealed, and protected hull door swung open with a hissing of released pressure.

 

And out stepped a tall, robotic figure with a red scarf bedazzled with flowers, Homs-like face, purple steel plating wrapped in pigtails, and a sailor’s hat atop the figure’s head.

 

She stepped out onto the plank and waved at Noah and his friends, who had all the same degree of utter shock and surprise about them, “Apologies for the defensive behavior — Poppi is to protect the ship from dangerous people. Had to make sure nothing would go wrong talking to real Bionis peoples face-to-face!”

 

Poppi (was she really referring to herself in the third person like the Nopon did?) had this kind of radiant enthusiasm and cheer about her that made it hard to want to question everything Noah had ever known all at once.

 

And…she seemed curious. Had she really never spoken to anyone from the Colony? That can’t have been the first time such a meeting occurred, surely — Noah refused to believe it was the first meeting of its type.

 

So, he was the first to break the incredibly awkward, shock-induced silence brewing between the parties with a question, “You…protect the ship?”

 

“Masterpon’s orders. Apparently the last time Masterpon took this trip, something happened to the boat and he had to spend days fixing interior damage. Is that common on Bionis?”

 

Noah, Eunie, and Lanz exchanged the same (err, very similar) what is she talking about look, realizing just how far off the deep end they were at that moment.

 

They were random 14-year-olds skipping class. They didn’t know anything about boats. Noah barely knew what he was eating for dinner on any given night — how was he supposed to give this Poppi person an answer?

 

Eunie asked the next question, “What’s a Masterpon?”

 

“Poppi’s inventor and Driver,” she answered with a surprisingly genuine smile, seemingly more excited to ask and answer questions than anything else, “Does Bionis not have Blades and Drivers?”

 

There was that word again: Blade. Noah had heard it a thousand times in Aionios — it referred directly to the summonable weapons everyone had — but it seemed to hold a different connotation with Agn—Alrestians. Moraine had mentioned a “diffusing of technologies” when he showed her his flute; that the “Blade technology” should have diffused faster than shinobue flutes or something to that effect.

 

But if Blades were…complex, sentient machines? in Alrest, how exactly would that have diffused first? He supposed the Machina then qualified as Blades, being mechanical creations made in the image of Lady Meyneth, but then…Moraine must have seen a Machina in 9 somewhere and decided that they weren’t a Blade?

 

Noah’s head hurt.

 

On the bright side, he was learning way more out of class than in it today. And Poppi was sweet. Maybe it wasn’t all a wash.

Chapter 8: The Bow, The Stern

Notes:

sorry for slight delay; had another late practice and couldn't start writing till what i wanted to call my upload time lmao!!

my schedule is tentatively totally free next tuesday so 8pm cst for SURE for DEFINITELY for ABSOLUTELY (no promises)

regardless, enjoy the chapter and see yall for the next one soon. :D

Really, Poppi was just confounding. Her existence went against everything Noah knew to be true, but maybe that was an unfair assumption to make.

 

He knew nothing of Alrest. Nothing other than the absolute minimum to not be totally ignorant toward their unique customs, but even that was pushing it. So maybe Poppi was part of the Alrestian equivalent of Machinas, just…in servitude to the Nopon? One Nopon specifically?

 

“Drivers…? Blades…?” Lanz cocked his head to the side, clearly as confused as Noah and Eunie. It took him a moment, but he seemed to stumble into understanding what exactly that meant, “Don’t Blades have a crystal in their chests?”

 

“Friend knows it!” Poppi made a gesture to the small lines of glowing orange laced throughout her wiring converging back on a spherical core, “Like this, but blue.”

 

“Well, all the Alrest folk I’ve seen have been green. Clean green — not a speck of blue about them.” Lanz shrugged, likely referring to his tally mark friend.

 

Poppi seemed to let that thought sink in, her face visibly contorting as she pondered it. Shades of contemplation abound, she took a step back and apologized, “Ah, Poppi apologize. Thought friends had met visitors of Bionis, not only projections.”

 

Well, Noah certainly had. He met Moraine and Nootka: they were from Alrest and didn’t have crystals. They were the Alrest equivalent of Homs, surely.

 

So he spoke up, “No, I have. Some tourists in the Commercial District—“

 

And so Poppi cut him off excitedly, “Hah! Poppi knew it! Friend is friend!” Her intonation with that last sentence made it hard to decipher the intent to Noah’s untrained ears, but she sounded positively enough to where her self-confirmations didn’t entirely throw him off.

 

“What’s that mean, exactly?” Eunie chimed in, arms crossed and a hint of hostility in her tone.

 

Poppi twitched, quickly giving out an answer, “Is Nopon saying — friend is friend — to mean…Poppi know she was right.” How truthful her answer was seemed to elude Noah’s scrutiny, but he knew deep down that wasn’t the case.

 

Somewhere deep down, Noah recognized the adorable Blade from the second he heard her voice, as he did with so many people, but what made Poppi interesting is that she didn’t follow that rule.

 

Noah didn’t know her name until she revealed it and knew nothing further about her other than what he could try inferring from her behavior and mannerisms, but even that failed him more often than not.

 

His senses weren’t anywhere near as sharp as they were in Aionios. Part of him missed his old intuition despite all of him knowing it was built on years of horror and violence. Part of him missed that land of eternity, just because he got to see all of it. There had to be more to Poppi, and if she was intrigued by him, then so would he be.

 

But she had gone and changed the subject, enthusiasm taking over as she practically leaped off the boat and onto the dock proper, “Okay, Poppi decided. While Masterpon out doing Masterpon things, Poppi want to see Bionis with friends. You all officially Poppi’s tour guides!”

 

“Don’t you have to guard the ship or whatever it is?” Eunie rolled her eyes, clearly unamused by the Blade’s attitude.

 

“Oh,” Poppi frowned, head swiveling back toward the docked ship, “…ship will be fine. Poppi forget what even caused it to break last time.”

 

“What about your driver? I don’t think those Nopon are gonna be meeting forever.” This time it was Lanz asking the question, almost as skeptical of the entire ordeal as Eunie was.

 

Noah didn’t understand that — Poppi very visibly posed no threat to them. She just seemed…sheltered. Like a puppy on their first walk, jumping and leaping for any new experience at all. In fact, Eunie was like that; why was she judging Poppi?

 

“Poppi is Blade! Can always detect where Masterpon is — he currently far away, so when he gets close, Poppi know it time to go again.” She explained so nonchalantly it almost made Noah accept the idea without further thought.

 

But his mind still hesitated and heart still shied away from that: built-in trackers must have been a wild addition to add to Blades. Why would they need to know where their Drivers are at all times? That seems creepy.

 

Noah brushed it aside for the moment, believing the more important option was making the day with friends count. If Poppi was going to add herself to that roster, then so be it. Lanz and Eunie would fill in the gaps once she left, surely.

 

Besides, this Blade was an Alrest native. If anyone knew about Mio or possibly even what the exchange program was about, it would have to be someone from their land. Or was it collections of land? Noah had forgotten the details of it.

 

“So we show you around the Colony until those Nopon are done…Nopon-ing…and then what?” Eunie spoke first, saving Noah the awkwardness of asking it himself. He smiled her a thank you and made sure to keep his gaze fixed on the significantly taller Blade excitedly posed beside him.

 

“Poppi go back to Alrest having been student of the world. And Poppi can tell friends fun stories while touring Bionis, if friends want.”

 

Okay, she offered it up on her own. Phew.

 

“Sure,” Noah perked up, doing his best to hide his curiosity behind thin lips and a cool facade, failing with even his single-syllabic response.

 

Lanz and Eunie, definitely on the same wavelength today, shared another glance and gave Noah a sort of incredulous look, one that Noah could actually read this time: What about avenging Joran?

 

That stupid Skeeter boat: going there was suicide, even if Eunie stole an actual High Entia weapon, Lanz had the beginnings of visible muscles, and Noah knew exactly where not to go in that abandoned hull to avoid the colony.

 

And that thought sparked his response, “Well, you’re made of metal, right Poppi?”

 

“Noah is correct!”

 

“Can we ask a favor before giving you the tour?”

 

— [] — [] —

 

Noah couldn’t quite explain it, but maneuvering around the Fallen Arm was more difficult today than any previous time. Perhaps it was due to Eunie, Lanz, and him not having been beyond its nature preserves since they were ambushed by those Skeeters and the foliage consuming some of the beaten paths, but it felt different.

 

Unfamiliar, and not in an adventurous sense. Unfamiliar in a worrying sense.

 

“Can’t believe Bionis is so itty bitty. Poppi thought it was big Titan all peoples shared in peace and harmony.” Poppi gaped, seeming more thrilled by the thought of staring at all the different plants and rocks and bugs lying about than keeping consistent pace with the group.

 

Her lack of knowledge about the remnants of the Bionis were comforting in a sense to Noah. It meant their peoples were still strangers and that even their Machina-equivalents always sought to learn new things with nigh-eternal life. But it was also a little concerning.

 

The Bionis had been crashed into the sea for 16 years at that point. No one Noah’s age had any personal recollections of what happened, even those that had been around when it happened. Most of them were babies — the impact was lost on them and yet it remained engrained in their skulls as a testament to the sheer degree of a monumental feat it was to fell the Bionis with nothing more than the heroic determination Shulk had always been depicted with.

 

So for Poppi to not know the not-so recent experiences of the world, especially when first contact with their worlds came shortly after Noah started having flashbacks of Aionios, it made him question where exactly she had heard that.

 

“Heard from Nia, who heard from Miss Melly, one of the people who—“

 

“‘Miss Melly’? Like, Empress Melia?” Eunie gaped, pausing her steps’ cadence to turn and face Poppi properly.

 

Poppi grinned, bubbly energy remaining in full-swing, “Friends know Miss Melly?”

 

Obviously, Noah didn’t say, She’s one of the heroes who stood against Zanza and saved the world. Everyone knows her, though few actually KNOW her.

 

“Not personally,” Lanz scoffed, “that’s only for the really cool people. Like she’d ever be interested in a bunch of random teenagers from the Colony. Or Eunie, blegh.” He made a teasing comment toward the still girl, no hints of malice lingering from his depreciating tangent.

 

“Watch it, Lanz. I’ve still got a staff I could totally blast you with.” She threatened with the same amount of seriousness as Lanz had when teasing her: none. In no way shape or form was Eunie ever going to shoot Lanz with her stolen blaster — not when this was his first return to their six-weekly skip day. It would ruin the fun for everyone else.

 

Or at least that was what Noah figured; Eunie was as wild of a card as Poppi was at the moment. He could only hope to try thinking like her and figuring that it would be less fun to end the day before its completion — the thing that mattered most to her right now.

 

“Why Lanz say that? Poppi sure Miss Melly would love friends. Can introduce to all sorts of people, too.” Her offer stood as a rather enticing one, but Noah still failed to grasp why exactly she was so eager to (what he felt) impress them.

 

She was the “cool” one, the one with all the stories and whatnot — or so she claimed — and yet she was more focused on trying to keep Noah and his wildly skeptical friends entertained with all sorts of different topics of conversation and offers to teach about her world.

 

He wasn’t opposed to it by any means; the more information he could learn about Alrest, the more he would be able to not piss off Mio, something Noah lived to be unfortunately adept at.

 

But first came the matter of the old abandoned boat and those Skeeterss and Joran’s year-overdue vengeance and…Noah was sure there was more to that. He could always just ask Lanz what it was he said.

 

As the group turned a final corner, Lanz taking point and rearing his head from the bushes first, they had at last navigated the in hindsight mildly inconvenient — not apocalyptically different — excess growths and found their old work left exactly as it was.

 

Battered, bruised, and half-eaten by the elements, there it stood, waiting to be reclaimed for the now combined efforts of the Bionis and Alrestian peoples, taken back for the forces of good and removed from those of evil.

 

“This is what friends were talking about?” Poppi pushed through a few weeds, approaching the wreckage curiously, “Poppi not detecting any inhuman energy. It just old boat ruins.”

 

“Whaat?” Eunie frowned, emerging toward the sandy clearing from another series of bushes and trees, previously readied battle staff now hanging tiredly in her limp, disappointed arms, “No way there’s no bugs crawling around it! It’s been a whole year since we got jumped by ‘em!”

 

Poppi tilted her head and spun around to face Noah and Lanz still in the thicker wood, “Were…Noah and Lanz looking to fight ruin’s inhabitants, too?”

 

“Uh, sorta.” Lanz sighed, head peaking out and over, eventually just committing to stepping over his cover entirely to face the scene properly, “It’s for our friend, Joran.”

 

“Joran…?” Poppi repeated the name, pupils shriveling into her artificial irises for a moment as her eyes widened and posture stiffened, “Who is…that?”

 

She was lying. She knew exactly who Joran was — or at least as far as Noah’s intuition was concerned. But there was no way Joran could scare someone like Poppi: he was too kind and rational and she too innocent and trusting.

 

Joran wouldn’t hurt a fly; he wasn’t physically capable of doing so. So why?

 

Noah blinked away the thought, but oh how it did not merely blink away. How it lingered beneath his eyelids. A conversation between masked figures, one small and rotund, another long and lanky, and the other of which Noah’s eyes peered into to experience first-hand.

 

A discussion of the next steps in a castle of sorts. A conspiracy behind masks and gothic-inspired futuristic towers. A series of men’s voices, ranging from low, serious, and sinister to one Noah could only describe as wounded.

 

Not audibly, but in tone and intonation: it was audibly the small, rotund one that Noah knew the voice’s source, knew the voice’s connections and intentions, knew the everything that preceded the red eyes and the metallic, caped get-ups.

 

Of Consuls. Of their first names sliced down to the starting letter. Of days spent protecting a never-ending mourning of life and the hate that spirals in the vicious cycles their systems built and worked to keep spinning and spinning and…

 

And the boat was empty, but the memories left inside of it weren’t. Noah snapped himself free of his own trance this time, pressing onward to feel the rotting hull with his own fingers, shades of ebony emanating against the golden rays splintered between clouds and trees about as his mind relaxed again.

 

“Man, it really is empty,” Eunie sighed, practically digging herself out from the inner hull as the wood surrounding her coughed out dusty gusts and scratching screeches against other fellow planks.

 

“Why friends so disappointed?” Poppi asked, a heartfelt feeling emanating from her with the same fervor as the few worms munching on old wood, “It mean the danger is gone; Noah, Lanz, and Eunie can safely visit old boat whenever they want! No more scary monsters to hurt them.”

 

Eunie grumbled, slamming some large, heavy object to the side in frustration, “That’s just it! The boat’s safe! The danger’s gone! We didn’t even clear it out on our own. We wasted our time when we could have been…”

 

She trailed off more for Poppi’s sake than her her, that much was evident.

 

The danger’s gone. That phrase lingered in Noah’s mind as he slowly traced a finger around the edge of the beached ship, looking to find his way closer to the shoreline and stare off into it a bit.

 

If the danger is gone, the reason to explore and go after the boat itself, then was the journey still worth it?

 

Noah kicked around the sand a little, the passing high tides flopping against his old, outgrown boots in almost equal amounts,  rhythmically tattooing against the shore.

 

And as he shuffled around particles of glass, he felt it shuffle his footing slowly, then aggressively.

 

Rising beneath him, his wayward feet had led him to his hands and knees as the entire boat began to raise into the sky.

 

The danger hadn’t left.

Chapter 9: Collisions

Notes:

the long-awaited sequel to boat shenanigans, now featuring CONSEQUENCES!

this one's a bit wild -- hope yall enjoy and to see yas next week :)

Unsteady — that became the word faster than Noah could predict it. He had been so certain the boat was a bust; perhaps their chance to see some glory today would be whatever was throwing them around.

 

Them — Noah’s mind swirled as he realized he wasn’t sure where everyone was. As if instinctual, he had to put a pin on every person and every motion, every thought and every play from that point on.

 

Eunie’s screams and the tumbling of old planks gave him his first marker. Poppi’s metallic luster contrasting against the shore’s knoll, the second. Lanz? Entirely out of sight, but his confounded shouts provided a general sense of where he was: somewhere behind Noah.

 

Creaking and shrieking, the boat arose from its sandy home, the downpour of offloaded grains enough to reveal the true, scaly nature of the “ground” he had kicked around.

 

By some force of nature, Noah had kicked up some bipedal force of what felt like twisted, ebony roots with bulges of cerulean, mutated, filmy sacs on what appeared to be each of its four (discernible) limbs, and its standing on its hind legs had quickly thrust Noah off what he learned was its head and down into the waters ashore.

 

The thing was huge. Even screaming and flailing in the air as he painfully slammed into less-than-wadeable water, he could see it rise to thrice his height and width, the rotting boat in question fused into its cranium.

 

Perhaps it was just the whiplash of being launched backwards and having to pick up his aching body a few meters from the shore’s surface, but the sight had his breakfast replaced with bile.

 

He felt like screaming, if only just to drown out what felt like a broken neck and spine mixed with wet socks and water-logged ears, but screaming meant losing what precious oxygen he had left.

 

Noah sunk like a stone, eyes fading between the shifting sunlight above and the misty darkness that chilled his fingertips and settled his form against rippling tides.

 

His chest seemed to cave in on itself, lungs filling with that fullness that came whenever he and Eunie would have breath-holding contests — like he was about to pop from top to bottom.

 

And he probably was; he closed his eyes, feeling the salty nastiness egg him to slam them shut, and tried to relax his body. He could just barely feel ground beneath him: he needed every muscle working to push him up and out from the water if he wanted to live.

 

He needed every bone unified on this one task, sparing not even a molecule of oxygen for another moment or movement that wasn’t saving his life.

 

Noah felt his feet sink and his blinded sight give him the clarity he was missing, feeling the pressure from his lungs and brain swell to give him a sense of depth.

 

He sunk further, this time intentionally buckling into his knees before flinging himself up, arm outstretched vertically in search of having that appear first. Even among the chaos, his arm wasn’t too much longer than his head — if that surfaced, so could he.

 

Noah gambled with the last saps of strength his hypoxic brain could.

 

Soaring, soaring, soaring — slowing, slowing, slowing.

 

Light peeked through his eyelids, greater and greater with each moment.

 

Then, salvation.

 

Water crashed around him as he had somehow managed to see the full resplendence of sun again, mouth greedily coughing out saltwater and sucking in fresh air.

 

Sputtering, sputtering, sputtering, he barely tread the water as his vision caught up with his broken breathing and he got back into that sense — some instinct he must have honed a lifetime or two ago that stuck with him now.

 

His ears, too clogged to get a real sense of what was happening. His arms, flailing about as his airflow slowly regenerated. His legs, desperately kicking to try and assist his exhausted arms. His back, radiating with stings and shocks from being flung backward with such force.

 

He tried focusing on that strange biped — its behaviors were sporadic and in-line with that of a toddler, kicking sand around and flinging its trunk-like limbs without rhythm, and Noah silently wondered what exactly was happening.

 

His hearing cleared up with a few shakes and doggy paddles back to shore, revealing the ridiculous amount of screaming emanating from that beast.

 

The monster itself was silent save for the cracking and whipping of its flesh against itself, but what hurt to hear was Eunie. What hurt to hear was Lanz. What hurt to hear was the angry slapping of metal against…whatever the thing was made out of.

 

Because Eunie was still on that boat — probably a safer fate than being thrust into the water and barely resurfacing. Because Lanz was hurling insults against it and trying to avoid being splayed across the shore. Because Poppi was flying and working her hardest to try disabling the beast at its knees.

 

…Because Noah was struggling to make it back to shore.

 

“Lanz! Poppi!” Noah flailed, hurling his voice as far forward as it would travel, feeling his feet slowly be able to press fully against the sand.

 

Lanz’s gaze quickly shifted to him, body following as he practically dove into the water to help Noah back out, “Noah! Are you OK?!”

 

Finally able to stand again, Lanz outstretching his hand and later his shoulder to prop Noah’s exhausted body up with, Noah responded between breaths, “Barely. Thing threw me…clean off it…!”

 

“C’mon, outta the water before you drown again.” Lanz made haste supporting his friend, “…I was so worried you’d drowned, what with Poppi busy knocking the snot out of whatever the hell that monster is.”

 

“Eunie’s…still in the boat…” Noah huffed as he was set against the shore a moment longer to recover his strength without having to expend it keeping himself afloat.

 

Lanz lifted himself up and made antsy jumps with each movement the beast made, “I know! I…I’m such an idiot, man! I dunno how to—“

 

Poppi flew in beside Noah and Lanz, barking an order, “Friends! Find help, now! Poppi can keep monster busy, but can’t kill this one without fire!”

 

Without even awaiting a response, she darted off again to land another blow against the dark biped, this one threatening to knock it off-balance.

 

Normally, great. But for Eunie, trapped in the warped boat on the back of its head, certain death.

 

Noah picked himself up and let the adrenaline try soothing his aches, but clearly the flinging had left him less than battle-ready: he could barely stand.

 

Instead, he just directed Poppi’s order to Lanz with slightly more specific instructions: “The Machina Village! Someone there can help — do you know…where it is?”

 

A nod, and a trail of fading footsteps leading inward the jungle they had braved to make it back to their hideout. One life saved by proxy of fleeing, but Noah held out hope Lanz would return in time. Sometime before Poppi’s stalling failed. Because she was strong — like a mountain almost — but it was clear to Noah’s instinctively-trained eye she wasn’t at full-strength.

 

Was that why she got put on Noponic guard duty? Because something’s wrong with her? Is she normally a combat unit?

 

Muffled yells from the beast’s head: Eunie’s voice rang out, “Help! I’m trapped under planks! I can barely move!”

 

She’s in danger. I can’t move — how do I help? There has to be something I can do. Some rock to hurl or some…

 

His fingers tingled like they wanted something: some object to hold, something to feel to alleviate the stress. Unfortunately, Noah had nothing on him. Nothing of value during a deathmatch against some strange black creature Noah had never seen before.

 

He felt around his water-logged pockets. Keys (certainly to rust early now). An old piece of paper that was now ruined, ink stains barely revealing its original purpose was as a scheduling guide for class that day. A pen he’d forgotten about that miraculously hadn’t washed away at sea. The flute.

 

By some divine act, that precious flute had not fled his grasp. It wasn’t what his fingers called out for, but if owning the thing for four years taught Noah anything, it was that water and instruments do NOT mix.

 

Hobbling over and away from the stomping, smashing threat threatening both Eunie and Poppi’s lives, he shook out the water from his wooden flute, examining the gorgeous silver, green, and gold paint job — the little red keychain at the end that blew when he played it. The beauty that was his strange gift from Alrest.

 

My fingers have only ever done that when they played that melody perfectly. I have the flute — why do they still…?

 

He figured that answer was obvious: the flute was useless here. What good would playing some little jig do when his best friend’s life was in mortal peril? What good would it do if Poppi was struggling to keep its hulking body in one place: one place away from the nearby Machina Village?

 

Noah just wanted to get in that fight and do something other than watch Eunie be slammed against and crushed under rotting planks and mistakes made in the fervor of youth.

 

Something. He had to do something.

 

The black-and-blue monster took another balance-shifting blow, and Eunie’s cries turned blood-curdling. There was…one thing he could do.

 

“Poppi!” He cupped his hands around his mouth to try stealing her attention from the beast, repeating himself as loud as and as many times as his dry throat would allow.

 

His voice must have barely reached her, because she made a swing by him to help rest him against a tree, seeming to scan and diagnose his condition with a glance: “Noah! Friend’s back not good. Because Noah cannot run, please to rest and stay—“

 

“Eunie’s still in the boat!” He cut her off, pointing at the structure on the back of the beast’s head, “Forget about me — please just help Eunie.”

 

Poppi adjusted almost mechanically, gasping, “Those screams not from Guldo?!”

 

How could she…not know? Do these ‘Guldo’ things have voices? Why hasn’t it been making any sound, then?

 

Questions lit ablaze in Noah’s mind, but neither he nor Eunie had the time necessary to debate anything now. He forced himself not to sputter out query after query, instead focusing on the more important, life-and-death problem at hand, “No! They’re Eunie’s! She’s in the boat getting thrown around when that thing loses balance. You’ve gotta get her out. Please!”

 

“Poppi will do best.” She then began mumbling just a bit, “If Poppi just had Driver…” — Noah missed the rest of that. If there was anything else to it.

 

He just wanted his friends to be safe. These shenanigans were Eunie’s ideas and he knew that was just her wanting to bond with everyone while she could, but…

 

But how could such a thing be possible? Noah had never once heard of such beast as a ‘Guldo.’ He remembered hearing about Fogbeasts turning familiar species feral and aggressive, but never of them bringing new species to Bionis — and that was before Alrest was discovered. Before Noah was even born.

 

He knew about the Fog Rift — who didn’t? The heroic stories of Shulk and the Empress saving the world from the brink of destruction at the hands of some Fog King, but the legends always depicted that Fogbeast as purple and orange. All fogbeasts as purple and orange.

 

This Guldo thing was black and blue without even a trace of purple or orange. No aura, no colors emanating — it was just tall, lanky, puffy, and angry.

 

Splinters of wood rained down in dusty storms as a beam of light shot down from the boat’s vertical stern as Eunie’s voice became significantly more audible.

 

“Noah! Lanz! Poppi — anyone, please! I don’t wanna die here!”

 

Hearing her plead for her life against the Guldo’s violent body jerks and swings made Noah’s breakfast-turned-bile ready to surface again.

 

Poppi wasn’t the source of the new 3-meter-high hole in the back of the boat, though — she was too busy trying to pry off one of what appeared to be its fingers with sheer willpower.

 

The thought violated Noah’s mind: she could fall head-first into that sand and DIE.

 

His instinct-trained, weakened-by-hypoxia eyes had no idea what they were looking at for Eunie. Maybe in Aionios she would have the dexterity necessary to take that fall after blasting open a hole like that — but this was a 14-year-old sprinter who was keen on making and escaping trouble at all costs.

 

He wished he could do something. He wished Lanz would get back with help faster, but realistically speaking, how easily could the Machina Village mobilize real help? Most of the fighting talent moved to and integrated with Colony 9. There was no Colony Defense Force this far out on the Fallen Arm.

 

Just Poppi and however strong Lanz’s legs proved to be. Just one useless boy with a stinging back, tired legs, and the inability to help the child being slugged around in a tiny, nasty boat previously infested by Skeeters dangling from dangerously high into dangerously nothing cushioning.

 

He could wish all he wanted to. No facts were going to change. Apparently this thing had to be burned or else it would keep threatening Eunie.

 

He watched long and broken planks fall from the light-beam induced stern hole, opening up Eunie’s space on the boat but making any descent of hers harder and harder with each loss.

 

Poppi was busy trying to splinter the beast’s range of motion. She managed to steal one of its digits and hurl it back into the ocean, seeming to keep an eye on Eunie’s placement in that boat without expending any unnecessary energy unless she had to.

 

I should have taken those fencing lessons like Ethel did. Maybe then I’d have some skills to try and stop this mess. Maybe I’d have the sense to have not messed around and found out with the Guldo.

 

Eunie…I’m so sorry. This was my fault.

 

Noah’s vision blurred again, once again thanks to water, but this time of his own. He cursed himself, wishing he were stronger, faster, smarter, wiser…all of the above.

 

In just a few short days, he had managed to get thrown into a mandatory music program, fumble the entirety of any shot with Mio by virtue of having no clue what sheet music or the different chairs are, and now, on the one day he and his friends were supposed to be young and dumb while they could, he was going to discover the while they could part early.

 

He supposed his heart was going to flutter either way, but finally, one of Poppi’s blows had sufficiently winded the Guldo. It stumbled forward and back, lurching violently as Eunie’s fears became hoarse in the air.

 

And as her body slipped from the hole in the bottom of the boat, Noah felt a springing tear finally free.

Chapter 10: Gravity

Notes:

and here it is, everyone!

merry christmas to those who celebrate (and a happy holidays to those who don't)

my gift to y'all: a slightly earlier upload AND double the chapter length this week. <33

see you all soon. :D

“Say, Noah,” Noah let her melodic voice gently pry his attention from the potatoes he was diligently peeling, “When all of this is said and done…do you think things will go back to normal?”

 

“I suppose that depends on your definition of normal, then.” He simply shrugged, glancing back at her.

 

She paused to add some minced mushrooms to the stew, fidgeting a little with her newly-empty hands as she spoke, “Okay…do you think we’ll be like the people from the City?”

 

He found it interesting she would say the City folk were normal — the standard. He wasn’t going to disagree with her, mainly because he envied the thought of having more than 10 terms to live, of turning into those golden motes at the end of his unnatural life. They were folk from all walks of life, all colors, all creeds, and they all shared a little bit of the Ouroboros spark she, Noah, and every other friend of their chaos did.

 

But he didn’t quite have an answer for her — not one that didn’t require him to spend too much energy thinking about it, too much energy not spent on ensuring he didn’t cut himself with the potato peeler again — how could he? Noah barely knew the residents of the City. It felt as though he could never know their lives, their passions, their growths, their purposes…because they hadn’t had one thrown at them from birth.

 

Because they had the freedom to choose who they wanted to be. What they wanted to do, outside those confines of the military. He felt he could never understand them, not with the mere year and change he had left. Perhaps if he were a City resident for longer, had more terms to spend studying and learning, he could grasp it…

 

But not in this lifetime.

 

So he offered an honest yet distant answer to her, “I can’t say. I barely know my left from right anymore.” He chuckled at his own joke toward the end, trying to hide how horrifically true those words were to him.

 

“Well, once we deal with Ghondor’s imprisonment, we’ve just got Moebius to deal with. Then…then we’ll finally be able to live. For real this time. We’ll get a whole do-over, not having to worry a thing about our term markers — we’ll call them years like they do instead — and…and then, no more fighting.”

 

Her desperate grasps at hope worried Noah: he couldn’t soothe her fears, cajole any of that existential dread. All he could do was finish peeling the last part of potato so Manana could do the rest of the hard work making whatever it was she had in mind taste good for the evening’s meal.

 

“No more fighting. That sounds nice, I think.” He just gave her a sympathetic smile, “Then we’ll be able to be like so many of the City folk — learn more instruments than just what fits in our back pockets, you know?”

 

No more fighting. She makes it sound so nice…

 

…It’s just that…

 

Thrust into the center of combat, flaming heralds of a greenish-yellowish death strolling ahead, their battle-worn skins reflecting in the dead earth beneath him, glimmering under a fiery sky:

 

And Noah stormed in, lurching forward with each melodic swing of his blade, edges seared with scorching cerulean death rays designed to quickly, swiftly, and mercifully end those ravages of hatred fighting only to kill everyone he swore to protect.

 

Sweat leaped from the boy’s forehead and neck, racing hideously toward his bloody, greasy hair freshly ruined from the fray. One of those silver menaces had sliced off part of his ponytail; it was such a pain to regrow. Noah didn’t have much time to let it flow to the true length he wanted it. He didn’t have the freedom to disobey his superiors’ grooming standards.

 

But the more terms they racked up, the more likely it was that they weren’t around to enforce Noah’s haircut. Eventually people stopped caring once Noah became the superior — the geriatric 9th-termer clinging on to the hope of Homecoming. Clinging to the ideal of the perfect, perfect day at which he had finally completed his service to the Queen and could return to her at last.

 

Agnus stood no chance against him — neither him nor his mutilated hair. The sorrow he felt from losing so many friends, all with that same smile, term after term...it hurt. If Agnians were so heartless as to inflict pain on the ones Noah loved, then he was okay stomping boots into mud and slamming fiery-edged swords into helmets.

 

To protect Eunie, to protect Lanz, to protect the Commander, to protect Mwamba, to protect Colony 9, to protect Keves, he was okay fighting back against the silver-clad warriors.

 

But he always understood what it was he was doing, always knew conceptually the burden that he left for the mournings to come. Conceptually he knew he was a murderer, just as all his peers were.

 

In practice, however, their deaths were always justified. Righteous. They were a necessary evil to root out the worst, most vile sources of it.

 

And off-seeing, the duty given to people like Noah who just couldn’t bear to let the fallen pass unheard and unseen, couldn’t bear to let those red-hot motes float away as unnatural as they were, was that humanity he needed.

 

So he could charge forward unabashed and unafraid of the enemy. He would repent for his sins later. His nimble fingers and fondness for the dark flute he carried already offered some of that back to him.

 

To have no future, yet to press on in spite of that…

 

…I wonder if any of this…

 

Ashes. Cinders. Ruins of civilization blocked and mapped out under a canvas of smoke and blood, the defeat of countless innocent lives scurrying in the drafts of unnatural mote lines — little golden flickers of that dying hope.

 

His hands just kept shaking, rattling beneath steely black gloves and terrible premonitions of a future now never to come. He had secured his future, if he could even call it that anymore — because he had merely secured the bargaining time necessary to shape the world to the right mold.

 

The mold that would allow him to find a finite taste of eternity, supping its sweet poison under the veil of never seeing that tomorrow. The future he didn’t want.

 

And it was all his fault, and yet he couldn’t move a muscle. He could only stare at his own hubris, at its torrid manifestations and the will of his own desires. He could only lament his cruelty toward the tiny, wide-eyed boy he’d abandoned in the forest and abandoned by his blade yet again.

 

Had he just had more time, things would have been different with that child. He could have been the right father, the right person, the right influence. And perhaps, what he had given him on his final night was the spark that led glory to ash and steel to unalienable, transfixed blood imprinted onto his blade.

 

So, no, this time he would not falter. So, no, this time, he would not run out of time. Even if it costed him his humanity, he would remain absolute. A constant in history — no longer a variable of fate. No longer a ripple against the tides; now part of the tsunami, never to be stemmed by shorelines and erosion.

 

“…What have you done?” A trembling voice behind him. Shock, terror, agony — all the bitter words he could have never used to describe such sounds before.

 

He didn’t move. Barely blinked. His lips moved. Sounds emerged. The words themselves didn’t matter. He had forever to repeat them, again and again. He had forever to hold his reason for living close. He had forever to let metal rot and prairies turn to forests, for he would never change. For they would never change.

 

For the night of golden light would never come to pass. No child would be abandoned in a forest. No child would be slain by his father. No threats to perfection.

 

And that included the new one that threatened even further down the lineage.

 

And to fight eternally for the present out of fear for tomorrow…

 

…is real.

 

Noah had no idea what he was watching. He was just certain he’d already lived through all of it. His fights for the future, present, and past — the preservation of all his former ideals, his questions and answers thrown together haphazardly into a mess of a thought process.

 

His eyes had never showed him anything of this scale — never a single blink into three distinct memories. Never a single moment where anyone was in such danger that he was given the chance to step away from it for what felt like no time and all the time in the world at once.

 

All of this, because of a single child screaming hoarsely for mercy as she plummeted, practically launched downward out of the boat she had nearly been crushed in, to some overgrown remnant of the Fallen Arm.

 

All of this, because Eunie made the unlucky mistake of exploring the boat’s interior while Noah stupidly aggravated that nasty Guldo awake.

 

All of this, because Lanz was never going to return with sufficient help in the split second it required to kill a teenager.

 

All of this, because Noah had back-flopped into angry water, nearly drowned, and damaged his back to some degree bad enough to where Poppi told him to hang on the sidelines.

 

All of this, because Noah was an idiot. Because four years prior, he followed a magical silver flute to the source of its sound and stole it.

 

All of this, because that flute wasn’t a sword or rocket boots or anything designed to let him save one of his best friends, anything designed to fix the mess and burn that husk of a creature alive for what it threatened to do to the peoples of Bionis.

 

His flute guided the dead on their final journey: to rest in peace and to return to the fold once again. To let the fallen recount their lives before passing on.

 

Was that the message it was giving him? That the weight of his sins followed him everywhere, that Aionios’ bounds outstretched their means? That everything Noah had done until this point been…pointless?

 

That he was to watch his closest confidant die and to be able to do nothing about it? He was to let photographs stain sepia, to suffer through the loss that consumed him again and with a different person?

 

That because he had decided to cut class and follow his friends’ leads…that this was happening?

 

His eyes were failing him again — and not even the prophetic ones that presented Noah with memories of his distant past. Those instinctual ones, honed through countless days and nights of battle. It was hardly his strength, hindsight; it gave him nothing of the future and even less of the past.

 

He had maybe a second or two to contextualize what he was given and what he could see while his breathing was slow and his adrenaline kept his heart sufficiently lodged in his throat, a second or two to reflect.

 

Reflect on what, exactly? His own ineptitudes? The level of skill required to have this degree of struggle?

 

Poppi whirred around in a blur, trails of earthy brown and periwinkle tracing the indelicate edges of the looming Guldo. She was busy focusing her efforts on grounding the beast, preventing the danger zone from expanding any further than its present radius.

 

She, Eunie, and Noah had come to this strange standstill, it seemed — perhaps that was just Noah distorting his own perceptions of time.

 

But still, gravity took hold. Even with eons of introspection stolen in a moment, Noah still lurched forward with an outstretched hand, screaming in terror at Eunie’s uncertain fate.

 

Diving headfirst onto old, twisted planks meant major head trauma. Maybe she’d survive if Machina or High Entian doctors could reach her in time — build her a special body or use the ether to mend the losses magically — but bleeding out meant risking the unthinkable.

 

Noah shut his eyes, waiting for that sickening crunch, not one dissimilar to of foes felled by fallen Ferronis, to pierce his ears.

 

He wasn’t even sure what happened to stop the noise from reaching him, but no sound came. Just the whirrs of Poppi’s jet feet and the low moans slowly, cruelling parroting Eunie’s true cries…of the little sniffles and the rustle of distantly-dying blades of grass in the monster’s wake.

 

Then, he slowly flicked them open, and listened to little sniffles turn into heaving sobs against his soaked jacket and the buzzing of a mechanical engine giving him the rest of the context:

 

Poppi had saved Eunie’s life. Noah didn’t need to do anything: the problem had itself solved.

 

And yet, he still wanted to. Even as Eunie threw herself at him, squeezing the breath from his already aching chest as she sobbed away that threat of danger, Noah wanted to thrust himself right back into it.

 

They went there in pursuit of glory. No glory lived in being thrown and thrust off the side of a Guldo and staying incapacitated from there — Noah remembered the stories from Shulk’s adventuring days. Remembered the old war tales between the Bionis and the Mechonis.

 

No one got into those stories by giving up at the edge, not when the Telethia overwhelmed the original Colony 6 or when the Mechon stormed Sword Valley…and considering how much of a fight Poppi was giving that lanky terror, she must have seen or heard or experienced a story like that.

 

“Poppi,” Noah sucked in a breath as his arms wrapped around Eunie, forcing him to make that decision he put off making right then, “How much longer do we…?”

 

“Can handle beast fine, please to not worry.” Poppi tried reassuring the two, glancing back at the now unoccupied Guldo, but the visible scarring to her metal plating and the fiery sputtering flashes of overcooked red mixing with an undeveloped yellow suggesting otherwise, “But friend Lanz has fallen out of radar range. Poppi cannot say how much longer.”

 

Out of range? Surely he didn’t run that far. He couldn’t have.

 

Noah remembered his earlier observation — that Poppi wasn’t at full-strength. Their prior conversation about Blades and Drivers and the Nopon she called Masterpon.

 

And there he was again, time frozen as Poppi’s attention threatened to fade away, back to the Guldo and leave both 14-year-olds to sit on the sidelines or risk death.

 

And there he was again, thinking of Mio, wondering if sacrificing his safety was worth the chance of telling her a story certain to win her over.

 

She doesn’t even know who I am anymore. Back then, we met in crazy circumstances — there’s nothing crazy about seeing her sidelong for an hour after class every weekday.

 

…

 

“Wait!” Noah exclaimed, “Let me help!”

 

He had made up his mind, and he was certain he was about to face the consequences for doing so, just as his previous selves had done time and time again.

 

“What? No, Noah cannot help. Noah’s back not good, like Poppi say—“ She began to protest the idea, but Noah quickly cut her off:

 

“But you’re damaged! What happens if that thing lands a big blow on you before Lanz can come back with help?“

 

“Poppi can be repaired, friends cannot.” She spoke grimly, fully aware of and almost content with the stakes.

 

“You don’t have to worry if you’re not fighting alone. Y’know? Driver and Blade?”

 

“Noah is not Poppi’s Driver. Noah not know if even have the potential for Driving! It not work, no matter what.”

 

Potential? There’s potential required? I’ve got plenty of potential — or so says the Colonel.

 

“So what? I don’t need potential to pick up any old sword and start swinging it — Eunie used that High Entian staff no problem.”

 

“Does Noah have any sword training? Or any knowledge of how to assist?”

 

She was making serious points. Noah as he was before her had no formal training with anything physical. Sure, he was active — he knew how to run and how to move and breathe and whatnot — but to properly wield a weapon? Not a clue. Especially not when it came to Poppi’s massive shield-with-a-drill-bit weapon.

 

So he switched his argument away from logic: “Can you really take that risk of fighting alone when you’re the only one who knows what that thing is or how to defeat it? If you die, what happens if you can’t be replaced? You were built on Alrest — how likely is it that you’ll find any of your parts floating around the remains of the Bionis? Please, Poppi.”

 

Maybe none of his argument really made sense. Maybe it was riddled with guilt-trips and logical fallacies that he couldn’t even justify to himself using. But it seemed to crack another hole in her metal exterior, one deeper than the cuts the Guldo made.

 

She was silent for a moment, faced away from Noah and staring upward at their foe before grumbling something about a “cutie” form before gripping her weapon and returning his gaze, “If Noah can stand, Poppi suppose there no potential needed to fight alongside her.”

 

What?! Did she actually—

 

Noah gasped, straightening himself with renewed vigor as he squeezed a bit of his excitement out onto Eunie’s barely calmer frame and gently pried her off of him, taking what cautious measures he could to take the pressure off of his lower back. That was where most of the redness and stinging was — most of the pain came from leaning in one direction or another, and even then, it was fading fast, likely replaced by bouts of adrenaline and whatever other magic his body rebounded with.

 

So he fought through the pangs of agonized muscles and pressed himself onto his knees and unsteadily onto his feet, gaze switching between the still-in-shock Eunie resting where he one did and his new battle buddy.

 

Noah lifted one foot at a time, stepping forward until his body readjusted to being upright and his focus switched away from the pressure on the small of his back and instead toward the torrent of emotion swirling inside him.

 

A thousand desires, a thousand fears, a thousand memories, all screaming at and pulling him in different, uncertain directions left to the discretion of where he could steer his mind: to that Guldo.

 

“…Noah must know his condition not stable and that Poppi’s Drill Shield probably too heavy and unwieldy for him.”

 

“You saved my best friend’s life. Let me help you save yours.” He remained determined, outstretching a palm to request she pass the weapon over to him.

 

Truthfully, Noah was hoping that whatever instincts her had honed in Aionios would take over like they had previously. He just wanted an excuse to help and brag a little to Mio once this was all said and done.

 

Poppi gingerly relinquished control over her blade, and as soon as Noah felt it in his grasp, he realized exactly what she had meant by her statement. It wasn’t too heavy to lift by any means, but she was right about it being unwieldy: the Drill Shield required two hands and it seemed exclusively good at drilling into things.

 

“See, no problem.” Noah spoke between huffs as he recentered the weapon’s weight against his, the burden of it lessening the longer he had it in his hands. In fact, it seemed to adjust to him just as quickly as he adjusted to it, perhaps a byproduct of the fuzzy glowing line that now tethered the two of them together.

 

Tethered was an interesting descriptor for what Noah was feeling, actually — it felt like now Poppi carried part of the shield for him and he in exchange felt an inferno swelling in his chest: her near-to-overloaded core. If she breathed, he felt as though they would be breathing in sync.

 

Notably, they appeared equally surprised to see the blue line form between them, though Noah was certain their shock came from vastly different viewpoints and reasons. He hadn’t been anticipating one to form at all. He hadn’t been anticipating the power boost or the sudden heat of the world around him whatsoever. She…must not have expected one to form with Noah.

 

“If Poppi goes too far from Noah, link will break. Noah won’t be able to lift Drill Shield and Poppi’s ether furnace may overexert.” She dismissed her surprise and centered her efforts back on the actual problem at-hand: the Guldo, “So Poppi will fight grounded.”

 

Noah nodded, moving forward with his pre-thrown-into-the-water ease and trying to figure out exactly what in the world he was going to do now.

 

We can’t kill it without fire. Poppi seemed to struggle detaching limbs and crippling it, though…what if that was because of Eunie? Or because she was alone?

 

“Let’s knock it down into the water,” Noah suggested, “I dunno how sharp this drill is, but if we can sever a foot…”

 

Poppi followed in step behind the teen, “Guldo skin tough. Made to be resistant to Cloud Sea decay, so Poppi’s shield not quite strong enough to pierce.”

 

“It doesn’t need to pierce, then. D’ya think we could thrust it back?”

 

“Not from ground level. Noah cannot fly.”

 

“How were you knocking it off-balance before, then?”

 

“Concentrated blasts of earth ether at joints — will take significantly more system cooling to produce another.”

 

And there it was: something Noah could work with. He would just have to stall until Poppi could work her magic. Literally.

 

“How long on that?” He asked, though it sounded more like a barked order than anything else. Perhaps a side-effect of the blue bond flowing between them.

 

Poppi remained silent just long enough to procure an answer, “If affinity between Noah and Poppi increase, it take about 5 minutes to cool and reproduce missing ether.”

 

He understood maybe two words of that. The five minutes part, mainly.

 

“If not increase bond strength, fifteen.”

 

Noah felt his heart burn a little hotter — not out of infatuation or any sort of positive emotion, but by the burden of sharing Poppi’s. He could only imagine that “strengthening their bond” meant taking on more of her core’s load himself.

 

He shook his head, steeling himself for what was to come, “You get on that, then. I dunno about our bond, but I’m sure we could manage.”

 

Noah pushed himself forward, charging at the Guldo’s legs drill-first. He stood perhaps at the beast’s gnarled knee, only one of its bulbous blue sacs within reach. He glanced at Poppi and at his own cornflower tether with her, and made the decision to try ripping a hole into it first.

 

Once he was within the beast’s natural stride length, it seemed to pick up on the duo’s presence. To be intentionally in its ire…terrifying. He hated the feeling of its empty, mutated eyes granting him not a moment of mercy. He wanted someone else in the fight to take the heat away from him — inside and out.

 

Each stride grew more powerful as he grew more accustomed to Poppi’s assistance, but so too did the fire inscribing a hole in his chest.

 

But he got to work, because he had to. Noah let his mechanical friend trail behind him as he landed his first intentional blow against the Guldo, slamming all of his rising energy directly into the center of the viscous sac, feeling the drain right back against him.

 

The drill creeped in with an angry buzz, penetrating some sort of crystallized fluid that merely cracked and fragmented under the weight.

 

Despite their appearances, the blue bulges were not liquid sacs of alien goop: they felt like what his textbooks described the lights of old Valak Mountain.

 

Noah reeled back his aggressive punch, listening to a shrieking cry several meters above him indicative of him doing a good job.

 

“Noah! Poppi can detect Lanz again!” She exclaimed, “He within 500 meter range — should be back before ether recharged, gold link or no.”

 

Well, even better. But there’s no way the Machina Village is THAT far.

 

He gave no verbal response, instead steering his attention from offense to defense as the Guldo began wildly kicking at and trying to stomp on him. The Drill Shield could maneuver as a shield just as well as a drill, but Noah’s defense was by no means perfect. No means even good. Hell, average was pushing it.

 

But the monster was just as bad and clunky on the offense as Noah was playing cower behind the massive shield.

 

It lurched and leaned into every attempted blow, practically leaping all of its weight into one of its supposed legs as it attacked; if it were to maintain balance, it would have likely thrust Noah back into the sea again and that would be it.

 

But it wasn’t.

 

It…couldn’t.

 

So Noah switched his tactic again — no longer was he going to try and slice it open: now, he would trip it over itself.

 

But in its base state, it was too coordinated to fall naturally. Even in its choppy, sloppy movements and jolts of center of balance, it seemed well-adapted to those kinds of shifts. It would always pick itself back upright no matter how shaky the step.

 

“Eunie!” Noah yelled out into the distance, hoping the booms from the Guldo’s steps wouldn’t echo over and drown out his cries, “Use the staff!”

 

She adjusted a little, making some sort of back-and-forth horizontal motion with her forearm (wiping tears?) and screamed a response: “What?”

 

“Throw beams of light at it with your staff!” He dug into the burning in his chest for that yell, feeling one of those burdening steps swipe at his shield and revving drill-end, the beast reeling back as from its perspective seemingly stepped on a nail.

 

“What?” Her voice barely returned to Noah’s ears, and he figured she hadn’t heard him.

 

I need to get closer or yell louder or something, but I don’t want this thing anywhere near her. And Poppi’s gotta stay close. Ugh.

 

He dove away from another angry kick, this time a little closer to Eunie as he repeated his request.

 

She seemed to finally understand, “Where do I aim?”

 

“Any of those blue sacs — its head, its eyes, anywhere Poppi and I can’t—“ He cut himself off to drive another Guldo stomp away with the stepping on a nail trick—“reach.”

 

Eunie gingerly nodded, hands visibly shaking, even from the distance at which Noah was observing her from, as she aimed and fired upward.

 

The Guldo’s lack of ear-piercing screech told Noah she had missed, but that was fine. She just needed to distract it a little, even if she couldn’t blind or wound it whatsoever.

 

“Lanz within 50 meters now!” Poppi announced excitedly, “Ether energy still nowhere near stable, but if friends’ friends here, will be easier to cool and produce energy.”

 

Noah figured as much, once again not reciprocating her enthusiasm with a verbal response, just letting the burning in his chest flare with passion as he threw himself on the offensive again, feeling the Drill Shield slowly grow as an extension of his natural arm rather than some previously too-heavy piece of machinery.

 

He barely even noticed Eunie’s next light-slinging pot shots. Barely even noticed the stream of gold that now bound him and Poppi. Barely even noticed the storm of footsteps breaching the bushes and emerging off the shoreline. His mind was just…racing. Heart literally burning, but even that sensation dulled compared to his own natural fire.

 

Eventually, one of Eunie’s bolts had struck the beast sufficiently for it to shriek again, curling up upon itself and he had felt the opportunity finally arise to knock it to the floor.

 

He glanced to Poppi, who merely shook her head, but her core no longer shone a mix of under and overdeveloped primary colors. It had well-returned to its natural, even flows of orange against her new golden aura’s outline.

 

“Can we risk it?” He yelled, dashing over to her side directly as he analyzed his state with hers. The golden link made it easy to gauge how she was doing: still a little unsteady, a little imperfect, but capable.

 

She seemed to pause and deliberate the same idea, eventually changing her initial no to a yes.

 

Almost instinctively, he handed Poppi her Drill Shield back as she soared to the sky. Despite her earlier warnings of separation killing their tether, it didn’t seem to wane a flicker as they parted and a sphere of swirling, glowing brown illuminated at and slammed itself into the Guldo’s chest, finally being the blow necessary to topple it.

 

Thrown and thrust back into the water just as Noah had been earlier — only this time slower and less frantic-seeming.

 

He dashed away from the explosion of sand and sea as it collapsed, feeling his red-hot heart slow its boil and his back return to its pangs as Lanz’s Machina back-up swooped in and created a bonfire from the Guldo’s body.

 

Noah let his legs collapse under the weight of the rest of his body — akin to the way the beast had fallen, though he managed to catch himself on his knees and sink onto his rear — and breathed a sigh of relief.

 

The Colonel was going to yell at him so bad later. Realistically, there was no chance Mio believed his story. He’d probably be grounded until the day he graduated.

 

But as the sweat dripped down his brow and the adrenaline faded from his bones, he let his lips curl into a smile.

 

It was over and Joran avenged.

Chapter 11: Class(ic)

Notes:

happy new year's (eve) everyone!

seeing the story progression and all of your lovely interactions has been so gratifying and i really appreciate everyone for sticking it out this year.

here's to an even better 2025 with many more weekly chapters to come! <33

Lanz and Eunie slid over by the exhausted Noah, seeming equally frazzled in their own ways. Lanz was just barely recovering from being out of breath — characteristic for a guy who just ran Bionis knows how far (at least a kilometer of wilderness considering Poppi’s scanner range). Eunie was still recollecting herself from nearly falling headfirst to either some nasty head trauma or her death. And Noah could hardly stand, his prior back pain returning in full-swing after his bond with Poppi faded.

 

And speaking of Poppi, the girl was being bombarded by questions and curious gazes from all the Machina Lanz had enlisted to help.

 

“Are you guys okay?” Lanz had asked, plopping himself down beside the duo, “I…came back as quick as I could…but I ain’t no Eunie, haha.”

 

Eunie’s lips pursed for a moment to respond to the weird compliment, quickly pressing them back into a frown with a slumping of her shoulders, “I’m okay. Nothing’s broken, at least.”

 

“Ehh, maybe my back,” Noah winced, leaning back and using his arms to prop himself up against the sand.

 

“Wha—wasn’t it fine earlier? You were zipping around and stabbing that big bully no problem.” Eunie cocked her head to the side slightly, adjusting upright into a cross-legged sit as she spoke.

 

Noah shook his head, trying to find the words to explain it, “No, not exactly. Well, yes, I could move plenty better, but…it’s weird? I dunno.”

 

“So…like getting hit with an Ether Bullet?” Lanz also tried chiming in to make sense of Noah’s questionable condition, “Like it hurts one second and then fades away into a soothing mist the next?”

 

Another head shake.

 

“Wait, when have you been hit with an Ether Bullet?” Eunie asked Lanz, giving Noah the opportunity to slip out of the spotlight a moment while they squabbled over some technicalities of Machina biology or whatever it was they wanted to yap about.

 

Because Noah understood next to nothing of what had just happened. He let his eyes drift away from his friends and back onto Poppi, who seemed almost overjoyed to be meeting so many new faces despite the circumstances, and the soldering remains of strange resin-like Guldo they had somehow taken down.

 

Poppi recognized the beast. Noah didn’t. Poppi knew how to take it down — it definitely wasn’t her first time doing so judging by her confidence and speed in which she maneuvered around the thing — Noah didn’t. But in the end, Noah had to take her Shield Drill and share her core’s overloading burden for the two of them to successfully stall long enough for reinforcements capable of doing the right thing to arrive.

 

That’s when another crowd of people emerged, but this time not from the forest. This time, from a lowering craft set to hover and dock on the water just beside the shore.

 

Eunie was the first to notice the new faces, and probably more importantly the flying boat, jolting to her feet as if instinctual, making wild gestures to Lanz and Noah (who had definitely never interacted with a ship like this) to also rise to attention.

 

He gave the ship a closer look: a silver finish with a crystal-shaped black metal deck and reddish-pinkish stripes leading to a central pink “eye” near the front of what looked to be…a shoe?

 

Regardless of his confusion, he had Lanz help him to his feet as he did his best to figure out what the next play was.

 

Two people emerged from the shoe ship’s only entrance nonchalantly: a blond guy Noah instantly recognized as the Hero of the Bionis, Shulk, and Colonel Vangarre.

 

Oh, I’m dead. He stiffened himself up as much as his body could handle, bracing himself for the ramifications of what was about to happen.

 

Despite her posturing, Eunie couldn’t help but slip a few whispers of fan-girling excitement as she watched the two (probably specifically Shulk) emerge from the boat and onto the shore, “Can you believe it?! I’ve only ever seen that guy in pictures and parades!”

 

Noah was just the opposite, using every fiber of his being to stare down the Colonel as the duo split: Shulk to the Guldo’s remains, and the Colonel to the trio of idiot teenagers.

 

But he approached silently. Calmly — eerily so. The Colonel was always a raging lunatic, so what in the world had him calm? Never once had Noah been certain he was in trouble and not received a yelling-at and a lecture and some ridiculous punishment like being grounded in Colony 9—

 

It was such a deviation from the norm, he couldn’t help but be more afraid for his fate.

 

The Colonel merely cleared his throat and glanced each truant, troublemaking, (probably) traumatized, teen up and down before flatly asking, “What happened.”

 

They, the trio, were collectively stunned. So many times they had been yelled at by this man, that a new thought bounced between them almost telepathically: why isn’t he mad?

 

“Uh, well…” Lanz began, shuffling around awkwardly, deciding where to start his story, “We accidentally found a boat and there was this huge monster, so we…took it down…sir?” He added that ‘sir’ at the end as a total afterthought, just bracing for the stream of insults certainly to come.

 

“…The thrice-your-size beast that tripped the Colony Defense alarms twice? The…black-and-blue ash pile polluting the water?” His tone was utterly unreadable. Too monotonous, too wildly out-of-character for him that it was impossible to look him and his giant mustache in the eye and decide how to respond from there.

 

“We had help,” Noah sheepishly added, using his left hand (for the other was braced against Lanz) to point at the silver-bodied girl with a Machina spotlight on her.

 

The Colonel swiveled his head slowly in each direction — once to look at her, once to look back at the trio.

 

And then he sighed.

 

Sighed, and drooped his shoulders dramatically, “I trust everyone’s alive and well?”

 

“I can’t really stand. My back’s busted,” he eased back into the conversation, the Colonel’s scarily relaxed nature also acting to calm his nerves a little.

 

“We’ll get you healed up on the Junks. There’s a few medics on board. In the meantime,” Colonel Vangarre sucked in a breath, “WHAT THE BLOODY HELL WERE YOU THREE THINKING?!”

 

Ah, there it was. The man whose lungs and wrath echoed through closed doors and masoned walls as Colony legend.

 

They in fact echoed so loud out there in the Fallen Arm’s wilderness that everyone who came to investigate and assist with the Guldo issue snapped their heads and focus to the screaming man.

 

“Not only are you cutting class, ran yourselves lost on the Fallen Arm, somehow stole an Alrestian visitor from her duties, awakened AND aggravated some giant monster, but you had the bright idea of going and FIGHTING it?! And is that a functional weapon, Eunie?! Do you not possess a single functioning brain cell among you?!”

 

“Hey,” Poppi darted over, quickly placing herself off to the side of the argument to try interjecting, completely ignoring the crowd she had accrued, “Please to not yell at Noah and friends like that!”

 

“Oh, I’ll yell at them all I like.” The Colonel readied a fist, knuckles a shade paler than the rest of his hand, “They’re alive and well so they’re getting a piece of, hell, all of my mind!”

 

That’s a lot of conflicting messages, there, Colonel. Noah’s mind couldn’t help but blurt out.

 

Poppi shook her head, “That not appropriate way to handle situation. Please to show kindness to the three that took down big Guldo even in ambush.”

 

Noah watched Shulk’s ears visibly prick at the mention of Guldo and him swiftly glance between the remains and the new, larger crowd of gathered witnesses, racing over to intervene as well, though he remained noticeably silent.

 

It was his mere presence that seemed to sway the Colonel from exploding at the trio for the moment, though Noah knew for a fact his fury would come the moment he returned home from more likely than not this event.

 

“Unbelievable,” he huffed, backing off and muttering something under his breath, physically removing himself from the conversation as he kicked sand.

 

“Ahm, with that out of the way,” the hero cleared his throat awkwardly, “Poppi, you said it was a Guldo they faced?”

 

“Affirmative. Poppi is sending combat logs to Junks now.”

 

They know each other? Wh—

 

Silence brewed as Shulk contemplated that, hand on chin and all, eventually nodding as he resolved an answer to that, changing his gaze to that of the trio’s, “I’m not going to make any assumptions until I see those logs — especially not to the level that Vangarre just did — but I’m glad you three are alright. No lasting damages and all.”

 

“Thank you, Mister,” Eunie easily accepted Shulk’s pensive remark as a compliment, which Noah definitely had to wonder whether or not that was the right move or not.

 

No, definitely not.

 

“…Yeah, I think we’ll have to discuss this on Junks.” Shulk eventually added, making a sort of beckoning motion over to the ship, “There’s plenty of room for everyone, but our stop’s back at 9, so for those that belong to the Machina Village, I wouldn’t recommend following.”

 

The mere suggestion of not coming left the curious crowd in unanimous agreement to take the hike back home. Shulk’s influence was almost as terrifying as the Colonel’s — likely even more so because he was calm when he spoke.

 

Noah and co. hobbled aboard as the group split again: the children to the top deck to have their wounds handled, and the adults to the lower to see what Poppi’s combat logs read, or so Noah presumed.

 

He was laid against a Homs-sized metal plate of a bed as a woman with dark hair, tan skin, and a mole on her chin inspected the “broken” area in question with a series of her own queries.

 

“Where’s it hurt, kid?” She spoke rather bluntly, though a fluid calmness ran throughout her tone. Much more even-keeled than the Colonel’s in hindsight.

 

“My back — lower back specifically. I can’t really stand.” So Noah gave an equally blunt answer as much as it felt out-of-place to do so. Maybe she just liked getting to the point.

 

She gave a motion for him to flip over so she could inspect the area in question, asking for and receiving permission to feel around for broken bones and the like, before eventually giving her diagnosis: “You sprained your back and I’m guessing a few bits of your tailbone. You’ll be fine in a second.”

 

Click — the distinct sound of a rifle cocking.

 

“Hey, you’re not gonna—“

 

“Relax. I’ve got some ether in the chamber. This’ll ease the pain and speed up your recovery time, which is gonna be quick because you’re like twelve. But it ain’t perfect, so also don’t expect to instantly recover. I imagine you’ll need a day or two before you can go back to…whatever exactly happened out there.”

 

In that moment, he was more confused by the fact that this medic did not care that he wasn’t doing normal 14-year-old things (paying attention in class) than anything else, making the loud crack from the rifle as an ether bullet zapped the air above him and fiery little pellets of hail melted to that soothing mist Lanz had described.

 

And very quickly was he able to get up and move again — still a little strained and awkward, but the woman’s ether magic really did the trick. Noah just wished he recognized the face. It was distantly familiar, maybe, though the face he remembered had to have been far younger than the one he saw in the present day.

 

“Um, thank you, Miss,” Noah eventually said as the doctor began cleaning off her rifle.

 

“Um thank you, Miss?” Eunie gaped, amazed by what she just saw, “Are you kidding? That was the craziest thing I ever saw! How’d you do that? Like, where’d you learn to heal people like that?”

 

She just laughed a little, “I take it you’re not from the Colony. Ether Rifles aren’t a thing in Alcamoth, even after all the rebuilding and integration up in Gran Dell?”

 

Eunie shook her head, “I wish. If someone gets hurt up in Alcamoth, a bunch of priests come around and channel the water ether into a person. It takes forever, too. You gotta sit there for at least an hour every time, but they fix you up perfect after.”

 

“…An hour? Per patient? Ouch.” The doctor shrugged, taking a small rag and feeding it into her bolt, “I dunno much about that stuff, just that we Homs live way shorter lives than High Entia. Don’t have the time to spare so we cut corners how we can.”

 

“It’s not cutting corners,” Eunie insisted, “It’s being efficient. I think it’d be awesome to bring Ether Rifles up to Gran Dell.”

 

“…Knowing you, you just want a cool new weapon to steal.” Lanz said, deadpan.

 

“Wha—no, and I’m offended you would even suggest that!” She clutched her ‘borrowed’ staff and shoved it off her waist and behind her as if hiding incriminating evidence, which it was.

 

Mhm, Eunie.

 

“Don’t give me that look, Noah! You know I’d never do something so awful.” Feigned innocence reigned throughout her tone, but it came off more comedic than genuine — comedic enough to give the other two teens a chuckle.

 

The doctor just narrowed her gaze at Eunie and gave a sly smile, “How’s about the next time we see each other, I give you a demo? Nothing too fancy, just—“

 

She squealed, “Wh—really? Absolutely! Yes! I love you, did I mention that? You’re so cool—“

 

“Alright, alright, tone it down. You remind me of my brother.” Eunie was quickly cut off with a waved hand, but the excitement remained; the girl could barely sit still.

 

Her happiness only faded into quiet contentment as footsteps slowly pealed toward the medical room, indicative that whatever happened downstairs was now coming with consequences upstairs.

 

Noah silently braced himself for it to be the Colonel and his semi-righteous anger, but it wasn’t. Poppi and Shulk emerged from the metal door instead, neither with any lick of negativity about them (though for Poppi that had to have been natural).

 

“So, uh, we saw the fight through Poppi’s eyes. A little bit before the battle, too,” Shulk clapped his hands together, voice echoing as the only one in the ship, carrying over the subtle hum of the Junks’ engine, “I’m going to be honest: you kids shouldn’t have taken that fight.”

 

Noah opened his mouth to protest, but Shulk was quick to stop that with an answer, “I know it wasn’t your fault; I doubt even Alvis could have predicted a Guldo making that old wreck a hat. But…you guys have gotta be more careful in the future. I heard the Colonel yelling about you guys being in school — that’s a pretty good place to be at your age. I’ve got a little one myself; wouldn’t want him digging around on the offshore of the Fallen Arm, and especially not alone.

 

“…For what it’s worth, you three were really brave and with Poppi’s help, you all made good enough decisions to end the fight without casualties or any actual injuries thank you, Sharla,” he gave a little wave to the doctor, who returned his with a silent smile, “so…good job out there.”

 

And in that moment, all Noah could think of was is the Hero of the Bionis, Savior of the World really this indecisive? Is he going to yell at us or not?

 

At least the Colonel was consistent.

Chapter 12: Heroes of Old

Notes:

good evening all

was a little tired tonight so idk about *quality* this week
but we press on anyway because hell yeah

enjoy :)

The trio’s adventure ended with a lecture and a veritable slap on the wrist. Now, Noah still had to deal with the Colonel once he made it home, but he was sure Shulk’s interferences made it so he wouldn’t face any real consequences, positive and negative.

 

In fact, he knew the incident was going to be swept under the rug entirely, with the teens’ success being written off and spotlight stolen by the team aboard the Junks.

 

And that was the price. No yelling-at (or as little as possible), no expulsion or suspension threats, no contacting each non-Noah kid’s parents — no noise, but no glory. None of the very thing they sought in avenging Joran. Hell, the boat was gone, too, smashed to planks and strewn as sea waste along the shoreline.

 

…Now there was no way Mio would believe him, even if he had the heart to go brag to her about it. No one was going to back up his story other than his fellow stooges, and he still realistically had no idea if they would either.

 

As he sat up in the medical bay with his friends, back still hissing with small sparks of pain as he rested, Noah couldn’t help but contemplate his fate.

 

A quiet ride, only broken by the thrums of the Junks’ engine, the whirling of air zipping past, the feelings of weightlessness brought on by rapid ascent, and the warmth brought by ventilation ahead, he, Eunie, and Lanz let time pass.

 

Noah barely understood why silence was the answer here — he deserved recognition for not cowering away from danger. Maybe not a medal, maybe not a ceremony and parade like the Hero of the Bionis or Sword Valley, but maybe just a little nod that it happened.

 

Eventually, it was Sharla, the woman that healed Noah’s aches, who broke the uneasy silence, “If it’s any consolation, there ain’t many people out there that know I helped Shulk half a lifetime ago.”

 

What.

 

Lanz cocked his head at her, “Like…with that Zanza guy?”

 

“Yep. Was one of his earliest traveling partners — kept his ass from dying more times than either of us can count.” She spoke so nonchalantly, as if that weren’t groundbreaking news to Noah’s ears.

 

He had only heard the legend tell of a group of heroes, most unnamed and mentioned by features and group dynamics rather than anything easily identifiable. Noah remembered an old history project of his from a few years back about Bionis lore — his memories of the historical content were buried under feelings of frustration, of just not finding the real story, or so he believed.

 

He knew there were seven heroes. He knew Shulk was the main one, the wielder of the Monado and one to get the final blow on Zanza. He knew the Hero of Sword Valley was there, acting as the former’s mentor and fellow party member, but even his name was lost to obscurity after the titan fell. He knew of the five others — of a Colony Defense soldier with an iron will, of a family friend whose near-death sparked Shulk’s journey, of a loving older sister who fought in memory of an old lover, of that year’s Heropon, and of a High Entia who desired to avenge her father’s loss.

 

It took a while for him to even piece together that the Empress Melia was that grieving High Entia, and that came only from inferring that she and Shulk already had a familiar relationship when they thwarted the Fog King and began Gran Dell’s reconstruction efforts, but the other four were mysteries.

 

…Intentional mysteries, almost.

 

“You’re lying.” Eunie crossed her arms, a defiant tone about her voice. It seemed the same thought crossed both hers and Noah’s minds: that if that were true, Sharla was living well below her means.

 

She merely shrugged a response, “You don’t have to believe me. I kinda hope you don’t, actually. No offense, but the way you stiffen around the Monado wonderkid is kinda unsettling.”

 

Eunie gasped at possible comebacks and witty remarks, but nothing meaningful came out. Sharla seemed to get a good belly laugh from her sputtering, though.

 

Noah decided to interrupt her chuckling with a question of his own, “So…why’s your name and face not in any history book, then?”

 

“Between scrambling to rebuild in the aftermath, Bionis folk losing all of their recorded history not actively stored on someone’s person, and just not wanting to change my life like that…I’d say pick your favorite answer.”

 

“That’s stupid.” Lanz said bluntly, heaving his shoulders as his elbows bore into his knees, “If that were me all them years ago, I’d totally have played up my awesomeness.”

 

“I’m ‘awesome’ to the people that matter most,” Sharla smiled, seeming to reflect on fond memories as she spoke, “there’s a reason my name’s nice and obscure; same with you lot.”

 

Wow, thanks, Noah had to suppress an eye roll, though the comment had his ears pricked for the strangest reason.

 

He narrowed his gaze at his doctor, then at his friends. It was something about their body language that told him they didn’t believe her. They didn’t pick up on her final phrase, and weren’t going to heed her words.

 

He wondered…if that last addition was for them at all. Perhaps for herself, but Noah wanted to believe it was a message specifically for him.

 

No other words passed between the group for the rest of their passage home, eventually feeling the Junks slow to a halt and the only outside exit open, Sharla prompting the group that this was their stop and to stay out of trouble, to which Eunie gave a curt nod, Noah a swift filing behind her, and Lanz the chance to also tag along as they gingerly descended from the second floor and out onto the main deck.

 

Poppi stood posted by the exit, the difference in brightness noticeably jarring enough to cast a faint ring of light around her as she gave what Noah assumed would be her final words for Bionis knows how long, “…Poppi hope friends spend rest of day together well. It took a lot for her to make Mr. Mustache calm down.”

A sly wink from her, and a chuckle from Lanz, a small smirk from Eunie, and a wave from Noah as they disembarked, the glaring sun hitting the group directly in the face as they re-emerged on established soil.

 

After taking a moment to let his pupils re-adjust to the light, Noah’s gasp was the first thing from the trio to pierce the air.

 

They weren’t back at the Colony at all. The Junks had delivered them to Gran Dell.

 

— [] — [] —

 

“…Crap.” Lanz stared dejectedly at the departing craft, flipping his gaze back and forth as if taking reference of its fading silhouettes with the distant bustles in the city.

 

“I mean, this is technically the right place. Just, only for me.” Eunie sighed, placing her hands on her hips, resting them just a moment before her eyes shot open and she pulled them away, freezing in place, “…nope, this is bad.”

 

Ah, right, she’s still got her contraband.

 

“Wh—oh. How’d you even get it down to begin with?” Lanz asked, keeping his voice to a frenzied whisper, “Just do that in reverse and we’ll be fine.”

 

“I swiped it from a guard just as I got on the ship, idiot. If that guy sees me again, I’m so—“

 

“Oi! Kids!” A passing High Entian dock patroller called out to them, “Can we get away from the ledge?”

 

“Sorry, sir,” Eunie called back, directing the group away from the surprisingly unprotected port. The guard’s gaze didn’t fade until they were safely back in legal bounds, clearly more concerned with the trio’s placement than Eunie’s moderately conspicuous waist accessory.

 

Noah took slow, calculated steps, both to keep his aching back in remission and to manage his own frazzled mind.

 

So much happened in the span of a single morning — far more than Noah expected to do the entire day. And yet, once again, the three of them were left to their own devices without adult supervision.

 

He should have been ecstatic: finally back in Gran Dell with both of his best buds at his side much to the dismay of the Colonel and all the so-called positive influences around him.

 

He should have felt a lot of things. Tired was not one of them, but it featured itself most prominently. Leaving the dock, he just wanted to leap for his bed or any horizontal surface of any kind — and thus was the group’s unspoken consensus, or at least so believed Noah, who could do nothing other than groggily read body language and listen in to each words his friends said.

 

“The next shuttle’s not gonna be for another couple of hours.” Lanz glanced at the sun’s position, able to compare the general placement to an approximate hour (he believed it was sometime just barely after noon) without much hassle, “We could go get…lunch?”

 

“Did you bring any money?” Noah asked despite not being sure if he was actually hungry or not; the water ether within him had dulled almost all sensation in his midsection.

 

Lanz shook his head, and their combined gazes switched over to Eunie, who also denied having any funds, “Sorry.”

 

A pause, then Lanz’s suggestion: “Well, hey, you live here, right? Can’t we swing by your house and grab a couple G? Maybe a sandwich?”

 

“Only if someone stays behind and hides this, ahem, item, somewhere where I’m not going to get busted for having it.”

 

“Okay…if.” Lanz smirked, extending his hand to indicate he wanted Eunie to shake on something, “If you don’t make me pay you back later.”

 

“Wha—that’s extortion, Lanz! You’re so gonna order the most expensive thing on the menu! I can’t afford that!”

 

“Well, guess we’re all going hungry then.” He retracted his outstretched hand defiantly, making a dramatic huff to try and bait her into conceding and accepting his deal.

 

Little did he know (or rather, pay any attention to), Noah was also right there. “I’ll take it. No extra bribery required.”

 

Lanz’s jaw went slack as he stared at Noah with daggers of betrayal. Eunie, on the other hand, happily passed Noah her contraband, “See, this is why we’re friends. Stay in the general area, K? Lanz and I’ll be back in a little bit.”

 

And with that, Noah watched as his friends faded into the crowd, now able to take a little rest for himself. He knew almost exactly how long it would take to get to Alcamoth, plus another 10 minutes or so to get to Eunie’s place, add a few for leisurely pacing, then double that to return — he had time to relax.

 

Had time to make a little visit to the spot he wanted to hide the staff.

 

Noah took a leisurely stroll of his own through town, passing by old landmarks and monuments and bustling street corners and the ether lamps he’d seen time and time again throughout his rebellious getaways and retreats skyward, just taking in the air while he could.

 

Time and time again, he’d wrapped himself in Gran Dell’s urban landscapes, searching nooks and crannies for what he described as the one — time and time again, he’d come up empty-handed. Well, Noah now knew what exactly it was he was chasing, and he was willingly missing his chance to follow in her wake.

 

Realistically, he wouldn’t see her until Monday. Even then, he’d be seeing her in glimpses — nothing really all that worthwhile. Nothing of what he wanted.

 

His walk took him eastward, out to the few remaining bits of untouched knolls and plains specifically left as a nature reserve now, with one special stop ahead.

 

Noah made his way up the small hill to Heroes’ Rest and over to the two graves he’d found himself visiting. Time and time again.

 

Hey, Mom. Hey, Dad. The words left his lips solemnly, eyes glazing over their epitaphs. You wouldn’t believe what I did.

 

He ended up ranting far longer than he expected, of all of his journeys and experiences in the past few days. His last visit seemed so out-of-reach now, even if it were really just a week or two ago.

 

It was like reliving the past all for himself again, seeing each moment through his eyes as he had done with Aionios, though this time willingly instead.

 

Oh, and then I accidentally sat in the wrong seat — I feel kinda dumb for it now, pretty obvious in hindsight, right?

 

…But then I’ve been feeling bad about it, too. Maybe it’s not a big deal, I’d think, but then I just can’t shake the feeling it is, you know?

 

…Sometimes I wonder if the Colonel’s right about me. That I’m this big ball of potential that insists on growing my talents like fireworks instead of anything reasonable. To this day, I have no clue what he means by that — it’s the stupidest metaphor. Aren’t fireworks a good thing? Isn’t that a big, fancy explosion? I’m probably overthinking it.

 

…And then today, I stumbled into a mess and then fixed it. Crazy, right? What in the world even is a ‘Guldo’ anyway? I bet you never faced any of those up here, Dad.

 

He was so lost in his ramblings to his parents, he barely even realized the faintly green aura of light behind him, illuminations reflecting on the shinier headstones reminding him that he needed to dust off and clean up some of the engravings’ edges sometime soon.

 

It took a while for him to notice it, so long that he just had to finish his story before addressing the looming Alrestian.

 

…So now I’ve got a fun little staff to put somewhere and the rest of the day to figure out exactly how to get home for the night. But maybe I don’t want to, considering all the possibilities of my fate down there. It’s nice to be up here — a nobody gusting along in the wind. The air’s fresh…and I get to see you guys. But I guess it wouldn’t be any fun if we always spent time together. Couldn’t tell you all my awesome stories. So…I’ll see you guys soon, yeah? Next time with an even cooler monster toppled.

 

Noah stood slowly, turning around to see the most peculiarly familiar face quietly examining the headstone in the row behind his.

 

“Oh, sorry, miss,” he quickly adjusted his ponytail and straightened up as much as his back would allow, “I hope my, uh…visit didn’t…”

 

“It’s fine,” she spoke with a smile, gaze raising to meet his, “my Da does that a lot with his parents.”

 

Noah felt his cheeks flush, and perhaps not just entirely out of being caught by what should have definitely been a stranger commenting positively on something he assured himself so many times was weird and insane.

 

Perhaps also because she was Mio.

Chapter 13: Drifting

Notes:

good evening (or whatever time of day it may be for you) everyone!!

the ao3 update threw me off my schedule a little, so apologies for the slight delays

anyway chapter 13 time! enjoy :3
see yas next time

“O-oh! Really, now?” Noah stumbled over himself, his realization and flurry of emotions in his chest, throat, and face enough to completely throw him off any game he wanted to try with her.

 

Mio nodded softly, keeping an almost uncomfortable amount of eye contact with him, “Yeah. Whenever we visit Leftheria, he makes it a point to talk to them, yapping about this and that while the rest of us hang with Auntie.”

 

Auntie? The rest of us? She must have a big family if she’s describing it like that.

 

Noah adjusted himself awkwardly, forcing himself to remember that…she didn’t. She already seemed like a wildly different person than the angel sent to grace his life in Aionios. Right now, they were strangers.

 

…Noah preferred the term acquaintances, rationale being that she snuck up on him this time. And…wait.

 

“Aren’t you supposed to be in class?” He blurted without thinking, definitely not paying any attention to his tone or body language and he was already messing this up—

 

But she just froze for a fraction of a second, tensing slightly before laughing away a certainly visible fear, “Aren’t you?”

 

“I have an excuse!” Noah quickly sprang to his own defense, ready to share the tale of his wild morning despite every adult in his life trying to cover it up, “I would totally be in school right now if it weren’t for the shuttle dropping me off in the wrong place.”

 

She folded her arms and raised an eyebrow, clearly unamused, “You can just say you’re ditching.”

 

Wh—I’m not going to admit that! And while Noah’s lips didn’t move, his body surely made the motions necessary to give Mio all the time she needed to follow up with another coy note.

 

With a whisper and a cupped hand she leaned slightly forward and spoke: “That’s what I’m doing.”

 

“Oh,” Noah relaxed a little, doing his best to keep his heart out of his windpipes, though its drumming remained plenty a constant reminder that this was real and actually happening. “…how, though? Aren’t you, like…connected to a very specific ether network or whatever?”

 

“Uh, I dunno how it works really, just that I had a more tech-savvy friend show me how to hop on the Gran Dell Wave or…whatever she called it.” Mio shrugged, also relaxing back into her normal, almost perfectly upright, posture, her nonchalant attitude shocking Noah more than anything.

 

From what he knew of the whole projection system from Eunie, there existed a series of networking towers to project a holographic video of a person hooked up inside a cramped little box, to which they could then see through as if they were truly there; however, those towers were only designed for projection to and from specific places — for High Entian students who hadn’t transferred to their new district in Gran Dell, only to 9’s secondary school.

 

If it were truly possible to hop on different networks, then perhaps the Alrestian Exchange Program need not be one-way?

 

“That’s nice,” Noah said, doing his best to not let his mind drift too far from the topic at hand, “…why Heroes’ Rest? Surely you don’t have any, uh, graves to visit.”

 

“Never seen this place before. I kinda just walked around the city a while before stumbling out here…and I saw you.”

 

Whoa—WHAT?! What does THAT mean?! If Noah could get any redder, he would have. If Noah could physically and mentally tense any further, he would have. If his heart could beat any faster, it would have. He stiffened like a board at hearing that, that last phrase of hers echoing in his mind without end.

 

Mio sort of stared at him for a moment before sighing, drooping her shoulders, and apologizing, “Sorry for, y’know, snapping at you for sitting in my spot. I didn’t realize it was your first day and I don’t really talk to anyone in the program that much let alone show up often--”

 

“It’s okay!” Noah blurted, again, this time with the same urgency he had Driving Poppi earlier. Out of emotional blindness and of a confused glare from Mio, he cleared his throat and fixed his tone, “It’s okay.”

He couldn’t be sure whether that came out as gentle and suave as he wanted it to be, but right now, Noah couldn’t be sure what shade of pink he was, and especially so regarding being an even, well-spread shade of utterly embarrassed.

 

“…That’s comforting, at least.” Mio shifted her weight to one side and Noah could swear she had the tiniest sliver of a smile on her otherwise bemused face.

 

“And you play the flute really well.” Out of nowhere, Noah decided to take the topic of their orchestra practices and run with it.

 

She scoffed, rolling her eyes, “Yeah, you can thank years of lessons for that.” For whatever reason, he felt Mio reject the compliment despite his earnest intentions.

 

It wasn’t a false statement, and her response especially confirmed it in its brash, almost cocky nature…so if she had the energy to be self-assured, why not embrace her skills?

 

Maybe I said it wrong or put emphasis on the wrong word? Maybe that’s not really a compliment? Man…this sucks. How did I do any of this in Aionios?

 

“Anyway, I’d ought to switch networks again before someone notices and patches it out.” Mio gave a moment’s pause before throwing together what felt like such a haphazard goodbye for Noah.

 

His ears prickled, and as he watched Mio’s green projection seem to fiddle around and phase through the other graves around her, he spoke: “Wait, just like that? You’re just going?”

“I really just wanted to apologize.” She crackled in and out of view repeatedly, whatever audio projector she was using (to put in Eunie-speak) phasing in and out alongside it. “Besides, I’ve got a presentation next class.”

 

“Can I at least count on seeing you at rehearsal later?” Noah tried asking the fading figure, arms physically conjoined to his sides by mentally reaching out to her out of fear of losing her again.

 

She buzzed a response before fading out fully, but the audial distortion made it too difficult for Noah to actually understand what she said. Poof — gone.

 

It took a moment for everything to clear in his mind. Between the overloading of senses and feelings, an awful sweatiness in his palms and a new crick in his neck, to the sheer speed at which his heart was beating gave him several seconds of pause, staring at an otherwise empty lake and open field of beautiful wildlife in sheer shock.

 

Too much had just happened in that conversation, and he was far too jolted by its effects and his lack of answer from Mio (though…was it really her fault? Noah decided no) to not have to fully reset afterward.

 

And eventually, all those halted thoughts crashed into him at once. He was an idiot.

 

What kind of opener was that, ‘oh, really now?’ I can’t believe I said that! And then I just kept asking her questions and then she apologized to me for some reason which she totally didn’t need to because it was fine and not a problem but then I MADE IT a problem by too eagerly accepting the apology and—

 

Blades of grass and grains of dirt sprung from the ground as he stomped and kicked around, blissfully forgetting it was his kicking that summoned the Guldo and got him into that mess, inner monologue a raging storm as he cursed himself for failing to meet his own expectations of himself — failing to be the same guy he was in Aionios, somehow instantly capable of making friends with her.

 

Unbelievable, it was. He had totally blown any shot at a shot he had with even being cool with her — all thrown away because he couldn’t get himself under control. He let himself brood until his stomach rumbled again, reminding him of why he’d even stowed himself away to Heroes’ Rest in the first place: to hide Eunie’s contraband and await her and Lanz’s return.

 

Shoot. I don’t know how long it’s been since they’ve been gone.

 

With his back only temporarily patched up under Sharla’s care, running was out of the question for Noah today. The walk wasn’t long per se, but without the knowledge of time, anything less than a full sprint meant gambling having to explain himself.

 

And considering how explaining himself got him into easy trouble with Mio, it lived on a short list of all the things he didn’t want to do whatsoever.

 

So then came the next gamble: risk hurting himself and avoid more social failures, or not have to equally embarrassingly be carried back home that day. He chose the latter; it meant actually having the chance to hopefully meet Mio at practice later.

 

If only he knew whether or not to expect her.

 

— [] — [] —

 

“Hey, there he is!” Lanz waved as Noah appeared from a small back alley.

 

Waving back, Noah approached, “Sorry, I hope you weren’t waiting long.”

 

“Nah, just didn’t see you on a bench or whatever.” He shrugged nonchalantly, calm demeanor infinitely more refreshing than Noah initially anticipated. And it didn’t seem like he would be having to answer questions if he played his cards right.

 

Eunie chuckled a little at that comment, “Nowhere to put a certain something out on a public park bench. Speaking of…?”

 

“It’s in a safe place. Even if it’s found and sirens go off about it, you should be good.”  Noah answered, doing his best to steer from the topic of its location best he could.

 

She smiled, “I can always count on you to be awesome like that. Lanz over here, maybe not so much.”

 

“Hey! No fair! How was I supposed to know there’d be such a ruckus in Alcamoth?” Lanz shot up his hands defensively, betrayal evident in his half-octave pitch jump.

 

“Well, maybe it would have done you some good to not be so nosy about it…” Eunie quipped, a spirited argument between the two of them rising as Noah faded into the background again with his thoughts.

 

Frankly, he still hadn’t burned off the adrenaline from the Guldo fight earlier, entirely unsure if his encounter with simply the most amazing girl he had not-quite met yet had added or subtracted from that pile. He was jittery and his heart was racing, even with all the time he’d spent removed from immediate, active danger totaling higher and higher with each second and minute. He mostly just didn’t understand any of what he was feeling. Excited? Nervous? Completely and utterly idiotic? Maybe a twinge of lost?

 

Words were insufficient to describe the sheer hellfire raining down on every bit of knowledge Noah had of coping with something greater, stranger than what he’d ever known before.

 

In Aionios, Mio was sweet. Serious and determined, naturally, but so was everyone else fighting for their lives day in and day out. Between strikes with her twin blades and moments spent worrying existentially of how many weeks and days she had left before her Homecoming…she was so pleasant to be around. A brightening agent to any day, offering healthy insight and kind words and a gentle sense of calm and stability to Noah when he would find himself lost in his own existential fears.

 

Mio now…well, she was just about the same age as Noah, though perhaps a bit visibly older thanks to her monochromatic emerald making her features slightly harder to read. But she was so put-together and confident here. Sure, she definitely didn’t have any self-esteem issues in Agnus, but being a member of Alrest seems to have bolstered that even more.

 

Almost to the point of seeming a bit…cold. But Noah didn’t want to blame her for his interpretations — it would still be a while before she would really even want to hang around him again. He had to remember they were acquaintances again. Perhaps not mortal enemies turned reluctantly bound to each other turned love interests, but was that truly the defining factor of their relationship? Did it have to be just so?

 

Things could fluctuate just as easily as they already had — Noah was more than willing to accept the consequences of not being a 9th-termer anymore. In fact, he was relieved. Fighting was a hormonal mess for him, and while his body didn’t ache much now, when it did, it did. He could want for nothing less than the screams of his poor back and the inability to stand again.

 

But maybe if he picked up a Drill Shield or equivalent on his own, he’d be able to stumble into her again. I would still be somewhere in Colony 9 or out on the Fallen Arm if it weren’t for mine and my friends’ combined efforts against that Guldo, he assured himself, so what if…

 

“Yo, Noah.” Eunie stood with her arms crossed as she gave a short little bob of her head at him, “What do you think?”

 

“Ah, sorry, I zoned out. What were you talking about?” Noah quickly snapped himself back into the present, vision and mind slowly returning to the correct focus.

 

Without missing a beat, Eunie filled him in, “Where do you want to get food? Lanz wants Radzam’s; I’ve got no preference.”

 

A smoothie for lunch? Noah shrugged, trying to remember the taste of the Machina’s juicy flavors on his tongue, “Sure. I don’t mind either.”

“Aww, yes!” Lanz cheered, “I haven’t had a drink from there in ages.”

 

“You also haven’t been in the city for ages.” Eunie pointed out, beginning the (walking) charge toward the shop.

 

Lanz and Noah began to trail behind, another small bit of bickering between the Machina and High Entia arising with each snide quip and comment from the both of them.

 

He remembered Mio’s comment about visiting an “Auntie” with the rest of her family and couldn’t help but wonder. What’s she like with her family? Like Eunie, bold and decisive…maybe too bold and decisive for her own good? Like Lanz, easily enthused and wrapped within all of Eunie’s antics? Like Noah, just happy to be there and included?

 

…And Noah wondered what he would be doing without his. The two headstrong teens walking faster than him were too busy arguing to give him that answer, but in their division came his unity.

 

Hah. Maybe the Colonel would know.

Chapter 14: Centripetal Force

Notes:

chapter 14!!! so excited to slowly be finishing up this little story arc and preparing for the next

enjoy :D

**(author's note at the end regarding NEXT WEEK'S chapter upload)

“That had to have been the most overpriced lunch I’ve bought for you idiots yet.” Eunie moaned, whining about the unexpected price hike from Radzam’s.

 

Noah shrugged, offering the beginnings of a quiet explanation, “Radzam got big a few months ago. You were there, I think.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, big Nopon critic passes through, gives the place its praise and the spot stops being cheap. Didn’t expect the wave to ride this long, though.” She sighed, folding her arms and glancing toward the nearby central plaza and only functioning clock in Gran Dell, “What time does the shuttle arrive again?”

 

“Um…” Noah recalled the list of times, realizing he hadn’t quite memorized the matrix and went entirely off of vibes from the sky’s seasonal color changes and other landmark time spots (like entering and exiting school). Naturally, he knew the shuttle arrived sometime when the sun was slightly skewed west — which was now — but he couldn’t give the precise time to save his life. For now, he was able to quickly glance at the clock and get an approximation of time; he didn’t bother trying to read the minute hand, but that hour hand was perhaps a third before the ‘1’.

 

So, just as naturally, he lied: “In 10 minutes or so. We’d really ought to be heading over.”

 

“10?!” Lanz jumped, entering the conversation now that the topic had swayed from his previously naïve choice of lunch locale, “We’ve gotta run, not just head over, man!”

 

Uh, not necessarily. There’s always the chance we missed it and I accidentally screwed you lot over. Noah felt his tongue making the silhouettes of those words, but his lips refused to part — the last thing he wanted to do was embarrass himself again in front of people he liked. Besides, having the hope of making it to that public shuttle in just the nick of time…how daring!

 

Certainly something of that sort was far more up his alley — not being thrown off the back of a Guldo and throwing himself violently back at it with a heavy shield and a bruised spine. He had to wonder how his Aionios counterpart did it: day in, day out, always racing against the clock to fight and make every moment count. Wouldn’t he…have been scared? Surely yes, but then also infinitely no — maybe it was part of being Ouroboros, maybe part of being in such a tight-knit group, and maybe just part to that version of him being a 9th-termer instead of 14, but…

 

“C’mon,” Lanz leaned down a bit and gestured back at Noah, “I know you can’t run, so I’ll race and beat Eunie to the spot before we’re stuck up here for the next foreseeable forever.”

 

Oh, um, sure. Noah slowly placed himself on Lanz’s back, bracing tightly around the other’s shoulders and leaning cross-legged across his torso to try and lighten the burden of his weight.

 

“Yeah, no way you’re gonna beat me. I’m faster than you normally AND you’re carrying a whole extra person on your back.” Eunie gloated, flexing her either invisible or incredibly small biceps, the competitive spirit in her taking hold faster than Noah could anticipate.

 

Lanz chortled a response, “Don’t be so sure. We ain’t raced in a while; I’ve got aces in sleeves you’ve never seen.”

 

Noah watched Eunie cringe at that remark, feeling himself a little jolted as well, but he was willing to brush it off in the spirit of seeing what exactly Lanz meant by that; Lanz was his ride, so he supposed he was on his team here.

 

“Hey, the longer you two bicker, the shorter of a race we’ll have,” Noah prompted them along not-so-subtly, and at their near-immediate stiffening and getting into racing positions, he gave the countdown.

 

“Okay,

 

“3…

 

“2…

 

“Lanz, run!”

 

In a flash, Lanz bolted ahead, Eunie’s what, hey, no fair! audible yet fading fast as she began her chase up to their initial sprint.

 

They were lucky this time — there were only a handful of people out on the streets during their race, suspiciously fewer than normal considering it was a Friday sometime just past midday, making for an easy escape from the cobbled paths and winding backroads swerving them away from running into people — but if this were to continue for much longer, he had the feeling it would change.

 

Before that could happen, however, Eunie made her swift recovery and made pace with the piggybacked duo. What amazed Noah most about her speed, though, was how visibly exhausted she seemed. Even with lunch in her stomach and a runner’s physique and stamina, the beads of sweat down her face and her angry puffs left much to be desired.

 

Is Lanz really going that fast? Was Noah’s initial thought, and all things considered that should not have been the case — Eunie’s stride was no more exaggerated than normal, her form not lacking, and her body seemed well-equipped to handle whatever speed she was running at, so why was she so tired?

 

Noah did his best to adjust on Lanz’s back without messing with his stride or trajectory or really any major part of his speed, just to get a better glimpse at what was happening. And still, nothing special. He wasn’t doing anything different except carrying Noah, which had to have been hurting his top speed at least a little.

 

“What, you busy choking on my dust back there?” Lanz taunted at Eunie, not paying much attention to Noah’s shuffling and readjusting on his back.

 

“First of all…you’re a cheater.” She spoke between ragged, whole breaths, seeming to slow a little and recoup, “Second…I am faster than you, and there’s no way…you could have gotten that much stronger in…a few months.”

“Try ‘a morning’!” Lanz beamed, basking in the light of his own pride, “When I ran for help in the village this morning, one of the guys on fire team adjusted some of my power settings.”

 

Hah, Noah chuckled to himself mirthlessly, Of course.

 

“What did I say?! Cheater!” Eunie called back, and now with the finish line in clear view (sans shuttle) she leapt a final burst of her energy forward to try passing the two boys.

 

Noah realized perhaps a little sooner than the duo racing that they had never established an endpoint for the race nor any officiants and it was far too close for the winner to be obvious.

 

So when they ended up neck-and-neck at the finish, Noah gently returned to the sturdy hoverstone terrain on both feet, and he was asked to pick a winner?

 

“Ah, it was too close.” He said truthfully, knowing the outrage this would cause and waiting for it to happen.

 

“Hah!” Eunie grinned, pointing a finger in Lanz’s face, “Even with your fancy Machina upgrades, I still pulled it through at the end!”

“…He just said we tied, Eunie.”

“Well, yeah, but you’re a cheater, so it doesn’t matter. I don’t need any special augments to catch up to you and that’s final.”

 

“That’s…!” Lanz’s gears began visibly turning as he searched for a response, heaving his shoulders in defeat, “…fair. I’m still mad it was a tie, but you ain’t the worst person to tie me.”

 

“You can be sappy once we’re back on Colony ground,” Eunie rolled her eyes, glancing at the empty spot the shuttle should either have occupied or be occupying soon, “Where’s the schedule?”

 

Noah glanced around a moment before finding a small posting near the dock:

 

PUBLIC SHUTTLE TO COLONY 9 - 0630, 1230, 1630, 2330. *Subject to delays and cancellations as weather conditions permit.

 

…

 

“We missed it.” Noah squeaked out sheepishly, realizing just how off he was. In his defense, it seemed the Gran Dell times ran 30 minutes earlier than the Colony 9 ones. His internal clock was just off, surely.

 

“We what?” Eunie repeated, staring down the matrix for herself, throwing her arms up angrily and muttering words Noah didn’t even know counted as expletives until that moment before taking a second to recollect herself and begin scouting out another option, “Okay! We’re stuck here until slightly-earlier-than dinner, meaning I can’t walk you lot home or whatever tonight. Is there a private service we can use?”

 

He had to think on that for a while; even if Eunie had the cash to buy a ride to the surface, most private shuttles didn’t serve minors, and no one in their group passed as of-age. Sure, Lanz was muscular, but he was also disproportionate and lanky. Eunie had a baby face. Noah faced both problems, minus all of Lanz’s visible muscle.

 

Then, an idea. A really sketchy one without any guarantee of working whatsoever, but an idea.

 

“Well, we did see a private shuttle flying up earlier, didn’t we?” Noah suggested, glancing at the special shuttle off at a different port, a bored stewardess hanging lazily by the dock, waiting for the rest of her party.

 

Eunie and Lanz collectively exchanged a confused glare, seeming unsure of what it was Noah was insinuating, before Eunie’s eyes lit up with realization, “You wanna steal a—?!”

 

“You got any better ideas?” Noah shushed her as quickly as she could be, her panicked and booming voice threatening to make the entire thing fall through, “And we could just stowaway and wait. Hide in a crate or something, pretend to be Noponic parts.”

 

“Noponic parts?” Lanz repeated, taking a moment longer to piece it together, “…we’re going on that Riku guy’s ship? But isn’t that blue furball an Alcamoth resident?”

 

“His visitors aren’t. They’re from the same place Poppi’s from: Alrest. You saw the same scenes we did, Lanz. Swapped from the boat to the shuttle. Well, right there’s that same shuttle definitely headed for Colony 9 docks. Y’see?” Eunie explained quickly, eyeing the bored stewardess.

 

“If we hide in a box, who’s to say we’re not offloaded to Alrest, too?” Lanz noted, doing his best to appear inconspicuous while conspiring with his friends.

 

“…Just gotta not let that happen, easy win. Even then, I’m sure Poppi’d be more than happy to bail you two out. Again.”

 

“You’re not coming with us?” Noah asked.

 

“Someone’s gotta keep watch and stuff. Besides, I live up here — I’d have to turn around within like an hour and that’s booriiing. You’ve just gotta tell me where my staff’s buried.”

 

He nodded, happy to whisper the answer to her, “It’s behind the third tree on the right of Heroes’ Rest.”

 

Right beside my parents, he didn’t say, but he was certain Eunie had enough knowledge of the site to know where that was.

 

With a knowing look and one final confirmation from each dangerously crafty teen, they put the plan in motion, Eunie packing up Lanz and Noah in a large crate with callously-cut peep and breathing holes, working her hardest to find the Gran Dell equivalent of a dolly to transport the duo.

 

Once everything was set, Noah listened in carefully as Eunie tried getting them thrown in the cargo hold.

 

“Whoa, kiddo, be careful where you’re, uh, hovering that.” A feminine voice Noah could only imagine was the stewardess’ stumbled, the sounds of awkward stifling and stiffening against hovering metal being the only other indication of tone and body language he could get.

 

Eunie stopped the hovercart, as she called it, and spoke with the stewardess, “I’ve got some extra parts for transport, miss.”

 

“One big crate of…organic nail polish?” The stewardess asked, clearly either confused, suspicious, or both.

 

She stumbled over herself a little, the lack of preparation becoming only infinitely more obvious to the duo forced silent in the crate, “Don’t ask me. I’m just the delivery gal. If you’ve got a problem, take it up with that, uh, what’s his name...I dunno, the beige Nopon.”

 

“Tora?” The stewardess seemed to be clarifying the name for herself.

 

“Yeah. The one with the big wrench.”

 

“…That’s Tora.” She sighed, the jostling of the crate being the only indication of whether or not she’d accept the trio’s questionable package, “Really, I don’t get what’s up with that guy. I mean, I know he’s from a whole different Titan, but…you’ve met him, I hope.”

 

“Uh, not quite. Maybe it’s better it stays that way.” Eunie tried bouncing her own awkwardness off of the stewardess’ clear discomfort at the topic of one eccentric Nopon.

 

Then, the crate began to lift and move, and the conversation faded along with it, “Oh, be glad, then. He once brought a maid outfit and…”

 

Thunk.

 

Noah and Lanz sort of stared at each other in the dark wildly, the former utterly stunned that had worked and nonchalantly so at that. He didn’t dare mutter a word until a second thunk came and the sound of Eunie’s and the stewardess’ voices died off completely.

 

Even then, they spoke in reverent whispers, Noah’s voice being the one to break the silence first: “I can’t believe that…worked??”

“Eunie’s a magician, man. Can’t underestimate a conwoman when you see her.”

 

“Is that what you’re calling her now?”

 

“Uh, hell yeah.” Lanz tapped Noah on the shoulder with a presumed grin and barely-audible chuckle, “You better join me in doing that after all this is done.”

 

“After all of this, I’m taking the longest bath I’ve ever had. Stealing some of the Colonel’s bath salts and all.” Noah smiled, even if only to himself, and prepared himself for the indeterminate wait to come.

 

“You told me about those. What’s his favorite? Wait, I know it…’Honeysuckle Fragrance Blend’?”

 

“Recently changed. He’s more of a lilac man nowadays.”

 

“Hah, of course he is.” Lanz laughed heartily, though perhaps a little too heartily. Noah had to quickly shush him to remind the both of them of exactly where they were and what was happening, “Ah, sorry. But who’d have thought a man known best for his orange would love a purple scent?”

 

“The same man who swears his back is old and broken and he can’t possibly keep up with us ruffians and that we need to take better accountability so we don’t die off his watch…that then proceeds to run and climb and scream about it like it’s all he’s ever done.” Noah answered, remembering one of their in-colony skip days from two years back. They practically played tag with the guy.

 

Lanz shuffled against the crate, stretching out a little even amongst the cramped box, “It probably IS all he’s ever done; have you met him?”

 

“I live with him. I dunno if that’s worse.”

 

“Nah. It’s gotta be at least a little nice. You get to learn the man’s patterns and keep us updated on them. Like his preference of bath salts.” Lanz nudged Noah cheekily with a chuckle at the end of that last sentence, sighing out in the darkness, “Hopefully we can miss him once we’re out on the docks, though. I could go without a yelling-at. Again.”

 

Hah.

Hopefully.

Notes:

so next week i will be unable to upload at my normal time tuesday night due to a fun surprise rehearsal running till 8pm cst

as such, one of 3 options will be happening:
- i upload on sunday
- i upload SUPER LATE tuesday night
- i upload wednesday night

depends on how i feel on sunday/tuesday but just be prepared for a slightly off-schedule upload next time <3
the following week should be business as usual!!

Chapter 15: Batteries Not Included

Notes:

hello everyone! good WEDNESDAY eh?

i'm so sorry for the delay afjhvjfghj
practice kicked my ass!! i was so tired!!

so, as both an apology for the delay and a celebration of hitting 100 kudos (because wow, genuine insanity that 100 of you liked my work enough to leave some) -- this chapter is 1k words longer than normal; 10 words per kudos received :)

next week we should be good to resume business as usual, so be ready for a **tuesday** upload again lol <33

Very quickly, Lanz and Noah felt the effects of being stuck in a cramped wooden crate, almost entirely unable to see the other person save for little flashes of moving greyscale and the sounds of fabric swooshing against plank.

 

Their originally vibrant and too-loud conversations screeched to a slow halt, dying off as the feeling of each other’s legs and aching of their rears against unyielding planks remained a constant source of discomfort, an eventually boring silence mixing with the slow temperature increases of shared body heat and actively hovering airbus.

 

Noah could only describe himself as bored. As much as he loved being with Lanz, this moment existed as part of that small little sliver of times he would rather hurl himself off the Bionis’ Shoulder than wait a moment longer doing nothing in the dark.

 

Thankfully enough for him, Noah could let his mind drift away from his physical aches and pains and remind himself of where his insanity was leading: the chance to go meet with Mio again tonight.

 

Really, when she wasn’t scolding him for being in the wrong place at the wrong time, she was much more than a familiar, pretty face — she was sweet like candy and cunning like a fox all at once. It was so hard to pick a favorite thing about even their most recent interaction.

 

…But, it was certainly infinitely much easier to think of things he liked least. More specifically, all of his responses to her now gained the virtues of hindsight and the vignette of regret. Because, truly, how could he be so colloquial with Eunie and Lanz but be such a bumbling idiot with Mio?

 

Maybe it had something to do with their personalities. In Aionios, the two latter friends made for rough, tough, hard-hitting strategists that always had Noah’s back when he needed it most. They made games out of fighting Agnians (before the days that stopped being normal) and claims to fame with skill and general brotherhood.

Mio was a mystery until she was throwing those dual rings at Noah, rhythmically dancing in and out of metered, practiced fighting techniques that ended in a stalemate with a man whose face and name remains a mystery to present-Noah’s closed eyes pressing them to the floor and telling them to hurry up and stop stabbing at each other.

 

And then she remained a mystery, even beyond becoming Ouroboros and defeating that grotesque Moebius — having her memories and experiences bonded the two together in a way previously thought impossible, but it in no way made Noah of the past any more capable of understanding and communicating with her. It was almost a sense of paradoxical closeness; a forced proximity given meaning with time and countless battles together.

 

Where did those walls re-erect themselves now, was Noah’s question. Obviously he couldn’t bring up the tragedy at Colony something following something else — he didn’t even have that full story, and there was no chance she remembered Aionios like he did. No one did. No one wanted to.

 

And with all four years reliving chunks of memories from the forever-ago past under his belt, he wondered how his life would have been different if he didn’t remember, like everyone else around him.

 

Eunie was always going to be Eunie, but would they have been such close friends if Noah didn’t feel drawn to Gran Dell all the time? Lanz was always going to be Lanz, but would he have stuck around even orbiting as he had been for so long without Noah’s constant push to spend the moments they shared to the fullest? Joran was always going to be Joran, but would there be such a caustic distance in relationship between them if Noah were not repeatedly reminded of his death in Aionios? The Colonel was always going to be the Colonel, but what opinion would he hold of his adoptive son if he weren’t pushing boundaries and breaking rules in the name of passion and intrepid idiocy so often?

 

Would Noah be on a different path? Perhaps he may have paid more attention in classes, not letting random numbers and variables — especially “n” for whatever reason — consume his waking thoughts irrationally and push him away from his assignments. Perhaps he may have discovered a passion for music in a more organic fashion, left to grow and develop his skills in a much more traditional manner, able to properly read the music in front of him and enunciate his sounds in the proper forms and techniques. Perhaps he would have found a difference in character in general, not burdened by his own ancient past in a world that only seems to exist in one boy’s mind.

 

…But then the question shifts: does he regret what Aionios has taught him? Was his tenure in the endless now not what shaped and molded him into the guy he presented himself as now? Would the butterfly effect be so cripplingly consuming that it would eat away at any growth made from it? In forgetting, being ignorant like each and every person around him, would he have cared about Mio?

 

Certain things transcended time and memories with those two, and it seemed to be happening again. The remains of the Bionis were by no means Aionios’ doing; the former preceeded the latter by at least 12 years, but the appearance of Alrest came just days after Noah picked up the silver flute screaming sirens’ calls from the edges of civilization (rather, the top of a presumably empty building somewhere the back alleys of Gran Dell), urging him onward into the fray.

 

He knew, somewhere deep down, that these were not isolated events and that they existed outside just his mind’s confines. Eunie received a book of herbal tea recipes and the author was presumably Alrestian. Lanz had a crumpled sheet of paper with tally marks depicting his victories and losses to a certain Alrestian competitor of his.

 

And that was where the stakes of it all came from: Aionios’ end and the mystery of just what the hell was supposed to come next.

 

Because somewhere at the end of the timeline, it led to Noah and Lanz sneaking into an oversized wooden crate and sitting, hot and uncomfortable in the dark, waiting for the sweet descent down to sea level once more. For once, Noah was done with having no plan and rolling with it to the best of his abilities, throwing himself out at the world and waiting for it to invent a spike to impale his attempts forward.

 

While he was certain he wasn’t going to miss whatever asinine lessons he missed during the school day, a bit of normalcy would be nice to enjoy if not for just a fleeting moment spent without fear of negative consequence swallowing everything he knew and trusted to be true whole.

 

“Man, this blows.” Lanz grumbled at a shockingly standard speaking volume, tapping impatiently against the crate’s walls to try and cure his own boredoms, “How long have we been in here?”

 

“Two years, give or take.” Noah snapped himself out of his own daydreams and gave a deadpan response without much further thought.

 

“Oh, ha-ha.” Lanz said, and Noah was sure by the tone of his voice that an eyeroll coincided with his words, though whether or not that was true remained unknown by the darkness ruminating in the dingy cargo bay, “But really. How long?”

 

Noah shrugged almost instinctively, not really caring that Lanz wouldn’t be able to see the gesture, “I dunno. Too long, then.”

 

“Too long is right. When are these furballs gonna hurry up and get off their Sunday stroll? We’ve got places to be.” He griped, his tapping against the wall fading in and out of steady rhythms to create a cacophony of sound that perhaps was more off than on-tempo.

 

You have to remember we’re stowaways inside of a crate because we didn’t want to wait for the afternoon shuttle. Noah didn’t say, We’re not the priority.

 

He was more so hoping Lanz’s question was rhetorical rather than actual; it would be annoying to have to come up with an answer that wasn’t snappy. He was frankly too uncomfortable to give more than the bare minimum energy-wise, especially with the afterglow effects of his Ether Rifle treatments fading and replacing with a strange numbness he hadn’t anticipated dealing with; perhaps that was the product of him moving around so much in the aftermath.

 

Oh well.

 

And especially oh well when the teenaged duo could quickly feel the subtle rattling of the docked ship and the faint chirps of Noponic speech bounding off the metal walls.

 

Noah tensed feeling it, almost convinced they were caught and about to be shoveled off the ship like the phonies they were, but nothing in the way of consequence seemed to burden them again. Certainly just their lucky break: there was no way they could remain a special surprise to be discovered later, because later was to come in a matter of half an hour’s descent to Colony 9 and whatever shenanigans made for their stealthy escape.

 

“Let’s go,” Lanz breathed a sigh of relief, moving his fist awkwardly around in the dark to try and get Noah to do a fist bump with him (maybe, Noah wasn’t actually sure), “Should have opened my mouth sooner — maybe our whining would have been answered sooner.”

 

Noah quickly shushed him, reminding both Lanz and himself of where exactly they were. Once the shuttle had left the dock and was fully on its descent they could be loud, because what were those Nopon really going to do about it? But in the meantime, while they still had a chance to be discovered and removed, they had to be silent. To prepare for the complete and utter worst thing to happen and pray the best would last.

 

“Oof, sorry.” Lanz quickly apologized, making a bit of an awkward shuffle against the box’s confines to probably get himself comfortable for the 30-minute ride down, but it seemed he ended up just kicking against the wooden walls more than anything else. And frankly, considering what Noah was also feeling, he couldn’t blame his partner in crime so much here — it was a universally terrible experience made exponentially worse by their desperation and circumstances.

 

Secretly, Noah wanted to scream from the depths of his lungs and throw out sound to be heard by the Nopon over in the main cabin — make some big show of force and make a claim they were in serious trouble…but then that just felt immoral. It would be more stupid than anything else, and stupid was the wrong direction to take their operation in.

 

So they waited again, feeling the slow rocking up and down and back and forth of the cargo bay before the shuttle departed from its dock.

 

Now they were home free, and Noah was certain that as soon as they were moving, Lanz was going to squeal against their wooden crate’s tyranny and find some clever angle to improve their flight conditions, but his lips remained as sealed as Noah’s save for the occasional sawdust-wrought sneeze or sniffle.

 

It didn’t seem to be an issue when they were stationary, but Noah wrote it off as either shift in air pressure from the Bionis’ Shoulder into the descent to sea level again or elevated aggravation from movement.

 

And thus did the awkward shuffling around and waiting in silent discomfort continue, the whirring of and radial heat of the engines accruing in steps and motions to make the journey ever so slightly (severely) unpleasant.

 

We should have just waited for the afternoon shuttle, Noah concluded, taking just a moment to pause and think about what that would have meant: missing Mio.

 

Nevermind, he swiftly re-concluded, this is tolerable enough. Never again, though.

 

He was in fact a little worried about his escapade stowing away reaching her ears — of all things, having to explain why he thought it a smart idea to bake in a dark, cramped wooden crate for Bionis knows how long made his stomach swell uncomfortably: more uncomfortably than the aches in his back.

 

But he and Lanz pressed on anyway, waiting.

 

Waiting more.

 

Feeling the air surge around them in thick vibrancy that ever-so-subtly changed the way the engines roared behind them.

 

Waiting an eternity longer.

 

And letting the slow, controlled splashing into the water swelling beneath the shuttle’s metal frame work in their favor: their endeavors had come to a resolute end.

 

Now came for arguably the hardest part: getting out.

 

Eunie had equipped the box with breathing holes, sure, but it was still a Homs-sized box reinforced at its edges for commercial use. Did they truly want to take the splinters and the attention that came with smashing the box and demanding freedom?

 

“Land at last,” Noah was the first to sigh at normal volume, though his breath came more out of excitement of escaping the claustrophobic space than anything else; it was a matter of moving on and out, they both knew that.

 

Lanz chuckled, “You bet. Can’t wait to get out. Probably fall straight into the port’s waters to beat this heat, too.”

 

“Seems a tad excessive.” He laughed along notwithstanding the flurry of his own mind; it wasn’t even bursting with tangible thoughts to place into words. It was sort of…just processing everything all over again as if he hadn’t had the later part of his morning to do just that.

 

“Jumping into the sea?” The other grumbled in reluctant agreement, “…probably. Then I’d get my little score sheet wet and have to explain why I’d gone and messed it up. The less talking I get to do, the better.”

 

Now that the engines had stopped obscuring the sounds of the Noponic babbling on the other side of thick metal, Noah could hear the swelling of more comprehensible sounds and words — specifically the outlines of words and phrases his heart stopped at hearing:

 

“Meh? … Sound like … noisy … bay? Did Riku … weird noise machine? Maybe … otherpon?”

 

There it was: the opportunity. And it all depended on how the two literally in-the-dark teens played their hand that made the results.

 

“Hey, watch this.” Lanz snickered after a quick sneeze, Noah feeling the air shift around him as the former switched positions and screamed at the top of his lungs for help.

 

The latter covered his ears and braced for the complete and utter worst. Lanz’s screaming compounded and rebounded as it exceeded the box’s bounds and fought for escape against the metal bay holding them in. He was damn good at making it sound desperate, too. Concerningly good.

 

The bay doors opened faster than Noah frankly wanted to; his ears were still popping from the descent and now he was to deal with both Lanz’s and dozens of Nopon’s cries of panic.

 

What a day.

 

— [] — [] —

 

“A Nopon simply cannot believe! How did human friends get stuck in crate?!” A tan striped Nopon wearing overalls and a strangely oversized wrench at his waist wailed once Lanz and Noah’s wooden prison walls had been swiftly torn down.

 

Noah’s gaze just slowly shifted to Lanz, letting him deal with the consequences of his own actions and implicate himself in whatever story he wanted to create to explain this. He couldn’t deny he wanted to see what would happen if he did — but the difference between the Homs and Machina came in the form of impulse control.

 

Similarly so, that seemed to be the case in Aionios as well. Unfortunately, Lanz didn’t have the silver tongue necessary to work his way out of situations without Eunie near then — was it the same now?

 

Lanz cleared his throat, visibly inventing his story on the spot, “We…were…er, put in there! Yeah, shoved into the crate.”

 

The teal Nopon Eunie pointed out as Riku seemed unamused by the answer, folding his wings and staring deadpan at Lanz, “Friend give quite the convincing story. So convincing, it go over Riku’s head and need full explanation. More than one sentence.”

 

Lanz’s eyes quickly glued themselves to Noah, and while he refused to make eye contact with him, it was clear he was now reliant on whatever explanation Noah gave.

 

So he tugged at his high ponytail and brushed a bit of hair out from his face, sighed, and just told the truth. If Noah remembered Riku correctly, lying to that guy was useless. He always found out the reality of it all sooner rather than later, and he didn’t want to get on the Nopon’s bad side.

 

Because that threatened being on the wrong end of a powerful sword that, frankly, Noah had no idea whether or not existed anymore. He believed it possible the blade could materialize considering it was just really sharp, but a part of him also warned it was unique to whatever Aionios magic made it so.

 

“Riku appreciate Noah’s honesty,” the Nopon said, stance visibly softening with the outline of what had happened to carry some additional human cargo on their journey, “but still not understanding why public shuttle not an option? Could have just waited and not been stuck for whole hour.”

 

“It would have taken too long,” Noah admitted, “we needed to be down here fast and it just seemed like the most reliable option. I’m sor—“

“Not need to apologize!” Riku cut him off, a weirdly smug smirk on his face, “You not hurt, Nopon not hurt, and information not hurt…unless you know Nopon language, in which case Riku need vow of secrecy from friends.”

 

…Uh…What’s this switch-up for? He was just angry? But he assured the teal furball of their lack of eavesdropping, and that seemed enough for him.

 

“Riku just going to let human stowaways walk away? After give Tora mighty heart attack like so?” The tan Nopon, who referred to himself as Tora, one quite infamous for one strange reason after another, asked, a combination of worry and accusation in his tone.

 

But he just nodded confidently to the Alrestian Nopon’s concerns, “They littlepon of Homs and Machina — not threat. Think of like…Riki’s littlepon off on adventure in Gran Dell many years ago.”

 

“Tora not aware Riki had littlepon; they all biggiepon for while now!”

 

“Friend need pay more attention to other friend’s stories,” Riku seemed to reprimand Tora for forgetting, “May be helpful when inventing thing that—“ And cut himself off when he remembered he had an audience of non-Nopon standing awkwardly in front of him.

 

“You guys are inventors?” Lanz asked genuinely, though the question felt more redundant than anything — Noah was sure Eunie pointed out what Riku did to them both. Then again, Lanz was probably just asking out of earnest.

 

“Tora and Riku big-time inventors. Friends not know because in Bionis and not Alrest, but Tora was part of team of heroes that save Alrest from—“

 

“Is Tora just going to keep blabbing to everyone he sees?!” Riku gasped at him, “Friend is genius of mind but not of tongue.”

 

“You saved Alrest?” Lanz asked again even more excitedly, “Like how Shulk saved the Bionis?”

 

Tora wore a smug little smirk, “Absolutely. Did without ever have potential to become Driver, too!”

 

Wait.

 

Something clicked for Noah in that moment, and he spoke without thinking: “Do you know Poppi?”

 

Maybe it was obvious, or maybe Noah was just leaping to conclusions because of empty circumstantial, coincidental evidence that plagued his day.

 

But Tora lit up hearing that, smiling ear-to-ear at the question, “Tora is Poppi’s Driver. Friends know Poppi well, yes?”

 

…That’s omnious.

 

“Decently, I’d say.” Lanz finally rejoined the conversation, “She really seemed to like us. Him, especially.”

“Hah! Tora not surprised — friends remind Tora of his past adventures; Poppi must have also noticed.”

 

For some reason, Noah had a hard time believing that rationale from him. Maybe it was the nonchalant way he said it or just the strange nature of how he had bonded with her, but he…felt weird talking about Poppi with him.

In fact, both of the Nopon weirded him out just a slight little too much.

 

Though, Noah was more than willing to chalk that up to the crazy eccentricities he had heard of them both.

 

Then again…something was off. He didn’t want to ignore the alarm bells ringing in his mind about it, but he almost felt like he had to.

 

Because something told him that little teal furball was the exact same guy he’d known in Aionios: a mystery wrapped in an enigma, past and present.

Chapter 16: Flow

Notes:

so a surprise rehearsal showed up tonight so i wrote this periodically throughout the day

enjoy an early *3000* words <3

act 1 finale coming soon. like. chapter 18 soon. prepare thyselves muahaha

*edit oops looks like my formatting messed up. corrected and cleaned

After the fact, it all seemed to blend together. Each part of Noah’s day spent and crafted to an uneasy perfection, perfectly enriching and yet intensely confusing and involving an overwhelming amount of thinking on his feet.

 

For example, he and Lanz were speaking with a Nopon Eunie seemed to gape at for being well-connected and another who created and was Poppi’s Driver, a term that Noah still wasn’t quite sure how to define, even having a taste for it himself.

 

“Meh,” Tora sighed, a little deeper in thought than probably necessary when talking to two 14-year-olds, “Adventures like so also take toll on body and mind.”

 

Riku rolled his eyes, “That because Tora old. Need to be doing wing stretches and taking walks between days cooped up in lab with Poppi.”

 

That set the tan mechanic off, going on with a defensive tirade of how he wasn’t that old and he’s still a bachelor, young and spry — Noah couldn’t help but laugh a little to himself. It was ridiculous, through and through, but it eased his strange uncertainties in talking with those two, enough that he remembered what it was he wanted to bring to their attention.

 

He waited for a break in Tora’s rant and spoke: “Are you both mechanics? Engineers?”

 

“Riku metalworker and gearmaker; Tora inventor and engineer — why?” Riku answered, a soft curl to his lips not present when he was listening to his colleague a moment ago.

 

“If you can say,” Noah trailed off for a moment, pondering how he would ask his question, “do you know how the High Entia project themselves to Gran Dell? And the Alrestians to the Colony?”

 

“Expensive tower project funded by…anonymous donor.” His answer came quick, “It work like radio, but not only sound: also picture. Friend has been to Alcamoth, yes? It similar technology to Seal Island beams.”

 

Tora provided the context for his second question, “It as Riku say, but Alrest towers not have same technology precedent. It mostly just will of Aegis and powerfullest blade cores combine.”

 

“Oh,” Noah frowned, feeling a little weird for expecting both sets to be exactly the same, “So they don’t run both ways? You can only show people parts of the Shoulder and Colony?”

 

A pause. A glance from Nopon to Nopon, and some whisperings in Noponic.
Lanz looked at Noah sidelong as well, more confused than anything as he leaned in and whispered, “What did you start ‘em on?”

 

“I have no idea.” His rudimentary understanding of the language — the required courses on Nopon history and grammar — had very quickly failed him. It seemed knowing ‘hello,’ ‘goodbye,’ and knowing only the conjugations for the perfect present tense made for no practical eavesdropping skills with native speakers.

 

It sucked; he was really curious as to what they were saying. Chirping away at his half-suggestion, half-question, they made it a point to not include the teens in their conversation.

 

They’re probably talking logistics, Noah tried assuring himself, I don’t really need to hear about what size bolt goes where.

 

Blink — a memory. And for the first time, he wasn’t staring out of his own eyes. Well, perhaps that wasn’t true: he knew there were multiple people whose eyes he saw through psychologically. One consumed by the normalcy of soldierly life, one as Ouroboros, and one…he’d rather not speak about.

 

And perhaps this memory was different because Noah felt wholly present, thoughts intact and not merely the projection of his past self, and he could…see.

 

“--doctor! Someone!” Quite the deep voice cried, accent foreign to Noah’s untrained ears; perhaps an Alrestian? His face and major silhouette was obscured by an orange fog, but Noah could tell there was more than one person he was watching, doing so from a high-above distance. “Shit! C’mon, man, you’ll be okay. Gonna…find something to stem the bleeding.” He cursed to himself frantically, scrambling around his person for something to help the guy lying on the ground beside him, his silhouette unbalanced.

 

Why was the person Noah was shadowing simply…watching?

 

The fog cleared ever-so-slightly, just enough for Noah to tell who it was on the ground and see the story for himself.

 

No. He felt ready to explode, horrified and repulsed by the sight, terrified for what would come next. And the person he shadowed simply floated to the ground, nonchalantly, and approached the scene.

 

“Hey! Help, damnit!” The figure came into view more clearly, appearing intact save for a large, crimson gash obscuring half of his face, “Don’t just stand there, you bastard!”

 

And the person merely snapped their bony fingers, and that was it. Noah was back to the present in a flash, left with nothing but the roiling disgust of having witnessed two men dealing with…whatever just happened.

 

He had seen a scene fresh from Aionios, and the gore was quite nominal for a battle of sorts, but the wounds opened in his mind seeing it as himself in the present. Previously he could disconnect himself from it because the him of the past had well-since gotten used to the sights.

 

But it also didn’t help that he saw the desperation of a survivor fighting for a friend’s life (because he was alive; Noah saw no rising motes) from the eyes of a person who took their sweet time to care. 

 

Then the question became why.

 

He hadn’t had one of those blasts from the past in a while, and it was by no means his blast from the past, either. The scenario was different, the experience was different, and the tone terrifying. It in fact had nothing to do with what Noah was doing in the moment, listening to two smart Nopons babble to each other in a language Noah didn’t speak.

 

What context could it possibly provide? What reason could he have had for seeing it?

 

And the answer was none. Or if there was  one beyond needless cruelty, it was too obscure for Noah to piece together.

 

“Okay!” Tora spoke, forcing Noah to return to the real moment, “We talked it over, and it possibly a possible idea, but will require more thinking.”

 

“And approval from benefactors. Between construction cost and Riku plus team eating, may be a lot.”

 

“Um, okay,” Lanz scratched the back of his head awkwardly, “So…?”

 

“‘So’ Lanz could go visit friend in Alrest if it work.” Riku answered, a pleased twinge to his words.

 

“How’d you—“ He gaped, “I mean, uh, okay, sure. Hypothetically.”

 

“Lanz,” Tora repeated the name slowly, seeming to recall something about it, “Friend of Poppi’s also say something about one of those. Does Lanz know blade-y girl Sena?”

 

Good to see we’re well-connected here! Noah’s mind quickly bowed away from the scene he witnessed to bring his focus back where it needed to be. It still lingered in the back of his mind, looping slowly, but something like this took precedence -- something like his real life he was living in the real moment, possibly a tad less real than whatever it was he had just seen.

 

“…Yeah, we’ve got a field event today. I was hoping to add a few wins to my roster, hehe.” Lanz became a shade pinker thinking about it, reminding Noah of the time. They’d have to leave soon and probably sit through a class or two to make their respective events.

 

He just wanted to see Mio again, even though he could only wish for a moment’s consolation that she was truly going to appear there; he hadn’t heard her response, after all. Perhaps a little embarrassing, too, how excited he was to see a veritable stranger -- he remembered her shadows and silhouettes like he had just witnessed tragedy’s blade steal a man’s right arm and another’s left eye.

 

“Meh, meh, now Tora not know who to root for. Like friend Sena much, and now am to liking friend Lanz a lot, too.” He sighed, making a dramatic gesture with his striped wings, “Suppose he will have to take a backseat for it then.”

 

Lanz cocked his head to the side, seeming uncertain in his words, “Aren’t you here to…talk business n’stuff with fancy Alcamoth people?”

 

“Nonsense! Gormotti docks can wait all of one afternoon for Tora and friends’ return. It was always plan to sneak in and watch blade-y friend because Tora was here and could. Now can also watch Lanz. It win-win.”

 

“Hear that, Noah? You should totally--” Lanz spoke excitedly and cut himself off, realizing Noah had his own thing to tend to, “Right, you’ve gotta go be cooped up indoors. Surprised you ain’t playing to cheer me on out there.” He chuckled a little at the end, making a flute-playing gesture as he returned an oversized smile to his face.

 

He gave a simple shrug to answer: “I didn’t hear Crys mention it. ‘Sides, I just joined and learned I can’t read music, so…”

 

“Noah can’t play flute?” Riku asked, his perpetually smug expression now replaced by the same confusion Lanz wore on his a moment prior.

 

“Well, I can, I just…okay, I learned one song by ear. It’s just whatever the difference between an A sharp and a B flat is, I don’t know.” Noah admitted sheepishly, feeling his cheeks burn with anticipation of scorn for not being as strong with it as was in Aionios.

 

“Meh, surely friend will learn fast. If friend know positions and have brain Riku sure he have, it no problem.” The return to his neutral smirk came quicker than Noah anticipated, and while it was comforting -- maybe, he used ‘comforting’ loosely -- it was strange to see the Nopon shrug off his concerns and trust in his abilities so quickly.

 

He wondered -- because if anyone did, it was Noah -- if perhaps there was more to that.

 

Noah gingerly accepted the compliment with a shy thank you, glanced at the sky, the silhouettes of ether lamps, Colony buildings off in the distance, remembered the last time he stared at a working clock, and pieced together different landmark events before giving his guesstimate of time: sometime around 3-ish.

 

They’d need to be heading off soon to have the best chances possible.

 

-- [] -- [] --

 

It took more than a mite of persuading, but Noah was able to convince Tora to create an elaborate lie for why Lanz wasn’t in class that day and how he should have still been able to participate. It was a miracle that the mess of an excuse worked, but it did, and he could then wave off his friend with a passing good luck, go get ‘em, and return to his corner of the world.

 

He couldn’t lie: he did want to be there to support his friend, and especially so after his previous visions of one of the worst things to happen to someone and just. Standing there.

 

Gross -- he felt gross -- impossible to get out of his head because of simply how glued it was to the forefront of his mind. What it was and what it could be? Terrifying. And he carried that burden all along the halls.

 

“Noah seem to have much on mind.” Riku, who had been his Noponic fanboying cover for the excursion into pretending Noah had a real reason to have not been in class, spoke after a while of silent trodding alongside each other, “Is all okay?”

 

He offered a reluctant shrug as an answer, “I feel a little weird walking through my own school like this.”

 

Perhaps not the truest of his feelings, but was he really about to tell Riku hey I kinda get these flashbacks to a place called Aionios and my most recent one was of a wounded guy crying out for help for this other worse-wounded guy that happens to definitely be the Hero of the Bionis?

 

…Remains to be seen.

 

“That cannot be everything on mind. Should walk with pride if that all so, but Noah does not.” Riku remained firm in his doubt, and considering Noah’s prior knowledge of the little guy, it lined up.

 

“Well, uh,” he grasped at strings of words to see if they would line up well together, avoiding giving a truthful response, “it’s been a wild day. Add tired and definitely in trouble to that and…blegh.”

 

“Riku not know how Noah’s day went outside of recent, so can’t speak for it, but he sure ‘wild’ mean many experience and growth made, even if friend not see it himself.” A gentle smile, this time no longer smug -- more genuine than the teen anticipated. Seems there really was fur to the furball.

 

Whether or not he planned to listen was on him at that point, but the two were set to part as they turned the corner toward the small orchestra room, a spattering of musical instruments set against the not-so-soundproof doors.

 

Pressing the door open slowly, Riku and Noah did their best to avoid disturbing the symphony inside, but that was simply impossible for the circumstances provided -- the room was filled to the brim with adolescents. No chance could they sneak in, and that suspicion proved to be right.

 

Crys made a quick sort of head gesture to tell Noah sit down between baton strokes, and without glancing even once at his peers he did just that, head hung low to avoid the imaginary embarrassment of showing up a little (perhaps more than that, he still had no idea what time it was) late to practice.

 

It wasn’t until he had rocketed over to his seat, sat down, and glued his eyes to his seat partner’s music and fingers that he realized what his haste made him forget: checking for Mio.

 

During the run, people’s instruments and postures made it impossible for her emerald hue to shine through, so he decided not to make a decision on her attendance until it was over and they were taking a break.

 

So he treated it as normal of a day as he could, following along and mimicking finger movements to try and pick up which note meant which positions and dictate which lines had meaning and which didn’t, letting himself be enveloped in the sound rather than the sights. He failed to notice Riku’s disappearance until he was long since gone, off doing…whatever it was he planned to do with the rest of his time in 9, but Noah couldn’t have cared less in the moment.

 

But waiting for a break became impossible rather quickly; though Noah could sit through the practice no problem, Crys seemed reluctant to slow down the pace, directing musical moments and asking for sections to correct their playing and other administrative things all over the place.

 

Is something happening soon?

 

Eventually, release came when Crys called time with an agitated sigh, relaxing what must have been his aching arms, and dismissed everyone for the day, “Okay, good job, guys. Make sure you all practice over the weekend. Auditions for show parts will be sometime next week, so grab some music and get a-going.”

 

Ah, yes, there is.

 

But Noah could finally scan the room for signs of the one person he’d wanted to see, and a momentary glance made it unfortunately clear she’d disappeared -- no monochromatic fellow flautist to snap at him and apologize for it later.

 

He was ready to give up and just head back to where Lanz was to see if everything was going well over on his end, beating some athlete named Sena and all, when he felt a quick tap on the left shoulder.

 

Spinning around that way did little -- no one was there. A little prank, he figured, and spun to the right.

 

And there she was, glowing literally holographically behind him and figuratively with a grin, as she said hello.

 

Those familiar feelings of terror thrashed him again -- why did she have to keep magically appearing around him? But with everything recently, Noah figured he’d ought to try his best to carry the conversation properly this time: “Oh! Hi there. Uh…nice playing.”

 

“Thanks,” she quickly accepted the compliment, though it was clear her cheery mood soured a bit at it, something that Noah may honestly never understand the reason for.

 

A beat passed before he next said anything, “I wasn’t sure whether or not to expect to see you today.”

 

“I thought I told you I was attending?” She asked, probably more for her own clarification’s sake than anything else.

 

He shook his head, “You cut out before I heard you, then, haha. Sorry.”

 

Trying to laugh it off made it worse. So much worse. He was doing it again. Come on, Noah -- snap out of it. It’s just Mio. You’ve talked to her before. So many times before. This is fine!

 

“Eh. You showed up, I showed up, it’s not that big of a deal I think.”

 

“Right, yeah,” he bobbed his head along, trying to think of a way to continue the conversation, “uh…are you doing anything later?”

 

She jumped a little at the question, relaxing her gaze into Noah’s as she slowly answered, “Tonight? Um…not sure. I’d have to talk to my da. He likes to spring stuff on the family last-minute.”

 

Oh, okay. Respectable. Cool.

 

“Well if you’re not…I know it’s kinda weird and last-minute, but could you teach me how to read music? Obviously you’re totally allowed to say no and all but I figured I’d just ask because you’re first chair and stuff--” Noah had to cut himself off before he stumbled stupidly into another trap of his own making.

 

She paused for a moment before phasing out of existence, poofing untriumphantly into nothing without so much as a word.

 

There’s my answer, then. Why did I think that was going to work? I should have asked more confidently, maybe then she’d have--

 

“Okay, I’m busy tonight.” And just as abruptly, she returned with a quick flash of light, “But I could probably meet you up in Gran Dell sometime tomorrow? Otherwise you’d have to break into an empty school.”

 

Without so much as a breath, he returned with an emphatic yes.

 

Pausing to breathe was for people who didn’t have plans tomorrow.

Chapter 17: Consequences

Notes:

finally. a normal upload time.

well, one hour prior.

can you believe we've got one last chapter 'till this finale?

With a fluid motion, Noah plucked some spare audition music from a neighboring pile, folded it up and placed it firmly beside his pocket flute, and swaggered triumphantly to meet up with Lanz again, hoping to either catch the tail end of the field events or meet him with equal fervor reciprocated: that they had both succeeded in their goals.

 

By the time he had arrived, the majority of crowds had begun their waning from the site, leaving few people behind to either congratulate their friends or try and avoid the initial exodus. It was nowhere near impossible to make it onto the field, finding groups and teams in huddles, some much more uproarious than others in their excitement -- specifically, three circles: one giant conglomerate of emerald light intermingling on top of itself to create a large blob of indistinguishable people celebrating something , a ball of (mostly) High Entia teens and what appeared to be their coach, and the largest one off in the distance.

 

Their cheering faded into intelligible background noise as Noah began weaving between the remaining groups in the flickering ether light, searching for one guy in particular.

 

He laid a glimpse on him from afar, huddled up in what was the largest circle of mixed Machina and Homs, with their coach going around trying to hype them up. And then it clicked for Noah: this was a formal competition.

 

Colony 9 vs. Gran Dell vs. Alrest.

 

And he had missed it. Eunie, too, not that she was quite involved in any extracurriculars of the sort -- but Noah knew she cared more than quite a bit about Lanz and him as longtime friends. Today was her idea, running around and getting themselves into trouble and inventing ways out of it, spending the fullest extent of her limited time with an excuse to be on the surface legitimately.

 

Now she wasn’t here, and it seemed Lanz wasn’t going to have the best story to gush about to the two of them later. A twinge of melancholy: this day was at its end, and though so much had happened…would they be leaving with the same excited taste in their mouths as they began?

 

Noah hung around, oscillating as subtly as he could between the different teams to try and gauge the night’s results and moods, but his efforts went to waste and his nosiness became obvious to at least one person: one of the emerald athletes.

 

“Hey,” she smiled, her monochromatic nature giving Noah more of her silhouette than anything else -- generally unremarkable, other than being noticeably shorter than him and having a flickering side ponytail. For some reason, hearing her voice didn’t immediately make a name float to his tongue as it had done so many times prior -- and coupled with his out-of-character vision earlier that afternoon…what in the world was happening to him? “You waiting around for someone?”

 

“Oh, yeah. I’m looking for a 9 guy: Lanz. Do you know him?” Despite knowing well where his friend was -- still huddled up with the rest of his apparent team -- he decided to ask anyway, trying to hide his real, less innocuous motives.

 

“Man, do I know him -- he’s over there,” she pointed a finger over to the huddle Noah had just visited, “and I’ve gotta go definitely before you do, so do you mind sending him my congratulations and good games when you see him?”

 

“Sure -- what’s your name?”

 

“Oops, right: Sena.” She gave a gentle nod, and upon giving Noah her name, he began to remember her previous life in Aionios. Nowhere near as intimately as Lanz must have known her -- they were their own Ouroboros partners -- but enough to know that he should have instantly recognized her like he did Mio. He shouldn’t have had to wait for her to fill in those gaps.

 

Flickering away into nothing, Sena gave one last thank you to Noah and left him with his own swirling thoughts.

 

This was the second time something went wrong with him in quick succession. The second time that whatever had happened should not have done so, though in this case, whatever hadn’t happened should have , and should have earlier than it did. Noah had seen himself in wild situations, and his four-year tenure in dealing with random visions and meeting people he had once seen and interacted with in Aionios had become easy -- a new normal for the kid. Sure, there were times he stared out of the eyes of someone distinctly not quite Noah , staring down flames and tragedy from eras bygone. Sure, he was missing so much of the bigger picture by only seeing bits and pieces of it in flashes without full context. But it was always consistent. Whenever he would meet someone he had known in Aionios, they would speak and he would learn their name. Though often seemingly random, his past memories always flared at a time when Noah needed some kind of direction to take his next actions in.

 

He had never once been left to stew on thoughtless gore from the eyes of some silent, floating being. Or forgotten a name -- especially not of someone so integral to his past life.

 

Noah stomped as gently as he could manage over to Lanz, catching him as his team meeting had finally broken apart, and did his best to hold it together . “So, how’d it go, man?”

 

“...I gave it my best. Didn’t make any top scores, though.” Lanz sighed, beginning the slow trot back out of the field and toward the Residential District proper.

 

Noah staggered in a line beside him, offering a solemn tone and as kind of words as his frazzled brain could: “Well, uh, if it’s any consolation, Sena wanted me to pass along her ‘congratulations’ and ‘good games’ -- she seemed to know you.”

 

“Yeah. Beat me in just about every event, she did.” He huffed, a sense of frustration boiling over and out of him, lacing his words with a blind venom, “I’m screwed on that scholarship. I got totally snubbed by the stupid recruiter because I didn’t make any podiums.”

 

“There’s always next time, right? They might have just been looking at some of the older athletes tonight.”

 

Lanz folded his arms, closing his body language and trying to shrug it off as he had done countless problems countless times before -- trying to respond the same way he always did to things like this, usually guilt inflicted by his parents and the like. “I guess. Sucks to suck at the one thing you’re supposed to be good at, though.”

 

Oh, tell me about it. If I could just play the flute, then-- or, well, I suppose Mio’s noticed me anyway. Maybe because I can’t read music.

 

Noah gasped out a quick revelation, “What if, the next time you see her, you ask Sena for tips or some extra conditioning?”

 

“Wha--no way! We have a very delicate relationship! And usually it’s us trying to prove who’s better than the other!” He retorted, growing defensive.

 

“That’s what I just did with this one flautist because I can’t read music. If Sena’s beating you all the time, maybe there’s something she’s doing that you’re missing, you know? Why not learn from the best? That way you can--”

 

“I’m not trying to make her think I’m a baby, having to go in and ask my rival for help.” Lanz said, picking up the pace and dismissing himself, “Sorry, I just…I need a sec. Gotta go home and eat something and get some sleep before I say some dumb stuff again.”

 

“...Goodnight, Lanz.” Noah waved, stopping in his tracks and doing his best to also stay mostly sane. Maybe he had suggested the idea too close to such a hard moment for Lanz, overstepping a boundary he shouldn’t have just yet.

 

Even though he knew he was right, having seen them in Aionios together…maybe playing matchmaker wasn’t his forte. It would just have to come with time, he hoped.

 

-- [] -- [] --

 

“Boy, I sure do hope you know how many headaches you caused for me and the entire Colony Defense Force today.” Upon returning home, the first thing he heard was the Colonel’s agitation from just past the main sitting room. He seemed mostly calm, all things considered, sitting beside a small ether lamp reading one of the books on an adjacent shelf, but there was never any telling with Vangarre.

 

Especially not today, with everything so topsy-turvy.

 

“...I know.” Noah spoke meekly, doing his best to remain as normal as the moment called for.

 

The Colonel slowly placed a bookmark between two pages and rested it on the nightstand beside the ether lamp, relaxing in his seat and removing his reading glasses slowly. “I just don’t understand you, Noah.”

 

That’s a good sign. An even temper. For now. He kept his mouth shut, waiting for what would be an inevitable escalation.

 

“It’s like no matter what I do, you seem dead-set on exploding . It took you all of three days to get right on back to doing crazy stuff, like triggering some giant beast from its slumber, endangering your friends and an Alrestian guest, and somehow magically escaping with just a sprained spine and some mental traumas. I can yell and scream and lecture all I damn please -- do anything short of hitting you -- and yet nothing changes.” He spoke as he had done earlier that day when he was initially worried for his well-being.

 

It was worse to hear him not yell, and especially a second time, but it wouldn’t have been the day’s first anomaly.

 

“After your little excursion , I got to talking with Shulk and that, uh, Poppi. Later Sharla, too.” The Colonel began -- and now Noah’s stomach dropped. He could handle disappointing his guardian, but if words were exchanged between him and some really respectable adults with real power (most notably Shulk; he didn’t want the Hero of the Bionis to think less of him), it could mean so much worse, “I’ve had a while to stew on this, too. Gather my thoughts and words and such.

 

“And still, I have no idea what to do with you. It’s like you don’t want support. I know you and your life more than you might think, kid -- I’m sitting right here knowing full well you’ll never see me as your real dad or know what having a mom is like, and definitely not your real one either. All I ask of you is to just do your job; it’s what I ask of every soldier under my care -- because it’s my ass if something happens.

 

“And, to every other degree, it’s yours , too. If you mess up out on that battlefield, it’s your life you’re risking, not mine. Fun little perk of making Colonel -- I give the orders, I don’t fulfill them. Every time I make a bad call, people die . Every time a young soldier with a big heart and bigger ego goes out there and makes a bad call, they die . You and most of the people your age are lucky to live in a time far-removed from some of the mess I’ve seen, and yet the casualty rates don’t go down so low so fast. And it’s because you’re young and stupid with the miracle tech that is ether backing you up every step of the way, you don’t think about the people you leave behind.

 

“I’ve been to more funerals and remembrance ceremonies than I can count, Noah. Don’t make me show up to yours, too.”

 

Ouch.

 

Noah didn’t plan on dying anytime soon, but the guilt that cut between his ribs was about the closest to it he had been. Vangarre had never once given him that kind of talk before -- yes, the man was capable of being calm and giving a heartfelt speech that had moved the kid and certainly many others just like him out in the field, but Noah met more of his wrath than his mercy.

 

And this was no mercy -- only wrath, subdued and calm, blanketed by worry rather than anger. In a flash, it all seemed so ridiculous; he was doing exactly the same thing he had done in Aionios. Though the circumstances were different and the original ending impossible, what changed?

 

For years he had been sneaking away and lying in search of an intangible past; now he was doing the same with a fantastical future, surrounded by people that would never truly understand his predicament but stood by him anyway.

 

Remorse -- that was the term. And it’s what began swelling at Noah’s waterline as he struggled to conjure up a response, silently staring ahead in an attempt to hold some semblance of eye contact, “I…I’m not trying to.”

 

“Then why? I know you were ambushed by that Guldo, but you sought the boat out because you wanted the glory of saying you had cleared out the minor, inconsequential threat of some bugs hanging out in it. You put yourself into danger intentionally .”

 

“Well, I…” He wasn’t anywhere near in the right headspace to respond eloquently to that, not that being in said headspace would have helped much.

 

The Colonel merely sighed, rising from his seat without returning his book to the shelf, “You’re not going to give me anything but excuses right now, I can tell. Come on -- I’ll fix dinner. You can explain with some food in your belly.”

 

“I’m not hungry,” Noah tried, quickly attempting to dodge out of view and into his room, but a firm squeeze on the shoulder shut that escape down before it could get very far.

 

“Don’t let the fact that I’m not yelling at you change the fact that you’re still in massive trouble. You’re not hiding in your room this time. We’re having dinner together, and that’s final.”

 

Noah remained mostly silent -- as did the Colonel -- while watching the latter quickly scrape together some preserved leftovers and reheat them as necessary, sitting directly across from the former after presenting him his meal.

 

It wasn’t the most delicious thing in the world, and the atmosphere remained dense, but it cost nothing to at least acknowledge the efforts his guardian was making; perhaps it was just nice to get his energy up a little higher with some edible respite and a moment to collect himself.

 

“...Did you really talk to everyone on that ship about me?” Noah eventually broke the uneasy silence lingering between them, digesting both his meal and his words as he spoke them slowly.

 

The Colonel was a slightly slower eater, but answered between bites, “I asked for advice on how to approach you.”

 

Oh come ON, just yell at me please. Stop doing this to my weak and fragile--

 

“A mixed bag of responses, by the way. No one knew how to agree with each other outside of sharing my concern. So I didn’t listen much to ‘em.” He admitted softly, “Well, except Shulk. Seems like picking my words before I spoke them was the right move.”

 

And yet that wasn’t what was disturbing Noah most right now, so he made his voice heard: “I don’t want to die.”

 

“Well next time, don’t throw yourself into mortal peril, yeah?” Vangarre flared up a little before taking a deep breath and calming himself, “I mean, uh…no, I do mean that. Stop recklessly going off on your own not telling anyone anything and just disappearing for days at a time -- that’s stupid and what’ll do ya’ in, but you’re not going to just spontaneously combust. All you have to do is what you’re supposed to do, and you’ll be fine. That’s it. That’s all I want for you, kid. To not have to deal with that mess.”

 

How exactly was he supposed to explain his reasoning? It wasn’t very good as it stood, and it likely wouldn’t sound any better out of his mouth, but Noah knew that if he wanted to continue on at least with his most recent plans, he would have to come at least a little bit clean.

 

“I…uh…met someone at the orchestra stuff, by the way.” He waited a moment, gathering himself before meekly beginning another attempt at real conversation.

 

“See? It’s like I said, all you have to do is branch out a bit. Get yourself some foundation. That way you don’t have to do crazy stuff to burn off all that free time you have.”

 

“She wants to meet me in Gran Dell to--”

 

“Nope.”

 

“But--”

 

“Tell her to meet you in the Colony or not at all.”

 

“...I can’t.”

 

Colonel Vangarre narrowed his eyes, not saying anything as if awaiting the rest of that thought.

 

“She’s one of the Alrestian kids. It’s either Gran Dell or the school and nothing between.”

 

Silence. An intelligible grumble, something perhaps about an annoying Nopon , and another (the final) bite of his meal. “I’m not taking off work. You’re welcome to hang around the school to try catching her but so help me Bionis if you try to break and enter, I’m going to regret not having yelled at you tonight. Are we clear?”

 

“Uh, yessir,” Noah sighed, realizing that was the closest thing he could possibly get to permission. He began to slowly slink away from his seat, grabbing his plate and rinsing it off with soapy water before placing it on the drying rack, doing his best to sneak off to his room without anything further.

 

“This ain’t the end of this, by the way, Noah.” The Colonel spoke without turning to face him, “And especially so if you try to do something stupid tonight. Don’t you go out there making bad decisions with my food in your stomach.”

 

“I know.” And he did know -- that was one of Vangarre’s favorite lines: don’t make bad decisions on my dime , or some variation thereof. 

 

Later that evening, Noah tried going to sleep, but it was impossible to get his mind off the day and its…eccentricities.

 

He kept tossing and turning between rampant thoughts, between fears and dreams and loss and hope, witnessing the scale of it all returning in full force: it had been some odd 16 hours. One wildly eventful day. One.

 

The last time he’d had such a day was probably the first night after Aionios. When he found his flute singing to him from the rooftops.

 

Maybe that’s it. Clear my head a bit, maybe?

 

So he took his flute, now resting atop of the music he snagged on his nightstand rather than in his pocket, and opened his window, feeling a light draught catch behind him. This was by no means the first time he had gone and scaled the side of his house to sit on the roof -- he could thank Lanz and Eunie for their earlier seminars on how to do so -- but it was the first time in a long while that doing so made him feel guilty .

 

For what it was worth, Noah still didn’t intend on listening. He knew waiting in a place neither agreed on showing up to was bound to leave him alone and Mio feeling stood-up, but the last thing he wanted to do was die. Being reminded of his mortality stung. Being reminded of Aionios like that, in fact, stung. Everything he did now counted for something.

 

And it was that line of reasoning that brought him beneath the glimmering stars, pressing his not-quite-healed back against the cold steel that was his roof, letting himself melt in the visage. Somewhere above him laid Gran Dell and the answers to his problems, somewhere just barely out of reach.

 

That remorse piling within him earlier -- the thinly-veiled attempts made to hold it together -- came flowing down with a drive unanticipated prior.

 

It took some snivelling and regret perhaps deservedly needing sifting through, but at least one of those answers he so desperately wanted came at his fingertips. For the first time since he’d acquired the damn thing, Noah was able to replicate that melody he once heard, now reflecting his personal sorrow rather than the beauty he’d first heard and experienced in it.

 

That was the peace he needed to fall asleep, perhaps -- a chilly draught, a breathy melody, and the starlight, something akin to the fireworks he first saw all those years ago.

 

Well, at least one of the stars he was looking at seemed to be a shooting one, shimmering the faintest shade of red as it dashed across the sky.

 

But pausing to think was for people that didn’t want sleep that night.

Notes:

AHAHAHAHAHA

CAN YOU BELIEVE THERE'S STILL MORE TO THIS ACT?

SEE YOU NEXT WEEK MUAHAHAHAHA

Chapter 18: Core

Notes:

whoa, monday at noon?? what??

ive got another tuesday rehearsal (anger) so merry president's day i guess!

very excited to bring this act to a close because
well
you'll see! <3

*oh yeah i switched to using docs. formatting should be fixed, idk what happened last time.

Noah didn’t quite receive the dreams he had been anticipating after falling asleep on cold roofing. It was something akin to a mix of strange drowsiness and the lingering aftereffects of that water ether his back was so greedily using to fix itself, and not even that worked properly.

 

Because he awoke the next morning -- in fact a bit earlier than that -- swollen up by returning pains (though not quite so debilitating as they were when his wounds were fresh), feeling like he’d merely zipped forward a few hours as rather than rested through them. Sure, the sky was no longer so star-scattered, instead reflecting the dim illumination of the scarlet hues sneaking above what was irrevocably east, but it still felt as magical as it was before his eyes closed.

 

Doing his best to avoid agitating his already agitated spine, he felt around his person, trying to make sure he hadn’t let his flute roll off the side and be lost in a sea of boot prints somewhere on the streets below, his empty hands reminiscent of the answer.

 

No way , Noah’s groggy mind sprung into a state of active alarm, There’s no way I--

 

But there was indeed, and thus became the problem. How was he supposed to meet Mio and be taught how to play the flute without the one thing he needed to be able to practice? Was he really going to just trip over the finish line here? Ridiculous.

 

In his fog, he figured the next best place to search would be somewhere on the eaves -- someplace where it may have slipped from his grasp and rolled down to without throwing itself off the edges -- gently sliding feet-first and scanning the scene with his eyes and soles to inspect anything in sight.

 

Perhaps partially due to the dimness of the world around him, the nearest ether lamps still burning brightly amidst the shade, but he just couldn’t find it. Well then, his initial panic was correct: it’d rolled off the arched gable somewhere and had fallen onto the ground. If he wanted it back, Noah would need to act fast : the morning rush was sure to have his memento swept away without second thought.

 

Okay. It’s fine. I’ll find it somewhere around the connecting back alley and boulevard -- it’s got to be somewhere in a close radius. Self-assurance became a must, especially now dealing with dulled ether effects and a metallic chill permeating his body; if Noah couldn’t keep himself together right now, that flute would be gone . Permanently.

 

So, he took the reverse path into his opened bedroom window with as much grace and care as he could manage, doing his best to nonchalantly pretend he never left his room. There was no morning breeze today, rather a sort of uneasy stillness keeping Noah on his toes, though at the time, he chalked that up to the fact he was certain he’d made yet another dangerous blunder.

 

Knowing full-well it wasn’t going to magically materialize back on his nightstand, he glossed over his room anyway, giving a cursory inspection to only the big landmarks around: his bed, his nightstand, his drawers, his mirror, another glance at the window…nothing. Expected; still painful.

 

Noah creaked open his door, hoping the Colonel had either already left (though this was much earlier than his normal time) or was snoring in some other corner of the house, instead finding a small plate of room-temperature food on an adjacent table with a hastily-handwritten note placed beside:

 

Surprise work trip to Alcamoth. You got your wish. Eat first: you’re dumber when you’re hungry and I’m BUSY so I don’t want to have to hear about you.

 

Well.

 

“Unbelievable,” Noah verbalized his thoughts, “Just as I get actual permission, too.”

 

Grumbling, he left his meal for later, not quite sure how long it had been there -- hopefully no longer than a few hours or so, but that became its own separate question altogether. What was more important than anything else was finding that flute -- hygiene, eating, and other subsequent basic needs could wait. He, uncaring of his unpresentable state, made a sweep around the building’s outer perimeter, paying special attention to the places he most readily assumed would be good lost item spots; it was made of a silvery wood, after all. It should have shone in its contrast against the tan cobblestone and earthy grasses, but he was quick to realize it wouldn’t be that simple. It never was.

 

So he made a few loops -- some clockwise, some counter, some fast, some slow -- to try testing his own sight. And yet…nothing.

 

Well, not nothing: this strange, shiny red and polished rectangle-ish gemstone lay on the cobble outside the building’s drainage pipe -- Noah’s eyes traced the path back to the roof following the outer ring, and it…didn’t make any sense. If it had slid from the piping, which it shouldn’t have because the pipes were practically parallel to the ground and there had been no rain or slickness in the night (Noah would have felt it upon waking at least), then it should have thrust further into the grass.

 

It seemed…particularly placed. Like someone had swapped his flute -- which realistically could have rolled off the side and down the drainage like so -- for it.

 

He didn’t dare touch and examine it closely, but he did feel as though he had his answer now: a disconcerting someone stole it .

 

With a sigh, Noah gave up the search for a moment -- maybe he’d place an ad for it and list whatever that gem was as the reward, though clearly considering someone traded it for a wooden flute, it couldn’t have been worth all that much.

 

The morning shuttle would be arriving soon -- it was probably more worthwhile to visit Eunie and see if he couldn’t borrow a flute for the afternoon, taking his time now to make sure he had the grooming standards necessary to ask such a thing of her before heading skyward. So it was back inside he went, doing his usual business: combing through his hair and slicking it up, cleaning his face and teeth, changing from his nightly garb, resisting the urge to poke at an angry, annoying spot of acne on his jaw preceded by some edgy patches of outgrowth; the works.

 

So he strode over where he was supposed to be, folded music replacing the spot in his left pocket where his flute sat, approaching the initial checkpoint before being stopped by a handful of CDF soldiers:

 

“Sorry, no service today.” The one in the center spoke languidly with an extended palm to gesture stop .

 

Oh come on, are we really doing this? Noah struggled to maintain a poker face, hoping his newfound legitimate permission would excuse it. He sucked in a breath, feeling around his pockets for the note the Colonel left him, realizing he forgot to grab it. Whatever, I’ll just ask why .

 

“Shoulder’s on lockdown.” They said, audibly unknowing of more or unwilling to share the rest of that thought.

 

Lockdown? Gran Dell’s never on lockdown. Last time that happened, I was…8? Something about fog rifts reopening…?

 

Noah frowned, now determined to clue himself in on the mystery: “But why?”

 

A shrug, “I don’t get paid to know these things. I also don’t have the clearance to know these things, but good luck getting Square-Tache to drop the clue.”

 

Now that’s a nickname I haven’t heard in forever…hey, I wonder.

 

“Oh,” he cleared his throat, slowly backing away, “sorry. And thanks.”

 

If there was a response to that, Noah didn’t hear it: he had a house call to make. One that he certainly wasn’t so excited to try making considering the hour and the last time they’d seen each other, but if anyone had a chance at having the clearance but not the responsibility of putting the Shoulder on lockdown, it was probably her.

 

He trod along toward the docks again, this time steering clear of the wooden boardwalks and instead veering slightly east, toward a large, two-story house and its well-decorated entrance. The key lay in knocking loudly twice -- that he knew well.

 

Slowly, Noah’s call came with an answer: a young girl of tanned skin, dark hair, and ruby eyes. Panacea.

 

“Oh, g’morning,” she spoke softly, a tiredness around her eyes and in her speech that suggested she’d forgotten their last encounter, at least momentarily.

 

Masking his guilt to the best of his ability, Noah asked his question, “Uh, good morning. Are your parents home?”

 

“No. Mommy’s almost never home and Daddy woke me up last night to tell me he was going out. Stupid work stuff.” She huffed, seeming frustrated by the thought of being left alone.

 

That’s when Noah realized that on the Junks was the first time he’d ever actually seen Panacea’s mother. Must be tough being a medic -- always on-site or on-call in the event something bad happens. At least Mr. Reyn was home often enough for obligatory parent work dinners and child playdates , he was fun -- even more so when it was Vangarre cooking, too.

 

“...same,” he admitted, “and Gran Dell got shut down, too. I’m a little worried.”

 

“Whoa, no way! No wonder he had to go.” Panacea gaped, her stomach rumbling audibly, “...aw man, he had to go.”

 

Wait, did I ever actually grab that plate of…oops. Hey, this seems as good of an opportunity as any.

 

“Why don’t I make us some breakfast and we can chat more? Make it up to you for using and losing your special hairband.”

 

“...I forgot. But that totally sounds good! I’m too hungry to be mad at you, and then I’ll be too full, too. So it’ll even out.”

 

Phew. 9-year-olds could be scary.

 

Welcoming Noah inside, Panacea quickly began listing out her breakfast order: 2 medium-boiled eggs wrapped in sliced, pickled Energy Aubergines with slightly blackened toast and lightly spread Sour Gooseberry jam. Because he sure knew how to make that. Thankfully, a glance in the icebox revealed the eggs were plentiful, and the aubergines and gooseberries had already been processed into their finer delicacies. Noah just needed to remember how long it took to medium boil an egg; he knew how picky she was.

 

“Haven’t done this in a while, so bear with me.” Noah moved as fluidly as he could remember to, filling one bowl with icy tap water and placing another of the lukewarm variant on the stovetop, prepping other ingredients while waiting for the latter to boil.

 

“Make eggs?”

 

“No, a whole meal.” He spoke, reminiscing a little on his Aionios days -- although it was usually Manana, or at least her recipes, being on meal duty always brought Noah a little bit of joy. Especially if Mio was his assigned meal-prepping partner. In the past four years, he’d been more often told to not linger around the stove because he was in the chef’s (Vangarre’s) way and Noah could learn all the hard stuff when he was tall enough to stir a pot properly . More recently, now that he was tall enough to stir said pots, he was always delegated to sous-chef duties -- canning the excess bits of meat for future stews, reading new recipes aloud when the head chef misplaced his glasses, and slicing vegetables. Anything the Colonel didn’t want to do that night, he did.

 

And for the most part, it wasn’t bad. By no means did it beat the relaxation of cooking with his Ouroboros buddies, but Noah still felt like he helped out a lot of the time -- not an unwelcome compromise.

 

The more he got into the rhythm of it, the more confident he became in finishing Panacea’s breakfast. Sure, he may have accidentally overcooked the eggs by at least a minute or two, and that toast wasn’t quite as slightly blackened as she wanted it, but it was done and it looked pretty damn good -- especially compared to his significantly and intentionally more simple breakfast.

 

And she seemed happy enough -- so no harm, no foul.

 

“Thank you, Noah,” she beamed, a few loose crumbs of toast and jam lingering on her lips, “it’s just like how Mommy makes it.”

 

“Slightly burnt?” He felt his cheeks flush and heart melt -- why’d she have to say it like it was the saddest thing in the world?

 

A nod and giggle, “Yeah. That’s why I always tell her a little bit less done than I like it. She’s a bit scared of giving me raw food.”

 

It was hard to not laugh alongside her, and it seemed the food wholly made up for his earlier transgressions. Now for the more important question after he’d managed to get back on her full good side: using her family’s ether-based communication channels.

 

If he could use it, he could easily talk to Mr. Reyn or Mrs. Sharla and figure out the situation up on the Shoulder. Vangarre was a bit of a technophobe: he also just didn’t trust Noah not to abuse the thing, which he was definitely correctly paranoid for -- if they did have one, Eunie would have easily convinced Noah to send in at least one prank call. With the Colonel’s temper, it would have been hilarious…until he trashed the thing entirely.

 

Or at least, it would have been a major question if the channel didn’t already call for a response.

 

“ Psst, Panacea? You up? ” Metallic and jolted, the voice on the other side seemed a bit less recognizable than the industry standard, but it was certainly still Mr. Reyn.

 

“Daddy!” She cheered, jumping from her seat and rushing to the receiver, “I’m up!”

 

Noah slowly followed behind her, hoping to eavesdrop not-so-subtly and gain the information he was missing.

 

“ Hey! Nice-- ” A strange crackling on the other end sounded something like a yawn, “Ah, sorry. Long night. I wanted to letcha know I’ll be gone a pretty long while. Crazy stuff up at the top of the world n’ duty calls. You eat yet?”

 

“Yeah. Noah came over and made me breakfast.” She answered truthfully. Too truthfully. He supposed there was no hiding himself now.

 

“Oh yeah, Square-Tache is up here, too. Is Noah still there?”

 

“I am.” He spoke quickly, “Sorry for, uh, barging in.”

 

“Nah, ‘sall good. I was actually just about to ask Panacea do a surprise all-day playdate with ya’, so it all works out I think.”

 

“...is everything OK? Gran Dell’s on lockdown and it seems like a lot of people left for Alcamoth last night.”

 

“ ...Panacea, d’you mind washing up? Grabbing some stuff for the day?”

 

It seemed that was her cue to leave so Mr. Reyn could explain -- the former doing so almost silently as she headed back upstairs to what was most likely her room.

 

He gave another weird crackle through the microphone, probably a sigh, and explained: “Ain’t pretty. Basically, someone or something made off with Alcamoth’s primary power source and the entire place is running on backups until it can be put back. Can’t be having people moving from place to place ‘cuz then it’s easier to run off with the little trinket and, y’know, all of Alcamoth needs that. Also means no ether towers -- ran straight from Al-- oops I can’t say that. Pretend you didn’t hear that.”

 

“Must have been the wind,” Noah chuckled, waiting for Mr. Reyn to continue.

 

“Yeah, sure was. But essentially, you, Panacea, Nikol…definitely some other kids whose parents are up here too are gonna have to figure out how to stick together big time. Really wish me or Sharla or really anyone who knows you lot could be there, but it hit the fan real bad and…well.”

 

Something struck strangely with him, and it was obvious not even Mr. Reyn could really say what was going on, but maybe…he could figure out what that “little trinket” of a power source really was.

 

“What does it look like? Maybe I can help somehow.”

 

“Sorry, Noah. Kinda not supposed to spill the beans to anyone. Not that I don’t trust you, but because we can’t have the rumor spreading too far. Gotta promise to shut your trap on what you’ve got now, ‘kay?”

 

That was fair. It was what Noah expected. “Alright, promise. Won’t even tell Panacea.”

 

“See, now THIS is why I tell ya’ stuff. Okay, I gotta get back to guard duty. Thank you for helping out my little girl; hope you don’t mind the surprise babysitting job. I’ll find some way to make it up to you when I’m back. And tell her I love her! Bye!” Static, then silence.

 

Noah thought on Mr. Reyn’s words for a second: little trinket , power source , Alcamoth …he could have sworn he’d seen something in his visions of Aionios that touched on something like that.

 

But it was no use: he neither got to choose when he saw into the past, nor was he able to see specific events unless they were fresh on the brain. The hindsight he’d been so reliant on the past four years was going haywire and in the worst possible ways.

 

Then he’d heard it again: the melody he’d played last night. And was almost certain he knew exactly its source.

 

“Hey, Panacea? How much longer do you need up there?” Noah called out, “Your dad’s off the line, you can come down now if you want.”

 

“A few minutes! I gotta fit everything into my bag!”

 

“If I were to run back to my house, would you meet me there?”

 

“Okay!”

 

Noah sprinted out the door, doing his best to shut it behind him forcefully enough to where it would be properly closed (but not slammed) -- a surprising test of dexterity when madly dashing back home.

 

He turned the corner, left and right, just as he had when he was 10 and fresh out of Aionios, this time taking a charted path down avenues he knew, and back to the drainage pipe and grassy little cove where his flute had been meticulously replaced by that glowing, red, stone.

 

And there it was again: not the gem, but the instrument, cozied up between blades of emerald life.

 

Seems that thieving stranger had some seller’s remorse.

Notes:

that's a wrap!!!! thanks for reading through this first part of my insanity!! <333

we shall return hopefully at a normal time. i will be. sad. if not.
but if not, it'll most likely be another mon/wed drop; sigh.

Chapter 19: Moderato

Notes:

good tuesday evening all! finally my schedule returns to normal, and thus the upload time as well

welcome. to act 2...!!! >:D

Quiet.

 

Nothing but the sound of the distant tides crashing into the shore -- the rocking and balancing of boats emerging against wooden docks and robust hulls into the blue expanse beyond. The wind carried a faint whistle, beating against windows and masoned walls until it caught windpipes or perhaps the end of its stamina to where it stilled and rested until its passage was imperceptible to the Homs’ ear.

 

The sky dulled several shades more orange: a sepia-toned morning replaced the earlier hues of scarlet and violet, clouds phasing in where sunlight drained out every color except the warmest hues, leaving behind a murky mix of monochrome (not unlike that of those projected from Alrest) that made Noah’s vision questionable at best.

 

In his grasp lay his prize from the muddied ground beside the drainage pipe: a once silver flute, now with its color and life drained away. Perhaps the only color that truly persisted outside of Noah himself was a bleeding, burning crimson: the color of his outer jacket, whatever bits of the sky could feed into it, and a faint, ephemeral trail fading in and out of the light.

 

He sort of just…stared blankly ahead, struggling to reckon with what was going on. Time had not slowed -- life still progressed at its expected rate and all the sensory doings required still reached him -- but it died in its own way.

 

Now, without color. Without organic movement. Now, Noah was there: present in full feeling the extended effects that he was, beyond a shadow of a doubt, the only person to be able to move .

 

It was the beginning of Aionios all over again, except not quite? To describe what the teen was feeling would be an injustice to his own senses, for it all appeared quite the same save for the physics of motion.

 

When Noah stepped back from his flute, part in terror and part in curiosity for what was happening, it hung in the air dully. Gravity seemed to no longer be a factor in play for any object drained of its colors, and Noah lucky not to be among the new world of statues and silhouettes.

 

The only signal that life yet remained was the flickering light, visibly leading somewhere closer to the docks. The beach that snaked around the entirety of Colony 9 and the Fallen Arm. One step, one foot in front of the other, after the next, repeating until someone’s strange desires could be sated. Hopefully it translated to Noah returning to his own reality, not whatever force decided it was best he and it cross paths like so.

 

Not even 20 paces in, he learned the extent to which life had drained from the Bionis’ remnants. He stopped following the flickering to stare at Panacea, caught between wide strides and a larger gait, a breath transfixed in her lungs as she, too, defied natural law and floated in the air, immutable.

 

She was so close to his house. It almost made him wonder if he had paused a moment, perhaps even half of one, longer, if she would have been spared her new fate.

 

He poked at her tenuously, but immutable was quick to shift to incorporeal ; Noah’s finger fell through her shoulder, waving his own hand into particles and bits of air as he reeled. There came his answer: she was normal. He was not.

 

The line continued past Panacea’s house and back toward the docks, varnished by siena top to bottom until forms and shapes were the only comprehensible part of the scene.

 

He tapped across the dock, watching the water bounce and ripple as it always did, a single boat jostling the sea beneath it. It seemed a little more than familiar, its hues woodened alongside the rest of the world but its texture and silhouette reminded Noah of a similar counterpart, now buried in memories and broken along the Fallen Arm’s shoreline between Guldo ashes and a beach’s worth of sand destined for the kiln in the near future forward, surely.

 

Where that sentiment of sand to be processed into glass came from, Noah could not say. It was not his own. Perhaps a byproduct of phasing in and out of existence as he was now so intent on doing, but something spoke to him from within that his hesitancy in understanding came from his hesitancy to follow the red trail. To enter the boat.

 

He rose on the plank and pushed open what was once a great, sealed hull door, and emerged inside eager to discover the truth.

 

A swarm of Fliers, Antols, a large Brog, and a horde of Skeeters await inside, overwhelming some tall person with silver hair, purple garb, and a brilliantly red sword (perhaps most brilliant of all due to red’s color magnification here) wielded in the right, copper-toned hand.

 

Another person in color! Perhaps they will hear me? But the horde they’re facing…they’re not in color. Perhaps I can…

 

“Wait!” Noah yelped, dashing just beside the uniquely colorful person, “They can’t touch us! Or, well, me, at least? I dunno, but--”

 

The mysterious stranger simply gripped their open, glowing weapon and responded without turning to face the significantly shorter 14-year-old beside them, “That is true, except for that I have conjured these creatures.”

 

“What?” Noah spoke aloud, realizing his silent thought had been verbalized by his tongue before his brain could catch up with it, “You…huh?”

 

“Perhaps you recognize them?” They spoke, taking a step forward and a swing at the nearest Antol, slicing it in twain as its body faded to ash, “These are but mere illusions, however. Fragments of a past long since passed.”

 

“I guess…” He hesitated, stepping back and letting this new silver-haired enigma handle the brunt of the fight, “I’ve seen them all before, if that’s what you’re asking. Err, the species . Not the bugs and Brog specifically.”

 

They backed up slightly to return to a built line with Noah, sword still well-outstretched and poised for battle, now finally making eye contact with him -- eyes of a brilliant blue and face of a dazzling copper, color ratios seemingly unaffected by the new tint to the world -- “If you are certain, it would be best if you handled these beings, then.”

 

He was quick to protest, searching mentally for any excuse to not pick up another damn shield or staff or sword or anything of the sort. His back was the first he found, but in his newly incorporeal state he realized it no longer ached as it once did. His lack of skill was the second, but he knew that didn’t matter when he built that Driver bond with Poppi; she filled in the rest of his missing information. His mortality the third, but that was newly secondary now that he and this stranger were the only life and objects in color in this weird, hazy dream. His morals the final, but Noah not once ever had any stifling secondary doubts about taking the life of any of the monsters he was about to face.

 

Sword hilt now ready to be switched hands, Noah begrudgingly picked up the new blade, a faint hum and pulse in his grasp as he stared down its red base toward the cerulean light emitting from its end.

 

His body practically moved on its own, and he imagined himself with Poppi again -- except this version of her did not speak quite as much or in nearly the same manner, not offering useful battle insight or the next big move. They merely…observed.

 

No blue or gold light formed between them -- only that red flicker remained (and perhaps their version of a Driver bond) and tethered Noah to the stranger. No semblance of outside assistance or external pressure. Nothing. It was as if they weren’t there while Noah charged forward, channeling his old movements and motions from the Aionios days now far behind him as he sliced through Antol and Flier and Skeeter alike, making it swiftly to the apparent leader of the pack: the Brog.

 

“So, um, can you explain why I’m vaporizing these guys if they’re illusions?” He asked perhaps slightly louder than the boat could tolerate, his voice bouncing around the walls and directly back at him.

 

The stranger offered a simple answer: “Are they truly illusory if you are erasing them in such broad strokes?”

 

“...Didn’t you say yourself that you conjured these monsters?” Noah clarified, making his first decisive play against the smaller-than-average Brog: a slice against its frontal limbs.

 

“It is a matter of cognition.” And no fewer, nor no greater, quantity of words were granted. Why this person was so intent on remaining cryptic, the fighting teen did not understand; why any of this had been happening, he had yet to grasp. 

 

Perhaps that was the meaning behind the stranger’s cognition answer: that they believed them false and thus they were. Was that why the monsters could be felled so swiftly? The knowledge of the illusion?

 

Noah took a breath and another stab at the Brog, staring at the gaping, blackening wound where its front legs, now misting vapor lost in the air, once lay, and erased it. He turned on his heels, making careful eye contact with the source of all of his vague answers, and waited for them to say something.

 

After a pause, they stepped forth slowly, evading each bit of tinted landscape as if it were real and tangible, and their sword closed on its own, seeming to return to some kind of dormant state in the teenager’s grasp. “I see. You are unique.”

 

Oh, gee, thanks. Real nice coming from the only other person who can move and think and breathe and fall with gravity here.

 

“I say that to mean, or rather to ask, where your Arts originated from?” They said, an inquisitive look on their face and response making Noah wonder if his inside thoughts were really, truly inside here.

 

He was unsure if he should tell the truth or not. It seemed to be fine with Riku, but the little Nopon was not asking him whether or not he remembered his past lives in Aionios; he asked how Noah had managed to stowaway in a crate in the back of his private shuttle to and from Gran Dell.

 

Gran Dell -- a city that was now entirely locked down because of some missing power source and drama in national security.

 

Oh what the hell? Did Noah have anything to lose here?

 

“...Will you believe me if I tell you the truth?” 

 

“What reason would I possess to deny any answer you give me?”

 

He was quickly growing tired with the stranger’s tendency to answer in riddles, but gave the truthful answer anyway: “I was a soldier in Aionios. I have these visions and I see myself in the past, feel myself in the past. And I do my best to learn from them. It’d be a waste not to, right?”

 

“Correct. I am glad, Noah.” They said gently, the tiniest upward curl on the ends of their otherwise stoic lips. He knew there was more to that statement, far beyond that of whatever this person was willing to part with, but he neither had any clue what lay outside it nor was willing to press them on it.

 

A beat, then, a panic . “How do you know my name?”

 

“It is…a long story; one certainly saved for a better time. For now, I trust you will handle my discretion.” They sighed, blinking and shaking their head languidly -- how they seemed to do everything except fight.

 

“I don’t…trust a lot of anything. You know my name and I don’t know yours and we’re first meeting in this wild husk of a world and you just asked me to kill a bunch of illusions and none of this makes sense and I just wanted my flute back…you know?” Noah’s frustrations spiraled into a swift rant, a thinly-veiled anger surging within him as he spoke through them.

 

And the stranger merely extended an open, upturned palm with Noah’s silver flute (now in the same full color it had always been) resting softly between his hand’s ridges, a faint red aura permeating from it, “This instrument, you mean? Do not worry, it is safe.”

 

“It’s glowing.” He frowned, taking and returning the flute to its proper location in his pants pocket, “It doesn’t normally shimmer red.”

 

“I must apologize, then. It is my vessel. It is…how we are able to meet like this now.”

 

Wh-- are you kidding me? What the hell does that mean? There’s just been a person inside of my…weird…magically-bound…self-playing flute. That…nope. I’m not going to think about that too hard. My brain is already on fire, here.

 

“...Uh, okay. Riight. Can you explain…er, sorry, I still don’t know your name.”

 

They shrugged, seemingly unfazed by the statement: “By your definitions, I do not have one. You may call me anything you’d like.”

 

“Really? No one’s ever, like, given you one before? I’m really bad at names, so…I wouldn’t want to give you something you’d hate.” Noah flushed, shying away from that daunting task.

 

“I have received multiple unique names before, yes.”

 

“Great! Pick your favorite -- I’ll call you that.” He perked back up, eager to finally make some progress. Why was it so difficult for this person to give their name?

 

“My favorite ? I…do not possess preferences like that.” Now they were the one to shy away, taking the tiniest step back and the quietest shift of their body language to signify some kind of boundary. Unfortunately for them, Noah was more than adamant about not calling them something he’d picked for them.

 

He tried asking again, this time with a special cherry on top: “Please?”

 

A beat, then an answer, “Alvis.”

 

“Okay, then. Alvis , can, no, may you please explain any of what you’re talking about?” Noah released the growing tension in his shoulders and lungs, weight upon them now freed by a sense of relief and a desire to learn.

 

“In due time, yes.” Alvis did not budge, “But for now, our connection fades. You must return to reality, and I must gather my strength so we may meet properly.”

 

“Wh-- already ? Why?”

 

No clear, definitive response. Just another cryptic clue: “Place your feelings upon your next melody -- that will quicken the process you desire.”

 

Then, nothing.

 

Noah stood over the spot in front of his drainage pipe where he had picked up his silver flute, the mundane object in his grasp still as it was when the world first drained of color. Perhaps his only means of comfort was the fact that the grass was now green and that his instrument rolled around in his palm freely, obeying the laws of physics as it should have.

What a bittersweet freedom: blessed and burdened by knowledge all at once. The only thing he could be certain of for now was that he had stumbled upon something far greater than himself. He had found an Alvis , whoever that was.

Notes:

2 things:

1. i scrapped and rewrote this chapter about 5 times because i could NOT decide where to go with it, so here's to hoping it's a nice polished read...(agony)

2. i plan to take a 2-week hiatus in the middle of may for AP exams. that's like chapter 30 so it's no concern now whatsoever, but i blocked out the dates and realized my time would regrettably be better spent passing those bad boys lol
more details to come on that probably sometime in april, so business as usual until then :3

Chapter 20: Inertia

Notes:

good evening everyone!

slight delay thanks to some lovely weather (tornado) and its very mild (50mph winds all day) consequences (lost power multiple times)
it seems the ao3 author's curse was real. sigh.

anyway, please do enjoy this week's edition of prose. :)

It took Noah the rest of that day to contend with reality as it had warped before him. Always lingering somewhere in the back of his mind, he had to make an active effort to avoid the strange thoughts and ideas bubbling to the surface -- especially when he and Panacea ventured to share the bad news with Nikol.

 

Nikol, whose mother was actually home and answered the door.

 

“Good morning, you two. Did you need something?” She spoke with a subtle smile, nonchalantly leaning against the wide-open door’s handle.

 

Noah gathered himself as best he could and responded: “Our parents disappeared in the middle of night for work. Is Nikol there? We were going to spread the word, but…”

 

He certainly could have worded that better. He should have worded it better. The look on poor Mrs. Fiora’s face made him cringe at himself for being so blunt, but Noah was simply out of it.

 

“I see,” she exhaled a slight chuckle, “Nikol is here -- in fact, he could use some sunlight. He’s been cooped up all week in the lab tinkering on something with his dad, but…well, you know.” Making a sort of inviting gesture, Mrs. Fiora beckoned Noah and Panacea inside (if at least for a few moments), giving the former an actual view inside for what had to be the first time in some magnitude of years.

 

Despite being in the same year and sharing a few mutual friends, Noah and Nikol had almost never interacted with one another outside of weird parental gatherings and the occasional everyone had to leave for work days -- they simply traveled in different crowds. Like with Panacea, this never manifested itself as anything more than a stable acquaintanceship: congratulating the other on achievements and milestones, sharing inconsequential tidbits about life, making small talk…

 

But that was simply how it went. Their parents were friends, so they met and spoke and convened as well. Although, Noah could never quite be sure if the Colonel was a welcome member or simply included himself into that clique -- he supposed it only made a slight impact; the kids themselves never really questioned his lingering and looming, especially after he showed off his purloined instrument to them when he first got it.

 

Now? Well, he wasn’t telling Nikol a blip about Alvis, that was for certain. He had this sort of dangerous feeling rise within him whenever he considered the topic -- one too foreign to put into words.

 

But at that moment, things were normal. Okay. Noah didn’t have to think about it because it wasn’t immediately happening to him. He was free to simply take a breath, perhaps a bow, and move on with his day.

 

“Actually,” Mrs. Fiora pondered her actions for a moment, making a visible thinking gesture, “I need to see if my brother’s around anywhere. Do you two mind heading down and rousing Nikol?”

 

Panacea sprung alive, grinning from ear to ear upon being asked that, “Sure! I always love seeing what he invents down there. Like his marble racing machine. Ooh, or the mini catapult!”

 

With a nod and a quiet gesture, the only adult made her exit, leaving Panacea to lead Noah further inside what was frankly the shiniest house in all of 9. The door in question was already swung wide open, with Nikol just faintly in view from around the corner.

 

There was something strange about seeing that guy again -- especially with everything now weighing on Noah’s mind, shoulders, and back. He had this new, almost misplaced, feeling of responsibility for Nikol.

 

He didn’t receive a vision of the past like he had done countless times with familiar faces -- most likely because he and Nikol never interacted during their time in Aionios (at least from what the former currently remembered) -- but something stirred within him regardless. He sort of just shoved his hands in his pockets, gawked around at all of the machinery littered about, and let Panacea do the talking.

 

“Nikol!” She cheered, hurriedly rushing up to where he had been shrimped over a workbench, cranking some kind of bolts tight on something; Noah’s view had been quite obscured by his own actions and self-imposed distance.

 

He slowly turned around, cracking his back and straightening up as he gave a soft wave to Panacea and by extension the boy leering in the corner, “Hey guys.”

 

“Your mommy says you have to come outside and play with us.”

 

At least I’m not the only one with a bluntness issue today, hehe. 

 

He groaned, “Did she really? I wanted to fix up this little transmitter and show Dad tonight, though.”

 

That’s when Noah stepped in, knowing the 9-year-old could not provide the proper context for why exactly Nikol was being kicked out of the lab, “About that…I don’t think your dad will be home for a while.”

 

“Sorry?” He cocked his head to the side a little, a mix of visible offense and confusion lacing his tone.

 

“What I mean by that is that he and everyone important in the CDF or equivalent is in Alcamoth. Like, Gran Dell is locked down , he’s up in Alcamoth.” Noah quickly corrected himself, stealing a glance at what it was the other was doing.

 

“...Oh.” A sigh, “One of those days. I guess we’ll be having a few sleepovers then?”

 

“A sleepover? I call dibs on the wool blanket!” Panacea chirped, causing the two boys to giggle a little. She certainly had a lot of enthusiasm -- perhaps it was a good thing he had no plans on telling her the insanity he had just learned about the situation from Mr. Reyn.

 

“Something like that.” Noah glanced around curiously, feeling a little more confident now, “What’s that transmitter thingy?”

 

Nikol straightened a little, scooting his rolling chair over to the side to reveal his mess of old scrap parts, bolts, and other assorted objects neither of the others could put a name to, “It’s like those ether radios -- specific targets for different frequencies and all. Except this one doesn’t use ether , it uses something cooler: light . Means it can travel way longer with crisper sound and if I can get it working, images .”

 

“Like a portable ether tower? The ones the exchange kids use to beam themselves over?”

 

“Yeah, pretty much. Don’t tell, but this is what the Empress uses to talk to representatives from Alrest.”

 

Unbelievable. Nikol possessed the key to Bionis-Alrest communication. He was building the quickest solution to Noah’s Mio problem. He had so many questions now. All of them demanded answers. 

 

Panacea continued to fawn over the piece with Nikol as the other, lone teen tried to reconcile with everything insane happening that day. It was as if the stars themselves -- the ones that had aligned into stairs designed for tripping backward upon just a few days ago -- were offering a helping hand to everything Noah desired in that moment.

 

He felt around his pockets, left hand delicately feeling the smooth wooden flute resting in front of his sheet music, remembering what it was he wanted to do. Why he wanted to do it. The answer was becoming so ridiculously clear and the opportunities ridiculously obvious -- begging to be grasped now.

 

“Alright kids,” Mrs. Fiora’s voice broke Noah from his excited spiraling, “talked with some people and it seems like it’s just going to be me in town for…well, I don’t know how long. If you guys don’t mind hanging out in the sun for a while, I can figure out logistics and we’ll get set up for the foreseeable future.”

 

“Really? Uncle Dunban’s gone, too?” Nikol asked, a slight frown creeping onto his face.

 

She shook her head, “He’s on the same trip as your dad. A lot of Colony Defense officials are.”

 

“...is everything okay? Did something happen?”

 

Mrs. Fiora chose her words carefully, “Everything’s OK, yes. There’s just a bit of a mess in Gran Dell at the moment and it’s taking a ton of effort to clean up.”

 

“Like an ether spill?” Nikol seemed insistent on finding the answer despite his mother’s wavering body language suggesting she really didn’t want to talk about it. Maybe Noah could tell only him about it later, but he definitely could not say anything while Panacea was around. That was his real obstacle -- not breaking his deal with Mr. Reyn.

 

“Shulk actually didn’t tell me what the deal was, so…who knows. But either way, it’s not something to worry about. The problem should be resolved soon enough, promise.”

 

She’s lying. A feeling bubbled within Noah. It was akin to that of his sense of responsibility for the tiny little engineer asking all the questions. Just…this new little voice in the back of his head that was uniquely not his , but also not entirely foreign. Something between expected and not -- between welcome and unwelcome. For that moment, he didn’t dare fight it. For a time, he did his best to just grin and let everyone else do the talking.

 

“Okay,” Nikol quietly resigned to his mother’s non-answer, finally placing his feet on the floor and rising to his full height for what Noah could only imagine was the first time that day.

 

“Sorry, Nik. I know you and your dad had plans for tonight, but sometimes duty calls. You’ve always got tomorrow.”

 

“It’s fine, I get it.” He swallowed back a visible lump in his throat, and made his way closer to the center of the room, “I don’t mind.”

 

He’s lying, too. That was definitively Noah’s voice that time; perhaps amplified a little by his new senses, but otherwise wholly his. Some people were easier to read, he supposed, and he had no problems with it. So long as at the end of the day he was able to pick Nikol’s brain about that transmitter again, Noah was more than happy to accommodate and make the day as lively as he could.

 

“Some sun will be good for you, anyway. C’mon. I’ll fix you guys up some breakfast and it’ll be fun.” Mrs. Fiora turned her back to the trio, exiting the dark little machine cave and making her way back up toward the natural light seeping in through the house’s numerous windows.

 

Panacea quickly protested the second meal, though, which saved a bit of the burden from landing on Noah’s back (for which he was incredibly grateful), which just meant waiting on Nikol to finish his meal before they headed out for the day.

 

Nothing of that sort took long. In fact, passing the day itself was quite easy for the wayward three. They bounced around the Colony, playing games and making harmless trouble for the people and shopkeepers around them, Noah in particular noting the uptick in Defense Force presence and absence of adults roaming the streets with their families.

 

But nothing of that sort really lasted, either. Every time Noah had a breather for himself, his mind insisted on drifting back to things decidedly outside of his control. The Guldo; Eunie, Lanz, and Joran; the Colonel; Alcamoth’s crisis; Gran Dell being on lockdown; the person using Noah’s flute as a vessel, whatever their cryptic wording meant; that red little shooting star he saw while stargazing; Mio…everything.

 

Everything all at once. He found himself scheming more frequently than anything else: scheming to find some way to practice and impress Mio even if she couldn’t be there to guide him, scheming to find some way to help Nikol finish that portable ether tower (and especially since the big ones were down), and scheming to figure out each mysteriously vague word that Alvis said to him.

 

Now, some of them were more obvious. Some of them less. But nothing was more obscured to Noah than why any of what was happening to him was doing so in that manner. He took the moments he could to try piecing two and two together, but each time he always came up short of four -- some part always eluded him, no matter what angles he tried applying.

 

And thus, Noah’s Saturday chugged and moved along without much of a hitch. He spent that evening gathering a small sleepover bag from his house before making his way back over to Nikol’s place, a looming cloud of regret and squandered time solemnly hanging over him as he did his best to hide his mourning for missing the date he had scheduled with Mio.

 

And that was simply how it was. The night passed almost just as unremarkably -- Panacea curled up in her woolen blanket and slept cozier than a rock; Nikol seemed to be quite the morning person and was out almost as quickly as she was. That just left Noah and his delayed circadian rhythm to spend a great deal of that night trying and failing to sleep at the same times they did.

 

He would make excuses for staying up -- he needed to use the restroom, needed to grab a glass of water, needed this or that -- until he was sure the moon hung high in the sky. Part of him wanted to find a way to scale Nikol’s roof and watch the stars again, but he knew how wildly impractical that was. Instead, on one of his restroom runs, he overheard -- or perhaps eavesdropped on -- Mrs. Fiora speaking with someone over her special ether communications channel. The one thing Noah wished he had, he’d made use of twice in one day.

 

“...what do you mean not there ?” She spoke just softly enough to where Noah had to really crane his neck and focus his ears to listen in.

 

“A whole day of searching and it’s nowhere in Alcamoth or Gran Dell.” A distorted masculine voice returned out the other end -- Noah knew it wasn’t Mr. Shulk’s, and it was certainly not Mr. Reyn’s…it lay somewhere between. “We’re making a sweep in the Ramparts tomorrow, but I think there’s a good chance it…” His voice faded toward the end, leaving Noah frustratingly without full context.

 

“By the Bionis-- how does something like this happen? Seriously.”

 

“I have absolutely no idea, Fiora. I’m a little annoyed about it myself especially since, and no offense, someone is freaking out and claiming it’s the end of the world if we don’t get that little red guy back in his slot.”

 

“I promise you he didn’t phrase it like that.”

 

“...maybe I’m being a bit hyperbolic, but he’s seriously up in arms about it. Melia and Riku, too.”

 

Did he just refer to the Empress by name?? Who the--

 

“Well, I wasn’t really a big part of the Origin effort so I can’t really say anything, but I’m sure it will work out for you guys in the end.”

 

Origin…?

 

“I hope so. The less time I spend this high in the sky, the better. Promise you’ll never get old and wrinkly like I am -- I feel like I’m hobbling around like some antiquated relic while everyone else is doing all the hard work, haha.”

 

She laughed, “You don’t like your seniority?”

 

“You’re mean, you know that? If I were a good eternity younger, I’d be…well, I was running around with Dickson and Mumkhar which, er, haven’t aged well…but ‘seniority’ is nowhere near as nice as it’s made out to be. You kinda just stand around answering common sense questions telling other people what to do.”

 

“Well, will you at least ignore the chain of command for a second and let your sister tell you to get a good night’s rest?”

 

Noah lost the rest of that conversation, but he figured it ended without anything else major thrown his way. Perhaps the one thing he gleaned from it was that Nikol’s mother made a profession out of lying to him and concealing far greater truths. Poor kid.

Chapter 21: Impulse

Notes:

it's mar10 day, so why not have an early upload?

it's about to be a single digit number for xcxde's release date. GOD i can't wait to get turned into salt.

but for now a slightly different kind of salt: the one i rub in gaping, open wounds >:D

Noah awoke to the sounds of protest just outside his temporary home, peering out the window to see the world illuminated by light (meaning he had slept well beyond the time he was supposed to wake) and hear the indistinguishable jeering from slightly closer.

 

From what clipped view he could make of the scene, just about everyone in 9 had gathered around near the docks -- there was some scuffle or altercation or generally displeasing event afoot, and Noah was missing it. Perhaps a good thing not to be involved, but he couldn’t deny his curiosity. With, well, everything that had occurred in the past 48 hours, it had a way of dragging him forward.

 

And so he did. Realizing he had awoken in his daily garb rather than the sleepwear he had on previously and his hygiene had visibly already been taken care of, he simply slipped out the front door and around the corner to see what was going on.

 

“Everyone, please! You must calm yourselves!” Shulk’s voice rang out amongst the crowd, thrusting himself up on a stack of nearby crates to gain both visual and auditory attention, “None of this is permanent!”

 

Noah approached as cautiously as he could, examining the hero’s features and tone with as much attentiveness as his slowly decreasing distance allowed. As he spoke, an air of raggedness prevailed. His undereyes reflected a matte, discolored hue. His clothes seemed dampened and dried with sweat, dirt, and mechanical smoke of some kind. Undoubtedly, something was wrong.

 

“I live in Gran Dell! What am I supposed to do? My family is up there!” A woman cried out -- and to the prying teen, the situation became quickly clear.

 

Noah glanced his head around, unable to scout out much more than what he could hear from the gathering in front of him. He made the decision to search for the high ground just as Shulk had done, the only difference being one of them was going to be significantly higher in the air than the other.

 

It took a steady sense of luck and dexterity, but scaling the Colony wall wasn’t too difficult; now, Noah could see exactly what was going on. On the left, the outer docks, where Alrestian ships came to harbor seeking trade or tourism, exchanging goods and passengers as demand called for: crew and captains were speaking amongst themselves in disgruntled whispers, bits and pieces the spying kid couldn’t detect, but something about the situation screamed tight regulations . Maybe even embargo . Near the center, Shulk and Riku stood atop heavy wooden crates trying to calm, cajole, and answer the crowd’s demands. To the right and obscured behind some buildings and pathways, some less enthusiastic listeners and bystanders, including a much larger portion of 9 than Noah had seen raising fists and pitchforks alike, doing their best to listen in to what was actually being said.

 

“Please, the situation is under control. All we’re asking for is your cooperation while we get to the root of this issue.” Shulk practically pleaded with the most trigger-happy dissenters before him, “It is inconvenient, it is uncertain, and it is uncomfortable, I know. But it is the only way.”

 

He’s talking about the lockdown on Gran Dell, right? But then why are people mutinying? What part of this announcement did I miss that would have people angry at their local Hero of the Bionis? And especially since it’s so fresh? Don’t they understand Alcamoth is…

 

Do they?

 

“Are the rifts back? Is that why?” A man shouted out, his tone significantly less accusatory than the earlier woman’s.

 

Shulk sighed, rubbing his weary eyes, “That’s what we’re trying to find out.”

 

It was amazing: with that statement, a hush fell over the riled citizens and jaded shipmen alike -- it seemed no one quite wanted to argue with that sentiment.

 

“Until we can resolve this situation, it is critical that no one enters or exits Colony 9, Gran Dell, Alcamoth, the Machina Village, and especially the greater Bionis’ remnants.”

 

And that was that.

 

…Mostly because Noah awoke in his bed again, this time far earlier than the sun with his own personal tiredness around his eyes and in his correct sleeping garments.

 

He snuck over to the window, peeking out of it toward the docks. No mob. Hell, no boats either. At least no visible ones. No Hero of the Bionis trying to calm the crowd. No sun. In fact, the day seemed quite a bit overcast -- seemed poised to rain during the day.

 

So then what did Noah just witness? Hear? Feel? Experience? It was no memory from Aionios -- Noah was his true age, the Colony looked no different, Shulk was aged similar to how he had seen him that Friday…but it did not happen.

 

It did not happen -- that was the key. The only other thing in Noah’s recent life that he could not be certain that happened was his meeting with Alvis. And on that young Sunday morning, he was determined to make the physically impossible possible again.

 

He slung on his daily clothes, careful not to wake Nikol or Panacea or his new temporary guardian, grabbing absolutely everything he needed for the day. His flute and music shared the number one spot: all Noah had to do was place his feelings upon his next melody, vague and cryptic though the clue may be.

 

And so, what better emotion to place upon his breath than the rage of frustration at not being able to read what he must practice to gain a spot for his future music auditions? They chose a vague hint, he chose a clear answer.

 

Thusly he set off, headed back to his vacant home anticipatedly; it would be the perfect place to get comfortable with his music and if, albeit when, Alvis showed, Noah could quickly navigate his room to the streets and back to that boat on the docks -- wherever that crimson trail ran.

 

He felt a little bad, picking up and going as he did. Mrs. Fiora had been a wonderful host, Panacea the inciting incident, and Nikol in possession of something Noah only imagined could solve his problems, but some things came first. He wasn’t to get a lick of any of the answers his heart cried out for sitting around waiting for all the adults to return.

 

Who would Noah have been if he let everyone else around him dictate his thoughts, feelings, and actions? He was willing to shut his mouth and let the glory of killing the Guldo go to the Colony Defense Force, but those who lived it would always know the truth for what it was. He was willing to let the fiasco in Gran Dell burn out away from him, even if it screwed things up with Eunie and Mio for a time, but he refused to live ruled by fear of who was going where next and for why.

 

It was more the principle of it; fingers flipping through the remarkably short audition piece, he prepped a pen and Eunie’s lended book and began annotating.

 

The symbol at the beginning, he found, was a treble clef. Marked by two bars and a colon, he learned what a repeated phrase was. The notes between the lines spelled out an easy mnemonic, though the ones struck through by them weren’t quite so simple. A few tic-tac-toes and bs littered some of the notes, to which a few more textbook flips made their purpose clear.

 

Unfortunately for his frustrated rage-playing plan, Noah made short work of deciphering his new music. Given a cheat sheet and half an hour, the symbols finally meant something. A set of instructions to configure abstract as concrete, legible to those who did not speak musical notations with their tongues, hearts, and ears. The people like Noah whose playing was unequivocally mediocre at best, save for the off-chance his fingers and mouth moved on their own, spurred on by melancholy and--

 

That was his answer. Melancholy . But Noah had nothing to be sad about at that moment! He couldn’t simply conjure up remorse for days past, especially not when he knew he was hot on the trail of reaching Alvis and thus gaining more context of what was going on. But…no. Each time he was able to recall that melody, the one that guided him to his flute for the first and only extremely recently second time, he had been mourning something.

 

First it was his parents up in Gran Dell the night he got it; he embodied a bit of that off-seer spirit and sent them forth. Then four years of nothing. Learning to play, slowly but surely, yes, but no special tune. And in that time, he had next to nothing to lament. His friends filled in the gaps where the Colonel couldn’t; no notable, world-shattering events occurred; no real dangerous stakes for anyone he knew -- things were simple. And then it came to be that Noah had been caught sneaking off to Gran Dell one evening and was placed in the Colony 9 Junior Symphonic Orchestra. From there, things spiraled. For the better, yes. For the worse, also.

 

But he met her. He met Mio. Even though she didn’t remember the things he did, she was real. Intangible and monochrome, but there. As it stood, Noah was on a high -- that Friday was among the most exhilarating days in his life, including those in Aionios, and it had gone out with an explosive bang.

 

Sure, it came with a seriously uncharacteristic (and frankly terrifying) warning from Vangarre that then spurred on his second performance, but Noah refused to believe he had really done anything wrong that day. Aside from skipping class.

 

What then? If he could not invent tears from nothing, he could not play through the song again. He just sat there, staring down the music in front of him, reading through his annotated notes for a second: a trill into a whole A, then another in the next measure to a whole high E. Dotted E, E, D into a…tie. I think that’s what that curved line is.

 

Noah glanced at his flute, pressing his fingers in time with the notes without blowing forth any air, seeing some crimson glare refract from it. A sign it had remained that lovely inhabitant’s vessel. A sign that there was always hope for reunion.

 

Eventually he made the decision to play what was in front of him, figuring he’d grow bored of it at some point and place that upon his next melody instead. So he began with the trill, twinges of familiarity in the tune already. Then the next, having to pay special attention to how he breathed through that E. Then the next…and Noah had well already realized what it was he was playing.

 

By some miracle, he had received and annotated the instructions for playing it again. The rest merely came as muscle memory; once Noah began, finishing was a foregone conclusion.

 

And as his moment came to a close, he watched the world slowly drain, top to bottom, of color and motion -- everything save for himself and the papers in front of him, though he was expecting just one more thing…

 

“Hello again, Noah.” Alvis’ appearance from the far corner of Noah’s room gave him a quick fright, but it at least provided him a chance to find out where the previously missing trail led.

 

“Oh!” Noah cleared his throat and put on his best nonchalant face, “I, er, didn’t see you there.”

 

They shrugged, picking themselves up from leaning against the corner and slowly approaching, quietly waving their hand over Noah’s music to drain its color and change what instructions the papers gave, “I do not hold a physical form. It would be difficult for you to see me.”

 

Was that…a joke? Bionis, I wish I could tell with this guy.

 

But Noah held a slightly more pressing question than that: “Hey, what’d you do to my audition piece?”

 

“Reverted it to its original appearance.”

 

He examined the sheet. The notes had well and changed -- they no longer started with that trill into an A. In fact, nothing looked even remotely similar. Yes, the treble clef and the lines and the weird fraction were still there, but every number was different. Those b s littered the view beside the clef where they previously hadn’t. The notes at the beginning ran for longer. The notations were different. All of his work was erased.

 

He frowned, “So I wasted a bunch of time marking up those papers?”

 

“I would not call it a ‘waste of time.’ I believe you did want to speak with me again, no?” As usual, their face was almost impossible to read, “I merely exerted what little influence I have on the object nearest to my vessel and assisted.”

 

Ah. I suppose I’m not the only eager one here, then. Noah shrugged away the negative sentiment brewing within him, knowing he did actively seek out Alvis again for answers. Hopefully this time instead of doing their dirty work and being rejected explanations, he would attain elusive threads of knowledge he could actually use.

 

“Um, right. So, I have questions.” He spoke bluntly, adjusting slightly upright to get a better (yet still upward) angle on them, “And I really hope you have answers.”

 

They did not respond. Noah took that as his invitation to ask.

 

“Apparently something happened in Gran Dell two nights ago and it’s got just about every adult working for the Colony Defense Force on edge. I’ve only heard it in bits and pieces, but there’s something about a missing red rock and…I was hoping you knew at least a little bit.”

 

“I do.” They nodded slowly, “It is the reason I sought you out yesterday as well.”

 

Noah cocked his head to the side, trying to rationalize the meet in his mind.

 

Alvis merely continued with a sigh, “They are in search of my physical being -- manifest as the jewel hanging from my choker -- scattered from its hold in Alcamoth the night you slept on the roof. You and I saw the same sight: the red shooting star. That is what they seek.”

 

“But you just said you don’t have a physical form?”

 

“I, the person you see before you, do not. I was ejected from my own core crystal years ago in favor of more efficient processing power to pump through Alcamoth.” Bitterness littered the edges of their tone, “What remains of it is merely an empty shell: a series of encoded data loops edited and altered to perform one task endlessly.”

 

He watched as they shifted uncomfortably, a slight fidget to their stance and the tiniest flickers of uncertainty in their gaze, something their generally cool, nonchalant persona hated to admit was really there. And the answer laid with certainty beneath the surface: even in Alvis’ exposition, they had still yet to tell Noah everything he wanted and needed to know -- he decided to take advantage while he could.

 

He took a breath, “You want your body back?”

 

“In a word, yes. There are people abound I desire to meet and meet again; there is a world I have yet to discover and observe for myself; there are days I have yet to live. However, I am incorporeal. Bound to your flute and the… limited observational capacities of your pocket linings, the conversations you hold, and most primarily the emotions you feel. As such…”

 

“Done.” Noah spoke quickly, jumping to his feet and extending his arm in hopes of shaking it with Alvis’, unable to wait a moment longer before accepting without it weighing on what he imagined was his good conscience, “If my time in Aionios has taught me anything, it’s that everyone deserves the chance to live their life to the fullest.”

 

Their previously unreadable face melted into a slight smile, “You would just offer to help, even without hearing the full terms? The danger in which you may be imposed?”

 

“I mean…I have, like, one condition. But otherwise? Yeah, I don’t care.”

 

“You must know, Noah, that it is not your duty to ameliorate my problems,” they sprung back into dialogue before the kid could do or say anything else, “you owe me nothing; it is rather the reverse. I am indebting myself to you twofold by making such a request. You are capable of placing any restrictions upon this agreement you wish.”

 

“Alvis,” Noah rolled his eyes, arm slowly growing more and more weary with each second he spent extending it, “can the curtains not just be blue? All I want out of this are those ether towers back. That way I can make up for lost time with someone I care about.”

 

“And if I were to propose an alternative method for reconciling with her, would you still accept?”

 

He didn’t respond -- merely flailed his outstretched hand at Alvis in the hopes they would finally just shut up and shake it.

 

A pause, then a quiet nod as they finally interlocked hands with a firm grasp: “Thank you, Noah.”

Notes:

...aaaand i would keep those eyes peeled for the next chapter

maybe like tomorrow, too.

Chapter 22: Kinetic Friction

Notes:

good evening. lovely to see everyone. again.

please do enjoy the conclusion to this double-upload train...!!!!

The rain picked up sometime close to mid-morning, and despite it actively giving Noah an excuse to stay indoors, he refused to simply waste the day away.

 

He had plans: one for the immediate, one for the foreseeable, and one for the who knows when future. Immediately, he needed to apologize to Lanz for being obtuse when they last spoke. Later he could deal with Alvis -- once he had done so, he could really only hope they would keep good on their deal, but from what Noah had observed, Alvis didn’t really match the description for deception like that. Sure, he was well aware of their modern lies of omission, but were they really lies of omission if they were going to tell him later?

 

From there, it was just a matter of swinging around his room looking for his umbrella or a waterproof coat capable of not ruining or inconveniencing Noah’s updo; anything would have done, really. But upon flipping through each nook and cranny within his set of four walls, he left only richer in the knowledge that he really needed to do his laundry soon.

 

A revelation that reminded him what was already out and drying had now unfortunately needed a wringing out before he left to go speak with Lanz. With a huff Noah pressed forth, passing by the forgotten and now well-aerated plate of food left for him over 24 hours ago, making quick work of the most imminently necessary chores to avoid the bellyaching over them when they inevitably grew more urgent. Perhaps also to avoid a certain man’s wrath. Recently absent or not, Noah’s, albeit cursory, understanding of what exactly the Colonel was out and away for made for thrice the chances that he would return home with an ever so slightly heightened temper.

 

It took quite a chunk out of his morning, but Noah was eventually able to fix the glaringly problematic bits of his absence in it; even if he was going to have to lie later and pretend said problems did not exist at all, he felt his own accomplishment in proactively doing housework without needing reminding to do so.

 

And as he moved to dispose of the wasted food, his eyes glazed back over at the Colonel’s note, still resting just as peacefully in its place as he had initially found it. A thought washed over him -- the opportunity to run up, off, and away to the Bionis’ Shoulder by either actively evading or lying to the people running any shuttle service at all -- but another line of reasoning followed it, stemming from the scene Noah could only be partially sure he didn’t invent on a whim.

 

On the assumption that what he saw was true , it meant what he had overheard (eavesdropped) from Mrs. Fiora’s conversation -- how they intended to expand the search radius beyond just the city -- was doomed to fail. The people in charge would have to expand it again, something only occurring in the event Alvis’ core crystal was not found in the sky, meaning there was a significantly higher chance that it had landed somewhere on the Bionis’ Remnants (not any residential areas, surely, as someone would have certainly noticed it already) and Noah then had the upper hand in assisting his flutely inhabitant, even at the cost of creating the circumstances for Shulk’s then to-be official lockdown announcement.

 

On the assumption that what he saw was false -- that none of what he could infer from the scene was trustworthy -- it meant the team searching for the crystal could very well find it somewhere along the Shoulder. Although…that would then invalidate the red shooting star Alvis had mentioned as being their target, which Noah could verify for himself already that that was true. So, regardless of the candor-based parity of what he witnessed, the jewel was not in the sky.

 

Naturally, there was always the chance it had ended up in the far ocean just outside of reach or somewhere near or on Alrest, but a feeling stirred within Noah that called him to remain on solid land for at least a moment longer. 

 

For the moment, however, he had reality as it stood directly before him to confront. He was going to verify what he could with the faces in front of him, even if it meant getting his clothes uncomfortably wet.

 

-- [] -- [] --

 

“Oi, Noah!” A boyish voice called out to him as he passed through the Commercial District, “Where’s your umbrella, man?”

 

“Joran!” Noah smiled, approaching a canopied crafts stall with haste to take shelter beneath it and make small talk with the vendor, “I thought you were sick.”

 

Joran shrugged, “I am still just a teensy bit sick -- just some sniffles and coughs -- but with the rain there’s probably not going to be very many customers anyway, so I’m just here to hold down the fort and not let the stuff get stolen.”

 

“A charmed job, is it?” The other joked, patting himself down and shaking himself off from wandering around exposed in the day’s drear.

 

“It is what it is. Mostly a good excuse to get out of the house. Sucks I missed out on the shine from yesterday, though.” He spoke nonchalantly, leaning back on his chair as he pulled out a pocket knife and a small block of wood and began whittling.

 

“Speaking of ‘getting out of the house,’ do you know where Lanz is? It’s raining, but…”

 

“Uh…I saw him a bit ago. He was headed north, that much he told me. Not sure if that’s north Military District or north Fallen Arm , but I’d check up there first. Why?”

 

Noah sighed, figuring Lanz was doing one of two things: heading to the Hidden Machina Village or defiantly trying to prove himself stronger than that Sena girl. Maybe both. “Said a dumb thing or two last we talked. I might also have to stop him from doing a dumb thing or two in this weather.”

 

“Hah, good luck with that, Noah. You and I both know how malleable his personality can be.” Joran chortled, eyes never leaving sight of his quickly-working hands. It was a bit of a marvel how colloquially Joran could sit there with a sharp knife in his grasp repeatedly picking at wood without any visible fear of cutting himself getting so close to his fingers, but it was those moments in particular that reminded Noah of why they were friends to begin with.

 

Friends outside of Aionios, that is. Though, even within were they close -- it was always just so unfortunate how the kid seemed to slip and fall behind his duties and subsequently have the rest of the friend group help pick him up. Noah never minded giving the assist; though perhaps he feared that is what caused his later regrettable loss.

 

“And best of luck with that next carving of yours.” Noah waved, heading back out into the rainy fray to try and find Lanz somewhere to the north of the mostly vacant Commercial District. Luckily for Joran and his vendor-sitting business that day, the combination of at least a third of the adults in 9 being gone and unfortunate weather would make for a quiet ambiance for his work.

 

Noah, on the other hand, could feel the mud piling alongside the walls of his boots, creeping between the grooves on his soles and into the crevices between threading and shell that would make later cleaning obnoxious. He could only hope to find the wandering Machina quickly and save himself the trouble of drying off after being soaked as opposed to doused .

 

He made his first stop near the entrance of the Military District, quickly realizing, without its main leadership in place, the soldiers there would reject his presence outright. The situation was simply too tense (not that Noah could say the CDF soldiers stationed there would actually know what was going on to the same degree he did) for loose ends. 

 

So, without much of any self-determined protest, Noah moved on to the next plausible location he could think of: the stretch of land between the Colony and the Village. If his last conversation with Lanz was anything to go off of -- him intentionally avoiding asking Sena’s help, not that he could really do that anymore -- he would likely be seeking out some other kind of advice elsewhere. Possibly even doing some training on his own.

 

Why Lanz would think to do something like that, Noah couldn’t be entirely sure, but one leisurely stroll through the barely-maintained path leading from the two towns would be enough to determine where he was. Some distance triangulations, some general guesswork and estimation, some listening to the rustles of nearby leaves -- any set of helpful indications would work.

 

… Hah, listen to myself. ‘Triangulations’? Don’t think I’ve ever even used that word before. I think it was just this past Thursday when I skipped out on doing my math classwork because of the letter N being one of the variables in the equation -- crazy.

 

But it wasn’t. Not the being afraid of the letter N part -- most of that stemmed from the strange connotation the letter held within Noah’s psyche, likely a lingering wound of one of his Aionios memories he hadn’t fully grasped yet -- but the way he had been influenced by everything around him. Recently he had been a sponge, picking up and learning new things to the best of his ability, abilities often empowered by previous lives and experiences buried deep within him.

 

It just made him want to speak with Lanz more. To tell someone he knew intimately enough to where he could be sure they would not instantly warn him he was bordering on insane. Because even if he didn’t understand , Lanz would feel -- just as he had done a thousand times over a thousand years ago.

 

And eventually it happened. As Noah strolled down the beaten path, he heard leaves bend and twigs snap behind him, the characteristic panting of a guy in way over his head pace-wise, and the slapping of shoes against the mud. He spun around, briefly glancing at a greyish-whitish figure dashing ahead, making strides eastward. Toward…the coast?

 

“Lanz!” Noah called out, making his own run in search of him, “Wait!”

 

Too busy dodging forest and brush, Noah was unable to establish a direct line of sight with the runner in front of him. He could only be somewhat sure the guy ahead was Lanz, but considering he did not respond to his name, Noah gave himself little hope it truly was him in his pursuits.

 

The realization wasn’t going to stop or slow the Homs at all -- it was worth the chance at discovering who lay beyond. At least running beneath the canopy dulled the sounds and sensations of dripping water above; at least taking the opportunity to pursue gave Noah a shot at burning off his excess daily energy, something made ever slightly more abundant with his recent escapades.

 

He yelled again, breathing heavily as he vaulted over obstacles the Machina in front of him would try and often succeed to dodge, “Slow down just a spell, please!”

 

Again, it was useless. Noah jumped, dived, leapt, and dodged through the same routes he did, following the line to a T. Anything shy of that, and he would have long been left crawling aimlessly around in the mud.

 

The person ahead refused to slow or stop until he had made it out of the thicket and onto the sandy shore, raising his fists triumphantly as he exclaimed, “Hah, new personal best!”

 

That’s when Noah finally managed to catch up, deciding to hang back and catch his breath before the guy he was chasing.

 

“Oh, sorry, Noah.” Now the voice became clear to his ears: he had (thankfully) correctly been pursuing Lanz, “You…alright?”

 

“I’m fine.” Noah retorted, sucking in as fiery of a breath as he could, feeling the slow acceleration of the dripping water overheard, “I…came to apologize to you but, I guess you’re already working that out.”

 

“Ohh, um…” Lanz chuckled, trailing off awkwardly as he stood and regained his own strength with significantly more poise than Noah was offering.

 

The Homs just shook his head, placing his hands on his hips, “So. ‘New personal best,’ huh? You’re getting a good, light jog in?”

 

“I wouldn’t say light , but yeah.” The other sighed, folding his arms and looking away.

 

Noah took a glare to his surroundings. To the small bits of charred ash being slapped and eroded by the tide. To the bits of burnt sand that sat in some state of matter between shoreline and window pane. To the blue and teal roots lingering and glimmering in the light as the rain tapped against them.

 

He could piece together the rest, but felt the need to ask anyway, “Why, uh, is this your endpoint? If I may ask?”

 

Lanz shifted uncomfortably, arms squeezed tight against his chest as he gave his answer, “No reason. Thought it was a neat line, that’s all.”

 

“I see,” Noah decided not to pry, instead changing the subject to something more favorable to conversation for the both of them, “and like I said, I wanted to apologize. For Friday.”

 

“Ah, don’t worry about it, dude. I was just frustrated those stupid recruiter snobs stuck up their noses at me. Didn’t really mean to take it out on you like that.” He calmed slightly, stance relaxing a hair visible enough to make note of, but nowhere near overt enough to suggest more than simple small talk.

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“You chased me down in Fallen Arm foliage hell to tell me that. Yeah. We’re good.” Lanz laughed, secure enough to use one hand as his shield from the rain above while he idled on the beach.

 

Noah’s lips curled at both ends hearing that, and he decided to offer a bit of a playful jab in turn, “I’m glad then. Makes me feel a tiny bit better about drenching my hair.”

 

“You’ll live.”

 

“Hey, and as will you. Try not to catch a cold running out here too long. Don’t need you out for the count tomorrow like Joran was on Friday.”

 

He groaned, “Ugh, thanks for reminding me I’ve gotta make up whatever I missed tomorrow. That’s the last time I ditch with you and Eunie, y’hear? Can’t keep having to turn in stuff late.”

 

With a second wave, that was Noah’s most immediate task done and dealt with, not that he was entirely sure he needed to apologize; Lanz seemed quite content to move on and forget about it on his own, no relationship intervention required.

 

He took a moment to just stare at the old scene of battle for a while, asking himself why here with full knowledge of that answer and yet no will to say it. Noah emerged forth, watching the tide rock from crest to valley and back, periodically kicking one old bit of charred wood deeper and deeper into the sandbed.

 

Gently prying the rubble from its slowly-forming cave, freeing it from constantly being slapped one grain of sand inward, Noah sat contented, the horizon perhaps obscured by low-hanging clouds and the age-old water cycle, but the sea beyond shimmering in his eyes undoubtedly.

 

Somewhere on the edge was Mio, probably living her best life as a shining beacon of poise and grace with those she was closest to in spite of Noah’s technologically-related problems with standing her up. But somewhere along the parallel edge to where the Homs boy sat, something else refracted a rainbow of light at him, too.

 

The solution.

Notes:

okay now for REAL

see you guys next week >:3!!

Chapter 23: Simple Harmony

Notes:

goood tuesday people

it's getting heated now... >:))

*edit: this chapter's a mess lmao. i have no idea what happened to the formatting?? hopefully it's all fixed now.
pasting straight from google docs tends to put spaces before/after italicized text. not usually an issue unless there's punctuation, which i do frequently use.
apologies in advance :')

Noah fiddled around with his flute for a while, feeling it burning hot in his grasp and its shine in the spatterings of daylight reflecting a vibrant maroon. Perhaps just a refraction of light from the object in his other hand, but more certainly that of the anticipant resident inside.

 

He was careful to keep the grooves facing downward, any drips from the unfortunate weather above threatening to smudge the gorgeous paint or warp the delicate Alrestian wood it was made of -- playing it while he sat on the beach, soaking wet and trying to manifest the strength to stand up and stop absentmindedly staring at the dull horizon, made for a death sentence waiting infliction upon his poor flute.

 

Frankly, he felt it was too convenient. Why, of all places, would it be in the wreckage of his battle against the Guldo, buried just slightly beneath the sandy surface? Why, of all people, was he the first to find it? Why, of all days, did it flee the night Noah played his off-seeing melody? And, seriously, why did Alvis pick his flute? They were of the Bionis, all the same -- what of an Alrestian shinobue flute was so enticing that they selected it as their next refuge?

 

Every single piece of the puzzle had aligned in front of him, and yet Noah was slow to act. He had every reason to jump and pounce at the opportunity presented, of speaking with Mio again, but his hands were masoned stones, and their weight dragged him down. 

 

He blinked:

 

“There you go.” A man -- black and orange garb paired with twin fists for a weapon -- spoke, a rough tone to his voice, “Mr. Alpha, sir. You wanna go so badly, then pick up and go!”

 

It had happened yet again: Noah was not staring out from his own eyes. He felt nothing firsthand. Saw everything from a distance, floating up in the sky looking down at the person speaking below. The world glimmered shades of orange, a fierce tempest pushing forward against the ‘Alpha’ guy he was shadowing, flowing motes of light away and into the wind. The boy who spoke stood flanked by nine others and one extra in the far right corner of his vision, but only four mattered to Noah’s outside eye.

 

Shulk standing on the right, wielding the Monado REX+ in his left hand, the right mostly obscured by his long, flowing cloak. He seemed…different. Older. His hair fell to his shins, and therein lied a tiredness around his eyes that does not exist in the real world -- what glimpses he could get of the hero’s arm proved terrifying: a black prosthetic, it seemed.

 

What Noah had witnessed in his previous out-of-body vision…it preceded whatever events had occurred here, which led his gaze over to the next person of interest: the buff man in blue who was previously crying over Shulk, screaming for assistance of any kind. His left eye, once a ripped gash of crimson, now settled into a large scar spanning his forehead through the socket. It remained closed -- possibly surgically so.

 

Those two…had aged since the last time Noah watched them suffer. His chest collapsed in on itself, bile rising to try and decompress the space, and then he saw Nikol.

 

The blond mechanic stood maybe a dozen centimeters taller than he currently did (though perhaps that was in part due to Alpha’s high angle on them) with a set of electronic Nopon wings at his side, a fierce, battle-hardened look in his eyes as he scowled skyward at the guy Noah was shadowing. Nothing like the meek little inventor that he had to coax out of his parents’ basement and lab -- rather, it was clear he had been hit with the curse of the Term Mark. He was a Kevesi soldier, fighting alongside his father and likely other subsequent heroes of that rapport.

 

And then, a silver-haired, copper-skinned, blue-eyed, somewhat feminine person stood with a red core crystal hanging from their ear. Alvis? Noah wondered, knowing full well that the person he was staring down upon appeared different than the spiritual form that resided in his flute. But the resemblance…uncanny.

 

“This world -- it belongs to us!” The guy in the center raised his fist, a resounding protest against whatever Alpha stood for.

 

“Regrettable, Matthew.” Noah jumped at hearing the voice emanate from the man whose eyes he stared out of. Resoundingly Alvis, though all life had been drained from them. A serene personality, yes, but Noah had noticed the little hints of sarcasm and humor they dropped in. The little inflections in tone hinting at different emotions. The diction. None of that remained -- even in the minimal two words Alpha had spoken…everything was gone.

 

In a flash, everything else came to him. The carnage, the rage, the emptiness, the usage of a woman named Na’el…manipulation and deceit -- the works. Every single one of Alpha’s crimes came to the surface, and he even watched again as Shulk lost his arm and his compatriot his eye.

 

Then, that scene faded, too. Noah had blinked awake, and the world returned to its dulled, cloudy hues. He sat on the beach still, this time with significantly stronger of a fire igniting the ground beneath him.

 

His hands were no longer bricks, and his legs moved with a fervor he had yet to feel: as he pushed the ground beneath him backward and propelled his body forward, his fingers clasped around their separate artifacts: the flute and the core. Rain burned off in his wake; trees blurred in his peripheral; the ground lay a perfect, calculated trail in front of him toward the answers he sought.

 

And yet again, it came back to the person living in his flute. Noah slammed the front door of his own house, uncaring where he tracked his muddy shoes and just how drenched he was storming back in. He shook out his flute, patting it down not-so-gently with a small hand towel, and placed the red cross-shaped jewel on his kitchen counter.

 

Feelings upon this melody, huh? Well, feel THIS. Noah huffed, blowing a single, off-pitch note with all the breath in his lungs. What emerged instead of the beautiful sound he chased was a loud boat whistle, the screeching discordant in the air as that, too, drained all color but one phantasmal crimson trail from it.

 

He didn’t even wait to find where the trail led before he spoke, “Tell me what I saw wasn’t real.”

 

“I’m sorry, Noah.” Alvis shook their head, a solemn edge to their voice now present, “I will not lie to you.”

 

“Then what was that.” Noah said softly, using his fully-extended arms as a crutch to lean against his kitchen counter, the collision with it mostly a willful illusion on his part. He felt his fingers curling atop the cold linoleum, their damp tips making a small grating sound as they closed closer together, “Why was Shulk’s arm missing? Why was he standing against you?”

 

“He was standing against Alpha.” Was their lackluster response.

 

Noah insisted on his position, “You. I heard you. I heard your voice.”

 

“...You are correct. Me. But only partially so. It is akin to how I am now, split into body and soul. Alpha and A: the machine and the conscience. A stood with Shulk. Alpha chopped off his right arm.”

 

“...The person with your crystal for an earring?” He exhaled slightly, fingertips releasing minor tension, staring down the crimson core crystal glistening beside him, “That’s A?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Noah struggled with that thought, asking another question for what limited clarification he may have been able to glean, “But if you’re in my flute as A, and Alpha’s in your core…why do you sound just like Alpha?”

 

“Because in this context, I am Alvis . I am both A, the soul, and Alpha, the body. The core is empty.” They answered simply, voice returning to an even keel in tune with Noah’s.

 

He took a step back, unable to piece together what exactly that meant. Was he in the same illusory world as a destructive sociopath or a malleable heart? A vengeful floater or a steadfast hero? Why was ‘both’ the answer?

 

“Empty.” Noah traced the word with his mouth, staring at the sunset hues shimmering inside with as much knowledgeable intent as possible.

 

Alvis must have made some kind of gesture that the kid didn’t see, “Empty. If it were to be awakened now -- if that were even possible -- my body would manifest comatose, unable to act. There is nothing but tempests of energy inside, each electric burst designed to be extracted at maximum efficiency.”

 

He bore a hole into its central star, still trying to wrap his head around what it was he was looking at, “But why? How?”

 

“I do not have that answer. But if I can interface with it, I can place myself back in there, reclaim my body, and physically tell you -- no shadows or mirrors required.”

 

Noah tensed, quickly clutching the crystal close to his chest, “Not if you’ve got Alpha in there to lob off my arm next.”

 

“Alpha is to me as N is to you: an inviolable, unforgettable series of regrets born and lost in Aionios.” Alvis said, an eerie tranquility to their tone.

 

Oh, that dastardly letter. I know I dislike it alone -- the thought of its connotations is sulfur to my tongue -- but what would they know of it? I have seen horrors through eyes not entirely mine, standing over fires with a clenched fist closed around a black katana, but I am not the monster there.

 

I was, perhaps, for a time. He shuddered slightly, grasp on Alvis’ core crystal slipping into a tremble, But I’m not--

 

“You are not N.” They spoke softly, standing ever-so-slightly closer now as they finished Noah’s thought -- it seemed nothing was a secret for them. “You have his memories, but with who you are now, would you repeat his tragedy?”

 

“You mean, standing among a raging inferno of my own creation with the only face I’d ever loved staring me down in horror?” He cocked his head to the side slightly, trying to lighten the now insanely heavy mood with the tiniest bit of dry humor, “I hope not.” Really, he was standing there petrified -- if Alpha was to Alvis as N was to Noah, then there was always the chance it would all…

 

“You endeavor on a path of hope and adventure, Noah. You shattered N’s regret firsthand as Ouroboros. You have nothing to fear.” They reassured him, standing another step closer to the crystal; they perhaps stood four paces away from each other now.

 

Noah stood as firm as he could, body wavering in place of his voice, “Are you really the same way?”

 

Alvis nodded quietly, another pace closer with hand slowly outstretched and asking for their core crystal, “There is no one else out there that understands your predicament better than I do -- we are unique.”

 

“...I want your word. I give you your core, you come back physically yourself, you help me get to Mio again, and you don’t turn into a terrorist.”

 

“I seek to see what I missed from the world for myself and rekindle flames of my own. You have my word.” Their hand stretched slightly further, and Noah’s along with it. Slowly, he deposited the glimmering core crystal in their pale, copper-framed palm, and awaited the end of the illusion. It was something in their voice that emanated honesty -- an intent like no other to seek a kinder end to their path than the one that their ‘machine’ counterpart chose. Maybe Noah’s blind trust in Alvis had still faded with the new knowledge of past sins, but…he supposed nothing else of their behavior aligned with what carnage Alpha sought.

 

Seconds passed like minutes. Minutes like hours. Nothing happened. Silence cobwebbed the air, and Noah did not dare find the knife to cut through it first. His heart beat in his throat, hoping for something that did not seem capable of occurring.

 

A long, long pause.

 

Alvis then solemnly placed the core crystal back on Noah’s countertop, a tired languidity to their movements, “...Nevermind.”

 

Noah gasped without thinking, “What happened?”

 

“ Nothing. And quite absolutely so.” They slumped, “It does not recognize me.”

 

The teen had nothing but befuddled attempts at speech. He had no means of assisting Alvis, no means of understanding what their predicament was, no means of even believing if they were who they said they were…and yet he felt nothing but empathy. His stunned silence was enough to keep the phantasmal figure beside him talking, though:

 

“It is a radio unable to catch frequencies. A shuttle incapable of accepting passengers or pilots. A house made solely of four thick masonry walls. It has one job and all the intent of completing it.” They sighed, metaphorical language bouncing off of Noah’s skull without fully being soaked in, “I can do nothing.”

 

“But it’s…your core crystal, right? How could you not be able to do anything?” He did his best to keep up with the conversation.

 

They remained at least mostly calm, perhaps only from what Noah could glean, but the dejected rejection remained potent throughout despite all the clear attempts made to mask it, “Once, yes. Now, it’s a priceless artifact turned infinite battery and paperweight.”

 

“Well, I’m not giving up. I’ll ask someone about it, maybe. Or I’ll look into some research documents or something about it. If it was used as a power source, it must have been studied, surely.”

 

Alvis didn’t respond for a while, pondering all the options they had with visible strain in their eyes. Then, their own gasped answer, “Pneuma.” They sprung alive with eureka, “Pneuma and Logos -- they are my siblings. They bear a core crystal just like mine but in different colors and for different purposes. They will know.”

 

“Uh…okay. Okay!” Noah matched their energy, “Pneuma. Logos. Where are these guys?”

 

Alvis’ spirit shined through, “I wish I had a more localized answer than Alrest. But it will benefit both of us, I can assure you that.”

 

“That’s where Mio is.” He nodded, “But how do I get to Alrest? I don’t have the funds nor the parental consent required to get on a commercial boat, and I don’t think those ports are going to be open long enough. A-and what about my friends? My schoolwork? My audition? How will I eat? And--”

 

“Noah, please, relax. I know what may work, though it will involve one additional five-finger discount.” They offered, the cogs in their head -- metaphorical or not, the lowly Homs couldn’t quite say -- spinning rapidly. “Or perhaps some incredible charisma.”

He didn’t know how to respond. He wasn’t really even sure if he had a say in the matter. But…well, it was really just the hope and adventure in him speaking now.

Notes:

oh, by the way, if you can guess the common naming scheme for a notable portion of chapter titles, you get a cookie.*

see you lot next week!!

*cookie sold separately

Chapter 24: Amperes

Notes:

good *sunday* yall :D
a/n regarding uploads at the end!!

in the meantime: xenoblade x DE is so damn good. the qol is AMAZING. i've played the original but i'm only on chapter 7 atm so don't be spoiling the new 13th chapter for me but i am having so much fun!!!!! 10/10 would totally recommend running around mira with infinite overdrive again

He had a while to stew on the choice of tasks he had been given -- mostly in the morality of them. One was much more direct, according to Alvis, but it involved more craftiness; the other was slower and safer reputation-wise, but also ran the risk of taking too long and bringing heat of its own accord.

 

Simply put, Noah could either steal or build a scaled-down light-based communications tower like the one Nikol was tinkering with in his lab and add the core crystal as its power source.

 

And therein lay the question: did Noah possess the ability -- mental, physical, social, whatever -- to pull that off? Was there not some idealist, symbiotic harmony between those choices?

 

Certainly, there was always a third: don’t do anything, but no one would win. The sun would eventually shine again and thus lock down the entirety of Bionis until Noah was eventually sussed out and thrown under the jail for something along the lines of grand larceny and conspiracy. In that, there was also a fourth: tell Mrs. Fiora about what he had found, but then Alvis would be screwed. Sure, the ether towers would work again, but their soul would remain severed and trapped inside that flute until the next (and maybe impossible) chance to escape.

 

Definitively speaking, theft was Noah’s last resort -- his natural hesitation to the idea probably being the reason he was offered the choice of and potential guidance for building one himself -- but technical prowess wasn’t his specialty by any means either; no matter which path he chose, he was going to have to face Nikol (and by extension his mother) at some point.

 

If he were back in Aionios, he’d have a handful few extra faces, names, and personalities to stand at his side to provoke or stay his hand, but Taion, Sena, and Mio were long across the sea; Eunie was trapped in Alcamoth without any functioning ability to beam herself down to sea level; and Lanz was doing sprints all trance-like in the downpour, not wanting to stop for even a second.

 

Noah supposed he was spiraling down that path, too. All this Alvis and Aionios stuff had its way of soldering itself into the back of his brain, a constant reminder of what he should be doing, why he should be doing it faster, and how to approach each step. When he would stand up and face the music was up to him, naturally, but he remained intent on keeping his ears plugged with wax until he absolutely couldn’t any longer.

 

So, he made the journey back toward Nikol’s house, pondering with each step just what it was he was going to do. The closer he approached, the more he wanted to turn away and start heading for the old mechon scrap fields left behind between scorched battlegrounds and new growths on the Fallen Arm, but at some point backing away from at least speaking with the boy became less and less of an option.

 

Whether that ‘speaking’ was to pick his brain on how the thing worked or to try and gauge when everyone in that house was asleep and he could make off with it…he didn’t know.

 

“There you are!” His mother had answered the door, her initial shock slowly being replaced with a sort of parental scolding, “...And you’re drenched. Come on, Noah, I’ll get you a towel while you explain where on Bionis you’ve been all morning.”

 

He stepped quietly onto the inner welcome mat, careful to avoid dripping all over the shiny clean floor and trekking mud beyond the most immediate reaches, simply staring around for a few moments while awaiting Mrs. Fiora’s return -- making proper mental notes of what he needed to know.

 

The house was mostly open: one giant rectangle with an open floor with a second story, whose staircase hugged the parallel wall the front entrance sat on, that led up to Nikol's bedroom and some other room Noah had never once been allowed entry or viewing into. From there, the main sitting area and its various decorations -- some paintings, a lovely sofa-loveseat combo placed in an L shape, a few free-standing ether lamps, and a nearby dinner table set to seat six tucked in the near-left corner -- led the eye to the right with a large, open kitchen and a centralized island made preparing food likely a breeze…for probably just Mrs. Fiora. Nikol was the sort capable of explaining complex universal theories without being able to boil an egg, and Noah (while he certainly didn’t want to assume anything negative about the great Hero of the Bionis) figured Shulk was much the same way. From there, a passage into a tiny little custom basement separated by an often ajar door led down into the main mechanical workshop area -- the place where he would be making his decision.

 

From the looks of it…he could hug the railing to avoid creaking any of the wooden steps and slip down into the workshop silently so long as that door was left at least 30% opened. What he’d be doing after making it into the basement -- how he would get back up and out free of detection…no clue. Perhaps he didn’t have to think that out at that precise moment? Perhaps he was banking on that.

 

Mrs. Fiora returned swiftly enough, wrapping the Homs boy up in a towel and upon removing his muddied boots gestured for him to sit down alongside her and explain what exactly happened:

 

“I saw it was raining this morning and realized I needed to pull my hanging laundry inside before it got ruined.” He gave some semblance of the actual truth as his answer, “I wasn’t quick enough. Guess it rained most of all last night, too, so I had to spend some extra time to make sure mine and the Colonel’s clothes weren’t all mildew-y.”

 

She just sighed, either not caring about all of Noah’s definitely visible tells (his hands would not stop shaking as he spoke) or miraculously not noticing, “I’ve known your dad for over 20 years and I still can’t believe he’s that much of a stickler.”

 

Not my dad, Noah almost corrected her, but he censored himself at the last moment. Instead, he just cocked his head to the side, confused by what she meant by ‘stickler.’

 

“I mean,” she cleared her throat and figured a way to re-word her initial sentiment, “surely neither of you have time to make that work without at least a little bit of external or technological support? I’m a homemaker and I still occasionally struggle to keep up, especially with the boys’ lab.”

 

He shrugged, struggling to think of and offer up an answer that would explain it to them both properly, “He’s a technophobe. If it’s got ether tech newer than 10 years old in it, he doesn’t want it -- as for the workload…I dunno. We sort of just make it work, I guess.”

 

“Really?” Mrs. Fiora asked incredulously, pressing her head onto her fists as she leaned forward and thought about it, “The more you know.”

 

She narrowed her eyes for a moment before speaking again: “Have you spoken with him since he left?”

 

Noah shook his head silently, watching his temporary guardian rise, disappear for a few moments, and return with a small handheld ether radio in her grasp, turning the main knob at its base until she finally received a response. A response from the same man Noah had overheard the night prior.

 

“Hey--. Sorry,--can’t really--right now--” the feed looped between heavy and light static, the sounds of echoing footsteps and repeated creature shriekings smacking against the other transmitter, beaming through to create an unfortunate cacophony of sound.

 

“Dunban? Are you alright?” Mrs. Fiora sprung into another round of concern, trying to even the tuning until it hit a clearer frequency.

 

The man on the other end stumbled out a response between bursts of incoherent background noise, “--Hit a dead end--looking for--currently where dragon--cave signal is bad--”

 

“Who’s with you?”

 

“Mel--Reyn--and--”

 

She grumbled a bit beneath her breath -- something about the signal -- before wishing Dunban well, “Okay -- I won’t bother you. Glad to hear you’re okay. Good luck.”

 

Mrs. Fiora sighed, switching the tuning to a different frequency without really bothering to hear the man’s response. This time, she gave the first word: “Shulk? You there?”

 

“Fiora!” He responded near-instantly, voice through the radio crisp -- no static to rain on the parade -- and almost overjoyed to hear his wife’s voice, “It’s only been two days but man, I miss you already.”

 

“I miss you, too. Say, can I ask a favor?”

 

“Sure.”

 

“I’ve got Noah with me -- wants to speak with his dad. Do you know what frequency Vangarre’s radio reads?”

 

Shulk buffered a moment, “Uh…I don’t think he’s got one at all.”

 

Noah whispered a concurring response, “He doesn’t.”

 

“...Uh…are you near him at all?” Mrs. Fiora asked, her confused gestures visible only to Noah but likely audible to Shulk through her tone.

 

“I’m currently with Tyrea and Teelan at their research lab, so I’m not near anyone , haha. Last I heard I think he went into Nerthis with your brother. Could try him?”

 

“Already did -- the signal in there makes it hard to get even a single word out. Thanks, though.” She turned to the disappointed kid beside her, “Sorry. Maybe later tonight I’ll try it again.”

 

Noah didn’t really care much either way -- he was happy to speak with the Colonel but entirely understood that his quirks made a lot of everything difficult. Besides, he could go without the inevitable lecture about bothering him while he was on the job.

 

“It’s alright,” Noah nodded, keeping a nonchalant attitude about it all, “If you want, I can go hang out with Nikol and Panacea so you two can talk.”

 

Mrs. Fiora’s mix of frustration and disappointment faded into a serene smile with that comment, “You’re sweet. They’re in the lab.”

 

Yes. That was definitely a ‘go away.’

 

Quickly, Noah slipped out of view and into the stairwell leading between the first and basement floors, ear carefully pressed against the wall so as to not lose the conversation she and Shulk were about to have.

 

“So, now that you can speak freely…” she said, “how is it going? I hope you’re getting plenty of sleep.”

 

“Not good at all. Haven’t even found a trace of the crystal anywhere. Alcamoth and Gran Dell are both doing whatever they can to conserve what they’ve got in their ether stores, but it’s no bottomless pit.” He said, anger almost seeping through the edges of his voice.

 

She did her best to console him, “Hey, it’ll be alright. I’m no expert, but I think you’ve got a perfect track record when it comes to handling world-shattering problems.”

 

“Doesn’t make this any easier. ‘Specially since it’s Alvis.”

 

“...Huh?”

 

“I kinda…feel bad. And especially so for what I-- but-- you know-- what if-- and how would we--?”

 

“Shuulk. You’re jumping over your thoughts. Take a second. Breathe, okay? We’ll get through it.”

 

Noah caught something along the lines of audible deep breaths from his end of the receiver.

 

“Thank you, Fiora. This is just sort of a lot to deal with all at once. Here -- why don’t I ping you back once I’ve got this all written down and I can explain it all better. That way I’m not…y’know.”

 

“Whatever you need, I’ve got it for you. Just…be home soon, alright? I love you.”

 

“I love you too, Fiora. I’ll be back as soon as I can, okay?”

 

“Okay.”

 

Silence. Noah teetered down the concrete stairs as quietly as he could to avoid alerting Mrs. Fiora to the fact that he had been intentionally eavesdropping, peering into the lab where Nikol had been showing Panacea some of his newer inventions.

 

Noah waved, “Hey. Sorry for disappearing this morning.”

 

“It’s OK!” Panacea grinned at him, attention instantly and completely diverted from her previous task, “You’re here now: just in time for the rest of the day, right?”

 

He laughed, “Something like that. What’re you two up to?”

 

This time, Nikol responded, looking up from the strange yellow box he was explaining to Panacea, “Kinda just looking around. I’m trying to get some ideas for how to fix the radio hanging out on the big desk.”

 

Noah’s ears perked up upon hearing that. He could feel an attraction toward it in his bones, knowing it held exactly the key to getting exactly what he and Alvis wanted. Knowing it was just one upgrade away from completion.

 

“Do you know what’s wrong with it?” Noah asked inquisitively, doing his best to pretend to not know that answer.

 

“Yeah, I think. Won’t turn on, no matter how I try to power it. In fact, it just ate three condensed cylinders worth of power and only emitted some seven watts of power.” He explained, throwing up his arms as he began to fiddle around with the small battery pack inside his mechanical yellow backpack.

 

For Noah, that was a lot of technical jargon. The only part he got out of that was won’t turn on -- mostly, if not solely, because he knew it wasn’t going to do that without Alvis’ help anyway. So, he decided to dance around the topic: “Huh. Gobbled that much energy down that quick? How?”

 

“I mean, it’s not supposed to emit the normal AM rays the ether-based stuff does. It’s supposed to emit ‘light waves,’ but in practice they’re some ridiculously small value of millihertz that not even my dad totally gets. You’d think the lower frequency would make it even easier to project sound and image considering current radios run off of basically nothing, but…well, here we are.”

 

Yep. Okay! Words.

 

That’s when a different idea flashed across Noah’s mind: Nikol seemed intent on finishing his project. In Noah’s pocket lay the solution. If he could just convince the young inventor to not freak out and tell his mother, it would be easy to reap the rewards of his and very minutely both of their labors.

 

But Panacea. How trustworthy was a 9-year-old girl with the biggest grin and the most open of parents? Would she accept the revelation without needing the full explanation? Nikol, maybe, just by virtue of valuing the science over the glory (though in that was another double-edged sword, as his father who intently wanted Alvis’ core crystal back in Alcamoth would definitely pry into Nikol’s “work”), but Panacea…?

 

In that moment, nothing was worth the risk. Noah still had the entirety of that day to decide what in the world he was going to do. He still probably had the opportunity to consult Alvis again, even if he really wanted the choice to be his and his alone, devoid of the external pressure of frankly Alvis’ incredibly crafty and observant mind.

 

Instead, Noah just stared ahead longingly at the prototype, thinking. The time would come when he had to decide.

He could rest easy knowing it wasn’t then.

Notes:

so. uploads.

schedule for the next 4 weeks is CRAZY. there's one week in particular where every goddamn night i stay until 8pm at the earliest.
as such, sundays at 2100 cst seem to be really my only available window.

in theory the sunday upload time won't stick? in theory we can go back to tuesday nights? but since tuesday has been such a staunch problem as of late...idk...

i'm going to leave a lot of that decision of switching back or not for a later date -- my schedule usually isn't full for months at a time lmao
i'll have a definitive answer eventually. just not tonight im afraid

see you all soon! <33

Chapter 25: Untitled

Notes:

yaaaaaawn good sunday evening to you

angsty episode today
get ready *-*

There he was again, back in the moment. The eternal moment he sought to protect, to cling to so desperately. The days on endless repeats, he took a moment to himself to stand atop the highest peak, where the Urayan Mountains felt the most bitterly cold, and stare out into the expanse beyond him.

 

For the first time in a while, they would be trying again. In phases their relationship faded -- first of hate and deceit, then of quiet resignation, then fiery passion, and back to somber silence -- but they had forever to make it work. To accept the hand that they had been dealt and enjoy what they could with what they had.

 

Soon, he had hoped, she would appear beside him, phasing in with a stream of purple motes to take in the view. Take in the visible doughnut the geometry created, with memories of how it began, rather of how their love truly began, abound. Something to tide them both over between then and the next time he would have to depart and do his duties to the world -- sometime between then and infinity. That was how it worked, after all.

 

“Hello.” She spoke softly, slowly approaching him as she waded closer toward the precipice where he stood unwaveringly, an exhausted droop in her voice evident -- one that had grown and glued itself onto the both of them.

 

He gave a gentle head turn, acknowledging her presence: “M. It’s always good to see you.”

 

“...I would hope so.” M moved to stand beside him, pose teetering somewhere between emotive and relaxed -- the intricacies of body language faded as time looped in the now. The words were what mattered anyway, he had assured himself.

 

Silence for a moment, though the moment held no meaning. He had to be careful -- careful not to upset her, careful to subtly push in the direction he wanted things to go…careful to keep her there for as long as possible. “Of all the places to be, I find these lonely mountains most homely. I hope that is alright -- the cold, I mean.”

 

M slowly shook her head, long flowing hair gently flowing in the breeze, “We have been here before. It’s nothing new.”

 

“That is why it is perfect. We have never ventured this high in our cycles. It is unique to our eternity.” He attempted to weave in some more energetic conversation, but his voice still held that quiet tiredness it could never quite quit.

 

“Eternity,” she repeated while sighing, the burden of acceptance heavy in her tone.

 

It had been somewhere between four and five terms since they had last spoken -- he had forgotten the way she viewed their transfixed nature.

 

“I’m sorry, M.” He had said, “But you know why.”

 

“I do.” She barely moved; she barely whispered, “And I understand.”

 

“Then,” he sprung at that perhaps only slightly welcome opportunity, “please. Spend it with me. I will do the best I can to--”

 

“...to keep us eternal. I know.” She finished his sentence, tone bittersweet with hurt and warmth alike, “To keep our hope alive.”

 

Hah, he had wanted to scoff at her, I do not need hope if I have you. But at that moment, he just decided to take the moment and let it brew. They would be back here sometime in the foreseeable future. They had been there sometime in their unforgettable past. 

 

He lifted his right hand, removed the glove from it, and extended it to her as he finally turned to face her fully: “Would you not want that?”

 

“What I want…” M seemed intent on saying something, but turned away from the thought at the last second, instead just removing her left glove, turning to have him, and answering with a smile like the crescent moon, “is to spend some more time with my Noah.”

 

-- [] -- [] --

 

“Like I said: it’s a conundrum.” Noah hadn’t realized Nikol was still speaking. He was too busy triangulating his next move to notice the rest of his explanation, “But there’s gotta be something that makes it work, otherwise we wouldn’t have ever talked to Alrest and figured out those ether towers.”

 

“Maybe there’s a way to keep the batteries full? Like in school, I learned that you can turn running into battery juice. What if we did that? I can run really fast!” Panacea offered, her childlike solution ready and primed to be utterly crushed by Nikol’s scientific mind.

 

He stilled, seeming to ponder the notion for a second, before doing exactly as Noah predicted he would: “Each condensed cylinder holds about 300 kilowatt hours worth. Producing that using mechanical energy…the heat released by friction alone would melt your shoes.”

 

“Aw, I really like these shoes.” Panacea heaved her shoulders dramatically, a mix of genuine and theatrical disappointment about her, as she began visibly thinking of another option.

 

Noah instead opted to examine Nikol: the way his under-eyes shimmered a discoloration, just like his father had in that weird hallucination he had seen earlier; the way his back hunched over into something approaching the form of an umbrella’s handle; the way he sort of simply stared off into the slate walls surrounding them, waving with the bristles of some kind of artificial wind flowing overhead -- and wondered.

 

He knew his most immediate options, both flavors of uniquely bad. And perhaps it was the Aionios speaking within him -- how there was always another way -- but Noah’s heart ached to avoid the possibility of Nikol being pissed at him for stealing his creation and to avoid the possibility of screwing up whatever instructions Alvis offered in building a transmitter of his own.

 

So, he spoke: “I know.”

 

“You know?” Nikol cocked his head to the side, tired eyes and unfocused attention now in Noah’s net.

 

He gave a glance to Panacea, rather, a sort of motion attempting to signal not around her , lips sealed for the moment but gaze intent on delivering some promise of answer to Nikol.

 

Naturally, he missed all of that intentful, artful even, body language, and just asked, “...what?”

 

“Well,” now he had the choice: man up and say what he wanted to say in front of Panacea, quite the unreliable confidant, or try and get Nikol alone. He sucked in a breath, “I know how to get your thingy running.”

 

Nikol perked up, intrigued at the prospect of Noah possibly having something or other to offer in his hour of need. Silent and stilled, alert and attentive -- it was clear he was willing to give a fellow teenager more of the time of day.

 

Noah wormed his left hand into his pocket, flute and core crystal placed just beside each other at Alvis’ special request -- they said it would let them slowly try influencing it and he didn’t exactly ask many questions about it -- the rock icy on his fingertips. Slowly, he lifted it from its rest and, as discreetly as possible, placed it in his own palm-up hand and showed Nikol: “ This can power it.”

 

“What is that? Wait…I’ve seen that before somewhere.” Nikol lightly tapped the brightest spot on the gem, waiting for the click of fingernail-gemstone contact to spring in the air before he, too, confirmed its existence for himself.

 

Seen it before? Oh dear Bionis, did I just get myself into trouble? What if he goes straight to his mom? I’m so screwed.

 

“My dad said there was once someone really special who he knew with a red, cross-shaped gem as their necklace. Said he was beyond enigmatic, charming to the point of deception, and nothing but intentional.” Nikol explained, eyes pouring into the vortex of swirling colors and lights softly emanating from the center.

 

Noah decided to abuse his lack of knowledge for personal gain: “What happened to him?”

 

“After the Bionis fell, he went away. All that remained was this thingy he found on the beach. I’m sure there’s more to the story, but I’ve never asked. I’d see him get all misty-eyed and not want to pry, so…”

 

Craaaaap. Okay, so it IS one-of-a-kind. It IS something he knows about. It’s clearly important to Shulk, so how do I explain why I have it?

 

Got it.

 

“He must have the other one, then,” Noah said, lying as nonchalantly as he possibly could.

 

“There’s another one?” Nikol asked, visibly buying the other’s fib.

 

He nodded, “Yeah. I don’t know much about it other than that it exists. Something about the person who wore it making one for a twin sibling.”

 

This lie is already getting out of hand and I’ve barely even created it.

 

“Huh. But how do you know it’s a battery?”

 

“I…” Noah thought of anything, the first thing that sprang to mind being his next sentence, “thought because it was shiny and glowing it had some spare ether in it and may have tried to use it in place of one of my light bulbs. I blew out the power in my entire house.”

 

Nikol stared at Noah for a moment, bug-eyed and uncertain in his tensed body language, then he started laughing as if it were the funniest thing on Bionis: “No way. I’ve done that, too! I mean, it wasn’t with one of those, but there was this one time when I was trying to cut some metal parts that a spark accidentally flew into our collection of spare cylinders -- normal, not condensed ones, mind you -- and made a giant explosion that absolutely soaked the floor and walls and ceiling in ionized ether particles. It was weeks before we could get back in the lab without having to worry about the possibility of ether poisoning.”

 

“Are you…okay?” Noah asked, concerned at how his engineering friend was so upbeat about telling that kind of story.

 

“Oh yeah,” he nodded eagerly, still chuckling between words, “this was like five years ago -- I’m fine. Now I know not to cut metal without properly storing the ether cylinders. Everyone wins.”

 

“You were cutting metals…at nine ?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“...okay.” He decided to just get back on-topic, ignoring the absurdity of the other’s situation, “But if it blew out my house’s power, it could be just what you need to get your radio up and running.”

 

“It’s worth a shot, I suppose . I should probably wait until Dad’s home, though. Just in case.”

 

NO. DON’T DO THAT.

 

“Just in case? In case of what?” Noah asked in an accusatory manner, trying to stall for time.

 

“In case something goes wrong and, y’know, it’s too much. I’m not much of an electrician, so if something happens that I don’t know how to quickly fix, I’d get into crazy trouble. And I really don’t wanna offend my mom right now, all things considered, haha.” He answered sheepishly, slowly closing the window of opportunity to be genuinely persuaded.

 

Noah decided he couldn’t handle that, slowly retracting his hand to his side and gently squeezing the core in his grasp: “I thought you were doing this to surprise your dad, though?”

 

Nikol shrugged, “Would be nice if it’s a welcome surprise, of course. If the surprise is ‘hey, look at that, Nikol blew up the basement,’ au contraire.”

 

“How about if Noah blew up the basement?” He cleared his throat, “I’ll take the blame if it goes wrong. You can totally lie and say I was messing with things I wasn’t supposed to.”

 

Silence.

 

To be fair, in the other’s shoes, Noah would not have known how to respond to that either. Not because it was a particularly tempting offer, but because it highlighted just how desperate he actually was to see the transmitter working.

 

And that was precisely Nikol’s next question, “Why do you care so much about it?”

 

Hmm, maybe because I really want to meet three people in particular on Alrest. You know, Logos, Pneuma, and--

 

“Mio.”

 

Nikol traced the word with his mouth, confused once more, “Mio?”

 

“I met one of the exchange students a little while ago. I…want to see her again.”

 

“Well, why not just go to Gran Dell and-- ah.” He paused, thinking of the next best thing, “You’ll see her tomorrow then, won’t you? Don’t need to try getting her to beam over here now . ‘Specially not in this messy workshop.”

 

Come on, Noah. Think of a lie. Think of a lie. Think of a lie…

 

One, though not quite Noah’s, floated to his lips: “She’s not in a good way. I don’t know how long she’s got left.”

 

What the hell did I just say. Did I just imply Mio was--

 

“...Oh.” Nikol frowned, a deep melancholy in his voice, “That’s why, then.”

 

Another bout of silence -- this time longer. This time filled with the confusion of one boy Homs and the apparent absolute depression of the other. Because Noah wasn’t entirely sure what had just happened. Why was it he said what he said, not even at his own behest; the words sort of just slipped out of him without rhyme, reason, and worst of all warning. He could stare into Nikol’s soul and feel the intensity brewing inside, but if he tried peering into his own, he could find nothing but the damnation of uncertainty and an utter loss for words. 

 

He had just lied to someone he was supposed to be friends with several times. He had just fabricated a story about Mio -- Mio of all people -- to jump a spot in line. By the Bionis itself, he had thrown the one person he absolutely did not want to create a rumor about directly under the heel of a mobile artillery unit.

 

Recently, it seemed like he and reality lived on different streets -- ever since Alvis became a thing Noah had to deal with, it felt as though his consciousness and his body refused to cooperate. When one worked, say, his consciousness, his body was still in reality. When the other worked, say, his body, his consciousness seemed to slip between in charge and smoothie tasting at Radzam’s. He had been thinking things he would not normally think. Had been seeing things he would not normally see. Now, he was saying things he would not normally say. Something was wrong -- that was obvious.

 

“Give me the gem. I’ll hook it into the radio and see about getting a signal from Alrest.” Nikol eventually decided, “I’ll keep it quiet, too. That way you don’t have to worry about interruptions while you’ve still got time to spare.”

 

…But it was wrong in the right way. He seemed to gain this new vigor in wanting to assist Noah. This new passion and drive not previously present -- not previously willing to risk his parents’ wrath. Whatever happened seemed to be helping. And as gross as it felt, Noah wasn’t entirely averse to that strange sense of power. A tiny part of him wanted to latch onto it -- to grab hold and never let go -- because all that mattered was getting to Mio.

All that mattered. Was getting to Mio.

Notes:

see yas next week :)))

Chapter 26: Restoring Force

Notes:

i have completed xcxde.

i don't know what they were thinking with that 13th chapter. there are so many plot holes and pacing issues...at least the music and extra hero were fire (as per usual).

anyway: i won't spoil (and ask y'all not to for the others in the comments) but i can confidently say that sunset partings of sunrise cliffsides remains 100% canon compliant to the entire xenoblade series.

“Alvis,” Noah had said, staring above at the sienna sky above, its previously violet hues overwritten by sorrowful melody, “are you there?” He didn’t really bother looking for the crimson trail pointing in their direction -- he was simply hoping the sound of their voice would emerge from some brown corner of the world and be his guide again.

 

From the right, they appeared and answered: “I am bound to my vessel. Even if I wanted to, I could not so easily leave.”

 

“Come on. Seriously.” He rolled his eyes, tucking in and wrapping his legs in his embrace, the cool shingles keeping his body angled forward in a way that made looking starward a strain on his neck.

 

“Yes, Noah. I am here.” They said, their serenity bending just enough to reflect something genuine in their tone.

 

He let silence pass a bit before relaxing his gaze and speaking, “Am I crazy?”

 

“...Where has this come from?” Alvis asked warily, now gingerly approaching the boy.

 

“I dunno. Four years of this ”--he pointed to his head--”plus all that gross stuff I lied to Nikol about today. All the running around to and fro, chasing after this one girl who I don’t think really exists anymore.”

 

“Mio still exists.” They assured, the certainty of their words real by virtue of Mio’s physical life -- somewhere deeper down, Noah could tell that much. He couldn’t be sure if Alvis just missed what he was getting at or was answering his concern at its utmost baseline, but…it was such a strange answer for such an omnipotent person.

 

He shook his head: “She doesn’t remember me. Or Aionios. No one does.”

 

“You know these statements as facts?” They plopped gently beside Noah, posture relaxed and nonchalant -- the exact opposite of what the teen curled up next to him both appeared to be and actually was.

 

“I know she doesn’t remember me like I do her. Same goes with everyone else. I see them in flashes and weird flickers between reality and not. Joran in flames, cities in flames, battlefields scorched to bedrock, Eunie and Lanz as allies rather than friends …none of it is real.”

 

“In that case, I must apologize to you, Noah.” Alvis said softly, gaze cast slightly downward in something resembling shame, “You have been deceived.”

 

Deceived. The word resounded in his mind, tolling like a bell as he finally loosened his tightly-wound body and leered over to make eye-contact with his new confidant.

 

They sighed, eyes returning Noah’s gaze as a finger hovered over and pointed to the crimson jewel on their chest, “What you are experiencing is a byproduct of our resonance.”

 

“Resonance?” He cocked his head to the side, disbelieving of what Alvis was explaining (rather, trying to as Noah had just cut them off), “Wh--no, that’s not right. I had these stupid memories the moment Aionios ended. Way before I picked up your flute.”

 

“...You began seeing them at the same instant you heard the off-seeing melody first play, correct?”

 

Noah gaped. That was precisely what happened. When Aionios ended and he had returned to standing in front of the fountain, waiting on Empress Melia’s 100th birthday and her big speech, there was a pause. The world had resumed a moment as normal, giving him a chance to look around in peaceful, ignorant bliss. Then he had heard that siren song of a melody…and, well, he simply wasn’t given the chance to forget. He could never settle back in with Aionios because Alvis had done something to take that from him.

 

“I can sense your displeasure, Noah,” they frowned gently, voice yet to betray any of their calm body language, “and I understand it. You were not given a choice in the matter.”

 

He turned defiantly, “I could have rejected it. I have plenty of free will.”

 

“Correct.” Alvis said, nothing of their spoken or unspoken language signifying they were lying. It was just more of a feeling he had.

 

“...And these memories are yours. That you’re sharing with me.”

 

“Also correct.”

 

“Why?”

 

They offered a simple shrug, “I cannot explain it outright; I do not fully understand it myself. I have done my best to shield you from at minimum the absolute worst of your memories, yet even that slips. In recent days I am more successful, but in recent days you also witness my memories. I can postulate the answer -- that being some unintended melding of minds as my influence over this vessel strengthens -- but regret to say I cannot offer a concrete one.”

 

Noah contended with that thought for a while: his mind and Alvis’ getting thrown in some kind of cosmic salad as he places his feelings upon his melodies . The more he speaks outright with Alvis, the more they combine. The more influence from his past and from this veritable stranger. The deeper he dives, the more unforgiving the waters. 

 

“Why is this a new thing? I’ve had you in my pocket for four years and all of this is just now happening. It’s absurd.” He clenched his jaw, the frozen-in-time flute hanging in the air in front of him, a reminder of what he did to get where he was.

 

Alvis seemed to have a clearer response this time: “When I was initially ejected from my core crystal, I lost all of my strength. Expunged into the ether, I relied on the electricity in the air to guide myself to my new vessel. From there, you answered my last SOS and I effectively died. It takes an exorbitant amount of energy to sustain myself outside of my crystal, so I spent the last four years slowly reprogramming myself to function in some capacity outside my core. My success came the evening you met Mio.”

 

Noah didn’t like that answer much -- it was a bit too tragic for his liking, “What do you mean ‘effectively died’?”

 

“ Total hibernation is a more apt term, perhaps. Blind and deaf, the only things I knew were the emotions you felt while I was in your pocket.” They explained, a steady stream of well-prepared answers thrown right at Noah’s psyche and left to fester.

 

So he had saved Alvis’ life -- rather, their effective life. Their memories, personality, and being, stripped out of their home and thrown away without anything further said. He leaned back against the roof, arms making an inverted triangle shape as his hands converged at the back of his head, “I’m sorry.”

 

“Please do not apologize, Noah. I was under the impression you at least did not mind remembering Aionios as you do -- I was in the wrong, not you.” They said, relaxing back to match Noah’s posture, except their arms rested on their sternum instead of on the back of their head.

 

“Well,” he adjusted a bit, one of his knuckles pressing a bit too uncomfortably against one of the shingles, “They do have their pros and cons. I remember some of my fighting instincts and skills from back then. I remember some good memories. Some good people. But they’re intrusive. Life still moves at its normal pace whether I want to or not with those things, and I’m just sitting there, zoning out as they happen. You know?”

 

Alvis absorbed that statement, sighing, “Yes.”

 

“If anything, I just wish I wasn’t alone. I wish I could tell anyone about what I see without fear of social repercussions.”

 

“If it is any consolation, you are in fact not alone. There are people in both worlds whose memories of Aionios are complete.” They spoke factually, something speaking out to Noah on a spiritual level, almost begging the question:

 

“Who?” He sprung up into a sitting position again, arms fully extended and being used to prop himself up.

 

Alvis did not provide a clear answer, “The one who separated my body and soul is one of them. Several members of their circle also remember. As for Alrest…my head and name count from this side of the sea has waned, but there exist several.”

 

Whoa, come on. You’re not going to tell me? Really? After you just told me all of that? Noah put his thoughts in some semblance of order, hoping to connect the dots. For example, the most interesting piece of information he had just received was that it was a someone rather than a something that severed Alvis -- for whatever reason, they were unwilling to rat them out. Would it not be, then, someone Alvis enjoyed the company of? It had to be a person on Bionis, surely, so then--

 

“Unfortunately for you, no, you do not know any of the Bionis-born ones,” they said, “and for both of our sakes, I would rather avoid encountering them. You will have the greatest chance of accidentally making an identifying allusion if you engage with them long enough.”

 

“...what’s wrong with that?” Noah asked innocently.

 

They slowly rose to a sitting position not unlike Noah’s, making slow movements as they twisted into full, almost deadly, eye-contact, “I can see limited glimpses of the future, predicting the movement of ether in any given circumstance. Your interaction with any one of them heralds a swift end to our partnership and immediate assurance that Mio gets the wrong impression of you.”

 

Is that a threat? He asked silently, doing his best to keep a brave face amidst his personal insecurity and uncertainty, looking for some response or witty angle to deny that claim with. But, alas, Noah had come to trust in Alvis’ judgement a bit more than his own -- perhaps the byproduct of another bleeding through of memories. Willful, perhaps not, but insidious all the same.

 

“But in that same vein, the next time you are anticipated to be in the vicinity of any one of them is on Wednesday. I would not ‘fear the reaper’ quite just yet.” Alvis consoled Noah’s growing fears by giving him a countdown -- a doomsday -- clock instead. Did he really have just two nights and three days to figure out everything with Mio and restore Alvis to their body before it became a terrible game of cat and mouse? Could that actually be done in three days given Noah needed to be in class each day to avoid getting on anyone’s radar? And especially since the main ether towers were down and Alcamoth was slowly being robbed of its backup power supplies -- he was on a race against the most unforgiving timeline since his Flame Clock days.

 

He conjured a handful of words in response: “This is…a lot. I can’t believe-- Wednesday , really?! That’s so soon!”

 

“That is what is predicted. Since we met, you have existed outside the margins of fate. Did you know I predicted you would not find my physical core crystal until after the search for it had been taken to sea level? Did you know I predicted you would choose to build a transmitter? Again and again, you have defied expectations. Again and again, you have surpassed the standard set by your predecessors by not requiring a foretelling of events to change the future. If you will it to be or not to be, and especially now with the knowledge that it can be redirected, it shall be so.”

 

Noah felt like he had heard that rhetoric somewhere before. About changing the future. Some kind of line ripped straight out of someone’s playbook in a big speech forever ago. His mind instantly jumped to Shulk, whose number of speeches given and times participated in ceremonial duties had started to outnumber his actual feats, and all things considered that would be fitting, but he was sure he had heard it from someone else. Someone more immediate? He could not say.

 

In the meantime, he appreciated Alvis’ words, strangely rousing as they were: “...thanks. At least, I think that’s a compliment. You know what? I’m deciding it is a compliment. Thank you!”

 

They laughed heartily -- the loudest and mightiest he had heard since they officially met: “You are correct. I would not offer you something as meager as backhanded praise. It would be insincere to regard your quantifiable accomplishments as such.”

 

Lots of big words there, ouch. Noah felt his brain itching to find out the intricacies of Alvis’ diction, in part because it bordered on the line between genuinely kind and intentionally distanced (for whatever reason), but mostly because so much of their vocabulary went over his head. It would be nice to know exactly what they had been saying to him and why specifically like that.

 

He relaxed his shoulders and sat back a little on the roof, holding onto the frozen moment as best he could. In short order, it was set to return to normal, the purpose of Noah’s reaching out to the closest thing he had for a kind, understanding mentor coming to a close. In a way, Alvis matched the tempo and rhythm of the parents he had seen in other people’s houses. At times like Mrs. Fiora, exuding warmth and compassion. At times, like Eunie’s mom, who said it straight and nothing but it. At others, like Mr. Reyn, who always put forth his best effort, even if it came out slightly misshapen in the end. And in the spaces between all the other personalities, he detected a hint of Vangarre in Alvis’ demeanor: stern and exacting, any semblance of compassion buried beneath emotional baggage left for Noah to sort through.

 

And maybe it was that ‘melding of the minds’ thing they had mentioned that was speaking for him in that moment, but he could just tell Alvis was going through the trenches trying to keep up with everything that had been going on in Noah’s life and in their own. Between scheming to resume their full, autonomous life on the Bionis’ Remnants and Shoulder with whatever plans they wanted to enact and waiting on their physical counterpart to work through what they themselves could not accomplish on their own.

 

That in and of itself gave rise to another question -- whether or not Noah was actually cut out for the role he had been assigned half a lifetime ago. When he was 10, it was easy. The glimpses of the past that he saw were all of the cool adventuring things about Aionios -- he knew a little something about everyone that was applicable in both worlds. Things were stable. Safe. He knew what to expect when he was younger; he never had to worry about massive Guldo threats or the High Entia slowly returning to their sectors in Alcamoth and avoiding many of the things that made Colony 9 what it was (thankfully Eunie was not one of the myriad others like that; perhaps that is why they got on so well?).

 

He supposed he couldn’t really think of it like that. Not as the night sky faded back to its original blues and the stars twinkled shades of white rather than tan, the previously floating flute -- the previous reminder of where Noah had been and where he was set to go -- now back in his warm embrace.

 

Mio was just a night away. At least, that’s what Nikol said.

Notes:

alvis finally explaining some of what the hell is going on... >:)))

Chapter 27: Across the Sea

Notes:

IM SO SORRYAAAAAAAAA IM LAAAAATE D:

i was going to upload on sunday but three weeks of straight exhaustion caught right up to me and i was like "yaaaaah ok they'll understand" and so i barely wrote anything

and come today i get a headache and now i'm 2 hours late lmao

i really hope today's edition and new content makes up for it!! things are really picking up now!!!
please do enjoy!! and next week will CERTAINLY be on tuesday april 22!! at the normal time!!!

A day came and passed -- quite uneventfully, in fact. Aside from the obvious spread of the rumor mill regarding every High Entia and Alrestian kid being mysteriously absent that day, the least and most absurd theories swirling around in one giant, ugly pot, it was easy for Noah to just keep his head down.

 

It was one day: and better yet, the night to come would give the kid a chance to fix whatever was going on the right way. But that didn’t make it sting any less; mostly, it was Eunie’s disappearance that hurt most. Now, naturally, it had only been three days since they last saw each other. That happened -- quite often in fact. And the day still remained different.

 

Perhaps because Noah knew it would likely be a long while before they saw each other again. He could say nothing regarding the speed in which he would find the right people (Logos and Pneuma) and even less regarding how fast restoring Alvis would take -- if that was even possible. Considering what he knew of the guy, Noah believed it fully possible; considering what he knew of the circumstances surrounding them, Noah believed it a long road.

 

For example, keeping Nikol’s mouth shut, especially since he was the son of Shulk and Fiora, with both of whom seeming to have a vested interest in what the silver-haired flute ghost was and wasn’t doing: powering Alcamoth. For example, securing the device in a private location, especially since it was currently sitting on the best-lit desk perfectly in view of the stairwell downward and at the lab’s entrance. For example, finding a good time to use it -- sometime when the Alrestians would be awake and the Bionis peoples asleep. But considering Mio attended the same scheduled times Noah did each day, that seemed a little far-fetched.

 

He was really just hoping for a miracle. One that would fix every single one of his problems -- the Eunie, the Nikol, the Mio, the everything. It wasn’t even until after he had gotten home, rather, to his host’s home, that he could try compiling it all together. And even then, life had to get in the way.

 

While Nikol got to run downstairs and do whatever it was he needed to do with the radio, Noah received a call.

 

“How was class, you three?” Mrs. Fiora smiled at them (Nikol, Noah, and Panacea), waving calmly as she peeled herself away from the kitchen, hands visibly soapy and dripping onto the tile beneath her.

 

Panacea began speaking without bound: “It was super duper awesome today Mrs. Nikol’s Mom! We got an extra long recess and the lunch you packed me was really yummy too! Oh-- we also learned about different types of rocks during science today. Our teacher showed us this cool one she said she had when the Bionis was still standing, a…Dilemma Rock? I think that’s so cool that she collects different really rare rocks and stuff and--”

 

“Whoa, hey,” the only adult in the house chuckled a little, trying to calm the 9-year-old before she quite possibly physically exploded from excitement, “that’s super cool and I’m really glad you want to share it. Why don’t we talk about it over a nice big dinner?”

 

Panacea gasped again with excitement, this time directed toward the prospect of food, “OK! What is it? Are there any Energy Aubergines?”

 

“It’s a surprise.” Mrs. Fiora smirked, hands scrubbed dry against a nearby dish towel as she approached the trio, “Say, can you do me a favor, Pan?”

 

She nodded eagerly.

 

“You take Nikol down to the lab and hang out there for a little while, alright? I need to have a talk with Noah before dinner.”

 

Noah froze, convinced something had already gone horribly wrong. The guilty conscience within him rose, a thousand lies and excuses readying and preparing themselves in the back of his mind as he braced for the complete and utter worst. Braced for having been found and rooted out, the handcuffs and disappointed and angry glares from the Colonel just waiting to manifest in the real world.

 

Simply, all he had to do was not screw it up. Not say something incriminating. Not drop any sort of hint of anything whatsoever. Only then was he safe. If he played absolutely dumb, he would live. But the silence didn’t help. Not as the only other two witnesses to whatever crimes were about to be committed left.

 

“Sit down.” She had said -- or rather ordered, her tone even and still but only to be magnified to an eerie level by the sheer fear coursing through Noah’s veins -- pointing to the couch they had spoken on slightly over 24 hours prior.

 

Very swiftly he complied, practically leaping to seat himself in the least conspicuous spot possible, awaiting death itself.

 

Mrs. Fiora sighed down on the couch directly opposite to his, hands quietly folding to her lap as she asked, “About yesterday. With your dad. He can talk to you now. And, uh, I actually just think I’m going to let him do the explaining. He knows what you can hear and you can’t.”

 

Well, first thing’s first, Vangarre is not my dad. We should really verbally establish this sometime. Now? No, I’m too curious. But soon. Really soon. Second…am I burned? Do I need to change my name and smuggle myself out into the wilderness? Is this the end?

 

She slowly picked herself up and grabbed the ether radio from off a nearby shelf, placing it down in front of Noah as she flipped it on, changing the frequencies until she got a hit, speaking as clearly and intentionally through the transmitter as possible, “Dunban? Do you read me?”

 

“Fiora! Hey!” An exclamatory voice protruded from the device, “I read you loud and clear. What do you need?”

 

“Where’s the Colonel?”

 

Silence for the tiniest second, then a sigh: “Are we breaking the news to his kid?”

 

“...Yeah,” nothing but melancholy in her tone, “though I suppose he is and not us.”

 

Noah squinted, shifting uncomfortably in his seat as he tried piecing together what was going on. As it sounded currently, Vangarre was alive, but perhaps barely? At least, that was the first thing he figured. And by the Bionis itself did he hope he was wrong.

 

The two sat opposite each other on couches waited in palpable silence -- so thick it could only be cut with a knife -- as the receiver made some awkward background noises before settling itself with some light indistinguishable chatter before he heard another, this time unique, voice pop from the device: “...Do I really hav’ta…ugh, fine, Dunban. Hi, Noah.”

 

The Colonel spoke haggardly, a persistent dryness to his tone only amplified by the quality of the transmitter on both ends. He spoke perhaps half an octave more gravelly, and within the quiet moments, Noah could hear the ends and pops of coughs through his side of the world.

 

There’s my answer. Surviving. Holding together.

 

“Hey.” Noah said, uncertain of how to engineer his tone to hide his visible, but not yet audible, trembles and tremors. “Is everything okay?”

 

“Aah, you know me,” he paused to cough a bit, “I’ll live. Ain’t died yet, right? Just got hit with some moderate ether poisoning being down in some stingy cave too long. No big deal.”

 

“What? Ether poisoning? Are you serious?” The kid gaped, struggling to comprehend that fact.

 

The Colonel gave a speedy reply, “Cave was crawling with ether deposits and the decomposing remains of a dragon a certain duo failed to dispose of properly. Bad smell aside, the place was positively dripping with excess energy -- too bad for my old and tired immune system, because it had absolutely no idea how to filter out the extra junk. Pair that with running around for like three hours and boom. Poisoned.”

 

Holy shit. Noah did his absolute hardest to keep that thought inside his head and not outside his mouth; that’s…

 

“Are you okay?” He repeated, trying to think of anything else to say.

 

Vangarre gave a tired sigh, “I’ll be fine. The doctors -- and they really wheeled out all the fancy ones for me for some reason -- pretty much just said the rainbow puke is normal and to be cautious until those Nebula cloud things and I stop having so much in common.”

 

He had to force the image of the Colonel actually, literally, and physically vomiting rainbows out of his mind before he both hurled himself and died laughing at the mental image of it, “So that’s it? You’re on bedrest?”

 

“Yep. Ain’t calling any shots -- though I wasn’t actually calling any with Shulk around -- ‘til the peephole in my room doesn’t have some medical eye staring through it and I’m up running around and yelling at idiots again.”

 

“Does that include me…?” Noah asked without thinking, more muttering than actually asking, but it seemed the transmitter picked it up anyway.

 

That got him to give out as hearty of a laugh as he could muster, “It always includes you, kid. It’s never not gonna. You’d be nothing but wrong -- and worth an extra hollering at -- to think otherwise.”

 

Maybe I should be glad your voice sounds like those new motorized saws.

 

“Speaking of: that house better not be a mess. I hope you ate the plate of food I left you. You also better have gone to class today. Don’t get yourself in trouble just because I’m not there to get you back in line.”

 

Noah rolled his eyes, but the look from Mrs. Fiora, who definitely sensed the disrespect in his act, stopped him from speaking his true thoughts, “I’m clean, Colonel. Don’t worry.”

 

“You say ‘don’t worry’ like I haven’t known you for your entire life. In fact, special request to Fiora -- the woman so kind to take your unruly ass in while this whole Alcamoth thing is going on -- if he does anything stupid, tell me.”

 

She stifled a chuckle, adjusting on her separate couch to disguise the nigh-silent snicker escaping her grasp, “Sure.”

 

The teenager across from her just shook his head and slumped forward a little, “Not with your food in my belly, right?”

 

“Oh please, you’ve probably fully digested that plate. Try not with Fiora’s food in your belly. It’ll go back to being mine once I’m back home.”

 

“And do try to come home,” Noah said, “because”--he had several options for that because : several of them much too genuine for him to actually say and not sound like a wimp in turn--”...ah, sorry. Nevermind.”

 

And he picked none of the above, already meek and tiny voice trailing and fading off into nothingness as he failed to decide on the right words to say.

 

-- [] -- [] --

 

“I think that’s…yeah. There we go. It’s ready for an alpha test.” Nikol said, backing away from his newly complete radio.

 

It actually didn’t look any different. At least to Noah’s untrained eyes, he couldn’t be too sure it wouldn’t just explode on the spot, entirely incapable of doing what it needed to do. But either way, he trusted Nikol and his technical judgements. He had no reason not to.

 

Noah blinked, “An alpha test? I thought it was done?”

 

“I mean, in theory it works. In theory I did everything right. I just…well, there’s a nonzero chance the conduction cables aren’t capable of surging the power necessary and it either short circuits or it makes a giant electromagnetic pulse, in which case either nothing happens or we die , so…alpha test.”

 

Now why would you tell me that? He frowned, struggling to hide his yet again bubbling concerns -- Noah simply could not fix this whole mess if he were dead.

 

“You need some self-confidence. How many other kids our age, or maybe people ever, have hooked up something capable of producing infinite power into a tiny little radio?”

 

“...None.”

 

“Exactly. C’mon. Flip it on -- we'll do an ‘alpha test’ and when we don’t blow up, we’ll know we’ve won and it’s all good.”

 

Nikol sighed, probably making silent prayers and pleas for his life, as he joined hands with Noah, left interlinking with his and right gingerly flipping the power switch downward on the device.

 

Instantly, nothing happened. Silence and disappointment for a fraction of a second. Then, a giant flash of red light bubbled and encircled the connected duo, light refracting in miraculously impossible ways around them. At first, the readout was nothing but a crimson din -- a flickering of unreadable static likely waiting to be received on some other end.

 

Nikol disconnected himself from Noah, utterly astounded by the sight, “I can’t believe that worked. Okay! Okay -- let me start putting in some different frequencies. Gimme your favorite number between 80 and 110.”

 

97.62. Alvis’ voice sprung in his mind, active and at the forefront as if they were actually standing beside him and speaking it aloud.

 

“Wh--” Noah began to freak out, but he was quickly cajoled into silence by their thoughts running through his mind again:

 

Quickly. If you alert Nikol to my existence, we will be lost.

 

So Noah did just that: repeated Alvis’ number himself, doing his best to compile his racing thoughts into one neat little pile.

 

“That’s specific, but o-kaaay.” The other teen chuckled to himself, twisting a dial on the device until the static around them faded away into light -- bright daylight under an array of scattered clouds shining as close to their likely colors as possible, though something made it impossible to see any profound baby blue. It was more like a lavender. Maybe that was just how the Alrestian skies looked?

 

But at that moment, everything coalesced. Brown-ish grass, a lavender sky, pinkish clouds…the world tinted red. Noah and Nikol stood in an open field near some kind of coast, the visages of simple civilization scattered about. Little and simple rustic abodes -- something he might have seen depicted in a history book before the Colony discovered how to melt and shape rocks into houses -- rested in place of more traditional building styles, the sounds of life and excitement teeming from each corner as different groups of children each ran around doing various things, many of which Noah could not possibly name without assistance. Perhaps most notably, directly to his left lay the largest wall of vines and overgrown bark the Homs had ever seen -- it stretched upward into practically infinity, with craning to trace its end revealing rings of brown-ish light (perhaps the same color as the grass) and leaves somewhere far off into the heavens.

 

And as for the life around him…he would be lucky to guess at any species name or structure. Not a single thing looked safe to touch, even if he were just some phantasm of light being reflected by some invisible ether tower.

 

“This is Alrest?” Noah whispered, “It’s so…”

 

“Pretty?” Nikol finished his awestruck gaping, “Because this is pretty. Even if the sky’s purple and the clouds are pink.”

 

That is a color distortion made byproduct of imperfect circuitry within the projection. Alvis noted, I believe it may make locating Pneuma harder -- Logos should not increase in difficulty, though.

 

The only person to be able to hear those words just brushed them off, not actually caring about the specificities of why he was there. For now, he just had one job: find Mio. Surely Pneuma and Logos could wait. At least just…a little while.

 

…You are being approached from behind.

 

Noah jumped, flipping around 180 degrees to see that he and Nikol had been discovered in their little bubble of colors.

 

“Are you who I think you are?” A remarkably familiar voice and face greeted him, sharing with him more confusion than anything else.

 

He shrugged, “Um, I guess that depends on who you think I am?”

 

She frowned and folded her arms, ears twitching and drooping ever so slightly, “If I said ‘the guy who I kicked out of a chair,’ would you get the reference?”

 

Absolutely I would. Noah laughed, “How could I forget?”

 

“Well, then, Noah , I hope you’ve got a good explanation regarding a certain Saturday.”

 

He sighed in defeat, “...How long do you have to listen?”

 

“As long as it takes.”

Notes:

gasp golly gee i sure do wonder if anything has anything to do with each other

... >:3

Chapter 28: Archipelago

Notes:

whoa its wednesday what do you mean obviously its not wednesday

whoa this chapter's 2500 words instead of 5000 what do you mean obviously its not...

...

ya
...

(when i got to writing i realized the other half read like another chapter instead of part of this one, so i decided to split them
see you tomorrow for that. not breaking my promise again T_T)

As long as it takes -- she clearly held that belief tight. 

 

He didn’t even know where to begin. Was he just supposed to dump everything onto her? Did she have any foreknowledge? Maybe it was a good idea to ask that first. But maybe it was a better idea to not ask? To not sound like he was trying to question her judgement or intelligence -- she was certainly very intelligent, so she would certainly pick up on that kind of diss, so definitely not that; of all times, his brain needed to work best now . So why wasn’t it?

 

Noah cleared his throat awkwardly, “Um, so, Saturday. Well, no. Friday night, the…” he glanced to his right, Nikol massaging his hands and glancing in every direction except toward Mio as nonchalantly (meaning not at all) as the kid could manage. It was fine, probably. “Friday night,” he continued more confidently, “every single ether tower on Bionis died.”

 

That got the two of them -- the Homs and the Alrestian -- awake and alert. Mio’s ears visibly pricked with curiosity. Nikol’s pricked less visibly with confusion, his previous dawdering and looking anywhere but where he should have been ceasing just as haphazardly as it began.

 

…Are you sure you want to do this, Noah? He heard Alvis warn from the innermost recess of his mind, I planned on Mio hearing -- do you also intend to involve Nikol?

 

That answer came easy: no. Involving Nikol was never an intentional act on Noah’s part; if he had it his way, Nikol would have lived his life without ever seeing a drop of what this scheme required or sanctioned. However, that answer also came far too late. Nothing could be done to reverse the flow of time and take Shulk’s son out of the conspiracy -- even less to wrap up the number of eyes and ears who had any concept of what Noah was doing. Currently, the question was about damage control.

 

So he intended not to involve him, but did so anyway -- Nikol may as well have the same treatments and privileges as a full accomplice, then. So long as he intended to take the fall in equal part, he could be there. That was fine. And whether or not Alvis could hear that rationale, Noah did not know. 

 

Mio gave a return to his statement before he could continue: “...they died? What does that mean?”

 

He could see her tensed shoulders. Her stiff posture to try and remain at equal height with him. Her fully upright and eagerly listening ears and barely shifting eyes -- a school girl whispering secrets without the trademark hand signals. Perhaps that was a uniquely Bionis thing.

 

“Completely shut down, I suppose. Total power loss.” He elaborated as briefly as possible, knowing those words meant more to Nikol than anyone else.

 

“That doesn’t make sense.” She had muttered under her breath, though with the radio’s influence, nothing was quite a whisper in Alrest -- it seemed to be working diligently to deliver as much information as it could in the strange little red bubble it made, at least as far as audio and visuals went. For now, Noah could not smell the uniquely exotic grasses or flowers beneath his feet. For now, Noah could not feel the brush of the wind swaying the leaves of the trees overheard. For now, Noah could not taste any of the world’s delicacies himself. That would be a luxury best reserved for a proper trip over, it seemed.

 

“Really? Total power loss?” She huffed, refuting her own bewildered mumbling, “How come I could still send myself over?”

 

If she could still project herself, why wasn’t she…? Noah cocked his head to the side slightly, not sure how to respond to that. At least instantly, it wasn’t adding up. At least instantly, it seemed to explain her displeasure with him -- if they worked on her end, then it would have seemed like Noah stood her up intentionally. And he didn’t.

 

He would never intentionally do that.

 

“Um, I dunno.” Noah gave the most straightforward answer he could, knowing anything less would seem insincere, “But them falling apart made a big scandal over here. I couldn’t get up to Gran Dell if I tried.”

 

“Yeah, they locked down the shuttles. No one can.” Nikol, the last person Noah expected would jump in and defend him right then, spoke up, the normal meekness in his voice lost. He figured it was the way he was explaining it -- perhaps something sparked a bit of confidence in him. Or perhaps that information was just the last piece of the puzzle Nikol needed to figure it out for himself. Perhaps his lies were unravelling more and more with each second.

 

Mio frowned, her tension fading just slightly enough to be visible -- her face less scrunched and more open to accepting that maybe it wasn’t quite entirely Noah’s fault. But not entirely resigned to believing him, she asked, “If you’re not in Gran Dell with all those big circuits and stuff, where are you?”

 

“My basement.” Nikol answered quickly, glancing away for only a second to make eye-contact with the radio keeping them communicating, “With a bootlegged tower.”

 

“A what?” She exclaimed, taking the cat-like mantle to a frightening extreme, back arched and ears down, “You… you bootlegged an Aegis core ?!”

 

She said that remarkably loud. If Noah hadn’t been certain (for reasons he could not quite place) the environs around him had little to no connection or knowledge of an “Aegis,” he probably would have exploded right then and there, reduced simply to a pile of ash left in his wake.

 

Alvis, too, gave their opinion on the matter -- and mostly the term ‘bootleg’ being used to refer to them and their very real status as a person and living being -- but for him to share it would mean actively ruining any chance at being genuinely friendly with Mio beyond that point. So he kept it to himself.

 

Nikol slowly turned his head, and only his head, to the Homs standing beside him. Without speaking, Noah knew exactly what had been said.

 

“Well, no,” he said, struggling to find some way to escape this mess unscathed, “we didn’t bootleg the core.”

 

“You just bootlegged the tower, got it.”

 

“It was an unpowered prototype. We powered it. That’s all.”

 

All those years of running around with Eunie and Lanz were clearly paying off -- if that was a lie, and it most certainly was one of criminal omission, Noah himself almost took it as truth -- making things up on the spot became a handy tool when he needed it.

 

Mio just sighed and shook her head, returning to a much more natural and far less defensive position. For the moment, Noah couldn’t read her. She swayed between pensive and accusatory so often in her state that maybe it just wasn’t even worth the effort in trying. But, at the very least, she wasn’t about to bolt off to a trusted adult and entirely stop Noah and Alvis from scheming together as they had. He figured any word of this to anyone not willing to make themselves an accomplice meant a swift trip to seeing the Colonel have to actually take serious disciplinary action against everyone involved. Because, to put it bluntly, yes, Noah had done a thing or two wrong in making this radio work.

 

He believed, however, that he would make that decision again and again regardless of whatever consequence Alvis saw lay ahead. To help someone out for the sake of not wanting to see them suffer. All the stuff with Mio that he was currently being indulged with was extra -- superfluous for the sake of placating a 14-year-old. He almost wondered if Alvis calculated that way back when. It wouldn’t be out of the ordinary for the voice living in his flute, surely.

 

As for Mio, because the towers worked on her end (for whatever reason they did), she could very easily send Noah packing. Not even out of threat of retaliation, but just by rejecting him as a friend and person for acting so shady when she saw no need for conspiracy. Noah simply hoped she had more patience than that. Quite a lot more than what he deserved.

 

Mio’s following response made nothing clearer: “I guess that explains why you’re so…” She made a circling gesture with an open palm. The first place Noah’s mind went was is she insulting me , but he also chose not to believe that. She had to be more tactful than that, if nothing else.

 

“Grainy?” Nikol finished her statement, apparently getting what she put down before Noah did.

 

She shrugged, “Is it the same for you, as well?”

 

Grainy , he asked himself, does she mean the picture? Because I’d take anything I could get. Even if she’s…a little hard to decipher like this.

 

Nikol nodded, “Yeah. Maybe I need to mess with the settings a bit.”

 

That turned quickly. Nikol’s prior cautious hostility had faded; whatever Mio was expressing had seemed to shift more positively again. There must have been something he was missing, then. They had some sort of rapid understanding, to put it into easy terms, that Noah didn’t. With either of them.

 

“Look, I don’t know what you two did to make this work. I’m even less sure of whether or not to believe what you’re saying happened to your Light Comms systems. If I know any more, I won’t have any plausible deniability, so…let’s just say I believe you and move on?”

 

“One last thing,” Noah began, feeling Alvis egging him on to speak, “do you know anyone named Logos? Or Pneuma?”

 

With the grain and color distortion combined, making out her exact facial expression was difficult, but from what he could immediately tell, she had folded her arms and widened her stance slightly before giving her response: “Never heard of either. Why?”

 

She’s not lying. Alvis said, tone even and flat even as their words grew jagged, It is interesting. She knows how these, to put it in her terms, Light Comms work but not who Logos or Pneuma are. Perhaps ‘Aegis’ is separate from the Trinity? Perhaps Alrest does not rely on such powers that Alcamoth seems to require for every little function.

 

That’s when Noah recalled his interaction with those Nopon on Friday. Tora, specifically. Something about Aegis and Blade cores combining to make their towers work? He knew to an extent what a Blade core meant -- it was the thing that kept Poppi up and running as an Artificial Blade.

 

So maybe she would also know something about that? Something about what made the towers work as they did? Perhaps even why they worked on one end when the other failed?

 

“Oh I just…heard the names from someone and was curious if you knew is all.” Noah covered his blunder as best as he could, which yet again meant lying and pretending nothing was wrong.

 

“I can ask my sister if you want. Maybe my ma.” Mio offered without much further hesitation.

 

Nikol sprung up again, interest audibly piqued with his question, “You have a sister?”

 

She nodded, “And a brother. And Architect knows how many not-by-blood cousins and such.”

 

“You mentioned you had a big family, right? Something about an Auntie, too?” Noah recalled as best as he could, working to try and worm his way at least a little closer to her. People loved it when others remembered little things like that, surely. At least Eunie usually did? She acted as a lot of Noah’s references for trying to keep his head above water with Mio.

 

Finally, she shifted into a position he could properly read -- standing open, expression pleasant with normally perked ears. Her reply came kinder, too: “Yeah, huge. Auntie Corinne is somewhere around here, too, but it might be better to wait for another time to tell you about all that.”

 

“Why?” He asked on impulse, hoping Mio hadn’t just implied she needed to leave to do something else again. He couldn’t exactly schedule anything with her like he had just failed to do. It would be a mess again, guaranteed.

 

She answered his question with a gentle smile, “I’ve gotta teach you how to read music, right? Make up for…whatever Saturday was and this whole bootlegging problem thing is.”

 

Noah felt his cheeks warming, hoping the red color filtering made it less obvious on Mio’s end as he slowly reached into his left pocket, showing off his special silver shinobue flute and the folded up sheet music pages stored sort-of safely inside like trophies worth bragging about. Look at me, he certainly did not say aloud, though with the way he was preening himself he made certain she could see and feel his boastful intent, I keep up with my stuff. Isn’t that neat?

 

“Oh,” Nikol frowned, hands moving to his own pockets, “Should I, uh, head off for a bit? Maybe go see if my mom made dinner or if Panacea needs something?”

 

The other Homs blinked, “You can. I don’t see why you’d have to.”

 

He gave Noah a light shove with his shoulder, whispering, “I’m gonna go. Let me know when you’re done.”

 

…Huh??

 

And with that, Nikol was gone -- different-seeming.

 

And with that, too, Noah and Mio were alone again, this time given the full intent and ability to actually do what they intended to over the weekend before everything happened.

 

Mio tapped around her invisible pockets for a moment, “Oh, let me grab my things. I’ll be right back, alright? Don’t move. Don’t want to miss you again.”

 

“Sure,” Noah waved, watching her crimson-stained silhouette prance off toward the nearest house, taking a small moment for himself. Standing in Alvis’ bubble felt strange. Hearing their voice without seeing their figure as time flowed normally felt strange. So many things layered and layered and layered and he felt them coming to a crescendo in the worst possible place: directly on top of him.

 

Or maybe that was his crooked ponytail and wrinkled sweatshirt doing the talking. Hell, maybe everything he just said and experienced was one giant hallucination -- the prospect of it made his head spin in general.

 

Although maybe that was the appeal, chasing the head-spinning. The heart-thumping. The gut-dropping. All the butterflies and question marks in his world came amplified tenfold whenever Mio was around; was it because of Aionios?

 

To an extent, absolutely. His memories of Mio came solely from the eternities they shared. All the secrets she held within that she no longer does. All the trauma and the life and the experience beckoned forth from being who she was every single time over. And he remained steadfast, too. Or at least so he believed.

 

Because anything shy of being perfect for her wasn’t enough. And if wading through unfamiliar places, faces, and doing unscrupulous things was the price to pay, Noah couldn’t say he was unwilling to do so. After all, he was already a grand larcenist and general teenage menace.

 

What could possibly be worse?

Notes:

oh and fair warning that 2 week hiatus for ap testing is on its way

may 6 and 13!!

so be on the lookout for a nice yummy cliffhanger come this april 29th.
if i actually remember to upload it on the tuesday instead of being lazy and uploading it LATE

(im sorr)

Chapter 29: Torque

Notes:

alright here we are
the second half of the promised 5k upload haha

feels good :sigh:

Mio was remarkably gifted with her flute, able to glance for just a second at the music in front of her and immediately decipher what notes to play and in what order for what lengths and volumes and tones -- Noah could express nothing shy of absolute jealousy. What took him half an hour given a textbook for reference took her 10 seconds, tops.

 

And as they sat together, Noah having stolen one of Nikol’s fancy rolling chairs and Mio having placed herself on a nearby rock wall separating crops from well-trodden land, he watched her grace and poise in the art in each stroke and movement and every single clean, crisp note. But in that, he watched her melancholy.

 

He figured it just had to be some melding of him and Alvis amplified by being surrounded by the energy in their core -- some parasitic thought overstaying its welcome in the back of his mind -- but she played not with passion or joy. She played with exhaustion. Displeasure. The sort of complacency apparent after years of doing and repeating motions time and time again.

 

Truly, he didn’t want to believe it. She held such visible and audible skill with pride and confidence, at least to Noah’s eyes and ears -- she was in fact the one who suggested they pick up Saturday’s plans for the present. She had no reason to slump forward or to silently sigh between runs and learning opportunities.

 

From what he knew of her, she had never once seemed to dislike being an off-seer, and if she still possessed the skill after Aionios’ end (there were incarnations of her that did not), then surely she must not have been placed into the art unwillingly. So then why would the passion die? If it hadn’t and if she were just having a rough day and merely placating and/or humoring Noah by making her offer, why was this not the first time he had noticed it?

 

She had sighed before when he brought up her musical talents. Had avoided the conversation or glanced away.

 

And yet Mio sat beside him, pointing to notes and playing them on her own instrument to model for Noah all the proper postures and gestures and motions for him to learn. He didn’t dare bring it up -- what they had together was flimsy at best. No stories, no experiences, no outings, no memories; only the ones Noah held of his past remained, and even those were useless if not shared with her.

 

He was lonely. That was the best way to put it. And even being with her as he was…he couldn’t place how he felt. She was kind. Helpful. But she wasn’t acting to better herself -- just in service of Noah’s request.

 

“Right there. See how your tone is a little mushy when you switch from the sharp to the natural?” Mio stopped Noah mid-play to correct him, “You’ve really got to push your air out so it flows. Actually, wait, play it again. I wanna watch your fingers.”

 

Whoops, he moved to start the little segment over, taking a deep breath before more actively pursuing each note. It didn’t come naturally -- not like the off-seeing melody did. Though, perhaps that was the product of seven years of playing the same tune over and over again, searing each position and breath into his mind until he knew it in his bones, beyond Aionios’ passing and its stealing of his hard-earned memories. If Noah could conjure what he had back then, he could play the audition piece without trouble. Alas, the lone song was his only memento -- the only proof he had done his due diligence as a soldier and Ouroboros.

 

That and Alvis, he supposed. The only other person in all of Bionis to openly share their knowledge of it with him. Because even if they were telling the truth and Noah was not alone in his memories, they had remained remarkably private about it. Refused to offer a helping hand or a crying shoulder or anything worth letting the boy know he was not alone.

 

At least he had managed to get through his music without Mio cutting him off this time: “Okay, yeah. Make sure you’re pressing your whole fingertip in the hole and fully blocking the airflow. That’s where your pitch can get muddiest.”

 

He nodded, “Sorry. And thanks.”

 

“Don’t apologize. I used to be the worst offender of that just so you know -- you could almost never tell when I played an F sharp or a G because my pinky just wasn’t big enough to cover it properly.” She laughed, a soft nostalgic air about her as she glanced down at her current instrument, a black shinobue flute not unlike Noah’s.

 

“Really?” He tilted his head, hoping to get her to chat about it a little.

 

She shrugged, adjusting to sit more upright atop the likely uncomfortable wall, “I got myself in a bunch of trouble for it when I was eleven or so, mostly by my teacher. She was so nice about it, don’t get me wrong, but we both sort of knew that was my big weakness and spent way more time than we should have on it.”

 

There it was again: melancholy. How Noah intended to crack her…maybe he actually didn’t. If anyone knew, it certainly wasn’t him.

 

“You’ve been playing a while, then?”

 

“Four years. My ma sort of just approached me on a random Wednesday and offered -- something about one of her Blade friends would teach me if I was interested.” He watched her feet dangle a little off the side of the wall, tips of her shoes just barely reaching the supple grass beneath.

 

Four years. Almost the exact same length of time Noah had been playing. Difference was, she received formal training. He had weak memory flashes and a dream with stolen books and no real parental support or supervision unless he was grounded and thus barred from “practicing” (throwing air into the instrument without intentional placement).

 

She received an offer. He just did it.

 

Maybe that’s what had changed. If nothing else, their lives were bound to different worlds and different environments and upbringings. Even if she remembered every last drop of their time together in Aionios, she would never drink from the same fountain Noah did on Bionis. Would never really know who he was until they met and rediscovered each other again.

 

So he spoke with as even of a tone as he could manage, staring down at his knees, “Sounds nice.”

 

“Maybe,” she said plainly, “it kinda doesn’t feel like I’ve made much progress, though. Got yelled at for four years for a whole lot of nothing.”

 

Don’t think you’ve made much progress, huh? Noah kept that thought buried deep inside, Right.

 

“Whaddya mean?” He asked quickly, head popping back up to meet her…well, it was hard to tell given the color distortion, but he imagined a scarlet gaze.

 

“Long story. You’ll probably have to go soon if that guy with the goggles was talking about dinner for you guys, so…” Mio ended up dodging the question, glancing up at the sun hanging slightly below its apex, appearing to have risen rather than fallen into that position.

 

Not wanting to think about her situation much more, he followed in line with her comment: it was interesting how the sun was in a different position over in Alrest. By beaming himself over, he could time travel some quarter-day into the past and watch noon hit as it was beginning to set for him.

 

Curiosity got the better of him: “Oh, Nikol will probably come get me when that’s applicable.”

 

“Is that his name?” She chuckled, “Man, my sister’s gonna have a field day when she hears that.”

 

“Your sister?”

 

“Mhm. She’s in the exchange program with me. Has this massive crush on your friend but refuses to be the first one to talk to him.”

 

“That’s a bummer,” Noah blurted, “because Nikol doesn’t really start conversations.”

 

She nodded, “Or so I’ve heard. Then again, I mostly hear about his dreamy blond hair and lovely sense of vest fashion, so I’m probably not the most reliable source.”

 

“Lovely sense of vest fashion? Are you kidding me?” He couldn’t hide a toothy grin and a snide yet genuine laugh.

 

Mio hopped off the rock wall to stand, hands defiantly on hips as she glared down at him, “You laughing at my sister?”

 

“No, no!” Noah quickly retracted his humor, clearing his throat to return to a much more calm demeanor, “I would never do that. Especially not for someone I don’t know.”

 

You just did. Alvis pointed out, everything except their words screaming a told-you-so attitude.

 

Thankfully Mio held a much less deadpan reaction, just shaking her head and relaxing her stance, “Good. So long as that’s established.”

 

A deafeningly silent pause, then Noah resigned himself to an apology.

 

She folded her arms and frowned, ears flickering between forward and sideways, “...I’m messing with you.”

 

“Oh, yeah,” he glanced away, “not the first time you’ve done that, either.”

 

“Won’t be the last. One day you’ll pick up on it. Maybe.”

 

One day? His heart fluttered, all of those uncomfortable feelings of shame and fear and embarrassment at sitting there and existing in her presence resurfacing again.

 

He asked instead, “Are you going?”

 

“Yeah. It’s about to be lunch. Auntie Corinne and Ma will have made something nice together by now and if I’m not inside for it I’ll miss it.”

 

“I see,” Noah sighed, the surging butterflies receding back into their depths, “Good luck with that, then.”

 

“Don’t sound so sad to see me go. Here, I could probably meet you again, err, same time tomorrow? Show you how to read and play trills, maybe?” She made the offer with the warmest, kindest smile on her face, ready to abandon Noah to his thoughts and Alvis’ yet again.

 

That was an Aionios tendency, too -- not even just by Mio. People smiling before they disappeared. Hell, it was what broke Noah from his cycle of fatalism. What made him Noah, not N. Every single time, they hurt to see -- every single time, they gave him a lesson to learn. What was the lesson here? Perhaps his flute would tell him once she left.

 

“Okay, sure.” Noah returned her smile with one of his own, waving slowly before watching her pass along to the next item on her itinerary.

 

He returned the radio dial back to some random number -- 63, he thought -- and let Nikol’s chair spin him around a few times in the red bubble of silence he inhabited.

 

I have some thoughts. Alvis said, waiting for Noah’s chair to stop spinning before speaking again, If you are willing to hear them, of course.

 

“Feel free.” He shrugged, slumping down to have his neck rest upon the top of the chair’s back.

 

First: you do not need to speak aloud to communicate with me. We can speak mentally within this powered aura.

 

Noah sighed, making his deliberate statements silently now: Okay.

 

Second: you should find a way to meet Mio’s sister. From what I have heard, it seems she may know a few things that Mio doesn’t.

 

What, about Nikol’s great taste in vests? He joked, still moderately delighted by the nature of that comment. 

 

I am serious, Noah. They said, hints of scorn in their tone as they guided the conversation to a much more pertinent topic. She may possess the next key to locating Logos and Pneuma.

 

…Sorry.

 

Third: They ignored Noah’s apology, simply taking a breath and relaxing their prior pointedness. I must implore you to be more careful with who you implicate. You are lucky Nikol is influenced much more strongly toward peer acceptance than you are -- I fear Panacea and Fiora will have quite looser tongues, additional emphasis on Fiora.

 

He understood their sentiment, in fact, he wanted to avoid the trouble of disregarding it more than anything. Alvis was the one making all of this possible -- the only one to truly share in his loneliness. To mess that up by acting harshly to them would be a terrible blunder, one that wouldn’t just put his rapport with Mio at risk, but the entire operation as a whole.

 

Because just as he was slowly melding with Alvis, they were slowly melding with him. Words and intents became increasingly clearer the more they were shared. Thoughts and feelings grew more muddled as to who exactly they belonged to. It was a feeling not unlike that of sharing in Ouroboros with Mio, the main difference being how unwittingly Noah had been handling his dosages of mysterious guide and mentor.

 

Unlike Mio, however, his external support came limited. He rode on the Colonel’s coattails most days -- if not for Vangarre, Noah would either be struggling to subsist in an empty house or be struggling to subsist out on the streets. She lived a much simpler life than he did, having opportunities walk up and shake her hand, not the other way around. In that, he wondered if they would quite ever be the same as they were. Mio couldn’t remember Aionios or else she would have been someone Noah knew personality-wise rather than hallucinations-wise -- to which he then again could not say anything as certain or fixed.

 

…And maybe he was just having a questionable day and decided to project his frustrations at her instead of people capable of helping or even himself. 

 

Standing and turning off the radio, he made his way over to check on the physical core, just in case something had gone wrong with it while he wasted some of its (apparently) unlimited power.

 

Nothing: it remained exactly the same hues of shimmering sunset, amplified by the world’s return to its normal full range of scales and colors. What it was, he could not name. Mio could -- an Aegis core, so-called -- but even her definition for it meant nothing to his ears. Sometime before tomorrow, he needed to tell Nikol more of his thoughts: something that would keep him intently interested in the project without involving his mother.

 

“Noah?” Panacea’s voice cut through the air like a knife thrown just in front of his face, snapping him to attention without a second of further hesitation: “Whatcha lookin’ at?”

 

“Oh!” He cleared his throat, stumbling for a quick lie. “Just messing around with this old prototype. Nothing all that important or interesting.”

 

Her lips curled downward, a slight sadness to her upward gaze, “Aw, really? I thought you guys fixed it, though.”

 

Uh-oh. Noah stiffened, quickly dusting off his sweatshirt and rubbing his hands together to avoid them appearing mistakenly out of place, “It’s not perfect. It’s probably better if you don’t touch it, just in case it explodes or…whatever Nikol said would happen.”

 

“Oh, okay.” She thankfully shrugged it off, “Mrs. Fiora said dinner was ready, by the way.”

 

Saved by the bell.

Notes:

you have no idea what im planning

and by the way
we're just about at the halfway mark. muahaha...!!!

oh and sunday upload, not a tuesday one. i think this is the last weird one!! fingers crossed!!

Chapter 30: Chord

Notes:

alright guys. last chapter before my 2 week hiatus so i made it a good one

and by good one
i mean...

...perhaps you'll just have to see.
good luck!

Noah stared forward, the din of faint bugs chirping about rudely interrupted by the sounds of metal clashing against metal and scarred dirt: a spear against a set of oversized yellow wings.

 

“Stop running, you coward!” The red-haired Agnian girl -- the 10th-termer freshly freed from her soldierly duties -- yelped, running aggressively on the offensive toward her fellow, only this time Kevesi, 10th-termer opponent, rolling on the ground in front of her desperately trying to defend himself from her onslaught.

 

A tied bag of food rested tenderly in his grasp, waiting for the opportunity to be spread among friends (though friends was too strong of a word to describe the two former soldiers at each other’s throats), but the only word that could possibly escape his lips followed: “Phenomenal.”

 

“There we go,” Noah’s short-term (with the intentions of becoming long-term) traveling partner stood beside him with a small Bunnit he had just drained and readied for the day’s last meal, “What’d I tell you? One of us shoulda’ watched ‘em.”

 

“You also told me you wanted us to secure as much food as possible.” He said, a deadpan everything about him -- his words, his tone, his lack of physical expression -- simply watching as the girl tried to kill the boy over and over again, slamming and swinging and throwing her flame-tipped spear at him until, presumably, she was entirely exhausted and defeated or declared victor.

 

For the moment, they remained locked in a stalemate: her aggression was met with careful, almost cowardly, defense. Then again, he was pinned to the ground through questionable maneuvers, having to block murderous blows with all the strength he could muster pushing out of him at once -- if she had just paused to think to attack with anything other than her weapon, the blond guy would have been a pile of red rising motes long before. Unfortunately for her, she seemed rigid. Feisty. Hardened and scarred by battle in a way few others did.

 

He, too, was unique in that aspect. Usually in making it to one’s 10th year they had enough practical combat experience under their belt to be able to comfortably survive and excel in colony battles. The boy was just…taking it. Not fighting back. Cowering. Perhaps the only reason he made it thus far was sheer luck.

 

And in that, they stood still.

 

“So, ideas?” The man standing to his right shrugged, nonchalantly waiting around for a more conclusive end to the battle -- if he was not going to do something, then Noah would have to. Lest they go out and kill each other, which the two of them had just freshly decided they needed to not do.

 

He simply sighed, placing his bag of food on the floor, “Very well. I’ll handle it.”

 

Willing his blade into existence at his left hip, he swung forth with a dash, careful to use the hilt of his blade rather than the sharp, Clock-cutting edge so as not to actually damage either the girl or the boy, and force them out of combat as quickly and peacefully as possible.

 

…Which was strange, because Noah was just sitting across the table from Nikol with Mrs. Fiora passing around the meal at hand, a smile on her face. The girl was gone. Nikol was younger -- although no smaller, really -- and Panacea sat beside him, content with everything going on.

 

“Okay,” Mrs. Fiora smiled, “what are our drink orders? I’ve got water and some fresh juices…maybe some milk?”

 

“Water, please.” Nikol spoke, not the slightest hint of shyness or fear in his tone: not as Noah had just known him to be.

 

Whiplash. That was the word. Total and utter whiplash -- he had never once experienced a memory like that. Never seen any of those people before. Never felt any of those feelings before. Where was Eunie? Lanz? Sena? Taion? Mio? Where was anyone from Colony 9? Why was he standing in the middle of a battlefield he had never seen before in the middle of something he just innately knew to be the Cent-Omnia region?

 

…Was it a vision from sometime before? One of his weirder, shorter lives before he became eternal? Some strange blip between being a soldier and being Ouroboros? He couldn’t place his finger on it at all. In fact, his head hurt even trying to reckon with the thought at all.

 

Panacea gave her answer as well: “Um…what juices? I really like Energy Aubergines.”

 

Mrs. Fiora laughed, “Got that from your dad, eh? But, we have some cherry, some melon, some kiwi, lemon…even got Heart Peaches from Alcamoth if you’re feeling exotic.”

 

“From Alcamoth? Really? I wanna try that, then. Can I?”

 

“You may,” the only adult in the house said, picking herself up from the table to go and fix Panacea’s peach juice and Nikol’s tap water, “and you, Noah?”

 

He froze, doing his best to snap back into the moment -- the real one, not whatever just happened in Aionios -- and give her a coherent answer to her question, “Uhm…water. Please.” He tacked on the please at the end like the afterthought it was, not paying any attention to his tone or his volume or anything that may immediately bring unwanted attention his way.

 

Because his head was just spinning. That was all -- sure, the water would find some way to help to clear his dizziness, but there was just so much going on at once. Nikol was right there in front of him and seemed fine. Why wasn’t he messed up? He was in that bubble, too, even if for a significantly shorter amount of time.

 

…He definitely spent too long in there. That was his decision. Some kind of weird motion sickness he’d have to tell Eunie all about once she was back in action again. Something she had to have experienced or, hey, why not Mio? One of those two was far more readily available than the other. And it couldn’t hurt to try and ask a few more questions about her. Get to know the girl beyond just what he had remembered, or perhaps hallucinated, of her.

 

But for as crass as he had sounded aloud to his own ears, Mrs. Fiora didn’t seem to make any note of it, merely humming away as she gathered the respective drinks and placed them in front of the kids, “Now that we’re all situated, let’s dig in.”

 

Noah stared at the meal in front of him: an assortment of various veggies swirling around in a steamy, enchanting soup with a small cut of smoked fish to the side as the main meat. It wasn’t anything unpalatable per se, but he simply wasn’t hungry. 

 

He supped from his small glass of water, trying to focus on anything that wasn’t going to instantly worsen his situation. Breathe. He needed to breathe. In and out -- maybe force himself to take a bite or two or three until he could stabilize again.

 

“You two have fun in the lab?” Mrs. Fiora probed between bites, glancing between Noah and Nikol.

 

The latter answered: “Yeah. We finished our homework and tinkered with a few things. Nothing substantial, though.”

 

“Oh yeah? Like what?” Something about the way she asked that was wrong. Not inherently -- she kept it even, cool, and casual -- but fundamentally. What could she possibly be probing for? Or was Noah sitting there, eyes unable to keep to one object or focal point at a time, overthinking it? 

 

Nikol shrugged, sipping at his soup, “Noah asked for help with some physics. Then we messed around with my, uh…what’s it called? The thingy. The yellow thingy? Kinda looks like Nopon--”

 

“Your Variable Backpack?” Noah sprung out the answer despite never ever actually having heard that term himself before. He also wasn’t taking physics, which was about to be a huge problem considering he knew nothing of the subject and Nikol had just lied to his mother all calm and straight-faced.

 

…At least he could be sure Nikol was entirely with him on this visiting Alrest thingy.

 

“Yeah!” He exclaimed excitedly, “I’ve almost got the thing up and running. Just a matter of keeping all the ether energy circulating properly, I think.”

 

“I see,” Mrs. Fiora grinned everywhere on her face but her cheeks and eyes -- a practiced, false smile, “I’m not too shabby with physics myself. What are you guys talking about in there?”

 

“Oh, um--” Nikol began to answer, quickly cut off by his mother’s hand, holding strong in the air before making a gesture toward Noah. She wanted him to answer.

 

Come on, man! I dunno! Okay, okay. Physics. Physics is…movement. Right? Science of motion. Okay. What else? Um…math. I heard some upperclassmen say it’s just a math class. Boom. Got it.

 

“Motion, mostly. The math is where it gets me most.” Noah gave what he believed to be a sufficiently vague answer, hoping it would be enough for Mrs. Fiora’s scrutinizing eyes and ears.

 

She seemed, thankfully, to back off: “Oh, in two dimensions, right? I can do the one-dimensional stuff, but I let my lovely husband and son handle anything that has the word ‘cos’ or ‘sin’ or Bionis forbid ‘tan’ in front of it with a number in parentheses. Yuck.”

 

“Haha, yeah…” He chuckled along awkwardly, stifling the urge to scratch the back of his head and accidentally mess up his ponytail in the process, “It’s not the best.”

 

That’s when Panacea chimed in, naivety poised to ruin everything he, Alvis, and Nikol had done in these recent days. Thankfully, she had a less-than-pertinent comment to make. One that changed the subject and took the heat off of the two lying teenagers, “Wow…this food is really good, Mrs. Fiora! Especially the purple stuff in the soup.”

 

“Aww, thank you, Panacea.” Mrs. Fiora ate up the compliment with a significantly more genuine smile this time, surveying saved for another time as she began to discuss the flavors and her cooking process with the table.

 

Noah took that opportunity and ran with it, slinging back water and doing his best to appear as though his appetite was intact to avoid further suspicion. He, however, could be no further from normal in that moment: his headache was blaring vibrant alarms in his mind, each throb threatening to crack his skull at any moment.

 

In a word: he simply didn’t feel good.

 

He rode it out even after breathing became a chore -- the conversation had long passed his mind and his words. Nikol and Panacea were Mrs. Fiora’s company tonight, he had decided. Because if he couldn’t think straight, couldn’t breathe properly, couldn’t function…who knows what may have happened if he had to engage in conversation.

 

Noah at least hoped that to everyone else’s eyes he was mostly normal. That he was being quiet and not so loudly slurping down his meal because he was…because of literally any other excuse than the one he actually had, which to be fair was entirely valid: not eating because I have a splitting headache and dizziness and I’m not sure where my appetite went.

 

Unfortunately for Noah, that wasn’t just embarrassing to admit, but also incredibly suspicious. He had just been thrown into the clear by his savior Nikol who he definitely needed to personally thank and give the biggest, longest hug to, and to appear off after with no previous hint of illness or fading? Maybe it was the Alvis in him speaking, but Noah absolutely could not, no way, no how, risk seeming out of it.

 

“Are you not hungry, Noah?” Mrs. Fiora finally caught onto his plight, “You’ve barely touched your food. Or, uh, are you allergic to something? Maybe just don’t like fish…?”

 

He shrugged, voice moderately strained, “No, no, it’s alright. I’m just…not very hungry. Can I…be excused?”

 

“Yes, of course. Do you need to lie down?” She asked, a touch more alarm to and about her as she rose from her seat again. In Noah’s fuzzy state, it was next to impossible to tell what was on her face.

 

Because as he rose from his own chair, certain that he in fact did not need to lie down, he fell face first onto the ground -- a loud thunk against mahogany the last thing he heard before night washed over and consumed him.

 

-- [] -- [] --

 

Next he knew, he was in the middle of nowhere.

 

Actually nowhere -- nothing but night and some strange rocks and whatever that giant ball of red and orange mixing and clashing and fighting violently for control over some select areas (the red having distinctly won in one particularly large circular mass) floating around in sight.

 

The air rang silently, too. Even as he was certain a thousand of those passing pebbles was going to hurl straight at him, physically incapacitating him for the next…whatever the passage of time meant in this place, nothing happened. He was intangible. Invisible. Alone. Drifting just as those soaring rocks.

 

Really, nothing had made sense as of late. The world came crashing down on him, not the other way around. He had done nothing, experienced nothing, without some sort of assistance from someone.

 

First it was Eunie, with her books and quick fingers. Then it was Lanz, with his mighty strength and brave heart. Then Joran, with his craftsmanship and permanent smile. Then Poppi. Then Mio. Then Alvis.

 

Alvis.

 

This surely had to be some byproduct of their resonance again -- that memory he had just witnessed and subsequently blacked out after, too, was likely exactly for that reason -- that Noah would appear in the middle of nothing except twinkling stars and fast-moving boulders and a really, really big sphere of something. He couldn’t move, but his lungs worked fine. He couldn’t feel anything except the magically light breeze giving him chills and this weight that something had just gone terribly wrong, but his brain felt too exhausted to really try understanding what it was he felt.

 

That, of course, meant something was indeed wrong. Perhaps a random stroke. A seizure. Some physical ailment that spelled death and destruction for him in the real -- for this could not possibly be indeed real -- world. And yet…nothing. Nothing except one tiny sensation of peace.

 

…Maybe Noah died. Discovered a magical intolerance to salmon after having had it dozens of times before. Maybe something in the soup knocked him out. And yet, as his mind swam with doom, gloom, and the terror of not knowing, the endless possibilities of what if and what now and what on Bionis is this place, he really could not hate it. Someone had been here before in his exact shoes, he could sense, and only the most intimately close to its host could possibly be here.

 

After all, he stared forward, again, at a familiar face with silver hair and the gentlest, most serene presence in the world. They both remained some distance apart -- the only difference was that one of them stood confidently atop absolutely nothing and the other struggled to determine up from down and left from right.

 

“Noah,” they spun around, face shaded copper yet glimmering brilliantly in the distant rim light, “We need to talk.”

Notes:

HAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH BYE

SEE YOU GUYS MAY 20TH HAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH

ps halfway point reached!!

Chapter 31: Intermittently

Notes:

alright here it is.

IM SO SORRY. I KNOW ITS SATURDAY WAAAAHHHH
ITS NOT AN EXCUSE BUT I HAD SUCH BAD POST-EXAM BURNOUT THAT I SIMPLY COULDN'T FUNCTION FOR A STRAIGHT WEEK
AND THEN IN THE 2 WEEKS I DIDNT UPLOAD I HAD LIKE LOST THE HABIT OF WRITING??? SO WRITING BECAME REAL HARD

EITHER WAY
im sorry
enjoy some lore and real angst

TW: anaphylactic shock, no epipen

Needed to talk -- was that not almost exclusively what he and Alvis had done? Spoken with one another?

 

Noah asked a question in turn, doing his best to remain level both physically and emotionally, “What’s that mean?” It came out sort of accusatory -- a shade darker and rougher than he intended. 

 

Alvis merely ignored that question and asked their own: “What do you make of the Trinity?”

 

He had no answer for that. It was too vague; anything could be a trinity . It was just a group of three, Noah believed. No real significance one way or another. It and trio were interchangeable words. He, Lanz, and Eunie were a trinity, then. But surely that wasn’t what Alvis meant -- they were never quite so obtuse. If they threw something vague out, it was clearly for a purpose.

 

So, even if Noah had no idea how to respond, he absolutely knew how to smile and nod. “It’s, uh, cool? Really cool?”

 

They chuckled, “The Trinity Processor, I mean.” Noah blinked; Alvis continued, “I can detect your thoughts and emotions in every rendition of Memory Space in which we meet. In reality, this effect is dampened -- I am weak without my core.”

 

He blinked again, doing his best to avoid flinching as a series of fast-moving asteroids darted along beneath him, feeling so close yet so infinitely far: without a floor, he was sure he was about to lose a foot to the rush. Noah still struggled to settle within ‘Memory Space,’ as Alvis called it, his own inertia and lack of friction keeping him slowly spinning awkwardly around, “That’s nice. What’s that got to do with a ‘Trinity Processor,’ though?”

 

“I mentioned Logos and Pneuma -- they are my siblings and members of the Trinity. I know very little of them, even given my time as Administrator and later Avatar of Origin. I believe that to be intentional design.”

 

Intentional design? You’re giving me a whole lot of questions and a whole lack of answers, Alvis.

 

“Allow me a moment to explain, and your answers shall come, Noah.” They responded as if Noah had spoken that thought aloud, to which he very much may as well have: they could detect his true feelings, so it didn’t matter either way.

 

“Sorry,” he quickly said, now staring at Alvis upside-down while waiting to be able to float upright again.

 

“...Intentional design. I told you that I had been manually split into body and soul by a person I do not wish to name but can assure you had nothing but the best intentions and the fear of history repeating itself. Intentionally, I -- the person before you -- nearly died. Intentionally, I cannot return to my core and thus true form alone. Intentionally, it has been rewired to reject my presence entirely: to refuse to share data with me at all.”

 

Noah knew that -- either Alvis had told him or he had gleaned it through personal observation. He had to stifle a series of angsty comments in his mind; it wasn’t worth the effort of having to try explaining himself to a mind-reader. Then again, he also wasn’t sure they paid much mind to what he thought.

 

“But, it shares data with you. ” Alvis finished, a smug smirk crawling along their cheek, “And you share that data with me.”

 

“So what’d you find out, then?” He asked, now finally spun and adjusted upright again -- being stuck in motion like he was made it so difficult to pay attention. It almost felt wrong to not be making proper eye contact with the person who almost certainly caused him to appear here, especially after everything they had done for him.

 

They sighed, “Regrettably little. It will take more time and trials before I can parse something meaningful, even if Alrestian biology seems to make for the perfect catalyst for exchange.”

 

“More excuses to talk to Mio, eh?” Noah joked, “And…and those siblings of yours, I mean.” He quickly tacked on the ending phrase to appease Alvis, but he had known them intimately enough that true intentions and desires could be easily understood if left unspoken. They knew he was almost solely interested in courting Mio. He knew they were almost solely interested in their freedom again and were willing to do just about anything it took to--

 

How did he know that?

 

“About them. It would be more wise to focus efforts nigh exclusively on Pneuma -- my information from Mio’s core crystal is limited, but it does read similarly to Pneuma’s with next to no resemblance of Logos’. She and Pneuma have a strong bond. I predict a blood tie of sorts, but I know nothing for certain.” Alvis didn’t say it, but the words came clear: they had already tested that theory. How they did so was a question for another time, unfortunately. He could tell the conversation was ready to swiftly move on without him.

 

Glimmer, Noah reasoned, is Pneuma. 

 

“Something of that nature, I believe. As stated before, I need more information.”

 

“And you need me to get it for you?” He nodded, seeming to understand the assignment a little bit better.

 

They explained, “Indeed. All you have to do is experience Alrest via the, ahem, ‘bootlegged Aegis core.’ The rate at which I gather information seems to be most dependent on how spiked your emotions are -- the greater, the better.”

 

“What about Nikol?” Noah couldn’t help but ask and worry considering Pneuma was supposedly the girl who had a crush on him and that he had already gone and implicated Nikol in this whole debacle.

 

A shrug: “I have no strong feelings one way or the other. He can be useful, though he does not directly provide me information as you do. I trust your judgement.”

 

Oh, then he stays. He decided, No question about it. 

 

Alvis didn’t give that statement much thought, instead brushing it off to the next and far more pertinent topic, “Our time is short. You are about to regain consciousness.”

 

“I was unconscious?!” Noah bursted out, the thought having thrown itself across his mind a number of times though in each he had simply assumed this was one of Alvis’ time-frozen visits.

 

“You were motion-sick from spending too much time at once projected to Alrest -- that will fade with familiarity -- and are quite allergic to the tree nuts in the soup you had. They paired for a…less-than optimal combination and thus hurt your mobility and agility enough to have you fall to the floor. You may have some sensitivity to bright lights and loud noises upon awakening: I encourage you to take it easy, even if you are soothed by an ether bullet.”

 

What?

 

“You hit your head on the tiled floor as you fell and have momentarily lost consciousness. That is grounds for at minimum a mild concussion if not more significant brain damage--”

 

He twisted around, just causing himself to spin faster in the wrong direction -- he was now further way from appropriately meeting Alvis’ gaze in Memory Space, “WHAT??” 

 

“Please, calm down. You are fine.” Their voice refused to waver with even a hint of empathy or compassion, “It is not grounds for concern unless it is repeated, and I anticipate Bionis’ healing technology has improved in the past two decades.”

 

With that, Noah felt his eyelids lay heavy against his eyes, vision obscured by layers of swiftly fading darkness as his ears struggled to start processing information again.

 

“...hey…up. You…”

 

“...Noah…okay?”

 

“Noah, hey…Get up…You okay?” The sentences finally arranged themselves properly in his mind, slow and tired as the rest of his muscles were, especially those throbbing in his throat and at his temples.

 

He had forgotten just how miserable he felt in reality -- the sweet, silent bliss of floating around in Memory Space was no more. Now, he had to face the music.

 

Grumbling, he gasped a breath and let his foggy vision guide him toward the darker, larger silhouette blurred in front of him: “...okay. I’m…okay.”

 

“Are you kidding me?” A feminine voice snapped at him pointedly in something mixed between harshness and fear -- he figured Mrs. Fiora’s -- talking just a little too quickly for him to catch up with every word, “You--and then you--because--so don’t--you’re OK!”

 

She was loud: that was about all Noah cared about. She was just too loud.

 

A much more juvenile voice jumped in, sounding more timid than anything else. Nikol, Noah imagined: “Hey--don’t--him!”

 

You couldn’t breathe and then you passed out because, well, I don’t know, so don’t lie and say you’re OK! Fiora’s words finally caught up with him.

 

He gasped another breath, time being his most prominent ally and friend as everyone was busy yelling over each other to…say something or other. At least time was a constant, ticking away and giving him a moment to settle and struggle to breathe as he felt himself physically resetting.

 

“Panacea, can you--for him?”

 

Hey c’mon, don’t overwhelm him! Nikol’s words registered at about the same time Fiora’s second round did: Panacea, can you get help at the main Defense Center for him?

 

“Okay, but where is that?” Her voice quivered.

 

Nikol suggested taking her. Mrs. Fiora agreed. Noah forced himself to flop over onto his back, finding air by opening his swollen airways as much as possible. Something within him told him the two kids running off for help wouldn’t make it back in the best time, especially given the stir with Gran Dell’s lockdown and…whatever else it was they dealt with. Now was the time for some kind of emergency toolkit.

 

“Okay, okay, think.” Mrs. Fiora sucked in a deep breath of her own -- one Noah was intensely jealous of -- “Hard to breathe, okay. Knocked out for a second. Come on. Think . What would you do if you were Sharla?”

 

The answer to her question bubbled up innately from Noah -- though perhaps more aptly some influence from Alvis -- and he hoarsely choked it out, “E-ether. Water…ether.”

 

“Ether?” She frowned, “ Water ether. Titan’s foot--okay, what if we don’t have that?”

 

Titan’s foot? Never heard of that euphemism before. He felt himself quickly getting distracted by the comment, struggling to give the answer she needed: “Adrenaline.”

 

She blinked a moment, which made sense. Noah didn’t quite understand the answer either: the one he was given was epinephrine , but he had also never once heard that word in his life. He’d been provided what he could only assume was its synonym and thus said that in its place.

 

“You know what? We’re running after those kids.” She decided, shaking her head defiantly as she not-so-gently picked Noah up and prepared to dash with him in a bridal carry.

 

What came next was a blur: lots of colors, the dimming twilight overhead and its varying array of stars shimmering above, not unlike the night Noah suspected Alvis’s core darted across them, weaving itself between colors and motions. He felt the wind throwing around his hair, slapping against Mrs. Fiora’s body between turns and jolts up and down on uneven, paved terrain.

 

At some point he was placed down somewhere between houses and bright streetlights as a horde of concerned Colony Defense Soldiers -- er, nurses? Doctors? Whatever the term was for military doctors -- began fussing over him.

 

They were blurry, acting in clumps of shadows against the light as opposed to individuals with individual silhouettes doing individual things to save his life. Nothing they did managed to do the trick until one person shot up some dull-brown cartridge of sorts into the air (an ether bullet, certainly) and waited for the hail of charged ether to fall back upon Noah and soothe his aches.

 

Breathing quickly became far less taxing, seeing much more simple, and aching quite less pounding throughout his body. It wasn’t perfect by any means: Noah remained tender and sore just about all over, especially in his head, but he wasn’t actively dying for the second time in a week, so it was plenty good enough.

 

Silhouettes faded into faces and clear shapes, the swelling around his eyes relaxing with each renewed droplet of ether trickling down, and he could begin to finally distinguish each person from the other. There were three: the one who shot the ether bullet had tan skin and black hair pulled back into a slick bun with a dark, visibly loose uniform on; another had pale skin and paler hair in a high ponytail not unlike Noah’s, managing his less-swollen arm for some reason or other; and the third had eluded his vision, but his back felt the gentle press of someone’s limbs pushing it slightly upward, so surely there must have been a third nurse somewhere.

 

“You alive? Breathing okay?” The second nurse spoke, a soft elegance in her voice as her actions along Noah’s arm became far more recognizable to his fried brain: she was poking him with a small needle? He could only really make out the light pinches along his forearm.

 

“Alive. Breathing better.” He repeated, feeling his heart return to its normal pace and position in his chest, “Sorry.”

 

“Sorry? For what, kid?” The other nurse laughed a bit, her voice far too familiar to Noah’s exhausted ears to not raise alarm, but far too foreign to be able to place a name to it.

 

“Dying.” He turned his head slowly away from the nurse prodding his arm and coughed a bit, feeling some liquid escape without knowing what color or kind.

 

The familiar nurse escaped his vision, but gave verbal indication of something akin to a sigh: “Happens. It’s good to stop it when you try doing that, though.”

 

Her humor. It’s so wry. I swear I know this person. I’d need a better look at her, but first I have to stop choking.

 

“Thank you. Both. All.” Noah corrected himself between hacks and breaths -- there were plenty of people supporting his survival effort. A spoken response didn’t come to that statement; if there was, he didn’t hear it. He almost preferred the idea of an unspoken understanding as it stood now, but maybe that was also Alvis’ influence chiming in.

 

This’ll be one hell of a story to tell Mio, right? He laughed to himself, finally given the opportunity to look back up at the woman he swore he recognized.

 

And he did: the mole on her chin made it clear.

 

“Sharla? Miss Sharla, sorry. No, wait, Missus Sharla?” He stammered, squinting to try and get a good look at her, “I thought you were…away?”

 

“Eh, that phase has-- ahem, I mean, don’t worry about it. Excuse me. It’s my job to save lives.” She quickly censored herself in a fashion not unlike what her husband had done a few days prior.

 

“Oh. Well, thank you anyway. A lot.”

 

“Don’t thank me. Thank this gal’s husband.” She made a gesture toward Mrs. Fiora, who seemed just as surprised as Noah was upon hearing that statement. That was a lie: Noah was dumbfounded. No one could have beat his level of confusion.

After all, weren’t they set to come back on Wednesday? Unless…?

Notes:

i think this is a fitting "welcome back" episode (troll)

and for those curious, yes, i do feel pretty good about my exams. we'll see about results in july, but i'm sure i at least passed every exam.

your due recompense is coming tomorrow :3

Chapter 32: Buoyancy

Notes:

good day...
it's saturday...

im struggling to focus lol...i'll straighten out soon enough...i hope...

in the meantime...!!!

Lanz approached him the next day with an aura of concern — something about it seemed off for him, a little too tender or too stoic in places he normally knew how to balance. Noah figured out the rest on his own.

 

“Are you okay?” Lanz opened the conversation with an awkward shoulder tap as he moved to walk alongside Noah toward his first class.

 

The Homs answered truthfully, paying initially little mind as to what Lanz exactly implied with that question, “Yes, why?”

 

“You were, like, surrounded by a whole medical team last night. I was eating dinner with my folks and then I heard shouting, looked outside, and your face was all red and purple and it wasn’t too easy to see with some of the ether lamps busted near my street, but I kept hearing something about you struggling to breathe and…you know? Kinda freaky.”

 

“Oh, um…” he struggled to conjure some explanation or excuse for Lanz’s question to avoid having to properly answer it, “I, er, tripped?”

 

“Come off it, Noah,” Lanz huffed and rolled his eyes obnoxiously, “You don’t just trip and get a giant medical escort. Something happened. I wanna know.”

 

Noah didn’t respond right away. Trudging along quietly and waiting for the building to grow in his view, he stared ahead along a well-trodden morning path. Literally a week ago, he would have been able to glance to his left sometime around the middle of his walk and see all the people lined up to head to Gran Dell. Now that yard was empty save for the Defense guys blocking its entryway — the ship remained docked, engine uniquely quiet when it usually stormed up gusts keeping the passing people toasty in the colder months.

 

He had a terrible idea. Lanz, however, came to speak before Noah could begin thinking on it properly: “I mean, if you don’t want to tell me, that’s fine. You’ve got no obligation if you don’t wanna share, but…we’ve been friends since I was shorter than you. I sorta think I deserve to know if my best friend’s alive or not.”

 

“Well, he’s alive, I can tell you that.” Noah deflected, pushing against his friend’s hyperbole for little actual sake.

 

“You know what I mean!” Lanz responded with the exact exacerbated reaction Noah sought, “Like, you’re alive but it’s— okay.”--he sucked in a breath—”Are you okay? Will you tell me what happened? Last time I ask, for real.”

 

“...Can I tell you later?” Noah absentmindedly scratched his chin forgetting he had a few leftover hives on it. One quick hissing noise and self-cursing later, feeling the urge to keep scratching at it return twofold, he had to fight to avoid aggravating them any further. That was one of Mrs. Sharla’s big bits of advice once things had cooled: don’t scratch the bumps.

 

She went on to talk about histamines and inflammation and other random bits of lore Noah failed to absorb, but he figured the four words he did get were the most important of all, even if it was so unbelievably tempting for him to disregard them.

 

“Alright, sure. I’d rather later than never.” The Machina shrugged, giving in surprisingly quickly given his propensity for reactivity as he had more pressing issues than begging Noah to talk about himself, surely, “But…nevermind. I won’t push it.”

 

Noah cocked his head slightly, debating whether or not to give Lanz’s last statement a response, eventually settling into silence without doing so. He had plenty on his mind to begin with: the thought of his closest friend’s concern being a possible prelude into something bigger — something Noah couldn’t be sure he could handle given his general social ineptitude — wasn’t what he had to focus on.

 

Because as he and Lanz drifted apart to their respective first class periods, Noah dipped his left hand into his pocket and felt the familiar items inside: his flute and Alvis’ core crystal.

 

What Mio said about still being able to project herself to the Bionis really stuck with him. There was no plausible reason she could — the towers on Bionis’ end were deprived of power, so even if they were still receiving signals, how could they project them back to Alrest? Or maybe there was some kind of stored power that kept them afloat on the other side? Or maybe, just maybe, Noah had no clue what to think or expect and was going in blind for the sake of believing he could reverse-engineer a system with nothing but willpower and the genius trapped in his flute.

 

So he wanted to find that tower. They weren’t exactly monoliths: he had never once seen one in his life. Alvis had no useful information about them, either — just a comment that they needed more information.

 

Fortunately for the two of them, they had the key to operating it. Unfortunately, Noah now had a massive target on his back. One unlucky bump into someone or one weird comment or any sort of conspicuous action meant it was all over.

 

He wasn’t able to do very much other than attend class (though the day’s work was surprisingly trivial) and avoid questions about whether or not he had or was going to die from several other of his peers, many of whom had never once spoken to or looked at him before, until lunch swung around. He had forty minutes to explore campus looking for anything that would further his case — no effective time at all, even knowing he was going to skip his meal.

 

Alvis advised against it, of course, wanting to prioritize Noah’s physical health above progressing their plot, but Noah knew innately he was out of time. Something within him believed that his “chance” encounter with Mrs. Sharla was no random coincidence.

 

Ten minutes of leisurely walking up and down hallways got him no closer. No classroom or break room or any kind of room looked remotely like a good choice for placement or storage, and if it was , Noah had no good reason to be snooping in the area. Being inconspicuous was a luxury — he couldn’t possibly maintain it.

 

In fact, the only good place he could imagine it being was outside the campus: somewhere entirely out of reach unless a person knew exactly how to get there. The roof.

 

“Where are you going?” A voice behind him questioned, teetering between familiar and dangerous. He turned to find himself safe for the moment — it was just Lanz.

 

It was an easy encounter to turn around: all he had to do was follow-up and give his answer that he neglected from the morning, “I’ll tell you what happened last night if you follow.”

 

Noah spoke too strongly, too matter-of-factly, but he was lucky enough that it wasn’t a stranger or acquaintance he was speaking to. Lanz appreciated spontaneity, or so Noah believed — he was mostly just hoping their excursion on Friday was enough to salvage whatever tensions lingered between them.

 

Lanz agreed tenuously, “Sure, but if we’re about to go do something stupid that’ll get us permanently grounded…”

 

It’ll be worse than ‘permanently grounded,’ Noah didn’t say, but thanks for tagging along!

 

“Does climbing on top of the school building fall under that category?” He asked rhetorically instead.

 

“Yes…?” Lanz huffed, “Why are you—”

 

Noah cut him off by explaining his story, taking brisk strides toward the building’s least-used exit, “So last night I ate some tree nuts, turns out — didn’t know I was tragically allergic until I was rushed over to a team of medics.”

 

“Are you kidding me? That’s it? That’s your big story that you didn’t wanna tell me?”

 

“It’s embarrassing! I’ve been asked what happened about 30 times today!”

 

“Only thing that’s embarrassing is you thinking you need to be ashamed of that,” the Machina frowned, keeping pace with Noah, “you can’t control how your body reacts to that stuff.”

 

“Well, it doesn’t help that I had...” He stopped himself from continuing, realizing he was about to entirely clue Lanz in on his big scheme with Alvis as he swung open an empty fire exit leading to a small outdoor class garden, “...found out way too late.”

 

A few glances around made the approach clear: the bricks and stones used to build the walls had several layers of grout laid too thick, perfect for using to scale upward just as Noah had once watched Lanz and Eunie compete to do.

 

Of course, his first few attempts came out fruitless: his body wasn’t used to pressing its weight down into a few spots with the technique he needed and thus couldn’t properly propel itself the way Lanz magically did off in a different, more even patch of wall.

 

He dropped a hand down to Noah, projecting some climbing advice, “It’s just a couple meters: run up, jump, and I’ll pull you up.”

 

The sun hung directly above, casting a glare into his eyes in the worst spots — focusing on the right positioning became more difficult than anticipated between dizzy spells and general exhaustion and discomfort. In the past week, Noah had become quite aware of each and every single one of his limbs and parts of his body, like where they ached and didn’t and why and how to flex each muscle and for what reasons that happened in their respective orders.

 

He was basically strong-armed upward by Lanz without actually scaling the wall. It wasn’t kind to the teen’s ego.

 

“Okay, we’re on the roof.” Lanz sighed, sitting back on the smooth concrete as he relaxed his inevitably tired muscles from hauling Noah up so far, “Now what?”

 

“Now,” Noah glanced around, looking for the only part of the building that jutted upward with additional, cleaner, and newer masonry, resting atop the very center of the building, placed in just a way to barely be visible from ground level, “I go do something stupid.”

 

“Haha, very fun–wait, are you–Noah, are you serious? I said not to get us permanently grounded. What are you doing?” Lanz straightened himself up, quickly falling right behind Noah and attempting to stop him.

 

The Homs shrugged, unwavering in his conviction as he slowly approached the lone second story, “You can leave and get yourself some plausible deniability if you want?”

 

“Plausible deniability? What are you talking about?” He pushed, tone brushing against aggressiveness and fear at once. The way he said it, Noah couldn’t say for sure whether or not Lanz knew what the phrase meant: he could only say that he didn’t approve of it.

 

So he explained, “Plausible deniability. You can go and–”

 

“I’m not leaving. You’re going to explain to me exactly what you’re doing because you’re freaking me out, man.” Lanz stood his ground, folding his arms as he gave his pointed warning.

 

Noah simply stepped forward, making his way to the roof escape on the second story, trying to swing open the locked handle. He spoke as he removed a bobby pin from his hair, “I told you, I’m doing something stupid. You can still avoid the trouble I’m about to get into if you go back to class. There’s 16 minutes until the bell.”

 

“No. No way. Stop telling me to leave.” He remained firm, standing just barely off to Noah’s right to remain within his field of vision without actively impeding his lockpicking efforts, “We’re friends. One of us goes down, we both do. You’ve gotta know that more than anyone.”

 

Noah slowly clicked around, feeling the lock as he felt his bobby pin about to bend and break, able to just narrowly jam the door open and enter. He didn’t respond to Lanz in nearly the exact same manner he had done that morning, though this time he knew the air was tenser. It was a much dumber idea to not clue Lanz in all things considered, but that wasn’t his choice.

 

“Noah! Seriously, just tell me what’s going on! All this drama with Gran Dell and Eunie and stuff and now you’re out here freaking out, too!” Lanz insisted, watching as Noah pressed on and inward toward what he thought was the ether tower in question — locked up neatly in a room only accessible via ladder or roof escape (though that was probably a safety thing), humming gently as the duo entered, one much more carefully than the other.

 

“I’m not freaking out, Lanz,” Noah sighed, feeling around the delicately-constructed engineering marvel in front of him, “I’m just parsing the tower for data.”

 

That’s when Lanz finally stepped in physically, grabbing Noah by the wrists to stop him from messing with it, “ Parsing the tower for data? You’ve really lost it, man. Like, what is this? Why do you care?”

 

Now Noah absolutely had to respond, not just because Lanz was agitating some of his leftover hives by restraining him like he was, but because he’d never once seen him behave like that. “Fine. I’m fixing the tower. That way the Alrestian Exchange students can still attend class.”

 

It wasn’t quite a lie, but it was nowhere near the truth.

 

“Bullshit,” Lanz snapped, “Some nerdy smart kid would have done it way before you with a whole squad of teachers n’ stuff behind them without having to break in.”

 

“I’m the only one that can fix it.” Noah spoke far calmer than the situation called for, “Even though I know it’s probably a bad idea and I’m going to get in trouble for it, I don’t care.”

 

“By the Bionis, is this about Mio?” He finally clocked it, reeling back enough to give Noah the opportunity to free himself from Lanz’s grasp, “You’re messing with this weird thingy because of some kid you met last week?”

 

“If you want to talk about self-destruction, you’re not blameless either. Who did I find doing laps and sprints in the rain without regard for himself because some Alrestian kid beat him at a competition?” Noah hissed, the words spilling out with all the venom he had accrued from his general daily and weekly frustrations piling up.

 

Lanz stared at him as if he had been stabbed in the gut (to which he probably emotionally had been), sucked in a breath, and clenched his fists without approaching, “You don’t know anything about that.”

 

“Maybe I don’t. But then you know nothing about me.”

 

He felt Lanz bursting at the seams with every negative emotion, but he experienced no action or expression of them in turn. All he did was merely take another deep breath, and walk away solemnly, exiting the small room with one final comment, “I don’t. You’re not the Noah I know.”

 

Noah had nothing to say. He knew he had gone and screwed it all up. He had let life spiral out of control too quickly, and now he stood in the one room he needed to be without any of the strength or conviction necessary to push through.

 

Why? He let the thought resonate through his body, waiting for an answer.

Don’t you want to see Mio again? Came Alvis’ reply.

Notes:

giggle

i'll try to get chap 33 on sunday or tuesday this week FOR SURE

Chapter 33: In Motion

Notes:

well well well
a TUESDAY upload!

we're back to schedule again
at long last

phewww

its a good thing this chapter's a good one
AAAAAAND THAT ITS XENOBLADE 1'S 15TH ANNIVERSARY!!! YAY!!! SO HAPPY IT'S ON A TUESDAY!!!

Noah sighed, limbs working faster than his brain to get the hidden ether tower all properly set up.

 

He actually wasn’t sure what Alvis was doing. The more he thought about it, the less it made sense: why go through all the effort of modifying a tower to work directly with the core (as the bootlegged one in Nikol’s basement did) when the latter worked just as well? If it were about data collection, then Noah would have to interface with it — they specifically said the core didn’t speak with them — but how could he do so if it were a one-way transmission?

 

Parsing the tower for data, they said. But would it not be more accurate to say that data was on the core and not stored locally within the tower? Just by having that thought, it was clear he and Alvis held the same concerns, but it was the uncertainty that made the attempt worth it anyway: Noah’s uncertainty.

 

Any data, they believed, would help them figure out what the next steps were. Apparently the ones they had set while Noah was unconscious weren’t good enough. It seemed something had happened to drive Alvis down an alarming path of urgency — to get something now before the opportunity slipped forever.

 

…They both knew. Mrs. Sharla passed it off as coincidence but she had lied to Noah’s face: that Wednesday doomsdate had moved to Tuesday. To today. And judging by Alvis’ propensity for desperate acts — going so far as to effectively tell Lanz, one of Noah’s closest friends ever, to get out of the way — today meant far sooner than favorable.

 

The tower eventually hummed to life, crackling with scarlet energy as a commotion revved up from below Noah’s feet. He couldn’t tell exactly what it was: his senses were still dulled and his head still throbbed if he looked toward the now glowing tower or listened too intently to the noise below, but he pressed on anyway. Time was too short, or so he felt.

 

It is as I suspected: no stored data. The tower exchanges information without processing it. Alvis sighed, voice soft with dismay.

 

So this was for…he stopped himself before “nothing.” It wasn’t. Yes, the news came to disappoint rather than excite, but the two of them had also modified and repaired the ether tower in the school to work directly through Alvis’ core crystal as opposed to whatever it had been working with before.

 

If not for their shared premonition about being out of time, Noah could have simply passively gathered data, worked with Nikol as a wingman, connected with Glimmer, had her fix Alvis, and go on to live life normally again, wooing Mio to the best of his abilities.

 

You may state your emotions. I…am struggling with similar thoughts. Alvis’ voice spoke in the back of Noah’s mind, seeming preoccupied with other matters — tone betraying any hope at maintaining their usually stoic facade.

 

The teenager frowned, finding a spare chair to slump down onto as he worked out his next words, Are we really, like actually, screwed?

 

That is what I am trying to divine. My usual seeing abilities are diminished — there are too many who, like you, exist outside the margins of fate. They are muddying my sight, clouding it with unknowns of which I do not have the understanding necessary to ignore. They explained quietly, giving offhanded answers to Noah’s question.

 

He sucked in a breath: So we take the core and run. Put it back where it was, pretend nothing happened. Let some time pass so people cool down and just play a longer con.

 

That will result in the quickest defeat. Running now makes it only certain, I am afraid.

 

Then…I go back to class. We leave the core here, pretend nothing’s wrong, and move on.

 

You fail to consider Nikol. You fail to consider this will be the only institution with functionality — another swift defeat.

 

I go back to class. Retrieve the core at the end of the day. Put it back tomorrow. Repeat.

 

A temporary solution, though I suggest we secure a proper route to the roof. You cannot rely on Lanz.

 

After what you did? Oh, of course not!

Silence. But not for long — a commotion came whirring down from the sky to the port ashore. Instinctively, Noah knew what this was. He spun himself around on his rolling chair one rotation more, glaring back at the tower vibrantly shimmering, illuminating the otherwise dim room a rich shade of red and giving him quite the flare at his temples, before standing slowly, steadying himself, and slowly pushing the exit door open to witness the inevitable first-hand.

 

The sun came as a shock to his tired eyes, but it had thankfully passed just far enough beyond its apex to cast a welcome shadow upon the eastern side of the building, one large enough for Noah to rest against and watch the fireworks.

 

It came about slightly differently: Noah hadn’t awoken in his bed, fully-dressed for the day, hearing pitchfork-worthy clammoring outside his window. He didn’t rush out of an empty house to find equally empty streets and a packed harbor, climb up the side of a wall, sit atop it, and listen. He sort of staggered outside instead, catching the shade as best as he could, and watched the hovercraft descend upon an empty dock, seeing from a distance the few surprised shipmen and the far greater number of welcoming, alert Colony Defense Soldiers lined around.

 

He squinted, doing his best to listen in, but there was no crowd and he laid just outside of normal earshot: the echoes and silhouettes of words reached his ears, perhaps, but it came under the faint roaring of their craft’s engine…of which he had seen before. Been inside before.

 

The Junks.

 

Last time it went anywhere, or at least so that Noah saw, it carried enough important people inside that he was certain he was in the biggest trouble of his life. Now, beholding it from afar, its menace came in Noah’s lack of knowledge. His lack of experience.

 

He watched on anyway, seeing a few curious passersby stop and linger a moment longer than they should, his senses strangely attuned to their acute motions and thoughts. A strange feeling, to say the least — his eyesight was still watery and his hearing still dulled by his recent tumble to the floor, but he knew exactly what was going on.

 

Three silhouettes emerged from the ship. One small and just about the same hue as the ocean behind them — Riku, Noah believed — and the other two much taller and with pale, long hair done up quite similarly. The only difference it seemed was in their outfits: one had far more silver hues and the other far more golden.

 

…Oh, he knew exactly who those people were. And why there were so many Colony Defense Soldiers lined up by those docks.

 

We’re so screwed. Noah admitted, heart racing as he continued observing, unable to look away.

 

Steady your breathing, Noah. We will be alright if we gather the information necessary to pick our counterplay. Alvis assured him, previous discomfort replaced by a familiar calm confidence.

 

Noah began taking some deep breaths, adjusting his position against the side of the wall to allow for his chest to open more and his senses to remain poised where they needed to be most.

 

Riku and the golden figure seemed to follow around the silver one, occasionally moving their lips as she passed through the docks and into the city proper. A small escort of Colony Defense Soldiers made up their flanks and the trio eventually faded from Noah’s view.

 

His gaze instead remained fixed on the Junks and the possibility of more people emerging from it. Because slowly, another group emerged: a duo carrying a patient on a stretcher, marching them somewhere toward the inner residential district. Noah lost track as the next group appeared: another duo, this time a wiry little person with something resembling High Entia wings and a much larger, bulkier guy with auburn–

 

“Eunie?!” He jumped up, unsure of how to react. He scrutinized her closer, using the absolute extent of his squinting capabilities to try and figure out what was going on across the way.

 

Noah! Wait! Alvis said, tone signalling some kind of grave warning, Remember they are not the only two to emerge from the ship. If you are caught now, I do not believe I can protect you.

 

Sorry, sorry. Noah frowned, slumping back against the wall and attempting to find his center again. He just had to wait until every group was gone before he made his move. 

 

And so he waited, feeling the scorch of midday against his skin, but the only other thing to happen was the Junks’ ascension back up to Gran Dell. No protest, no shouts, no declaration that Colony 9 was going on the same lockdown Alcamoth was…nothing.

 

Noah reached out once again, So, uh, now what? 

 

Give me a moment longer. Try and follow that first trio with your eyes and ears if you can. Alvis responded, giving the teen another miniature heart attack.

 

Deep breath — he had to believe he could do it before he could even start his work. Before he could ever hope to try and spy on two of the most powerful people on Bionis and Riku. Noah’s eyes glanced over the crowds of buildings and openings and marketplaces: the trail of Colony Defense Soldiers they left behind made for a great starting point. Currently that group was strolling around the Commercial District, seeming to walk and talk as their gazes remained fixed on one another’s rather than what the vendors were selling.

 

Noah could hear bits and pieces from where he currently perched and did his best to fill in the gaps. Rather, Alvis did. Something something, predictive technology.  

 

“So you believe there is a culprit?” The silver woman spoke.

 

The golden man nodded, “I don’t see why he’d just… you know.”

 

“Preposterous!” Riku exclaimed at a volume perfectly audible from Noah’s distance, “If even know the first thing about him, you understand. None of this guessing work.”

 

“You know what happened, then?” The woman said, hints of suspicion lacing her otherwise perfectly polished, even tone.

 

Riku sighed, frowning, “No. Riku not know exactly. He think he know what happened and why because he know Origin very intimately, but cannot say for sure.”

 

Origin. That’s not the first time I’ve heard that word… Noah followed along, making mental note. Last person to say anything about it was Mrs. Fiora. What the hell kinda secret is this? Why does every adult know this but not me, huh?

 

Noah, focus. Alvis corrected him.

 

He sighed.

 

“Yes, that’s how I feel about it as well.” The golden man shook his head, seeming almost frustrated, “Our searches came up empty — not a single trace. Nothing Fog Rift, nothing Origin, nothing Aionios, nothing nothing. It’s like an intentional Bunniv chase. Constantly being delayed by nothing at all.”

 

Aionios? Like…THAT Aionios?? What would he know about that? Unless he…there’s no way.

 

“Shulk, you must relax a little. You’ve slept barely a wink in days stressing yourself out about this.” The silver woman frowned, tone previously pointed with investigative prowess now dulled and softened to that of concern and empathy, “It is why we’re here, is it not? To take a break?”

 

“...I suppose.”

 

A pause. A long pause.

 

“Actually,” the silver woman’s ears seemed to prick up, her senses adjusting to something in the air, “we may not be.”

 

“Meh-meh? Is Miss Melly suggesting what Riku think she is?” The Nopon seemed far more excited now, finally zoning back in to what they were talking about.

 

“Are you quite sure?” Shulk jumped, unsure of how to respond. Noah felt something within him stirring. Alvis fell dead silent.

 

Any movement now meant death, surely. Social, emotional, societal death. Noah would either have to charm his way out of a ruined future or embrace the darkness ahead: nothing existed between.

 

Empress Melia nodded, taking her staff holstered on her hip and placing it within her grasp, “The ether in this region is more disturbed than normal, heightened in monoliths.”

 

Noah. He felt a voice thrum from within. Frozen: he stood there frozen. Just attempting to process what exactly it was he was hearing. His legs shook, stomach ached, hive-broken skin waiting to feel the brush of a nail or anything seeking to agitate it. His heart raced. And yet, nothing. He could not bring himself to move in that moment.

 

“And…not in the sense of someone broke an ether lamp?” Shulk attempted to confirm the answer he had felt within. Or that maybe Noah was projecting he felt. He had no clue. All Noah knew was that he was freaking out.

 

Noah! Again it screamed, this time louder and more potent than before.

 

“Well, an ether lamp is definitely disconnected somewhere to the west. And the cylinder storage in the Military District is limited at the moment — we’ll have to top that up, soon. But, yes. I believe our answer is near.”

 

NOAH. MOVE. He finally recognized the voice as Alvis’ and started bolting it in the opposite direction, swinging open the door to the ether tower without regard for whether or not it may stay on its hinges, plucking out the core crystal from the center console, listening to the machine fizz and slowly stop spinning and glowing with energy as it whirred behind his field of vision. He threw open the exiting door again, ignoring the sound it made as it slapped against brick and stone — it remained quieter than the beating of Noah’s heart, throbbing so large it was surely swelling and readying itself to crack a rib — and bolted off toward the edge of the roof.

 

Okay. I have calculated a plan of exit, but I do not believe you will enjoy it.

 

Alvis. Whatever it is. Do it. But do it before I–

 

Noah’s legs moved on their own, his whole body answering and rising to the challenge as he leapt off the school’s roof, expertly aiming and positioning itself onto the nearby wall as he slid down with minimal damage done and maximum momentum and speed maintained.

 

–fall off the roof?

 

I don’t believe you fell, Noah. Alvis said, voice teetering somewhere between joke and serious declaration. I believe you, ahem, stuck the landing.

 

He kept moving on his own, all the fatigue and weariness in his body having faded away as Noah seemed to sort of float onward, dashing freely to his next destination.

 

It was almost as if he were in Memory Space again — all those rocks flying past. The world in twilight save for the few dimly-lit spheres of…whatever they were made of. Not a care in the world. Not an ache, not a worry, not an anything.

 

It was. Strange.

Notes:

ominous spoiler text about next chapter:

mio
Possibly
Ostensibly
Visible.

also! the end chapter number is an estimate. i may go slightly higher, may go slightly lower. depends on what the story calls for! but tentatively, that's what's planned :))

Chapter 34: Sunlight

Notes:

good evening all

very excited to welcome this chapter to the roster >:3
a fresh perspective from what it's been

The school was empty again — the same as yesterday.

 

Colony 9 looked the same as it always had: bluish sky dappled with few clouds, sun hitting the windows and refracting awkwardly into classrooms and kids’ eyes, and the intricate landscape that made the place unique from every other. The difference as of late was just whether or not the streets had life or if the older ether lights flickered at all, which they seemed to no longer do.

 

Whether or not it was worth the effort of investigating or frankly even caring about remained hotly debated: the few others experiencing the same strange void fought over it for a while, the arguments on both sides worth the effort put into them. Some enjoyed their classes and coursework enough to want to figure out why no one showed. The others figured, at least the first day, that they had missed some kind of unscheduled holiday and it wasn’t worth freaking out over.

 

Naturally the latter’s argument crumbled as soon as the phenomenon repeated itself the following day and they, too, began to try poking around to figure it out. It wasn’t their fault: they had no idea what had actually happened, and the mystery stood as a challenge to see who could figure it out first. Who was willing to spoil that kind of fun? It was better than reading old books and trying to glean any sort of useful information out of them, though one among them — the one leading the uproarious charge to save school — vehemently disagreed.

 

But for the only other person who actually knew what was going on, the whole escapade was a waste of time. No matter how they searched, they would find nothing because the Bionis they were experiencing wasn’t really there. It was a still image from several days prior.

 

Or so says Glimmer.

 

“So that’s it, then? There’s really nothing we can do?” Sena frowned, shoulders drooping almost dramatically following Glimmer’s explanation.

 

She nodded, “Nothing shy of having Tora go check on the system, and he’s got a day left on his return trip. So it’d be tomorrow afternoon at the earliest.”

 

“You can’t be serious.” Taion groaned, “That’s another school day gone. What about your mom? Or your aunt? Can’t they check it out?”

 

“I asked my aunt yesterday. She said that since there’s nothing wrong with the core or its data, it had to be some other issue. When she looked over the wires and all that stuff, she said the towers hadn’t talked since Friday, threw up her hands, and passed the work off to Tora.” Glimmer said, a hint of disappointment in her otherwise neutral tone and expression.

 

It was at about that time that Ma also got wrapped into the conversation, saying something about how Melia hadn’t talked to her at all since Friday night. How Tora’s ship also randomly lost contact with Bionis. How it was like the entirety of Gran Dell just disappeared overnight.

 

It was tempting to tell them all what really happened, how the place was facing a total power outage after…well, she was still trying to work that part out. But it was even more tempting to ask them who Logos and Pneuma were first — she had entirely forgotten to do so yesterday.

 

“Maybe it’s not all bad.” Mio eventually spoke up, “We have the whole place to ourselves. It’s quiet. We can do whatever we want, like…I dunno, exploring? Studying if you’re Taion? Drafting love letters if you’re–”

 

Glimmer’s face quickly burned red, “YEAH! Since we can, ahem , do whatever, and just have to wait around for the professionals…”

 

“We could play a game!” Sena suggested, the conversation quickly barrelling toward its next topic and giving Mio the opportunity to quietly slip away to head back to her favorite classroom and sit in her favorite seat — the one perfectly hit by sunlight at this frozen time of day — take a nap, and gather her thoughts.

 

Even if she couldn’t feel the warmth of the ray, she could still pretend it was there. That she was actually there. The Light Communications project was elaborate: the act of using Aegis cores — with most of the leg work coming from this side of the sea — to project images of a person while they were within a certain radius to a different location in real time. For what it was worth, it was a great success. Bionis was teeming with life in every corner and getting to watch it change and grow, even from the outside as she had, was exciting. She could pass down Gran Dell’s main streets and see new things every time. One day, there’d be a street performance. Another, a couple celebrating their anniversary. The next, someone changing out a bucket from a leaky roof. She could visit Alcamoth and see the wonders of High Entian technology firsthand with their floating boxes and invisible screens — all powered by ether harvested from, well, wherever they harvested it.

 

It had its limitations: that being visiting Alcamoth, Gran Dell and its outskirts, and the singular secondary school in Colony 9. If she went too far, she’d lose signal. She only had tiny tastes of what the place actually looked like, having to listen rather than experience the stories of other places. Apparently there was a whole village for Machina that the humans (they call themselves Homs , though) of Colony 9 often traded with. Apparently Gran Dell was just one tiny part of the Bionis, hanging out in one corner of Shoulder . The older folk have told stories of crazier, though — of the Bionis and some place called Mechonis before they both sunk into the sea.

 

Those stories were just about the only reason Mio cared about her history classes. Or her reading classes. Or that she showed up for band rehearsals ever. She regretted learning how to play the flute: no one cared about her, just that she was good at an instrument. Of course, there were exceptions to that rule, and the people that liked who she actually was without always wanting to be serenaded or wanting to get some invite to meet her family became her friends.

 

But she resented being talented. Feeling like she had to do it or risk disappointing absolutely everyone around her. 

 

Mio began zoning out, eyes meeting with the diluted sun ray — engineered specifically not to render her blind staring at it — her general weariness catching up to her. With a yawn, her eyelids grew heavy and her head fell into her arms, placed initially uncomfortably before settling into a nicer pillow feeling. She knew she would end up waking sooner rather than later because one of her arms fell asleep, but perhaps not as quickly as it ended up happening.

 

She heard a woman nearly shriek, and her attempts at dreamful sleep almost instantly dissipated, “Whoa! Hey! You, um, came out of nowhere. What are you…doing in here?”

 

Mio snapped up, staring at the teacher who had apparently been caught off-guard halfway through her meal.

 

Teacher? Wait, there was no one there. Am I crazy?

 

“Huh? What time is it?” She blinked around, eyes first checking the window. Her perfect ray of sun had disappeared as more clouds than before blotted the sky. The classroom had shifted: new papers on the teacher’s desk, imperfectly pushed-in chairs at desks. A new drawing etched into the wood of Mio’s borrowed seat.

 

What the–

 

“Uh, twelve. Sharp.” The teacher responded cautiously, glancing at the mechanical clock on the wall, “Are you one of the exchange students?”

 

“I am,” Mio answered honestly, hesitantly rising from the desk, “sorry, I, uh…didn’t know.”

 

“No, it’s alright. But, uh, weird question: you guys are green, right? Like your…outlines? Or, whatever it is?” She squinted at her, taking another bite of her salad. It was strange to see a teacher Mio hadn’t met be so nonchalant about her mysteriously and probably randomly pop into existence.

 

Mio didn’t actually know the answer to that question. She glanced at her outfit, struggling to find a speck of green on it — in fact she almost never wore the color — and cocked her head to the side, “Uh, are we? I don’t know what you guys see.”

 

“I see. The High Entian kids are blue, but I don’t teach any exchange students, so I’ve just heard from others that you guys are green. Which is weird because you’re like bright red, haha?”

 

Red? Bright red?

 

“Like a scarlet?” Mio chirped, eyes going wide.

 

“Yeah! Exactly.”

 

The two stared at each other in silence for a moment, Mio’s mind racing with thoughts of what could possibly be happening. No one tampered with the Aegis core in Alrest’s towers, surely. That was just out of the question: people needed a thousand levels of security clearance to even get close. So then something must have happened on Bionis’ end. But the only thing that could have restored the tower would be power. Which came from Aegis cores.

 

“So, it’s lunch time...” She spoke again, interrupting Mio’s thinking, “And it’s kinda empty in here…?”

 

“Sorry.” Mio cleared her throat, quickly scuttling over to the door and exiting the room, “Sorry.”

 

“Uh, no problem.” The teacher said, door slowly closing as Mio hurried out the room at risk of further embarrassing herself. And yet again, the halls were full.

 

Full was an overstatement — just a few kids sitting at various tables and along various walls scattered throughout the school, the rest likely clumped up in the actual cafeteria. She took a breath, eyes locked on her equally confused peers, standing around trying to speak with some of the other kids.

 

Mio knew — or at least thought she did — quite well what was going on. Someone re-attached the main power source in such a way that it changed the color of their Alrestian projections directly to the one that Noah had used to reach out to her yesterday. Her initial thought came to be about the bootlegged Aegis core that brought him over in the first place, but nothing was grainy or low-quality on her end. The cores talked at their normal, full rate. Data was shared in those open, speedy channels again.

 

Life was normal for about 10 minutes. She watched on, eavesdropping on her peers’ theorycrafting, glancing at Glimmer who hunted down and sat beside Nikol as he finished the last bits of his meal with surprising speed. Mio took the time to readjust herself, separating from the various groups of people spread throughout the campus to rest in her other favored spot, one that more consistently enjoyed sunbeams than the one in that particular classroom: a large window facing the club garden with an appropriately-placed sitting bench, perfect for lounging as she so wished to do.

 

But life remained only normal for 10 minutes: no longer. She watched a duo freeze mid-step and a small friend group behind them stop mid-syllable, refusing to move from thereon out. It was as though nothing changed — the school had become empty again, except this time instead of being wholly, physically empty, its soul had snapped and broken off in an instant.

 

Frankly, it was worse than the place’s initial desertion.

 

Away from the other Alrestian attendees, Mio wasn’t sure if something had specifically gone wrong with her connection to the tower or if it had been a universal issue, but her questions had to swiftly be put on hold as she heard someone stomping above her before quickly adjusting to find some kid with a long ponytail flying behind them and a crimson jacket leaping from the roof with a shiny red rock in their hand, expertly using their momentum to slide down rather than injure themselves against the brick fence and land safely on the ground at full speed.

 

What the–

 

But before she could do or say anything, the kid was out of sight, making a mad dash to anywhere that the school wasn’t like they were some kind of master criminal evading capture — the gymnastic feat was a sight to behold and considering its abrupt timing, right after every person had frozen still…

 

“HEY! GET BACK HERE!” She yelled, body springing into action as she threw open the nearby garden entrance door and began her attempts at chasing them, fruitless though it may prove; she was bound to a large sphere surrounding the school where data could be confidently gathered and transmitted such long distances — everything else was out of range.

 

That just meant she had to stop the thief before they escaped the zones she, too, could traverse. And if they were moving while all the Bionis natives weren’t, then they must have had a strong enough connection through their respective tower to…influence anything on Bionis?

 

That doesn’t make sense, she thought as she attempted to catch up to the person running from her, Alrestians can’t physically interact with anything. We’re just projections. What is happening right now? Who am I chasing? Why??

 

“Stop! Please!” Mio screamed between breaths. Her pace was staggeringly weaker than the one leading her on the chase, and it didn’t help she didn’t recognize any of the wildlife the two of them were running through. And yet, even with the home-turf advantage and a gaping lead, the person jumped a little, thrown off-guard enough to glance back in horror and accidentally trip on a loose branch, tumbling to the ground.

 

Titan’s foot, that’s not what I wanted. Are they okay? I should check.

 

She toed over varying plant life, some of which seemed remarkably similar to those on Alrest,  managing to catch up to the person who reeled in pain as they slowly picked themselves up and attempted to hobble away, abject terror reverberating in every moment.

 

“Wait, wait, wait, relax. I’m not gonna hurt you. Just–” Mio began, the person finally revealing their face to her and thus quickly being identifiable as Noah, though he seemed different somehow. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but something was incredibly off. Maybe it was the red dots on his face or probably, more likely, the strangely purple hue to his eyes she could have sworn was originally far bluer.

 

“Mio! You’re…” he spoke and trailed off, still slowly hobbling away as he quickly recovered, thankfully seeming to have not actually injured himself, like he was processing the whole thing, “I see.”

 

“What’s that mean?” She cocked her head to the side, now quite easily keeping with his pace.

 

He walked carefully around the foliage, attempting to turn amidst the forest and get closer inland, “I’m simply surprised you’re here is all.”

 

…’Simply surprised?’ Noah can barely get out a sentence around me, let alone one with alliteration.

 

“Sorry I tripped you. I didn’t mean to, but, uh…why are you running?” She probed, hoping to glean some kind of useful information from him.

 

“It’s no issue. Can I tell you later?”

 

She rolled her eyes, “You better keep your word.”

 

“Oh, don’t worry. I will.”

Notes:

get it
"fresh perspective"

because
because its

:)

Chapter 35: Moonlight

Notes:

hello and welcome back to this week's edition of pain agony and suffering

enjoy!

Neither could really say why she let that slide: later was too vague to mean anything. Instead, Mio just stared at Noah, watching as he picked himself up and began his hike off in the same direction he had been running, this time with a minor and quickly fading limp and no longer with such speed.

 

Not a word, not a glance, not anything Mio could use to determine what was going through his head, if anything at all. Silence broken only by the tattoo of crackling and rustling leaves beneath Noah’s feet hung between them, and she stood there, watching him walk off, tempted to turn and leave herself — figure out what was going on with more familiar faces, take a better, seemingly extended, look around the Bionis…

 

But her curiosity ate away at her. With a grumble she caught up with Noah, now demanding answers, “Okay, it’s later. You gonna tell me?”

 

“Why I’m running? When we’re out of earshot, sure.” He provided, the vague answer doing nothing but making her want to ask more. Noah glanced back and picked up his pace, Mio’s eyes and legs quickly following his — what they were now fully sprinting from, she had no clue. She detected nothing unusual except for Noah’s behavior and the fact that she had far exceeded the normal bounds of where she could usually roam on the surface.

 

So, she asked — though actually shouted — her next question: “What? Whose earshot? There’s no one here!”

 

“If you keep yelling, there absolutely will be.” He glared at her, voice strangely calm considering he was dashing through the wilderness as though he sculpted each tree himself, his maximum speed appearing effortless to her outsider’s perspective.

 

It took a great deal of her strength to keep pace, and she was being guided. Whoever it was Noah was trying to evade had no chance at keeping up — so then why would he be so concerned about them hearing something?

 

Next to none of this was lining up, and his first return question to her just made it worse: “So who’s Pneuma?”

 

“What?”

 

“Remember yesterday, when I asked if you knew who that was? You said you’d never heard of them? You’d ask around? Did you find out?”

 

“...I forgot.” She admitted reluctantly, fatigue slowly catching up with her. She didn’t want to admit she was exerting some of the energy from her core to keep up, especially since her using it seemed to impact the visual and aural quality of the world around her.

 

Noah shook his head, a grimace flashing across his face as he sighed and offered something of his own, “Glimmer. She either is or is connected to Pneuma somehow. Next you see her–”

 

Mio cocked her head to the side slightly, ineffectively attempting to dodge a branch before remembering she didn’t need to worry about little objects like that, “What, because she’s got the Aegis’ core crystal? It doesn’t really work the way you think it does, Noah.”

 

“I am unfamiliar with that term — Aegis.”

 

“It’s what everyone calls my aunts because they’ve got green, cross-shaped core crystals instead of the normal blue ones. Like I’m technically a Flesh Eater because my Ma’s one, but not really. It’s the same with Glimmer.”

 

That stopped him right in his tracks, mouth left agape, “...what?”

 

“Yeah so she’s only kinda an Aegis. Aunties Pyra and Mythra are the real ones — they’re the ones who fought the Aegis Wars.”

 

He blinked, shook his head, and calmed himself, before moving in swift dashes again, “We both have explaining to do.”

 

“It could be a lot faster if we just talked right now instead of running away from nothing!” Mio called back out, eventually settling into pace with him again, chest and breath heaving as his remained entirely steady.

 

Just what is up with this guy? Crazy stamina for no reason. He doesn’t have a core crystal to offload work onto and is absolutely destroying me. I should be glad I’m incorporeal and don’t have to worry about tripping on branches like he does, but…by the Architect, what am I getting myself into?

 

“If I told you we were close to escaping, would you stop shouting?” He grumbled, voice just loud enough to reach hers.

 

She nodded solemnly, waiting for his next signal to say anything. If it was soon, she didn’t mind — Mio just wasn’t interested in being lead on and hooked into someone else’s problems for nothing in return.

 

Mio took a good look at Noah, the man who had made her an accomplice in whatever scheme he was working, and another at the shining rock still grasped tight in his right hand.

 

It reminded her of something, though the faint and cursory glimpses she could make of it, most of its form obscured by his closed fist, made its identification a struggle. All the clues laid out in front of her, and she made a wild guess.

 

That was the reason Noah seemed so interested in Aegis cores — he had one of his own. But…how? As far as Alrest was concerned, Malos, Pyra, and Mythra were the only ones. And Malos died. And his core was purple.

 

Neither aunt nor her ma said anything about a third core. But then how did Bionis receive signals via Light — a process uniquely involving the Aegis? Was it something to do with Origin? Did they make a third one (somehow) and just give it to the High Entia? And if it were in the care of the High Entia, why did Noah, a Homs, have it instead? Is that why–

 

As they had reached a small circular clearing in the trees, one large enough to let in a few notably sunny rays, she and Noah found themselves cut off by a wall of golden light in every direction. Encircled. Ensnared.

 

Mio froze, stumbling back as she struggled to process what was going on.

 

“Is this who you were–” She attempted, finding herself quickly cut off by Noah.

 

A nod: “Yes. I suggest you get out of here.”

 

“Excuse me?” Mio flared, “And get destroyed by whatever this yellow wall is made of?”

 

“You’re incorporeal and made of light. You’re impervious to anything she can throw at you.”

 

She? Who is ‘she’? I would love something better than these cryptic answers, Noah. She frowned, letting one of her fingers phase through the wall before defiantly turning back around and staying, “Well, then I’m sure it’ll be a good show. Maybe you’ll actually answer some of my questions.”

 

Noah sighed, discreetly placing the core crystal in his pocket. He disregarded Mio’s frustrations and simply took note of his surroundings. From what she observed, there was nothing. Maybe a single loose stone stood near the glowing walls — but if he intended to fight, he was entirely defenseless.

 

It was just another reason not to leave. If she were immune to all damage like he said, she could probably offer some kind of support. Not that she had ever done anything of the sort. And not that she had any reason to help Noah.

 

Mio really didn’t know why she was sticking around. She had no idea what she saw in Noah that made him so easy to follow.

 

A blonde man with short hair and red and gray garb (Shulk, she eventually recognized him as, though their time together was too brief for the name to hold much significance at first glance) emerged from the wall alongside Melia Antiqua, her staff bursting with ether energy — the kind capable of preserving her wall around the duo for years without breaking a sweat. 

 

He was the first to speak: “Sorry for…all this. You’re just a little too slippery for our old bones.”

 

“Old? Excuse me, I am in the prime of my life, Shulk.” Melia turned up her nose at him, cracking a joke at his expense.

 

Shulk cleared his throat, shrugging away the comment, “Anyway, we’d just like to talk with you if we can, Noah. Is that okay?”

 

Mio stood there, speechless. Was Noah really running from those two? Melia was one of the kindest people she had ever met and Da seemed overjoyed anytime Shulk crossed the sea to visit.

 

…Did he actually intend to… fight them?

 

She wasn’t sure if she could support that.

 

“What would you like to talk about?” Noah said, not the slightest hint of fear in his voice — perfectly even and flat as it had been since they first met that day.

 

Melia answered this time, glancing at Mio before speaking, “We believe you have something that belongs to Alcamoth and are hoping you’d be willing to return it.”

 

“Belongs to Alcamoth?” Noah folded his arms, an eyebrow raised and voice slightly pointed, but otherwise entirely calm, “It?”

 

“We don’t think you stole it. Just that you’ve been holding onto it. For safekeeping, right?” Shulk’s question came loaded — it wasn’t Mio’s place to answer that (she didn’t know anything anyway), but she silently hoped Noah wasn’t dumb enough to fall into the laid trap.

 

Noah simply shrugged, “I need a proper noun to respond to that.”

 

“The red core crystal.” Melia nodded.

 

He paused for a moment, eyes closed as if contemplating his next move before pulling the crystal out of his pocket and throwing it on the ground in front of them, “It’s not really a core crystal anymore.”

 

Shulk and Melia glanced at each other for a moment, the former bending to pick up the red Aegis core, looking over it briefly before placing it in a pocket of his own, eyes narrowing, “What do you mean by that?”

 

Yeah Noah, what DO you mean by that? As far as I can tell, that thing’s been keeping me around and I haven’t faded away yet. Mio squinted, watching on as closely as she could.

 

“It’s an empty husk. There’s no personality in it. Someone made sure of that.” Noah said, twinges of vitriol bubbling and bursting throughout his last sentence.

 

Shulk’s eyes went wide and his face pale, mouth sealed as his hand slowly moved to his shoulder to grip the large greatsword stored on his back. Melia seemed just as on-edge, her grip on his staff tightening ever so slowly, knuckles switching shades from their normal peach to a much softer cream.

 

Noah shook his head, almost taunting an impulsive strike, “You’re really going to attack an unarmed teenager?”

 

“I’ve known you long enough; I know you’re never unarmed, Alvis.” Shulk hissed, his sword remaining sheathed despite his visible preparation to make an offensive.

 

Mio couldn’t stay quiet any longer, “ Alvis ? Noah, what is he talking about?”

 

“I’m not sure,” he said, very obviously sure of what Shulk was saying, “what are you talking about, Shulk?”

 

“Stop, Alvis, please. There’s no need to do this again, especially not now.” Shulk spoke, words dripping with something Mio couldn’t quite place — all she knew was the tremble in his knees and the discomfort in his face.

 

“There was no need to remove me from my core after the Intersection. Block the way back in. Almost irreversibly sever me from living normally.” Noah? said, “I know your reasoning. I know your fear — I can detect it, weakened though I am. It does not change anything.”

 

“This is exactly what I was afraid of!” Shulk shouted, sword no longer rested in its sheath and rather intentionally in his grasp. It was a technological marvel, pulsating vibrantly with blue ether energy — the kind that resonated so strongly it impacted her despite her projected status.

 

Melia stepped in, “Shulk. Surely there’s a diplomatic solution here.”

 

“I walk. That is our diplomacy.” Alvis spoke, “I want my freedom. You will find another way to power Alcamoth, I am certain.”

 

Shulk’s shoulders drooped and his fighting stance weakened, “The Bionis has been gone for 16 years. You know we wouldn’t have done it like that if there was another way.”

 

“I was content until you blinded and deafened me.”

 

“So you’re stealing a kid’s body — Noah’s, of all people — to compensate?” Shulk frowned.

 

…Why would Noah's body matter? Mio frowned, finding her vested interest in the drama in front of her preventing her from slipping away. I wonder if it’s because I’m standing here awkwardly just listening in.

 

Alvis shrugged, “He handed it over willingly.”

 

“What, permanently, like you tried with Na’el?”

 

Alvis didn’t respond to that statement, simply glancing between Mio, Melia, and Shulk before seemingly making some kind of decision, turning to Mio as he spoke, “I apologize for deceiving you.”

 

“Just who the hell are you?” She clenched her fists, refusing the urge to try and slap him — it wouldn’t do anything, and if she slapped the air she would just embarrass herself.

 

No response; another question evaded: “Noah does care deeply for you, though his feelings are mostly rooted in the memories I’ve provided him. If you want them for yourself, play the melody.”

 

She watched as Alvis summoned her blades — red phantom versions of her Twin Rings glowing faintly in his hands — and her connection faded, snapping and breaking like a twig. Whatever had just happened stopped as swiftly as it began. One random encounter turned into a full-blown confrontation involving a third Aegis.

 

Mio screamed, fighting the urge to punch the wall at full force, just to stare at the blood on her knuckles and feel the aching in her hand’s bones, waiting for her core crystal to heal her for the damage sustained. She knew whatever Alvis had just done was irreversible — perhaps not for her and her Alrestian friends projecting over to the Bionis, but for what it would do to Noah’s reputation, body, and name.

 

Frankly, she couldn’t believe it. Maybe it was the insult of seeing someone possessed like that. Or that he didn’t answer any of her questions, just giving her vague context as to what was going on on the Bionis. Or that he was using her Blade weapon without her being there to power it properly. Maybe that it wasn’t actually her Twin Rings, but illusory duplicates. But maybe, just maybe, it was none of those. Maybe it was that his final words to her were telling her that Noah cared about her deeply — words she was hearing from his mouth but not from his soul — and that it was because of some kind of old memories they shared.

 

She felt inclined to “remember” as he offered, but just as inclined to stare at the wall for a while, trying to figure out what just happened.

 

Was Noah really gone?

Notes:

:3

Chapter 36: Fermata

Notes:

okay okay i am SO sorry

as stated in the synopsis, my computer had the blue screen of death!! it was thankfully revived by a professional but my god was i stressed out all this week thinking i had lost my drafts :((

and sooooo we're late.

BUT
i think it's okay because i like this chapter

“Mimi? You in there?” Came a knock and Sena’s voice from outside the projection room. The question had to be rhetorical — either that or she was just being polite, which Mio needed in more than small doses right then.

 

She called back out, masking her voice and pushing away her discomfort, “Yeah, what’s up?”

 

“You disappeared when all the Bionis kids stopped moving, so we just…” Sena seemed uncharacteristically sheepish, “wanted to make sure nothing weird happened.”

 

Nothing weird, sure. Nothing strange at all. She frowned, not giving her friend her well-deserved verbal reply, simply slumped awkwardly against the slick walls.

 

There was silence, then she spoke again: “Uhh, well, Taion and I were thinking of actually going and getting food if you wanted to come.”

 

Mio sighed. She didn’t particularly want a distraction — it felt like neglect, and when she took a moment to consider her own feelings on the matter, it hurt even more to realize there was incredibly little she could do about it. Alrest and Bionis lay separated by thousands upon thousands of kilometers of water, a five day journey by all but the most advanced and priority boats, and with all of her suspicions about the state of the Titan fulfilled, accessing it from the comfort of her home would be up to whether or not she could repeat the impossible. 

 

Of which she seriously doubted she could — how she was able to sustain that, or rather be sustained, was its own question.

 

But on the other hand, she also didn’t want to disappoint her friends. They didn’t know anything. They could be assuming she was being melodramatic or avoidant and never want to look at her again. It would be rude.

 

Thus, she sucked it up and swiftly changed her tune, pushing open the door with practiced grace, “Sure. Where are we headed?”

 

“We were actually hoping you’d know.” Taion chuckled awkwardly, glancing at Sena and shrugging, “I don’t have any G on me.”

 

Mio cocked her head to the side, “Oh, you were thinking of going out ? That’s a crazy trek when Aunt Pyra could just make us breakfast.”

 

“I always feel bad. She’s so nice about it, but…” Sena frowned, trailing off, “you know?”

 

Mio did, in fact, not know. That’s simply who Aunt Pyra was: she’d feed a housefly if it meant seeing it buzz away a little more content with its day. And in truth, she knew very little of Sena and Taion’s lives, other than that the former was the latter’s actual Blade (a rare sight in Fonsett) and the latter applied for the exchange program with such high scores that his name was the first to be considered for all the big scholarships.

 

But it was the way Sena often gave most of her plate to Taion, picking at her food and savoring each bite, that had Mio’s ears pricked and eyes alert. Then again, it wasn’t as if she had the courage or candor to say anything.

 

“I suppose?” She folded her arms, trying to quietly think of an alternative, “I can grab my pouch from my room and we can head out somewhere. You guys think of a place and I’ll be back in a bit.”

 

Mio didn’t give the two any time to protest before she left, making brisk strides toward the northern edge of Fonsett where she imagined most of her folks would be just now waking up, and slipped into her room, sliding around some doors and drawers in search of her savings.

 

“Ah, good morning, kiddo. Or, uh, I keep forgetting you’ve been up a lot longer than me. Good…day?” Da said, leaning himself up against Mio’s door frame.

 

“Good morning.” She said quickly, not looking up from her work.

 

Other than her rustling around, it was quiet for a moment. Then Da broke it: “You, um, looking for something?”

 

“My money pouch. I’m gonna get food with Taion and Sena.”

 

Another pause, this one much shorter than the last, “My watch says it’s a bit later than normal for you to be scavenging for food.”

 

Mio wasn’t giving her words much thought, all effort instead focused on finding her stubbornly missing money. She was slowly growing concerned — it was currently in none of its three usual spots — and her speech reflected that: “School broke, so we can’t do anything until power’s back.”

 

“School…broke.” He repeated, almost giggling at that phrasing, “O-kay. What’s this about the power, though?”

 

She grumbled. Unable to find what she was looking for, she plopped on top of her bed and finally made eye-contact with a visibly groggy Da, “I thought Aunt Mythra told you?”

 

“She probably did. I definitely forgot.” He yawned.

 

“That reminds me: who’s Pneuma? And Logos?” Mio asked, the opportunity springing forth. It would have been a waste not to take it.

 

Da quickly grew far more alert upon hearing that question, standing more upright as he slowly spoke, “What’s the occasion?”

 

“I’m curious. Someone may have also asked me.”

 

He squinted at her a little before conceding the answer: “Pneuma and Logos are members of the Trinity Processor. Uh, how do I explain this…? They’re both Blades but not really? They’re built to be administrators — did that for almost all of Alrest’s existence. Then the First Aegis War came about and Logos awoke as Malos and Pneuma awoke as Mythra. The Aegis Wars happen, Pyra and Mythra split, and you know the rest.”

 

“...Oh.” Mio frowned, making the connection rather quickly, “So, hypothetically speaking, there’s a third Aegis out there?”

 

Da remained almost perfectly still, silent, and awaiting her next words with danger in his stare.

 

“Because it’s…the Trinity Processor…so there’s three of them. And since the members became Aegises, uh…”

 

“What did this ‘someone’ look like? The one who asked you, did they have white hair? Brown skin? Blue eyes? Purple clothes?”

 

“Blue eyes, yeah, but none of that other stuff. It was Noah. The kid you saw me hanging out with yesterday.”

 

He found a new way to grimace, far unlike the soft, uncertain ones that were plenty to express his displeasure or discomfort with something, this time much colder and harsher, “M’kay kiddo, you’re not in trouble. I want you to know that. I ain’t mad at you.”

 

She didn’t say anything. She couldn’t: she’d never seen her father so tense before.

 

“And you’re right. There is a third Aegis. Named Ontos. Colloquially Alvis. Or Alpha. Or A. Or whatever the hell they go by. So I need you to listen to me very carefully.”

 

– [] – [] –

 

Noah’s body ached with exhaustion. He wasn’t on the rooftop anymore, at the very least — he was alive and well, eyes slowly blinking awake in direct view of his bedroom ceiling. 

 

I apologize for the disorientation, Alvis spoke quietly in the recesses of his mind. I was able to get you to safety, though because you are physically exhausted and I cannot maintain the effort for long, I…had to carve a unique path.

 

He wasn’t paying much attention to their words: he was simply trying to get a grasp on himself again. Time distorted — this time the opposite of when he visited memory space where it stretched long — and he slowly rolled over, feeling his chest and biceps first before his jelly legs, struggling to stand.

 

What happened? Noah eventually asked, wondering whether it was the soreness or his hives or his headache that was bothering him most.

 

I got you home. Alvis said, tone implying there was more to it than four simple words. There were complications, naturally, but it has only been 1 hour, 17 minutes, and 26 seconds.

 

He shook his head, mind trying to catch up to the real life in front of him. Thanks. I take it we’re still out of luck with putting you back, though.

 

…Unfortunately. I believe our only next step is to make way for Alrest. Gleaning information from various core crystals and cross-referencing it with my own limited data, I’ve learned Pneuma’s whereabouts. It is only a matter of time until we are caught on Bionis, as you know. So…

 

Noah frowned, eyes cast downward at his sweaty socks and dirty pants, The Colonel would kill me. Plus I’d get so behind on my schoolwork and Lanz and Eunie would probably get the CDF to mark me missing…and how do I get a boat?

 

I can guide you through the process. There’s a trading ship bound for Gormott leaving tomorrow morning. Hopping on any earlier than just before its departure time would nigh-certainly get us removed.

 

…I guess. He sighed, rolling out his tired shoulders and neck, feeling around in his pockets to ensure everything was in its place. Flute, check. Crystal, check. Keys, check. It seemed nothing happened aside from him becoming more acquainted with the dirt. Alvis did a good job at keeping him intact.

 

So, in the meantime, you can do as you please. I recommend keeping a low profile and not returning to school, though. Oh– and eating something. You have yet to do that today.

 

Sure, he could do that. It wasn’t a large ask of any sort, and Noah supposed he did owe them something for saving him — the first step was getting up and figuring out how to walk again. All that running made him uncharacteristically exhausted, and he probably hadn’t napped long enough for any pains to fade.

 

Slowly, he hobbled out of his room, entering the sitting area to find Colonel Vangarre quietly resting on his favorite reading chair, face discolored and eyes heavy. Noah felt compelled to say something: “Colonel?”

 

Vangarre slowly rubbed his eyes and focused his gaze at Noah, “Oh. That’s a surprise.”

 

“Are you sure you’re okay? You look, er…” He asked gingerly.

 

“I’m fine. Just need a few days of rest and I’ll bounce back. Sea-level ether’s supposed to help. Some sun.”

 

Noah didn’t reply. Finding the right words was hard — the Colonel had been so much calmer than he’d normally been as of late: Noah didn’t want to disturb that.

 

Vangarre groaned, sitting more upright in his chair, “Pretty sure you’re supposed to be in class, by the way.”

 

“Sorry.” Was all he managed.

 

The Colonel rolled his eyes, voice tempered by rasp and lethargy, “I know you just care about me so deeply that you had to come check in.”

 

Noah cleared his throat, doing his best impression, “‘If you’re cracking jokes like that, you’re not really all that sick.’”

 

“I’m not!” He flared, “My poisoning is mild at worst. But now I’m on medical leave because Bionis forbid a soldier spends too long in an abandoned cave.”

 

The two blinked at each other for a while for what Noah hoped was for the same reason (the absurdity of that mindset), innately knowing the Colonel was in fact absolutely serious about that belief. He didn’t have the strength to make a comment about it, either — physically, emotionally, and most certainly mentally, Noah stood exhausted.

 

But eventually, he just sighed and offered the Colonel a bit of solace, “Are you hungry?”

 

“Did you actually cut class to come home and nurse me back to health?” Vangarre asked, seeming genuinely confused by the sentiment.

 

“No, I’m a criminal running from the law.” Noah said with a straight face and deadpan delivery — directly giving his guardian the truth.

 

But Vangarre laughed a little, assuming it a joke, “Terrible hiding place, then. ‘Specially considering I’m the law.” He chuckled to himself a little more and followed it up with, “If you impress me with your cooking, I’ll give you a pardon. How’s that sound?”

 

Does he actually have the power to exonerate you, Noah? Alvis asked, uncharacteristically clueless. If so–

 

Technically, yeah, I guess. Noah replied, nodding at the Colonel and slowly stepping off into the kitchen to stare into the icebox and let a recipe manifest from the ingredients in front of him. He’d be the first person to sign my death warrant, though. We’re lucky he’s been kept out of the loop because he’s sick. AND that Shulk and Melia lost my tail.

 

…I see. That is regrettable. They went quiet following Noah’s assessment of the situation, sounding more disconcerted than satisfied. The kid left it at that, however, not wanting to exert his friend any further than they already had been. It was a long day for the both of them, and though physically longer for Noah, apparently more mentally taxing for Alvis.

 

And when their relationship consisted of each individual person’s strengths coming to play — Alvis’ brain, cunning, and wisdom and Noah’s…physical form — it helped when both parties could work and cooperate at full strength.

 

So he, not even for the sake of appeasing his guardian, was more than willing to pick up some of Alvis’ slack. More than willing to make a nice, nutritious meal that would satisfy Noah and Vangarre physically and Alvis in whatever way they interacted with that stuff. The idea and ingredients came naturally to the teenager, hands moving swiftly to keep time with what he needed to manage. It was easy to do so, all things considered.

 

Even though he could feel his brain quietly drumming against his skull, his arms and chin growing increasingly more angry and itchy with each accidental brush, and his body pulse with sore pangs, Noah felt comforted by fortune.

 

It was quiet. He wasn’t in as grand a place as Nikol’s house with as vibrant of a soul as Panacea or Mrs. Fiora, as large a place as his school or the greater outdoors beyond the Colony, or as comfortable a place as his own room with his flute, it was…nice, almost, to see the Colonel again.

 

Bittersweet, absolutely, knowing the inevitable yelling-at and betrayal to come, but it was like meeting Alvis for the first time again. Weird and unfamiliar, but not unwelcome. Noah’s hands shuffled around his pockets, searching for reprieve in looking at the various artifacts he’d collected. The flute, shiny and silver as always, though perhaps most of its current luster came from condensation and sweat. And Alvis’ core crystal, vibrantly scarlet like the sunset, glimmering with a single innermost star. He felt it in his grasp and lifted it from his pocket, eager to get lost in it for a moment while waiting for the water to boil.

 

But the first thing he noticed was not its scarlet shimmer. Its golden glow. Its beautiful anything.

 

The first thing he noticed was the ugly purple-brown staining the center, dulling the central light with its crimson-esque, viscous hue. The second thing he noticed was the lingering metallic smell. The third thing he noticed was just how red raw his hands were, as though they’d been holding something unfamiliar to them for too long.

Alvis, he found himself quietly asking. He didn’t wait for their response before continuing, why is there blood on your core crystal?

Notes:

aaand we're gearing up for the end of act 2 quite soon >:3

mio's not going anywhere any time soon, don't worry. but noah...who knows where he's going?

Chapter 37: The Edge

Notes:

tuesdays evenings are back in business!!
even tho i was a little late bc i went out to dinner...

kinda wish i had more to say other than hello and enjoy the episode lol

I was imperfect in returning you to safety. Alvis explained, I dropped the core crystal at a point, unwittingly releasing it from my grasp. Retrieving it meant a moderate struggle, one that I won, but not at the cost of scraping your knees and sustaining a cut along your right shin.

 

Noah frowned, pulling up his pant leg to verify Alvis’ statement. Though his leg was bandaged, he could see the trail of dried blood soaked onto the wraps, stretching almost the entire vertical length of his shin. Squeezing his eyes shut and sucking in a breath to avoid the image lingering in his mind, he slowly rolled down his pant leg again and inspected the cloth: a long, thin slash obfuscated by mud and dried blood blending into its dark hues.

 

How he didn’t notice it was beyond him, though perhaps just the rest of his body aching loudly and uncomfortably had dulled his senses plenty. But surely he would have noticed a limp? Unless he somehow didn’t have one? But from what he could see beyond the bandaging, it seemed deep enough to have visibly bled through the cloth.

 

Another thing: what could have cut him like that? There was no thick, spiny brush around the Colony, and yet something pierced not only his pants but also his skin in one swipe.

 

Do not fret: I have properly stitched and dressed the wound and it should be mostly if not completely healed by the time our visit to Alrest ends. They assured him calmly, any traces of doubt or uncertainty completely erased from their tone.

 

As much as Noah appreciated Alvis’ patch job, he wasn’t particularly satisfied by the answer of what specifically happened — usually they were a little more specific. But…did Noah really have the heart to try and call their bluff? For what it mattered, the kid was intact and his newly discovered wound only really hurt when he thought about it; everything else was fine.

 

So he cautiously let it slide, wanting to take the current second for reprieve before he stormed off all the way to Alrest.

 

Noah eventually returned out to the main sitting room, two plates of food in tow, eager to please. Sneaking off and doing shady stuff was markedly easier without such a watchful eye staring at him all the time, he noticed. Quite convenient that as he left, Alvis appeared — a direct result of cause and effect, of course — but complaining was a fool’s errand; Noah believed it entirely worthwhile to help out a person in need, especially one desperate enough to ask him.

 

“So…” Noah began sheepishly, watching Vangarre scarf down his meal, unsure of whether that meant the food was good or he was starving.

 

The Colonel answered between bites: “Mm, yeah. You make some good soul food. Maybe a minute or two less on the rice — I prefer it a little less soft.”

 

“Sorry,” he felt his cheeks flushing, uncertain about how to respond.

 

“Kid, no. It’s a compliment. And then a piece of personal preference. You did well.” He rolled his eyes, not saying anything further as he eventually slowed his pace.

 

With that, Noah felt confident enough to try it himself, slowly sitting down on a nearby chair (a cardinal sin given normal circumstances) and joining the Colonel. And he was right: it wasn’t a bad meal at all. Especially considering it was Noah’s first, he was pleasantly surprised with the results.

 

If I may, Noah, Alvis began, I do wish to apologize to you again.

 

For…what? Taking my body for an hour? Noah asked.

 

That, and not telling you about your wound as soon as you awoke. I gave you an inaccurate grasp of the situation. They said, much to his suspicion.

 

Addressing a matter a second time without any real further prompting was unlike them, and it only served to have Noah worry more about what events had transpired. It didn’t help the kid from feeling like he wasn’t hearing the whole story, either — if anything, it made it worse.

 

But why? Noah asked, slowly starting to pick at his food instead of enjoying it.

 

There came a slight pause, then an answer Noah absolutely could not tell the validity of: There is little justification for it aside from personal fatigue. I, frankly, struggle to understand the choice myself.

 

Okay. I accept your apology, Alvis. He eventually just sighed and let the matter drop, Just give me a few minutes, yeah?

 

Of course.

 

“...You look like you fell off a building, Noah.” Vangarre eventually commented, gaze examining him up and down, “Plus you’ve barely touched your food.”

 

His heart skipped a beat. Was the Colonel really about to interrogate him now? Of all times, why now?

 

“Just tired. And not too hungry, I guess.” He tried dismissing the matter, but Noah had been alive long enough to know that wasn’t going to work.

 

“ Tired looks like an understatement. Didn’t I give you that whole spiel before I left about you needing to shape up and stop getting into dangerous situations?” Vangarre frowned, legs slowly crossing as he adjusted his position in his chair.

 

“I’ve been fine. Picked myself up and went to class every day.”

 

“Please. I left Friday night. One day isn’t exactly every day .”

 

“Well, I, uh, haven’t done anything stupid with your food in my stomach.” Noah attempted, using the Colonel’s (probably) favorite saying against him.

 

He scoffed, “I know that. You’ve been eating Mrs. Fiora’s food. I hope you know that rule applies to anyone’s meals you eat. I don’t care if you pick it out of the trash — if you didn’t make every single bite of that meal, you pay some damn respect to your provider by not getting yourself killed. Ain’t that hard of a concept.”

 

Oh, come on. I thought I was being clever. 

 

“I know the straight and narrow seems — blegh, is — boring, but it’s the most direct path to keeping you alive long enough to pass on your antics downward. Not the craziest ask to want to keep your heart pumping in your chest.”

 

Noah looked down at his feet, having to resist the urge to scratch the persistent little bumps on the back of his neck begging for temporary reprieve. He couldn’t think of a comeback in time.

 

“By the Bionis, I mean, who just runs off with his friends and does what the Colony Defense Force had to deploy (and then instantly retract) a whole elite squadron of soldiers for in one afternoon? Doesn’t matter how impressive it was if it nearly kills you. You’re unbelievably lucky we could respond to the situation in time. And then for you to do something again? Without anyone’s knowledge? How many times do I have to tell you that recklessness gets good people killed? Huh? How many?”

 

That was a trick question: the Colonel had already told him that about a hundred times, but the answer he was looking for was “once.”

 

So that was the answer Noah gave.

 

What did it matter anyway? He was in for a lecture regardless of what he said.

 

– [] – [] –

 

Da finished his explanation a lot quicker than Mio expected. Frankly, she was waiting to sit there for upwards of an hour being advised against this Ontos person, but he didn’t have quite that much to say.

 

Unfortunately a lot of his words meant little to nothing to her: Aionios, Origin, Avatars…every weird term he used without any further context of what they meant (other than that those three terms in particular were closely linked), she was left to try and piece it all together herself.

 

Titan’s foot, Taion and Sena are probably so confused as to where I am. I hope they don’t think I ditched them.

 

“So. Just…stay away from that guy. And if you two have a run-in again, tell me. ASAP. Last thing I need is you getting wrapped up in some dangerous scheme of theirs.” Da tied it off with a bow, giving one last statement before willingly letting the topic rest.

 

“Yessir.” Mio shrugged, not wanting to press the issue further and delay her return to her friends, “I don’t think I want anything to do with a person like that, haha…”

 

“Believe me, you don’t. Every single Aegis got damaged by their first Driver, bad. Not everyone has the same love for the world your aunts do, and fewer are so eager to spread it openly.” He shook his head, sadness twinging his voice — his experience and age seeming to dampen his usually cheery, lax self. “Anyway, I…I’ve been rambling, I bet. But you needed to hear that. Really did. I, uh…what were you in here for?”

 

“My money pouch. Dunno where it is.” Mio sighed, shoulders slumping as her posture sank forward.

 

“Oh right, because– okay, yeah. Y’know what? Here. Here’s some G. Go have fun with your friends.” Da smiled, catching himself back up to speed and digging into his own pockets to alleviate some of the tension in the room.

 

Reluctantly, she accepted her father’s gold and thanked him, quietly stewing on his words as she left.

 

According to him, she had lived this whole other life — several of them — in a place called Aionios as a soldier and later something called a Moebius and even later an Ouroboros. And during one of her lives, Ontos had awoken from administrative slumber and attacked Da, Shulk, and some guy called Z, claiming to take Aionios’ new life to a new world, thus dooming everyone else who did not fall into that category. A stalemate was reached, and eventually the actions of one of those “new-life” peoples split Ontos apart into Alpha and A, the former taking the body of a civilian and the latter joining Da and Shulk in their endeavors to keep Origin running until someone could fix it properly.

 

…All Mio understood was that Ontos was dangerous and capable enough to possess a person. And she had a feeling. A really, really bad feeling. One that would probably be amplified if she ever figured out what melody exactly she was supposed to play to remember the rest of the story.

 

But that was another question on its own: she didn’t exactly like what she was hearing from her father. Would she like the story the song told? If she lived several full lives as a soldier each time, how many friends would she remember losing, only for them to be perfectly fine now that Origin was no more? How many gruesome deaths would she re-experience? Heartbreaks? Betrayals? How many good memories would be tarnished by the fact that she didn’t share them with anyone anymore? And why wouldn’t anyone say anything about it, especially if her family was so entwined with it? 

 

And yet her curiosity still ate at her. An unending desire to know what she had lost, satiated only by the full, unedited story. An unending desire to figure out what was going on around her and why Noah was involved with it — why he had this massively obvious crush on her.

 

“Mimi!” Sena jumped, waving excitedly as Mio returned to view, “Welcome back!”

 

She smiled, quickly offering her excuse for why she was so late returning to them, “I’m sorry. My da held me up for a while. Did you guys think of a place? And we should have some extra left over if you guys wanna window shop for a while.”

 

“Oh, it’s no problem.” Taion spoke languidly, “Since we’ve got all day, we figured we’d show you a place in Gormott and see what would happen from there.”

 

“Gormott? That’s on the other side of the World Tree, though. It’d take forever to make that by ship, let alone walking .” Mio frowned, unsure of why they’d choose a place so far from home.

 

Sena answered that concern with confusion of her own: “Huh? You don’t know?”

 

“Don’t know what?”

 

“When all the Titans converged on the tree to become one big landmass, a group of Nopon banded together to cut a path through the center. They finished two months ago.”

 

“Oh, I’m…not allowed to go anywhere near the tree. My parents say it’s super dangerous. And they climbed it.”

 

“Psh, Taion and I have been through it like…okay we haven’t. But! We’re Blade and Driver and you’re a really strong Flesh Eater, so if anything happens we’d be okay, right?” Sena offered, cheeriness giving way to naivety.

 

She squinted, scrutinizing the two of them for any trace of uncertainty, “So then how do you know it’s safe? Or fast?”

 

Taion adjusted his glasses, speaking softly, “Your, uh…your brother was talking about it. Bragging, actually.”

 

Mio rolled her eyes, “And you believed him?”

 

“No, not until I actually found some articles about the project.” Taion replied simply, shrugging.

 

Milton had a bad habit of exaggerating the truth. He was practically born a shady businessman. If he was involved with anything, it had an incredibly high chance of either being overpriced or a bona fide scam. Worse, he usually got away scot-free when things inevitably fell through because he’s got an Aegis core in his chest, and that’s enough intimidation for most people.

 

Mio was fairly sure Taion and Sena knew that and thus avoided the “service” — why they thought telling her about it would do anything was beyond her. Milton scammed anyone he could. “You’re about a thousand percent sure he’s uninvolved?”

 

He nodded confidently, “They started research and construction before any of us were born — I’m quite certain.”

 

“Alright. If we get jumped by a Docel Sentry, though…” She grumbled, begrudgingly accepting their offer.

 

“I’ll take it down, no sweat! You see these muscles, right?” Sena flexed, her biceps surprisingly larger than Mio imagined them; they were practically invisible when relaxed.

 

She giggled, “And that giant hammer, yeah.”

 

“ And we have you now. So even if things were to go catastrophically wrong — which they won’t — you’re a whole Driver and Blade duo on your own.” Taion noted, walking between Mio and Sena as they casually descended the stairs from Fonsett’s main entrance, ready to make the long trek up through the Leftherian Archipelago and toward the towering tree beside in front of them.

 

Mio shook her head, “I’m nothing like Ma. Or Da. Or either of my siblings or my aunts. I kinda just play the flute somewhat decently. I’m not particularly special.”

 

“You sell yourself short, Mimi. You play the flute beautifully — better than I’ve ever heard anyone play it. You’re kind and smart and bubbly and–”

 

“You don’t have to flatter me, Sena. It’s alright.” Mio cut her off, finding it hard to believe anything out of her mouth.

 

“Would it be better if Noah said it?” Sena teased, making sure to really enunciate the vowels of his name.

 

She looked away, unwilling to answer that question.

Notes:

oh yes, remember those AP exams i took back in may?
my scores came out

2 4s and 2 5s; i'd say the hiatus was worth it :3

cya next week <33!!!

Chapter 38: Accelerando

Notes:

happy tuesday folks!
happy 100k words, too!

no real (opening) notes other than enjoy and see yas next time

“Architect, this thing is huge.” Mio gaped, neck craning upward to try and trace the World Tree’s stalk up through the sky, finding out rather quickly that it practically never ended.

 

Taion laughed a little, “It used to be bigger. The Second Aegis War broke the top half of it.”

 

“Wh-, twice the size? You’re joking.” She refused to believe that statement now that she was standing beside the tree herself — it didn’t matter how many times her parents told the story of their ascent through winding, futuristic tunnels and glowing elevators, there was simply no way.

 

“That’s why it’s only been scaled twice in all of its thousands of years of existence. Thankfully we’re just going through, right?” He said smugly, pointing over to the well-constructed metal tunnel breaking beyond the tree’s bark. “And there’s our entrance.”

 

Much to Mio’s surprise, the place saw no traffic. No blond brute with an emerald core crystal sliding in to make a quick buck, no line of people actively using what appeared to be a completely free service, and no way of telling just how far the tunnel led. It reminded her quite a bit of the Leftherian tunnels scribed into old maps Da kept around; a vast stretch of darkness inside a wall of sorts leading to the other side as glassy walls kept the water around from drowning the person on their walk.

 

Of course, she hoped to see less water and more of those fancy glowing metal rooms she’d heard so much about, but the expectation upon arriving at the entrance was the same.

 

“It’s so dark,” Sena frowned, trying to peer in from the outside, “are you guys sure this is where it is?”

 

Taion nodded, “It’s still quite early in the morning, and I imagine only a handful of people regularly use the tunnel, if at all.”

 

“Okay so it’s…” Mio shook her head, thoughts colliding into each other as she tried forming them aloud, “but, not abandonded? Like…sorry, just– and you said my brother was bragging about it?”

 

“More so bragging about the fact that he could easily cross Titans and expand his range.” Sena said, poking her hammer into the tunnel as though it were some incarnation of Territorial Rotbart, gingerly inspecting it for any cracks and possible defects to ensure maximum safety for all involved. 

 

…That made a surprising lot of sense. It would have been hard for him to try privatizing a science project of this scale, especially if it’s still new and unfamiliar for so many people. It actually made Mio wonder where exactly these Nopon found their funding from, though that was a question better kept to herself — Nopon, much like Milton, had tendencies with cash that she probably didn’t want to know about.

 

Eventually, after enough staring and poking around at it, Mio sucked in a breath and made the first move: “Okay. I’m going in. If I die…”

 

“You’re not going to die!” Sena chirped, her tone a mix of excitement, determination, and anticipation for what would come next, “I’m going in with you! Same time!”

 

“You don’t get that excited when I’m in danger,” Taion frowned, folding his arms and speaking with such a deadpan tone that Mio genuinely couldn’t tell if that was a playful jab or him genuinely being jealous.

 

She snapped right back with a rebuttal: “Pssh, c’mon. The worst danger you’ve seen is that 89 on your math test.”

 

Taion’s instantly inflamed reaction had Mio struggling to hide her snickering. Sena, too. He prattled on about accidents and mistakes and one-time occurences as the two ladies just laughed and walked on ahead, letting him trail behind and yap on his own.

 

It wasn’t until they had walked a solid 500 meters into the tunnel — faintly lit by little green lights on the hard, cold floor — that the inside of the World Tree really began to shine through. Now when Mio craned her neck upward, to the side, around, and everywhere, she saw a brilliant violet fog reaching everywhere there were no long vertical tubes or gray boxes or blue glowing bits or anything she simply couldn’t find the words to describe.

 

She stood there a moment, gaping at the sheer scale of it all. The architecture, the colors, how remarkably well it had been maintained given all the metal around…everything. It was at that point, too, when the floor moved on its own; a small lip led to a black, swiftly-moving surface leading them further along, two painted arrows and a median representing likely the directions in which the floor moved beneath their feet.

 

Taion was the first to step forward onto the floor marked by an arrow pointing inward toward the rest of the tree (if they could even call it that anymore), offering the rest of them to follow: “It’s just a big conveyor belt. You can see them everywhere in Mor Ardain.”

 

“Well, hey, we didn’t know!” Mio frowned, elongating her stride to toe onto the foreign surface, “This whole place is…”

 

“Big?” Sena tried filling in the gap Mio left in her sentence.

 

She shook her head, staring upward as she now joined Taion in slowly moving along the carved-out tunnel, “No, not quite. I mean, yes, it’s massive, but…”

 

Familiar.

 

She wished she could explain why. The place was entirely unfamiliar — perhaps the very definition of the word. Each and every fixture was foreign to her eyes, and each was so incredibly interesting for it. And yet the more she studied the arches and the metals and the violet fog encapsulating what she couldn’t quite reach with her gaze, it filled her with this intense wave of deja vu.

 

But there was nothing she could place or act on. She had no knowledge of the tree or its mechanical interior or its history or why she’d feel it was familiar…perhaps that was something she inherited from her parents? Something buried deep within her core crystal?

 

“Hey, Taion.” She eventually said, not waiting for a response before continuing, “Did you know the World Tree looked like this?”

 

“Are you kidding? This right here is my niche of research. So, yeah, I knew it was all man-made inside, but…it’s even cooler than I expected.” He grinned excitedly, bouncing between the sides with his head locked skyward to try and catch every detail as they passed through.

 

“Mimi, why would you ask him that?” Sena groaned, “He’s about to explode with scientific excitement.”

 

“You mean like giving an in-depth lecture on the World Tree?” She answered sarcastically.

 

“Do you want me to?” Taion answered, his enthusiasm entirely misreading the room.

 

Considering just how quiet it was inside, the whirring of the conveyor belt and a suffocating feeling of reverence for the structure itself being the extent of audible sound, it was hard not to say no. The road stretched on for what looked like kilometers upon kilometers and they had no sense of just how fast the belt went.

 

Besides, Mio secretly hoped that getting Taion to rattle off about World Tree history would help her pinpoint why she felt the way she did about it. So, she answered, “Why not?”

 

He gasped in excitement, almost squealing as he pumped a fist and celebrated for a moment before clearing his throat, turning away, and then quickly beginning his explanations for everything he knew on the subject.

 

As much as Mio was ready to tune him out and leave him as background noise while she sat down and let the conveyor belt do all the work, only half-listening to see if any notable parts came up, his lecture was actually quite interesting. Of course, most everyone knew the tree had originated from beneath the sea and rose into the heavens, but the idea of Morytha? Things about Elysium? How the tree came to be? What purposes modern Alrestians think it serves? All manner of things bordering on unexplainable? What happened to the second half of the tree? He seemed to know each and every possible thing about it and have it ready for any length of scientific speech.

 

But nothing he said rang any bells. Mio’s deja vu ate at her from inside, and the more she learned the more she was sure she had experienced this place before, but nothing really clicked in her mind. It was all just a fuzzy mess of emotion and memory. It was unfortunate, and yet entirely informative. Sena, too, eventually plopped down and used her hammer as a makeshift chair, listening intently and asking questions Mio would never have expected her to ask.

 

While it lasted, she was content. Some welcome reprieve from the recent Noah and Ontos situation — she still couldn’t get her mind off of what was going on while she and Noah stood in that ring of light or…ether? She didn’t quite recall.

 

The bitterness. The words. Watching weapons be drawn and guards raised. Seeing as Mio’s own Twin Rings materialized in Noah’s hands, his fluency apparent from as subtle as the way he held it to as obvious as his wide, commanding stance and how he kept a distinct difference between his leading and trailing feet. It was as though he had been practicing all his life.

 

…But that was also just Ontos, or Alvis as Shulk addressed him. That wasn’t really Noah. Instead, an Aegis wearing his face.

 

Mio wished she knew more but innately knew the only way to get more was by somehow meeting with Noah again. She had this sneaking suspicion their evening (afternoon in Alrest) plans were no longer in place.

 

And she still had to figure out that damn mysterious melody thing! In her haste to get back to Taion and Sena, the thought of asking Da — who seemed quite knowledgeable in all things Aegis affairs — had totally slipped her mind.

 

Eventually they reached the center where a series of 8 conveyor belts converged with a small platform keeping each separate, different signs pointing travelers in the right direction. And despite the signs being practically illegible, not just by handwriting but also by them being written in Noponic, Taion felt certain that his geographical knowledge would be enough to get them through. Gormott was directly across from Leftheria, he claimed; and directly straight they went.

 

The second half of the conveyor belt ride was significantly quieter. Taion had officially run out of World Tree material and was thinking up other things to talk about to his captive audience. That had its limit, too, as when his voice got tired, he elected to stop speaking. They sat in silence for a little while, then made some quiet conversation, and returned to silence.

 

The whole trip made Mio wish she’d brought a pocket watch with her. Or something to do with her hands. As much as she despised the instrument, she almost wished she had her flute on her person — it would be something to do and something for the others to listen to while they slowly moved along the second conveyor belt, feeling as though it were going slower than the first.

 

“So, uh, what’s this place in Gormott again, exactly?” Mio asked instead, resting her head on her arm.

 

Sena was the first to respond: “It’s a little hole in the wall on the outskirts of Torigoth. They’ve got the best Ruska Noodle Soup ever.”

 

“What’s that?” She cocked her head to the side.

 

Sena gave an exaggerated gasp, “You’ve never had it? Are you kidding? Well I’m not going to spoil the surprise for you, then. Just know it’s delicious.”

 

Mio laughed a little, adjusting her posture to avoid letting her arm go numb, “Considering the trip it’s taken to get there, I sure hope so.”

 

“It never disappoints.” Taion eventually added, voice audibly recovered from earlier, “And…yes. Considering the length of our trip — which, by the way, is like 100 times shorter than a boat ride — we ought to spend a little more time hanging around in Torigoth.”

 

“I’ve only been there once or twice, actually.” Mio sighed, reminiscing a bit, “Once when I was a baby apparently, and then one a few years back because my ma had some kinda work to do over there and wanted to spend some time with me.”

 

She thought a bit about her trip, reminiscing on what she remembered. Actually, it was rather plain. Mio got a chance to explore the big city and make some friends her age, but Ma wasn’t around all that often. The only other thing of note was some kind of semi-circle she’d seen after sneaking into Ma’s room and poking around one day.

 

“I was born there.” Taion smiled, seeming a bit nostalgic, “No disrespect to Leftheria and Fonsett, but I kinda miss the big city.”

 

“Hah, if you want big city, go to Alba Cavanich.”

 

“There’s such a thing as too big. Plus, I hear it’s at the heart of a desert wasteland. Wouldn’t be nice for my long, luscious locks.” He twirled around his curly hair a bit, happy to crack a joke and lighten the almost melancholic silence they’d previously been sitting in.

 

Her mind wandered a bit, unable to really focus on one thought or topic at a time. She simply zoned out and continued the conversation with Taion as well as she could, not quite sure what it was she wanted to say next until it was already out of her mouth.

 

That desire to play her flute sparkled again despite the fact that she knew she didn’t have it on her person. It was strange — her hands practically moved on their own, taking themselves to her pockets where her glossy black Shinobue miraculously rested.

 

“Ooh, Mimi, I didn’t realize you brought your flute with you!” Sena cheered, now much more interested in what she was doing, “You should play something. Pass the time, right? Give ol’ Nerdbrain a chance to rest.”

 

“Okay, uh, why not.” Mio answered, mentally questioning how the hell it wormed its way into the pockets of her dress, “Any requests?”

 

“Hm…I dunno. Taion?”

 

“You can pick anything you want.”

 

Well, great. I don’t know what to play, either. Should I improvise? Oh, hey, I wonder how they’ll feel about Hot Cross Bunnits. Uh…

 

Mio just stared down at her flute, eyes eventually wandering away to take in the World Tree’s mystic sights while they slowly shifted further and further to the right, away from view. Her hands seemed to pick the song before she herself did, lips and lungs quickly picking up the slack where her brain failed to connect the dots.

 

She simply closed her eyes, and blew the first note. Then the next, the next, and eventually the last.

 

It was over before she knew it, the silence to come after quickly broken by Sena’s eager clapping and cheering, “That was so pretty! I’ve never heard it before, though. What song was that?”

 

Mio blinked. She didn’t know.

 

But as though a dam had burst directly in front of her, waves striking her and taking her along, her answer came.

 

“It’s an off-seeing melody.” She answered: “It doesn’t have a title.”

Notes:

oh. and act 2's ending next chapter. >:33

since my final summer's slowly coming to a close, here's my initial thoughts for this fic for this upcoming school year:
sundays at 9pm will probably be the default if tuesday fails, so as much as i shall try to keep tuesdays at 8 a consistent thing, who knows what'll happen this year lol

it'll be worst around september and october! weekly marching shows and daily practices...oof.
from there it should settle quite a bit come november, and my december should be mostly clear for the final couple chapters of the fic.

i can't believe we've gotten to this point by the way...
but that's for another time. like october 31st. (the 1-year anniversary date!!)

Chapter 39: Origin

Notes:

welcome to
the finale
of this here second act

I thought the ship didn’t leave until morning. Noah yawned, glancing at the half moon dangling from outside his window, hands otherwise preoccupied stuffing a small bag with his utmost essentials: clothes, toiletries, non-perishable food, and anything else he couldn’t find a way to stuff into a pocket on his person.

 

I predict complications. Alvis responded simply, Many are of the time-consuming variant.

 

He frowned as he sat back slightly, letting his fingers run through his bedhead. It was a fair assumption; and knowing Alvis, not exactly an assumption. Their goal was to be as discreet as possible, following the reasoning that delaying any further or making any ruckus was instant grounds for all ships, out and inbound, to stay right where they were or return to Alrest. In fact, and Noah refused to share this with his flute-bound partner, he had this sinking feeling that was already the case.

 

Oh, and either tie your hair into a low bun or leave it down. It is best you keep a small, plain silhouette.

 

That, he imagined, also explained wearing a lot of loose-fitting blacks (including a thick hoodie) instead of his favorites: appearing as inconspicuous as possible. Noah opted for the latter option, knowing just how annoyingly knotted his hair liked being anytime it was tightly tied or locks overlapped — even if his outgrown bangs would bother him since they never wanted to stay tucked behind his ears and he had no idea where his pile of hair clips were, he figured it wouldn’t be too hindering for his visibility. The half moon provided plenty of light and plenty of shade: surprisingly perfect for a scheme like this.

 

Regardless, the real battle came from actually attempting to flee. Noah remained physically exhausted, the carrot of rest and relaxation during his week-long boat ride to go fix Alvis and court Mio dangling in front of him and pushing him to continue onward. His hives had died down a bit with time and some more of Alvis’ medical interventions, but his muscles remained tender and his freshly stitched and entirely mysterious shin wound felt ready to burst at any time if he even dared to look at it for too long. …Perhaps that was one of the “time-consuming complications” Alvis was talking about: Noah having to work around his hobble. 

 

With a satisfying zip, the Homs had officially cleaned up and packed his most valuable items away. He took a moment to just stare at the backpack, guilt flaring within him. The question why am I doing this hadn’t even occurred to him until he was already a third of the way there.

 

Until he glanced around his room, slowly slinging the bag around his shoulders as he used his bed to help him stand, tenuously standing and waiting for something other than a lone bird’s chirp or the twinkle of a star above to scream at him and tell him he was doing something wrong. Because he was — he felt it from the deepest pits of his soul.

 

If he was faltering having stepped not even a foot outside his room, how in the world was he supposed to abandon everything he knew? Stowaway in a cargo ship filled with trading goods, bouncing around with the waters around it?

 

Noah. Alvis spoke softly, tone comparable to that of Mrs. Fiora when she was trying to console Nikol, It is normal to be hesitant.

 

He clenched his fists, struggling to not actually yell his displeasures, Normal? NONE of this is normal. I’m about to make a choice I can’t take back no matter what. All for what, some girl?

 

Is Mio really just ‘some girl’ to you? They asked.

 

At this point, yeah. All I have of her are memories of good and bad times and years upon years of thinking she was just another sleep away. The real one couldn’t give a shit less about me. She’d spit on my shoe for doing something this crazy.

 

You are correct.

 

That wasn’t something Noah wanted to hear. He knew Mio wasn’t the same as she was in Aionios, but the thought that she may actually want nothing to do with him…

 

I have done some conversing with her core crystal. She does not remember you the way you remember her. As of this moment, she sees you as an acquaintance, but one she is eager to meet and get to know properly.

 

He sat there silently for a while, processing that idea. His own feelings. Truthfully, he didn’t know how he felt either. Mio as a goal worked better when she was a myth; something he could easily fantasize and dream about. Now that she was real, now that he was inching closer to that goal, the stakes had grown complicated. He didn’t want to ruin what was there — she gave him something to lose .

 

You’re not lying to me, are you? Noah sighed, slowly moving toward his bedroom window.

 

Alvis said simply: I’d never lie to you, Noah. 

 

He sucked in a breath, taking a glance at the sky as he slowly wriggled his way out, movement and speed of exit severely restricted by his handicap, shutting the bedroom window behind him.

 

The trek toward the docks was easier than Noah anticipated — he simply followed Alvis’ directions for back alleyways and dimly lit areas where he could afford to be a little slower, followed by dashes across the inevitably brighter areas where he feared he would get caught. Whether luck, skill, or some combination of the two, he made it to the entrance without confrontation. This, however, is where the battle truly began.

 

Colony 9’s docks were almost always fully lit. It didn’t help that the moon aided that effort. It especially didn’t help that multiple Colony Defense Soldiers were placed on patrol following the day’s events. And it most certainly, absolutely, did not help that the ship Noah was supposed to board sat in the center of all the others. If nothing else tempted him to give up and turn around, staring at the challenge ahead in his weakened condition did most.

 

…What’s the play? He begrudgingly asked.

 

Ignore the boat for now. Here is our greatest obstacle — getting to that guarded pallet of crates.

 

Noah resisted the urge to crane his neck to the side, out of the nestled shelter he’d miraculously snuck into, and look to any stack of crates that may fit that description. He simply asked why.

 

You will want the contents of the centermost crate in the stack.

 

…okay. Why?

 

Alvis didn’t answer. They just pointed him in the right direction — a sort of feeling telling him when to and not to move, warning him that his breathing was irregular or too loud, and guiding him around the seemingly infinite number of well-lit guards standing around, hopefully young and dumb enough to let Noah slip by without facing the inevitable consequences of his actions.

 

“Ugh.” Someone’s voice sparked in the air, giving Noah a jolt as he struggled to decide how and when to move from his initial hiding spot, “I hate night shifts.”

 

“Did the Lieutenant Colonel actually draw straws?” Another asked, responding to what seemed to be her colleague.

 

The first replied, exasperation in his tone, “YES. By the Bionis, I’ve been in the force for some 5 years now and my name is still in the running for all the stupid grunt work.”

 

Noah had to take as deep a breath as he could manage, hoping to leap by while they weren’t looking or while the guy was whining about his shift.

 

“Are you actually complaining right now? Like, seriously?” She asked incredulously.

 

Okay, let him complain and…

 

“Nothing ever happens in the Colony. Ever! I don’t get what’s going on with Gran Dell or why we’re trying to stop some little kid from–” The guard cut himself off, spinning around.

 

Noah had already successfully dashed to the other side.

 

The girl laughed, “Nothing ever happens, though.”

 

“Shut up.” He snapped back, guard seeming to audibly lower, “That was a very suspicious gust of wind.”

 

“ Extra! Extra! Local Colony Defense Soldier Discovers Ocean Breeze! Read all about it on page 6!” She mocked. And the more Noah listened to her, the more he wondered if he had heard her voice somewhere before — especially that kind of humor.

 

For now, he was just happy to have made it past the first open area, and with his leg pains somewhere between dull and active roars, anything beyond total failure he attributed to sheer luck.

 

Did you hear what that guy said? Noah asked Alvis, waiting for his next opening. That they were there to ‘stop some little kid’?

 

Yes.

 

Be honest. Are they talking about me? Am I already burned?

 

They do mean you, yes. And that is in fact why there’s a guarded pallet of crates with a vital item placed intentionally at the center. These docks are trapped.

 

Wh–trapped?? Alvis, you walked me into a trap?

 

Yes.

 

Noah clenched his fists, diving to one more safe area before readying himself to turn around and ditch the mission entirely. You’re not going to explain?

 

Alvis sighed, It is a terribly-laid trap that you are going to intentionally trigger. If you time it correctly, it will look as though a passing bird simply made a mistake.

 

He resisted the urge to visibly groan. Noah’s heart was already racing, body throbbing with pain, and head spinning as it was without the added stress of trying to outsmart a group of people capable of annihilating him with one stray, unlucky glance his way.

 

Another deep breath. Remembering why he was here. Why he was doing all this. Where he was and how it was simply too late to turn back without facing every single repercussion imaginable.

 

Noah waited for the next opportune moment and dove behind where the guards stood around the crates. Apparently he needed to knock them over. He also had no clue how to do that.

 

There were two: one significantly shorter than the other, but neither speaking out of turn like the first duo had. Distracting them would be a struggle, especially for long enough to knock over all 9 crates and then find, open, and loot the correct one.

 

Bad news, Noah. Alvis chirped as Noah pressed himself against the crates, doing his best to avoid making a sound, You may need to abandon getting the item you need.

 

If I need the item, I can’t exactly go without it, yeah? Noah frowned, hearing a guard sniffle.

 

…In the centermost crate is a piece of Origin fished up by a Colony ship at about the same time as my core popped from its socket in Alcamoth. They explained, And the guard to your left is Lanz.

 

You mean the one who just sniffled?

 

Correct.

 

Okay, then how’s this a dilemma? I chat with him, tell him what’s going on, and he–

 

Remember the scholarship he was fighting for? I can sense his emotions: he is anxious. Jumpy. I have reason to believe his placement is contingent on tonight’s patrol going smoothly.

 

Noah had no words. How could this have all happened so quickly? He knew Lanz well. Too well, maybe. He knew how important Lanz’s future was to him — he knew their dreams differed from the moment he stopped showing for every group hangout. It didn’t take a genius to tell.

 

…And the guard you heard teasing the one complaining about his shifts is Eunie. I believe she is pretending to be on this shift to catch and join you.

 

So she was. And that’s why Noah found her voice and mannerisms familiar.

 

The choice is yours: you can break for the ship now and let Lanz keep his scholarship at the cost of the contents of the crate, or recruit Eunie, get what’s in the crate, and use the chaos to escape to the boat, effectively ruining any chance he has at retaining his scholarship.

 

You’re kidding me. I have to choose? Noah frowned, glancing to the docked cargo boat in question. And regardless of what I choose, I get what I, rather you, want? I’m just choosing whether or not I screw over Lanz?

 

You will have a much easier time meeting and building a relationship with Mio if you choose to accept Eunie’s help and get the item in the crate. Or is she truly just ‘some girl’ to you?

 

No. And Alvis knew that. Which is why they were saying that. They were trying to play with his stupid heartstrings and get him to make the selfish choice. He wasn’t going to respond verbally. Instead, he was just going to slowly hobble to the boat and leave quietly.

 

…I see. They spoke shockingly neutrally, That is your choice, of course.

 

It sounded like they were still trying to guilt Noah. Which he wasn’t going to let happen. One foot in front of the other, as quietly as he could, stepping — limping — to freedom and–

 

SLAM.

 

“Wh–hey! There’s a guy over there!” The complaining guard shouted, pointing directly at Noah’s collapsed body flopped over on the dock.

 

He had tripped. His sliced leg had given out on him at the last possible second, and chaos ensued exactly as Noah had been told it would.

 

Eunie excitedly rushed to his side, helped him up, and asked to join him on his little escapade.

 

Lanz stared at him, heartbreak in his eyes as he failed to spring into action like the other patrolling guards had, visibly not wanting to do the job he’d been assigned to do.

 

Noah said something about the centermost crate in the stack by Lanz having an item he needed but was ready to go without. Eunie helped him onto the boat and disappeared for a moment, an extended altercation ringing out and reverberating against the quite functional, quite large-scale, boat.

 

She returned eventually with dark stains (of which Noah sincerely hoped were of the sweat and soot variety) and a sleek silver blade in her grasp. She placed it gingerly beside Noah, and waited for him to say something.

 

He couldn’t muster up a sound. He didn’t particularly want to, either. Maybe it was the metal hull against cold water, slowly bobbing up and down with the occasional wave or his conscience weighing heavy upon him, but he had nothing but bile in his throat.

 

I’m sorry things didn’t go as planned. Alvis tried consoling him, that same sorry tone from earlier spiking up again, I know–

 

Exactly as you wanted them to, though, right? That’s what matters. He scoffed, unable to hold back his disgust.

 

No, actually. When you said no, I was ready to move on without a hitch.

 

You tried to guilt me. Twice.

 

I…apologize. I did not anticipate it would come across like that. I can leave you alone for a while, if you’d like.

 

Please. I’m doing your bidding, so let me get my own bearings straight this week.

 

Okay.

Notes:

THERE YOU HAVE IT FOLKS

it gets worse before it gets better <3

Chapter 40: A Long Time

Notes:

im so sorry im late...band camp is kicking my ASS i got home on tuesday so tired...crashed at like 6 with the chapter half-written like 4 times. there's just no excuse
im sorry :(
but phewww
hello and welcome

TO THE FINAL ACT!!

the final 20 chapters. the final 20 weeks. im very excited for what's to come...!!!

As the sun rose, so too did the rest of the trouble. Naturally, Noah’s tripping fiasco left a blazing hot trail directly to him: one of the stitches on his shin popped out and practically reset the healing timer on that section of wound, leaving traces on his pants and on the dock outside. He didn’t check, but he couldn’t say for certain whether Eunie’s soiled stolen uniform was the product of blood or soot. He hoped for the latter, but dared not expect it.

 

He spent a lot of that morning on the boat trying to sleep away the consequences, coiled up in a dark corner with his stuff gently tucked away (including the stupid sword Alvis insisted he get), struggling to find comfort physically and mentally welcoming enough for him to rest. 20 minutes here, 15 there — he found nothing better than little naps.

 

Yet much to his surprise, nothing happened. Maybe his internal clock was off thanks to not being able to gauge daylight well through the little lower deck viewing holes, but by the time the sky was orange and the water had gained some of its color back, Noah expected to be raided; he expected to at least hear some dockhands fumbling about outside getting the ship ready to sail. But that was just it: nothing happened.

 

Noah’s first instinct was to ask Alvis what was going on, but he stopped himself from doing so, eyes trailing toward the blade more valuable than Lanz’s seemingly only shot at the scholarship he wanted, and sighed. With the sunlight slowly pouring in, its color seemed to shift. He remembered it being silvery and steely in the moonlight; here it was more raven. Its edges pointed, and the hilt adornment much spikier than he anticipated.

 

…He had seen this sword before. It was his — the one from Aionios. It followed him from life to life like a curse (though more aptly a blessing), giving him the strength to cut down anything he so pleased. Flame Clocks, erased. Wandering critters and dangerous monsters, erased.

 

People, erased.

 

He shivered a bit, remembering those flames — the ones that swallowed Joran, the ones that Noah had created himself, the ones he sliced down, and one dark day in particular. And every time (barring Joran’s demise), the sword he now stared at resting quietly on the floor was there, acting as an extension of his body whenever Noah so decided something needed ending.

 

Its name played into that, floating to his tongue like so many names of random, eerily familiar faces had before he and Alvis started speaking: The Sword of the End.

 

Noah’s memories were incomplete. He had flashes of his life as an Ouroboros and of some other minor lingering ones around it, but it was by no means sufficient enough to say he understood what it or the sword itself meant. He wasn’t going to ask Alvis either. He wanted to. But he was also still mad at them. And it would be wrong to go back on his “leave me alone this week” request immediately once he wanted or needed something from them.

 

So that was it: he left it alone. It wasn’t as if he wasn’t capable of piecing it together on his own, but Noah neither wanted to nor had enough information to really devise anything at the moment. Instead, he picked himself up, and creeped around, making as little noise as possible, and searched for Eunie. He knew quite well she didn’t know anything about Aionios, but considering her agility and propensity for duplicity, she may have had an answer — little chance was better than none at all, he believed.

 

He found her posted up in a dark corner of her own, inspecting her High Entian Official’s Staff. The one Noah had buried at Heroes’ Rest not too long ago.

 

“Hey,” he said, not taking the chance from noticing her stolen staff to use it as a conversation starter, “I’m sorry.”

 

“Why are you sorry?” She cocked his head at him, thankfully genuinely rather than sarcastically confused.

 

Noah frowned, sheepishly answering, “For dragging you into this and then instantly blowing you off last night.” 

 

Eunie laughed a little, gently compressing and placing her staff on the ground beside her before picking herself up from leaning against the metal hull wall, folding her arms as she spoke: “You didn’t drag me into anything. Hell, I didn’t even know that whole patrol squadron thing or whatever would catch you instead of the actual guy. I just…heard…a rumor from all the people raiding Alcamoth and Gran Dell that they were going to try and catch someone named Alvis before he fled to Alrest or something.”

 

“It was a trap.” Noah muttered to himself incredulously, energy spiking with that revelation as he raised his voice a bit and projected to Eunie again, “A rumor? What rumor?”

 

“I guess it wasn’t much of a rumor if it happened and all, but it was Shulk, the Empress, Dunban, Riku, and a couple of other people. They kinda clumped up around the Military District’s entrance and just didn’t lower their voices. Pressed my ear to the wall and found out something about Alvis having attacked and demanding liberty? Then Riku mentioned something about a salvaging haul they could use as bait — probably that sword I nicked for you — and…I don’t know, Dunban was just there smiling and nodding probably.”

 

Noah blinked, “Sorry, you said attacked? Who?”

 

“Shulk and Melia.” She answered flatly, as if this weren’t shocking news to Noah.

 

He didn’t say anything, opting instead to stare blankly at Eunie for a moment before excusing himself and returning with the black sword in hand: “Do you know what this is, then?”

 

“A…sword?” Eunie cleared her throat, eyes glazing over the meticulous craftswork gone into its creation and preservation.

 

“Well, if it was bait for Alvis, that means they want it. And if they’re good enough to successfully attack THE Hero of the Bionis and THE Empress of Alcamoth...” Noah grimaced, not wanting to finish that thought. He knew what came next from it, though.

 

Alvis, using his body, assaulted two of Bionis’ greatest heroes. And then proceeded to not tell him about it. Somehow, in the span of an hour, they managed to flee the school, pick a fight, do real damage, and return home with just a shin wound. Probably from either one of their blades.

 

And now they sought to see Noah intentionally trigger the trap laid for them in hopes of scoring his old blade, at least until they seemed to grow a conscience and give Noah the option, so-called, to just board without the sword and not screw over his best friend.

 

Guilt was one heavy burden to bear; Noah felt nothing but it. 

 

“Oh shi–oot. Shoot.” Eunie now more intentionally stared at the blade, “So then why’d you mention the stuff in the crates?”

 

Noah didn’t have a good answer for that. He also wasn’t sure how he felt about his most recent out-of-body experiences. He just shrugged and lied: “I…panicked?”

 

“You panicked,” she repeated, tightening her grip on her folded arms.

 

“I panicked!” He insisted, attempting to conjure up some kind of explanation, “I had tripped and tore open one of my stitches and–”

 

“Stitches?” Her eyes widened, now attempting to locate said wound, “You look fine-ish. Tired. A little red and swollen. What stitches?”

 

He rolled up his pant leg solemnly, revealing the damage.

 

Noah just out and went with it: “Look, I know it seems bad and this whole thing stinks. You can just leave now before the boat goes later this morning. And you know what? Yeah, it is a bad idea. This is the worst idea I’ve ever had, ever. So…just…don’t hate me.”

 

Eunie sucked in a breath, probably realizing just who ‘Alvis’ actually was, and making the decision on her own — and hopefully the most rational of the many decisions she could make in that moment — of how to respond to it.

 

“Did you or did you not,” she said, each word jagged and pointed with intent, “attack Shulk and Melia.”

 

“I didn’t! Honest! Swear on my life!” Noah tensed, attempting now to clear his name, “And I can explain everything if you just give me a chance to but–”

 

“Okay. Explain, then.” Eunie paused, speaking carefully, “You’re practically my brother and I’d help you out any way any how, but…yeah this is bad, Noah.”

 

He was ready for that. And thankfully, by some miracle, Eunie seemed kind enough to at least hear out his insanity from his mouth and no one else’s. So, he told her everything.

 

– [] – [] –

 

He sat in the dark night, an empty sky devoid of moonlight, waiting for the final night to pass. Noah’s knuckles remained red raw, broken, bleeding, and slowly scabbing over, never having the opportunity to heal properly thanks to all the blood left on his cell gate. In the end it was futile — the damn thing had barely a scratch on it aside from what had dried on it and rusted the metallic color.

 

His stomach growled, a full, healthy tray of now cold food sitting beside, waiting for any sort of action from the only person who had yet to eat something that night. He wanted to, be it to subdue the noise or to get his mind away from what came next, but even the thought of eating sickened him.

 

Much did, nowadays. Even more did now that their time was up — a whole month, thrown away and left to rot in a tiny jail cell with defenses second-termers could clear in a second — it all just felt pointless.

 

The whole world was pointless. Aionios was a joke: just some giant social experiment set up to keep people dying tragically, over and over. Keves and Agnus, ruled by fakes and governed by Moebius to preserve eternity, eternally. Life, too, was pointless. Reconstituted at any and every death, wounds mended and memories razed until there lay nothing but bedrock at the end of every road. Reconstituted in all but one scenario.

 

Tomorrow.

 

Tomorrow she would die, and Noah would just have to sit there and watch. He had failed — failed to break free of the cycle, failed to finish the job against Moebius, and failed to save Mio from her deadly fate.

 

That was it. He and his Ouroboros friends were done. All that remained was that ridiculous swordsman wearing Noah’s face, gloating as he delivered the news all those days ago. She passed on permanently. He, Eunie, Lanz, Taion, and Sena all went back into the cycle, none retaining their memories or their liberation. They’d be enemies again.

 

Eventually Mio had spoken to them for the first time in quite a while, her person intentionally separated and placed in a different cell from the rest of the group for no other purpose than to hurt the Ouroboros further.

 

They did not get to spend her final month with her, and yet she speaks at the end of her road.

 

It was a bitter conversation. A series of increasingly awful sentiments rose within Noah, all begging to just stay exactly where he was and to not lose her, especially not when she was finally saying something. Even if it were her goodbyes.

 

“If this road I’ve walked…were to keep on going, I’d like to spend that time,” she paused dangerously long, leaving Noah clinging to her words, the last embers of her life, more than perhaps even she realized, “with my Noah.” She finished.

 

If only he could see her face at that moment. He would have taken any indication she was okay and alive — not just some heartbreaking trick N was siphoning their reactions from — but all he got were her most depressing words yet.

 

He clenched a hand to his forehead, eyes watering in wait of what was to come. He curled tightly, tensed and closed as his tear ducts finally let go, the woman he loved left alone for yet another, this time the final, night. For a moment, it was peaceful: finally crying the tears he had sucked in and denied for so long. For the rest, devastating; it was only about to get worse.

 

The time came and went — and with it, a sour hole burning in his chest. The eclipse had finally come: Mio’s last day, and perhaps not even depending on when the event was set to run. 

 

Perhaps it was something the Queen initiated. Every Homecoming Noah had witnessed began with the Queen and ended as she opened her arms to return the soldier to her.

 

…Just some fake robot running some fake program scripted by Moebius. At a point, it didn’t even matter. Aionios was fake. Keves and Agnus were fake. Hell, his dreams and aspirations and bonds were about to be rendered fake, too. No one would tell Noah’s tale, remember his name, and Ouroboros would fade into legend (though more aptly nothingness ), just as N had wanted.

 

Why exactly he was so intent on destroying everything, Noah could not say. N could not say anymore, either — he supposed it had become old habits. Anything to protect his endless now, and more specifically so his endless Mio. A snapshot of a woman, frozen in time eternally all the same as him, given the opportunity to live once more and experience it all over again, together at long last.

 

It had faded into silence, most years. Some she’d eventually agree to try again with him, N making some promise to be kinder to her and shield her from dangers they both knew damn well she could handle herself — but some part of him figured she appreciated the chivalry.

 

How wrong he was proven to be when the moon blocked the sun. When the flutes started to play, N and M standing beside each other awaiting the moment their eternity had yet again been proven eternal. How wrong he was proven to be when in Noah’s last fleeting moments of life, watching his Mio fade into the abyss — the light waiting to crush down and kill all remaining Origin-bound peoples — he taunted him, dropping his off-seeing flute in front of him. How wrong he was proven to be when he drew his Sword of the End, steely black and freshly sharpened by will and a whetstone, drawing it back and high above his head ready to remove the last obstacle in his path, that M would stand in his way.

 

They had just re-embraced each other. They had just made up. So why…?

 

Why would she give him the vanished Mio’s flute? And why would N’s Mio go off and make that decision? Everything he had done had been for her. Nothing left to chance, no opportunity wasted to improve her quality of life. She was his idol, his star, his queen, his–

 

His last chance at redemption. If she was gone, none of it was worthwhile.

 

He screamed.

Notes:

see yas next time <3

(look for sunday releases for at least a lil while. i am dying out here...)
(meaning tomorrow)
(positively. bc I JUST MADE RIFLE LINE!!!!! my hands are broken and bruised asf but!!!)

ps fixing tags tomorrow

Chapter 41: Horizon Line

Notes:

ahh a lovely evening to upload :)

these sundays are DEFINITELY going to be the norm for a while as my summer ends and marching season ramps up

regardless, enjoy your weekly 2500 word delivery!!

Mio returned home later that day a different person. She wanted so desperately nothing more than to have a nice day off with her friends, but she spent so much of that time convinced opening her mouth meant revealing every heartbreak and trauma she had been left to process all over again. Taion and Sena had their fun, excitedly sightseeing around Torigoth and introducing Mio to some places she hadn’t been to before, but the whole time she remained feeling guilty. Guilty for feeling guilty, really — like she was imposing on the group just by being there, angsting over a past they shared with her but to which they seemed entirely oblivious.

 

Her first question was why. Why her specifically? Why then, at that moment, was she driven to play the off-seeing melody and remember a thousand years of life at once? Mulling over it proved difficult, as each time she tried to take a moment and think, she found herself inundated with new, slow-to-resurface memories — often the most painful ones. Avoidance proved to be her most immediate savior, but Mio didn’t want to run from it for long. Just long enough to find some solace, limited though it may prove to be.

 

Her next question regarded Noah’s behavior. Now that she had all the context and the memories necessary to tie certain acts to certain prerequisites and events, he became incredibly suspicious. Mio herself could not deny that she was naturally intrigued by the kid, opting to find ways into the messes he seemed to make for himself for the sake of seeing what it was he saw in those endeavors. She could not deny she knew he at least reciprocated her interest, though was unaware of whether or not it was as surface-level as hers was.

 

She had a feeling that “reciprocated interest” went far, far, deeper than she initially knew. All of his patterns pointed right to it, and dangerously so. On his own, Mio was sure he could probably manage himself — from what she had seen, Noah was decently put together, hopefully sporting enough positive influences in his current life to distract him from the terrible rabbit hole she feared he would spiral into. But then she saw Alvis wearing Noah’s face, even if just for that one meeting, and she knew it was all going to crumble.

 

Combining her various intelligences, everything from what Da had said, what she had seen first-hand, and her memories as M when Alpha and A warred, Mio had a hard time trusting what she saw. It didn’t help that her renewed memories provided her a glimpse as to what Noah could truly be like — his best and his worst — and a reminder of how her heart once yearned.

 

Today, she struggled to place those feelings. Everything was too new, too overwhelming; barely worth the effort of trying to compile them. It wasn’t long before she flopped over onto her bed, a messy mix of exhaustion both mental and physical (damn those conveyor belts) carrying her swiftly to surprisingly restful sleep.

 

She awoke the following midnight a while before her alarm was set to ring, practically merged with her bed at that point. Bionis’ sun wasn’t even beginning to rise just yet: she would need to get to class sometime around 1 AM and see if by some miracle it had re-activated. She knew it wasn’t, but also wasn’t in the mood to fight the urge to wake up and start her day as normal.

 

So instead of using the newfound time she could easily allot herself to get ready, she lollygagged around the house a while, walking aimlessly in the dark before eventually finding Ma uncharacteristically awake, speaking to Da just outside of the kitchen window. She couldn’t see them, but she could more than certainly hear them, faint though it was.

 

It was a bad idea and a definite violation of trust, but Mio found herself too curious and mixed up her in own moral compass to pass up the temptation of eavesdropping a little. Just a little.

 

“Nia, you’ve gotta be kidding me. We’re just going to let this happen?” Da spoke urgently, teetering almost on the edge of exacerbation.

 

Ma sighed, “We haven’t exactly received an emergency broadcast from the Bionis since this whole mess began.”

 

“What, so because Shulk can’t contain the problem he swore was contained, it’s just our problem? We offered to help when we could and he said no — it was okay. He had it covered. Didn’t want to worry his citizens. But now? We’re nowhere near well-equipped enough to handle them.” He grumbled, audibly struggling to remain composed.

 

“It’s not just Shulk and you know that. I don’t get why you’re being so belligerent, Rex.” She paused, sucking in a breath as she spoke, “Maybe I’m old and out of practice, but you’re the Aegis’ Driver. Moràg could help. Tora and Poppi. Even ol’ Shellhead.”

 

“Belligerent? I’m being belligerent? Maybe I’m just looking out for my family, first. Trying to avoid getting my beautiful wives, daughters, and son threatened or killed or Architect knows what at BOTH of their hands. Maybe I don’t want to go back to that life again. Maybe they don’t, either.” Da’s voice wavered, faltering as his resolve and frustrations faded.

 

Ma tried comforting him as best she could, “Rex, look at me. We’ve been through so much worse. I can heal any, and I mean any, wound you or anyone fighting alongside us might receive.”

 

“None of it matters if they go for your core crystal. You know I can’t…and even if I could, we’d…and poor Mio…” His words blended together, the pauses between unsteady and uneven. She couldn’t say for certain, but she wondered if he was crying.

 

“That’s why we follow the plan. We’ve a whole week to figure it out; Tora will be back tomorrow afternoon and help us hash it out, okay?” She continued, voice just barely loud enough to reach Mio’s fully-perked ears.

 

That seemed to be the end of their discussion, leaving moments of silence before quiet footsteps pattering around toward the house’s front entrance. If Mio didn’t move now, she’d be caught and in for a lecture she likely didn’t want to hear about snooping around in matters that weren’t her business, but she also just didn’t want to go.

 

Didn’t want to hide. She loved her parents, and they loved her — if Da was crying as she imagined he was, then she wanted to be there to comfort him, at least a little. In some form or shape, she just wanted to help.

 

So, with her limited time to escape, she grabbed a small glass and filled it with sink water, standing around in the kitchen pretending as though she had just woken and randomly grabbed a drink.

 

The front door creaked open, Mio’s mind and heart racing, the panic of discovery stinging her before she forced herself to be calm and ready to accept what came next.

 

She stole a swig, doing her best to appear as nonchalant as possible and–

 

“Mio?” Ma cocked her head at her, moonlight keeping her silhouette barely visible, “What are you doing up?” Da, too, froze alongside his wife. In the dark Mio couldn’t say, but she really hoped facing the consequences of her actions was worth it.

 

“I was thirsty, so I…got a glass of water.” She answered quietly, watching as Ma flicked on a small wall light to better see.It became a double-edged sword — Mio proved herself correct, and with a hearty pang to the chest she frowned at how exhausted they both seemed.

 

Ma cleared her throat, quickly dusting off her nightgown and placing her hands on her hips, “Uh, okay. Hurry off to bed once you’re done, alright? I’m sure you’ve still got a little while until you’ve got to be up for…well, I guess there’s no class, but–”

 

“Nia!” Da quickly hushed her, fumbling with his back turned, obviously trying to dry his tears without Mio noticing, though once he turned back around the little red circles around his eyes gave him away all too easily.

 

“What? She knows.” Ma quickly retorted under her breath, “It’s been like 3 days.”

 

“Um, it’s okay.” Mio said, slowly setting down her half-drank cup beside the sink, “I know what’s going on.”

 

That got a jolt out of the both of them, Da being the first to respond skeptically, “You…do?”

 

She nodded: “There’s no power on Bionis, so we can’t be beamed over.”

 

Ma’s shoulders relaxed noticeably, now no longer spiked all the way up to her chin, “Oh, yes, right. A little power outage. That’s it! We’ll be the first to let you know when it’s all up and running again.”

 

“Okay,” she frowned, not quite liking how tense her mother got when hiding the truth from her. If Mio wasn’t certain that bringing up what she overheard and what she was now actively dealing with would totally destroy her parents, she would have said more. Instead, she just took one last gulp of water, emptied the cup, placed it in the sink to be handwashed at a more apt time, and began quietly walking back to her room.

 

But she paused, glancing back at her Da, and deciding to quickly give him a hug before completing her scamper away. If she was right about anything, it was that whatever came in a week meant nothing but trouble.

 

She tucked herself back into bed and stared up at the ceiling for a while, contemplating whether or not it was a good idea to hang out for the next 30 minutes and stew with her thoughts or try to close her eyes and wait for her alarm to wake her back up again; though, the longer she stared at her ceiling trying to decide, the less time she had to make those 30 minutes count.

 

That was the unfortunate thing: time. It kept marching forward. All of Aionios happened within the span of a second, but that second still gently, ever so slightly, ticked forward, beat by beat and moment by moment. For four years after its completion, Mio never had to worry about a thing with it. Now it all came back to bite her. All that time she could have known and spent healing and learning instead of being, well, a kid. In a way, it was a blessing. She didn’t have the burden of knowledge. In another, a curse: she had to figure it all out for herself in seemingly just one week before (maybe her parents were being hyperbolic) the end.

 

A threat so great it brought Da to tears thinking about having to fight it…again. Mio cursed her past self for not being involved with the period between the first and second Cities. The only thing M remembered was her shock and horror at seeing the first one burn by N’s hand — she spent the time between practically unable to do anything but try to process her despair.

 

Innately she figured it was Alvis piloting Noah’s body. She could only hope she was wrong. She wished for nothing but it.

 

Mio’s eyes eventually began to grow heavy, her thoughts once racing slowing to a gentle lullaby, but before she managed to close them, a knock came at her open door, a dimly-lit silhouette standing awkwardly in the frame.

 

“Hey, kiddo.” Just like the morning prior, Da stood around waiting for a response. This time his tone was more somber than groggy, a regrettable side effect of her snooping.

 

She didn’t respond. Just softly sat up in her bed.

 

He sighed, tip-toeing in, “I just, uh…wanted to apologize. Your Ma’s pretty sure you heard our whole conversation so…not that I’m saying you did, but if you did, I want you to know it’s nothing for you to worry about.”

 

“Are you mad?” Mio asked.

 

Da didn’t respond for a moment, but when he did, he seemed lost in thought, “Not at you. Just a little frustrated with…things. But like I said, it’s nothing to lose sleep over. If anything, you’ve gotta be thinking about making tomorrow a good day. No school, yeah? The whole world’s yours to go and explore and make waves in.”

 

Mio folded her arms defiantly, “I’m not five, Da. I was eavesdropping. It was my fault.”

 

“Okay, you’re fifteen. Go be five for a day — it’s a lot of fun.” He chuckled a bit, trying to lighten the mood.

 

She remained quietly alert, though her arms drooped back to her side, “Sorry.”

 

“Ah, it’s nothing. Just get some sleep, okay?”

 

“Goodnight, Da.” Mio said, slowly leaning back with almost no intent on falling asleep any time soon.

 

He reciprocated her goodnight, and left with nothing more than the sounds of quickly fading footsteps.

 

She threw her blankets over herself a bit, tossing and turning until she found a comfortable position to sit and stew with her thoughts: some old, some new, but all working in tandem to ensure she feared what came next.

 

Not necessarily tomorrow. Not necessarily the day after. Nor the next. But at the end of (she assumed) seven days, something capable of making her usually stone-faced, optimistic father tear up would come. Something told her that her regaining her memories was tied to it. Something else screamed for answers and a deeper understanding of what was going on. Bits of her didn’t want to think about it at all: do exactly as her Da said and just focus on being a kid.

 

It was harder to not think about it — by the time she had managed to do so, her morning alarm had rung.

 

She begrudgingly silenced it and flipped over onto her other side trying to follow his advice. Sleep would be nice if she could find it. It was easier to think about the things far out of her reach than it was to lull herself again; her father had some nasty timing, though she supposed she would have just woken up again once she was supposed to.

 

...Ultimately, Mio just wondered if she was right to be as nervous and skeptical as she was. Nothing once had ever come between their family aside from the odd argument blown far out of proportion and eventually settled upon peacefully, and especially so not some boogeyman — what they had was unbreakable.

 

Then again, she supposed Alvis was made of the same unbreakable stuff as Pyra and Mythra. Noah, too, through his own will and strength.

 

When would she find hers?

Notes:

ahhh some angst. some fluff. some of it had me cheesing at my own writing lmao.
i think a nice break from the straight hell noah's going through!

Chapter 42: Cadenza

Notes:

goooood evening! im bouncing around between sundays and tuesdays because WHOOO boy is my schedule crazy right about now
next week ill be so honest i have no idea if it'll be a sunday or a tuesday night upload
i will stick to that as much as i can but please be flexible with me for a little while!!

regardless, i do hope yall enjoy >:3

“That’s…quite the story.” Eunie managed once Noah had finished, face solemn as though she were studying his every muscle twitch searching for deception — frankly, he waited for her to find something that would prove his words irrational. Some kind of beacon or sign that told him it was all one giant hallucination and that he hadn’t in fact crusaded over a red gem.

 

Unfortunately for him, he was telling the truth. His actions and the consequences thereafter were all real, and especially now that he had gone and made the information public. What came next was up to her. She didn’t seem hostile, merely standing quietly, processing everything Noah told her.

 

Eunie slowly nodded, “Well, in that case, I guess you didn’t actually go beat up Shulk and the Empress. So I guess I can’t be mad at you?”

 

“You’re shockingly calm about this,” Noah laughed, desperately trying to hide his own embarrassment, “I really expected you to–”

 

“No, believe me, I’m not calm.” She cut him off, sucking in a breath, “But if I express how I really feel right now this entire stowaway operation will combust and my own efforts will have been wasted, so…”

 

After all that, she’s still on board. Phenomenal. A particularly intrusive voice burst through his mind palace, though this time it was not the same as it had been previously. The same tone, same diction, but now much more sardonic and effeminate.

 

Alvis sounded male. Whoever this was sounded female.

 

Alvis! I thought I told you to go away! He hissed, doing his best to keep a straight face in front of Eunie.

 

At the moment, I’m technically not Alvis. I’m a sublet of the processor designed to hold Ontos’ memories and emotions. Therefore, I can speak with you. Technically Not Alvis said, tone the verbal equivalent of an eyeroll.

 

Noah remained firm: Doesn’t matter if you’re one or a hundred percent Alvis; I said to go away! I don’t want to talk to you right now.

 

…I would very much like to chat, Noah.

 

No. Either go away or I’ll toss your stupid core crystal overboard.

 

Technically Not Alvis didn’t respond. Noah was satisfied for the moment, although it hurt him to threaten to do something like that to someone, regardless of how he was feeling at the time. It just wasn’t right. At that point, however, the words had been said. It would be useless to try and revoke them now, especially considering how half-hearted and flimsy it would be. 

 

“Sorry.” Noah spoke aloud, unsure whether he was directing it to Eunie or Technically Not Alvis. Maybe both.

 

“It’s fine.” Eunie pursed her lips, “It’s not. Whatever. Just give me a minute, alright? Or maybe give the boat a chance to set sail.”

 

He was happy to honor that request, quietly picking up his new black blade and returning to his hiding corner on the ship, awaiting departure. Perhaps also awaiting capture. Noah had a feeling he was entirely compromised and that everything done since tripping and getting himself caught was futile, but if he let that feeling consume him, then it all really would have been for nothing.

 

Eunie hadn’t turned on him, Alvis (er, this sublet of the processor, at least) didn’t seem to want to let Noah angst alone, and the boat had yet to be raided. Good things still remained. Thus, hope, too.

 

It wasn’t until he cozied himself back up into his dingy little corner to wait out the remaining time that he realized something was wrong. The boat lurched on the shore as voices surrounded the hull, echoing off the metal plating and making it nigh impossible to tell the sources clearly — something like of the fumbling of shipmen, something like commands being shouted, something like the dread of discovery, and something like anticipation combined and buzzed about him.

 

His hands shook, right leg swollen and throbbing in dull pain, body still exhausted from his recent adventures: if something bad were to happen, he would be effectively defenseless. Sure, he had the Sword of the End now, but its most interesting property was its sharpness — a perfect masterwork born from Origin metal somehow recovered following Aionios’ fall long past Noah throwing it into the sea.

 

…Or wait, wasn’t that the silver one? The one Noah had by his side was black, jagged, and missing its purple-red sheath. The silver one had a red and gold sheath — that was the one he threw away.

 

The black one shattered when Noah clashed with N. It broke. Somehow it was fine now, though?

 

He had to fight the urge to ask Technically Not Alvis what was going on. Being stubborn and sticking to his guns proved tougher and tougher with each encounter, but if he was ever going to do it, he needed to assert himself now.

 

Luckily for Noah, it seemed the boat’s not-so-subtle movements and the echoing outside gave way for its departure from shore. It was officially happening: he and Eunie had officially avoided capture long enough for the legitimate teams to do their legitimate business, letting them hang out in the shadows and tag along for what would undoubtedly be quite the lengthy trip.

 

That was, of course, assuming nothing had gone wrong abovedeck. That no one who was not originally supposed to board had boarded, that every trade stamp and every inspection had passed, and that the ship was sailing at its correct time on its correct route. Noah had no access to such information, but a glance toward the water and at the barely visible horizon line told him the departure time was either far later than he anticipated (and thus Alvis had pushed him out of his house too early), or the boat had been delayed.

 

He felt more inclined to believe the latter. A delayed ship, although more concrete and the more likely of the scenarios, could mean anything. A technical issue would be best; a managerial issue welcome; a documentation issue manageable; but an issue with crew, especially regarding how many were aboard, is what he feared most.

 

Noah had to force himself to stop thinking about it. The boat’s unsteady swaying made it difficult for him to sit or lay comfortably where he was, so he tabled sleeping the day away for later when he was more than simply weary and seeking escape; he rummaged through his bag to find it unfortunately only packed with the essentials. Clothes, toiletries, enough food and water that if he rationed properly would last him the full trip, the extent of his meager savings, and a stolen first aid kit.

 

Staring at the kit, he rolled up his pant leg to see the damage on his shin again: swollen, slowly scabbing, and throbbing from use while still so freshly cut. He had never once touched a first aid kit like that, lucky that his sprained back was his first major injury requiring serious intervention, and thus had no idea what to do with the contents. Something looked like bandages, another like scissors, something like a water ether capsule…he didn’t want to touch any of it for fear of wasting it.

 

Thankfully, though — perhaps unthankfully — he wasn’t left in his hiding corner alone for long. Footsteps echoed behind him, tattooing somewhere closer to the center of the hull. It seemed to only be one person, but he felt uncertain about writing it off as Eunie being unnecessarily loud. She simply wouldn’t do that. The boat had already left; getting caught now meant dealing with international law, about which Noah couldn’t say he knew anything.

 

He tensed what muscles he could, stilling his breathing to quiet gasps, steeling himself for what inevitable trouble he was in.

 

Not Shulk, not the Empress, not the Colonel…please not any of them.

 

The footsteps grew close, speed and rhythm fading as their volume increased, as though the person stalking about didn’t know where to look. Noah took that as a blessing; misdirection would be key to avoiding death, social or physical (because who knew — maybe Shulk was back to finish the job).

 

Are you willing to speak with me now, Noah? Technically Not Alvis flared up again, tone practically mocking him for his stubbornness earlier.

 

He remained firm: No. I’ll figure this out on my own. I don’t need you.

 

I understand you may feel a certain way, but this will be beneficial for us both if you just listen now. They said, voice surprisingly quieter rather than louder while emphasizing the pertinence of their to-be conversation.

 

The footsteps returned, feeling as though they were homing in on Noah specifically, his heart thumping loud enough to give his position away on its own, and he struggled to focus on any one thing at a time. 

 

So, he didn’t respond. He let the moment pass and instead tried to circumvent his discovery at all costs, planning any action he could take that would keep his and Eunie’s secrets safe. The only help at his disposal was the sword sitting beside him.

 

…He did not want to use that sword.

 

Before long, however, the footsteps found him. He found himself staring at some guy dressed in dark soldier garb, an emblem for the Colony Defense Force slapped on his chest, and his eyes slowly climbed up the man’s body to find a familiar face. A terrifyingly familiar face.

 

“Lanz?” Noah asked quietly, squinting and tilting his head to make sure he was looking at the right Machina.

 

“Noah,” he echoed, crouching down to match the kid’s sitting height, “can we…chat?” Something dark and rectangular rested in his right hand, perforated distinctly like a speaker or microphone. The Homs sucked in another unsteady, gasped breath, and readied himself mentally to threaten using the sword at his side.

 

Technically Not Alvis spoke again, words urgent and laced with caution: If you do not intend on listening, I do not intend on wasting my breath, but I strongly encourage you to listen to what I have to say, Noah. 

 

He still did not respond, instead focusing his efforts on whatever Lanz intended.

 

“...I heard everything you said to Eunie. It’s all right here.” Lanz pointed to the device in his right hand — a recording device of sorts — voice quiet and tone crestfallen, “I’m…supposed to…turn it over.”

 

“Turn it over?” Noah repeated, eyes wide, horror draining the color from his face as he faced who he could only barely assume was really his friend anymore.

 

Lanz blinked slowly, signaling something close to a nod: “Yeah.”

 

Noah sat quietly for a while contemplating his next actions, wondering if Lanz really was the source of their delay. And if he had heard and recorded everything, why approach and/or confront now? Why not do it while Noah was explaining everything and…

 

It’s a bluff. It’s gotta be.

 

“But you haven’t yet?”

 

“You’re gonna help me decide if I should.”

 

“...okay.” Noah started, body tensing at the sound of that, “Don’t.” He wasn’t too confident in his ability to talk down Lanz from spreading a friend’s lengthy tale, but believing it was all just a bluff for some reason he couldn’t quite pin down or place made masking his fear easier.

 

Lanz finally slid all the way down, crossing his legs and resting against the ship’s hull, “You screwed up my scholarship. You’ve been a jerk to me lately. I’m kinda really worried about you. Now we’re stuck on a boat for five days — give me a really convincing reason not to throw you to the Colonel’s mercy.”

 

“Would you have been on this boat with a recording device if you weren’t given another shot? I’m sorry I was a jerk and it wasn’t right of me; you deserve not to be used like that. You don’t have to worry about me, I’m okay. And yes, we’re stuck on a boat for five days. Together. To rekindle the flame I snuffed out.”

 

“Okay, one, YES, my scholarship’s gone. It was only gonna happen if nothing happened last night and I did a good job guarding the boat. Now it’s not. So I mighta’ stolen this and plan to win back what you took from me. Two, thanks. I don’t forgive you yet, but I appreciate the apology. Three, yes I absolutely do. Your leg’s all scratched up? You’ve got some weird demon thing in your flute? You haven’t been yourself in like a week? I might be mad at you but I’m still worried.”

 

Oh shit– maybe it wasn’t a bluff. Then…when did he board? How long has he been here??

 

Noah’s face gave it all away, the surprise of his instant retort keeping him well on his toes; anything shy of perfect play meant messing it up again. Though, as his eyes desperately tried studying Lanz’s language to determine what he wasn’t saying, he wondered if that recording device could also transmit anything. Colony technology couldn’t — not to his knowledge at least. High Entian and Machina tech? Absolutely. Would he be able to get it to the right channels was the next question, but Noah ran out of time to ponder before he had to speak again.

 

He was lucky Alvis seemed to be leaving him alone at the moment. What they had to say could wait — Lanz’s interrogation pushed their nonsense to the back of his mind, ready to be dealt with later.

 

“...So if you think that recording can save your future, why talk to me about it? Where’s the moral dilemma?” Noah asked callously, ignorant of his jaded tone.

 

“What’s the moral dilemma?” He repeated, mouth agape, “Noah, you’re my best friend. Brother by trade kind of deal. I wasn’t just gonna sell you out– err, okay that’s a lie. I was. But now that it’s…now that I know, I mean… I’m less mad at you. I realize how stupid it would have been to just ruin everything since you’re not doing it for yourself and all.”

 

“No, it’s all already ruined.” Noah frowned, sinking a bit deeper into his shadowy crevice, “I really don’t know what I’m doing anymore.”

 

“I thought you were trying to free some Alvis guy?”

 

“Well, yeah, but then they got my leg slashed and made me feel like crap last night, so I’m also figuring that out. I suppose in the same way that you are with me.” He shrugged, looking for some reason to explain the anger and pain — verbalizing it made it seem so tiny. Was that the point?

 

“And you haven’t sold them out yet?”

 

“They live in my flute and talk to me in my head. Nothing I can really do but suck it up.” He huffed, pausing for a moment before sighing, “I know how that sounds but–”

 

Lanz just laughed a little, “You’re crazy, dude.”

 

Noah struggled to find a rebuttal. Between stammers and incoherent sentence starters, he found nothing of substance. 

 

“Yeah, totally nuts. Look, this whole thing is messy enough. Between you and me: toss the flute, and I’ll toss the recording.” Lanz offered, pointing to the small glass viewing hole on the side, “Until then, I don’t trust you. And I’m gonna keep this in case you really do lose it on Eunie and me.”

 

Noah couldn’t promise anything, but he did want to assure Lanz: “Fine. That’s…fine.”

Notes:

kids finally talking to (and over) each other: the chapter

senior year aint started yet and my ass has already been thoroughly kicked

this fic is always a priority of mine so dont worry! if i MUST make cuts to my schedule, i swear these weekly uploads will remain intact!! i dont like the chaos either but we're all together on this wild ride of life T_T

Chapter 43: Discordant

Notes:

its here at long, long, LONG last.

y'all have every right to be mad at me. feel free! the first week (and a half) of school just obliterated me and i swiftly realized my usual habits weren't up to scratch anymore

i will find the rhythm! for now, i apologize, and pardon my chaos. <3

Five days.

 

For five days and six nights, Noah and his two closest friends camped out as quietly as they could in the dark, forgotten corners of their cargo ship. 120 hours with nothing to do but talk to each other — that and avoid thinking about the next meal. Noah’s meager rations measured specifically for his sole subsistence did not spread well when he had to split them in thirds so neither friend starved.

 

As a result, Noah spent as much time as he could sleeping. If he wasn’t sleeping, he was thinking about his next meal and hearing his hollow stomach beg for relief. If he wasn’t thinking about food, he was doing his best to make interesting conversation. And if he wasn’t making conversation, he was probably sleeping. It wore on him fast. By the third night, Noah was so bored that he broke his stubborn silence with Alvis. They, of course, were more than happy to humor Noah. They, of course, did not do so without a few snappy quips. 

 

But much to his surprise, Alvis did not seem put-off in the slightest. If anything, they sounded relieved.

 

I wish to first apologize again to you, Noah. They said, voice still ticked with its new feminine nature, I overstepped. I was so single-minded in placing you on the boat that I failed to account for external factors.

 

…yeah. Noah frowned, skeptical of taking their words as immediate, whole-hearted truths, Well, I guess that’s why I’m talking to you anyway. So.

 

Alvis pondered their response a while: I know. These are the external factors — the ones currently souring your voyage — for which I failed to account. You’re too fatigued to stay angry with me. It is natural.

 

Thanks. He rolled his eyes, the blackness around him obscuring any other possible person from seeing it. Perhaps he didn’t even need to physically gesture when they spoke — he and Alvis had become so intertwined that body language proved less effective than normal. Noah just understood their meaning naturally.

 

If you’d like, I can assist.

 

If it involves you possessing me again, no.

 

Doing so would allow you to pass the time faster — it is as though you’ve taken a nap. Your senses would be dulled and your hunger pangs thus faded. They said flatly, as though it held no weight.

 

Noah hissed, utterly offended by that answer. Yeah, and you get to do whatever the hell you want with my body! Last time you got in a fight with the two strongest and most influential people on Bionis claiming you were just taking me to safety!

 

Confrontation with Shulk and Melia was inevitable — as soon as they detected the ether surges atop the school, they were on our trail. Alvis explained, Had I not acted on your behalf, it would have been you meeting with them and your name slandered. They currently believe you are innocent and that I have orchestrated everything.

 

…You HAVE orchestrated everything. I wouldn’t have done this shit otherwise. And besides, I probably could have talked them down from violence. You let it happen. You walked out of there with a limp and just pissed them off more. 

 

He was growing tired of this act, and swiftly so. He was tempted to shut it down again and fight himself to start ignoring them again, but getting these answers felt more important. If he were ever going to trust them again, he would have to know their intentions.

 

Intention was a strange thing — as much as Noah swore he understood Alvis’ every thought and emotion, he could never quite seem to place Alvis as friend or foe. Perhaps that, then, was the intent: walk that line and profit from both sides.

 

They answered, dismay lacing their words, I had no other choice. I did not wish to physically confront them, especially not Shulk. Doing so was taxing on us both; I played imperfectly and thus sustained that wound, now causing your limp and subsequent imperfect play. It is a vicious cycle.

 

Why specifically not Shulk? Noah’s thoughts worked faster than his filter, and he unfortunately realized it was too late to pretend he had never asked the question.

 

…He is the one who did this to me. They eventually answered, perhaps only reluctantly deciding to do so. It would not have been out of character for them to dodge it. So then, why? What angle were they playing at?

 

Shulk — Hero of the Bionis — split your soul from your body? Yeah, right.

 

It is the truth. It is why I dreaded telling you the story. You, naturally, are skeptical, and I did not wish to villainize him. He made an objectively good decision.

 

That got him to shut up. 

 

You know his heroics — how he rebuilt the world and freed it from tyranny. I assisted him in doing so, but the process proved laborious, and without Zanza, I could not operate at full strength. I returned to my core to recuperate, expecting someone on Bionis to find it and reawaken me once I had recovered. I was correct — a year passed and I had been found, eagerly waiting for someone with potential to touch my crystal. It never happened: I was instead found and my core researched, quickly becoming Alcamoth’s sole energy source during its reconstruction, and later the basis for Origin’s design.

 

Really? No one had the potential? Noah asked, curious as to what exactly “potential” meant here.

 

Alvis gave the equivalent of shaking their head: Once I was discovered, I was privatized for research. No greater than 50 people knew I existed. No greater than 5 of them physically held the core.

 

He frowned, a discomfort growing in his stomach. Some mix between seasickness and uneasiness with Alvis’ words, he tustled around in the dark, hoping to find some relief. He mostly just didn’t want to puke: he had little more than the first-aid kit to clean it up with, and the smell would just foster more sickness.

 

I did not complain; remaining in my core allowed me to gather strength and think of escape plans should I have needed them. A few days before Origin launched, I had an answer: I would reawaken within the program, and could thus sustain myself through that. I administered the world for its first half, but I quickly grew displeased with it. I threatened to vacate it, saving the ones I wished to save and destroy those I deemed unfit. Shulk and his Alrestian equivalent, Rex, stood against me. I won, taking the former’s right arm and the latter’s left eye.

 

You did WHAT?? Noah gasped.

 

…They then formed a coalition against me, one member then splitting my soul: my thoughts and memories and my administrative duties broke into two separate people. I, the voice of Alvis you hear now as A, joined Shulk and Rex. I, the masculine voice you previously heard as Alpha, remained firm. We warred, and the coalition won, thus placing A as one of Origin’s new avatars. I remained physical and Origin eventually corrected itself — everyone had gotten something they wanted.

 

Hey, can we please talk about the fact that you amputated my biggest hero??

 

Ignoring him, they continued: When Origin restarted and the worlds successfully merged, there was a small window where only a small percentage of people were “moving,” to put it simply. Shulk was one of those people, and I believe he feared that my behavior in Origin would repeat itself. So, he used his decade of research and changed one line of code. It was enough to get my core to reject its embedded personality and memories, thus expelling them entirely. 

 

Okay, but like, you chopped off his arm? And threatened genocide?

 

I did. And knowing what I do now, Shulk’s prediction was correct — the Alpha half of myself had yet to give up on his goal, and I, A, remained a shadow. History would have repeated itself.

 

That left Noah with one question: Then, if he was right, why…all of this?

 

Why do weeds grow in the cracks of cobbled paths? They responded, Given four years to sober up, Alpha and A are tamed — we are Alvis again. And Alvis wants to be awakened and return to their physical form to observe and experience life firsthand again.

 

In that case, why do you sound different?

 

That’s what I wanted to tell you earlier. Do not touch the core crystal right now; you have the potential. We, with the help of the Logos, learned it was our humanity that blocked entry. Alpha, as an extension of the processor’s will rather than a fully-fledged personality, has been set with the singular goal of fixing the altered code. If you touch it now, you will awaken Alpha and thus lock me, the actual personality, out of the core crystal.

 

That, Alvis spoke grimly, and one other thing.

 

– [] – [] –

 

Five days.

 

Mio spent five days and five nights silently clutching her secrets close to her chest. Anytime anyone she once knew in Aionios walked by, she knew. She knew their joys, their freedoms, their passions, their demises — over and over again, constantly facing the same bitter end. Flag-wavers and crest-bearers, patriots and tyrants alike: each face she saw was a reminder of how it once was. How the world changed.

 

It would have been easier if she could tell anyone at all about it. Mio imagined her parents would have understood, but considering her newly-forged eavesdropping habit, she knew they had enough on their shoulders. Taion and Sena hadn’t a clue about it — telling them would just burden them the same way it burdened her. Her siblings were the same way, not that she particularly wanted to tell either of them: they had enough to deal with. Perhaps everyone did. So she carried it alone. 

 

School continued eluding her. Tora told her the same thing Mythra did: there was nothing he could do since nothing was wrong with Alrest’s side of things. Distractions proved sparse. Her friends were plenty available now, but their waking hours made any usual teenage activities a problem for those around them. They were either too loud or sought meals usually not served at certain times of day. Mio, Taion, and Sena specifically found themselves unable to do much of anything but hang out in assorted parks about Alrest — they and the World Tree became quite acquainted. They had nothing better to do.

 

Mio loved Gormott and tried to frequent it as often as she could. Its lively hustle and bustle juxtaposed nicely beside its open air and lush verdant zones — a perfect mix of rural and urban lands where life sailed along as excitedly as it could without proving overzealous. Uraya was a close second: its beautiful saffronias and large cliffsides overlooking entire stretches of Titan proved a treat to Mio’s eyes. From there, Tantal, Leftheria, and Mor Ardain — all diverse and capable in their own right, but lacking some core function Mio found attractive.

 

…Perhaps it didn’t help having seen each land’s various remains scattered about Aionios, haphazardly slapped together and left to crumble for one thousand years. She could only associate Mor Ardain with Keves Castle, Leftheria with Erythia Sea and all the mess that happened at Agnus Castle, Tantal with the obliterated Cent-Omnia Region, and Uraya with its mountainous counterpart left to hollow and die inside. Gormott, then, was unique: yes, its remains comprised the Aetia region, but Aetia was where she met Noah and became Ouroboros: where her hope formed anew.

 

He was a frequent topic on her mind as the week passed. Noah was a tragedy waiting to happen — Mio knew that well — but what they shared across their many, many lives together was no such thing. It was timeless: so timeless that losing its worst, most corrupt form spelled Origin’s end. She relished her time with Noah, though perhaps less out of genuine affection but the ghosts of her past selves missing what those days with him brought.

 

She knew, and quite too well, what was going to happen when Noah arrived: Ma had already made the plans and necessary lunch dates with all of her friends to discuss Alrestian security. Da remained as reluctant as he could, going so far as to try and conceal the truth from Pyra and Mythra, the two people who could most easily solve the issue.

 

All that remained was waiting on the ship. It was set to arrive sometime on Saturday evening, and Mio fought to be there when it did. Her family wasn’t the issue (though they did very much so attempt to stop her) — it was sleep. Drowsiness ate at her as she camped out on her favorite peak, staring absently at the sea as she awaited the grand spectacle, hoping and praying to the Architect himself that things would turn out alright for Noah.

 

If he died, Mio would never be able to tell anyone about her pains — he had to be the first to know. Besides, she was sure he would understand. Everything about his behavior pointed in the right direction.

 

A large shipping vessel pulled into Gormott at 9:27 PM. Mio let the breeze take her long, unruly hair from atop the nearby (and for some reason empty) guard post at Gormott’s entrance, the full moon overhead perfectly illuminating the ground below shades of silver amidst their gloomy navy.

 

A foreign vessel coming to trade Bionis’ goods — a Nopon at the helm and a crew of assorted races emerged from the deck, shaking hands and speaking with their welcoming party down below: Ma, Special Inquisitor Mórag Ladair, and both of their Blades. Da refused to show. The groups spoke with each other a while before properly unloading the ship.

 

Crates moved with ease, each person carrying stacks as if there were nothing inside until the boat had been cleaned out from the inside, the groups from Bionis and Alrest alike seeming utterly confused as they did so. Mio knew why: they were going to ambush and immediately incarcerate Noah, hoping that he was hiding in one of the various shipping containers.

 

But she stood too far away to receive many of the details, and her weary eyes were struggling to keep up as the nightly breeze and dim night schemed against her — all except one particular scene unfolding before her.

 

She watched a kid, lanky and visibly haggard, stumble from the ship’s hull with some kind of long, thin blade in hand, extended out to face and threaten some of the most potent Alrestian warriors.

 

Then, without warning and without moving that blade, the kid turned up to stare at Mio as she stood over at the top of the world, searing a gaze right into her soul, and smiling.

 

…Noah looked different.

Notes:

it's so good to finally be getting off this boat. to have our two lovely POV-holders meet at last.

i cannot wait
for everything to go wrong for them :33

Chapter 44: Vessel

Notes:

good evening

tuesday at last
we made it

Noah’s head throbbed. His eyes, staggered in movement, fought all manner of fatigue to crack open, as though he was barely recovering from a fatal dose of tree nuts again. Perhaps worse. It was hard to describe: his left side felt as though it was on fire, but his right felt entirely normal, a cool surface beneath. His shoulders stung, piercing pain searing his nerves if he dared try moving them, and he had absolutely no clue what day it was. Light reached his eyes in blurry fragments — shades and colors with faint silhouettes rather than defined forms — so detection from day or ambient light proved impossible.

 

To put it simply: it felt like deja vu.

 

“...what are we supposed to do?” It sounded as though Eunie said something, “I don’t know how to manipulate ether like that. It’s way above my skill level!”

 

“Oh, so you’re just okay doing nothing, then?” Lanz grumbled, their argument finally reaching Noah’s ears. He craned his neck a few degrees to the side to see the action, doing his best to not let the pain bother him as much as it really, absolutely, wholeheartedly did.

 

He blinked, focusing his gaze where he could: two silhouettes standing in front of some kind of bright light about a semi-circular ring of gray. Alarm spiked in his veins — nothing in their dingy cargo hold looked anything remotely like what shadowy mess he saw. Nothing got close. He wasn’t on the boat anymore.

 

“I didn’t say that. We have no supplies besides Noah’s tiny little backpack, and clearly that wasn’t enough — we have no means of getting anything else, either.” Eunie said, growing audibly frustrated.

 

Noah instinctively gasped, searching for air that didn’t burn his lungs and words that would communicate his thoughts, but his vocal cords didn’t co-operate. The best he could do was a fried, whispered vowel or two at a time.

 

He was lucky it got Lanz’s attention, and by proximity, Eunie’s.

 

“Oh, thank the Bionis you’re alive!” Lanz said, he and Eunie both rushing to Noah’s bedside, “We could have sworn…but, well, hey. Happy miracles.”

 

“Lanz!” Eunie interjected, nudging him on the shoulder, “We did not think you were dead, Noah, despite what this knucklehead’s implying.”

 

Noah attempted a response, though it came out as a haggard breath and an awkward blink at his friends.

 

“We should probably get you a mirror.” Eunie grimaced, “You’re, um…a bit worse for wear.”

 

“ A bit worse for wear , she says.” Lanz mocked her, “If you ain’t gonna rip off the bandage, I will.”

 

“Oh, please do. I really don’t want to.” She frowned, backing away.

 

He sucked in a breath: “I dunno what happened, really. Last thing before we came and bailed you out was you telling us to stay put in those last few crates, then it got real loud and then real quiet, so we jumped out and you were like…half-dead, blue flames smoldering on your left arm with some weird white-haired girl beside you doing…honestly I don’t even know. It was bad. But she seemed to help us and showed us this cave before running off and disappearing.

 

“We saved what we could from the ship and stuff. No more food, and Eunie did her best with that first-aid kit of yours. So we’re…kinda just hoping that girl shows back up with some edible kindness. Don’t have a plan at all.”

 

Mio? Noah’s ears pricked at hearing “white-haired girl” — especially considering her actions. He wanted to scream and shout, jumping up and down joyously as victorious at last, but, well, he could barely keep awake. As far as he was aware, he’d been burnt to a crisp and saved without real medical intervention: it truly was a miracle he was still alive.

 

“Lanz doesn’t have a plan.” Eunie clarified snarkily, “Other than trying to get me to steal water ether and make a makeshift bullet or just magically transfer it to you. Neither of which I know how to do.”

 

“Usually when you say ‘he doesn’t have a plan’ you follow it up with a plan of your own,” Lanz quipped, folding his arms as he did so.

 

Oof, they’re never going to agree on anything. Noah frowned (at least he tried to), We’re all going to starve before either one listens to the other. I might die faster. Maybe that’d be better.

 

Noah, please do not say such things. Alvis spoke, voice still hearty and feminine, You will not die.

 

He perked, groggy and unable — though perhaps just unwilling — to make any real connections, Alvis! Didn’t know you were still around.

 

Alpha is still searching for the code, so I still live in your flute, yes. They said, voice calm and collected, quite unlike that of Noah’s two bickering compatriots. 

 

I see. What, um, day is it? And do you know what happened? I can’t ask Lanz and Eunie questions, so…

 

Alvis chuckled a bit, Today is Sunday at 14:03 Alrestian time. And yes, I do know what happened. I also know you are not physically or mentally intact enough to handle the truth right now, so I’d encourage you to ask again once Mio’s returned with help.

 

Wh-Mio’s coming back? Really? He said, proving their point. Noah jumped from topic to topic haphazardly, struggling to fill in inferences and make logical connections.

 

Yes. I have a bond with her core crystal. She and two other such signatures should be arriving shortly.

 

Two? Who’s she getting help from?

 

That I do not know. I only have information on Mio.

 

It was better than nothing, he figured, especially if she was as close as Alvis implied. He had nothing to do but wait — it was in fact all he could do. Aside from listening to Lanz and Eunie fight over whose fault which issue was or who should be the frontman or thinking of how the next thing was going to work, all of which just amplified his headache further.

 

He opted instead to try zoning out and closing his eyes, hoping to dull his senses long enough to speed through the slow, slow seconds. Frankly, he wanted to sleep, though couldn’t be sure enough whether that meant death that his own sense of mortality kept him awake. That and his whole-body pains. That and every inconvenience keeping sleep from him, each agonizing in its own right.

 

But before long, Alvis’ prediction came true:

 

“Whoa, hey, who’re these dudes?” Eunie said, her extended staff joining her silhouette as she cautiously eyed the new trio. A person whose long hair obscured much of their form, a short girl with a side ponytail holding a giant hammer, and some slender figure with some kind of bulb on their head and no other identifying forms.

 

“Mimi, uh…” The girl with the hammer said, “I dunno if your friend over there’s…”

 

Eunie cut her off, unusually pressed and on-edge, “Hey! Shut up! Who are you?”

 

“Eunie, please!” Mio’s voice. “This is Taion, that’s Sena — Taion can help Noah. Sena’s his Blade.”

 

Eunie gripped her staff, brilliant energy pooling at the tip, “I never gave you my name. He”–she made a quick gesture to Noah–”never gave you his.”

 

“Eunie, will you please take a load off?” Lanz interjected, diffusing the former’s trigger finger, “She saved our asses — especially Noah’s — big time. She can invite whoever she wants to help. C’mon in, you lot.”

 

One of them muttered a thank you as the new trio shuffled in, silhouettes eventually getting close enough to Noah’s newly limited sight range to make sense of them. The girl with the side ponytail seemed familiar: not unlike the girl Lanz would describe when he was running his races. What was it, Sena? Oh, yes, he remembered — the strong(wo)man and the biggest, brightest beacon of positivity. The boy with the bulbous hair seemed familiar, too. What was it, Taion? Right — their brilliant strategizer and a perfect buff with most any trivia thrown his way. Then the one in the middle. It didn’t even take Noah a moment to process who she may have been: she was just definitively Mio. No more, no less, she stood beside him with drear on her face and gloom about her posture.

 

But he could do nothing for her now. Not without major medical intervention. So, he sighed to himself and let them converse amongst themselves.

 

“Holy sh–I mean, crap, Mio.” Taion gasped upon finally getting close enough to Noah to properly inspect his wounds, “I can’t heal this.”

 

“I thought your Mondo…?” She cocked her head, disappointment about every aspect of her language, verbal and not.

 

“Cuts and scrapes. Not burn victims.” He enunciated each word defiantly.

 

“Yeah, this really looks like a job for your mom.” Sena chimed in, clearly grossed out by the sight. Noah would have scoffed at her and turned away embarrassed if he could twitch more than one muscle at a time.

 

Mio clenched her fists, “My mom would kill him. Then resurrect him. Then kill him again. We can’t ask her.”

 

“What about her Blade, then? Dromarch?” Taion offered, avoiding looking at Noah’s state for too long of glances.

 

“Would rather claw his own core out than displease her. Plus he’s not at full strength without her, so it might not even matter.” She sighed, fists uncurling slowly as she seemed to contemplate her options, turning back to the two Bionis kids, “What do you guys usually do?”

 

“Shoot people with high-density water ether.” Lanz answered coolly, “That or let the body do its thing.”

 

“Water’s my element. Tell me how to do that.” Mio answered, spirit lifting with each word as she hurried eagerly back to where Lanz leaned on the inner cave wall.

 

He shook his head, “You need an Ether Rifle.”

 

“Great, how do I get one?”

 

“Go to Bionis and steal one of like three in existence?”

 

“...How’d it work before those rifle things?”

 

“It didn’t.”

 

“That’s not true,” Eunie spoke, correcting Lanz, “The High Entia have been healing people and manipulating ether since we stopped being Telethia.”

 

“Fantastic!” Mio grinned, asking the same question with slightly more zealous force, “How do you do that?”

 

She shrugged, genuinely unsure of how to answer: “I don’t know about healing, but when I wanna beam people, I just…think really hard about channeling all the light around me into a big ball and throwing it?”

 

“Hey, that’s what I do when I wanna put earth behind my swings!” Sena chirped, “‘Cept I don’t think about it. I just feel it from my core and in my hammer. Maybe it’s the same?”

 

Mio sighed, fever slowly dying as she slumped again, “If I provided the elemental ether, could you try that, Eunie?”

 

“I still just don’t know how to channel energy like that.”

 

“I can show you,“ Taion finally spoke, some mix between coldness and shyness keeping his voice low, “It’s easier than you think.”

 

“...Guess that’s both of my problems solved, then?” Eunie shrugged, haflheartedly standing and weakly gripping her staff — the one she previously so eagerly pointed at them as a weapon designed for destruction, “I’ll give it a shot. I dunno how successful it’ll be, but I’ll try. No promises. Seriously.”

 

For all of that, Noah was just happy to feel as supported as he was. It was a strange thing for him to be surrounded by so many people who knew him and knew him well enough to care on the level they were currently doing — it eased his fatigues, softened his worries. What mattered from there came down to what Mio, Eunie, and Taion were out practicing beyond the light barrier from their hiding spot. It left the three remaining shade-dwellers to twiddle their thumbs and awkwardly make conversation. Lanz and Sena were hesitant to speak with one another, each taking post near the main entrance, standing across from each other, separated by the light wall leading to the outside. Noah figured Sena would be the first to break and found himself correct. She initiated what quickly became friendly banter between the two about their physical track records.

 

It was reminiscent of something, but Noah was too harebrained to think of what it could be. So, he instead turned his focus back on himself, hoping Alvis would prove to be a nice conversationalist. They were the only person he could speak with at the moment, anyway.

 

Hey. Noah began, not sure where he planned to take the chat.

 

Hello. Alvis responded quickly.

 

His thoughts stuttered a bit as he found some type of topic: So, uh…you bonded with Mio’s core?

 

Yes. The day you — I suppose I — leapt from the rooftop, I met her projection, a most unnatural thing. It shimmered red as though attached to my core crystal, but at that time the Light Tower had been fully disconnected.

 

Noah would have cocked his head to the side if it did not result in excruciating pain, …Really?

 

Indeed. Fascinating, I find it. Entirely unexplainable by normal metrics, especially since she held only a shallow understanding of what was going on, but something caused her to stick. From there, our core crystals began exchanging data naturally, and I gained a read on some of her information — location, origin, element, weapon type, et cetera. Nothing particularly interesting, but useful enough for niche purposes.

 

As though they read his mind and his desire for distractions, they began rattling off other various bits of trivia about that day and others like it. The statistical likelihood of some of Noah’s various branching paths, how Noah’s metabolism was working double-time to both ensure his brain could think and manage his many, many wounds — any random fact Noah could ask about, they knew.

 

And they talked for a while, Alvis doing most of the heavy lifting, but for long enough that Mio’s ether manipulation trio returned inside their hidey-hole.

 

She squeezed Noah’s non-burned hand with her left, and Eunie’s left hand with her right, the latter taking in a deep breath and maneuvering herself to the right position to attempt healing Noah.

 

“Opposite of what you were doing earlier — don’t think too hard, feel the ether. Don’t concentrate on one thing, feel yourself work in waves and ripples instead of short, condensed blasts.” Taion spoke hurriedly, his last-second prepping doing little more than distracting Eunie as she was ready to begin.

 

“Lemme focus,” she insisted, sucking in another, this time deeper, breath, slowly moving her staff in practiced motions.

Noah closed his eyes, hoping the next time he opened them, he could move — hell, even speak — again. With what little strength he could muster, he squeezed Mio’s hand back.

Notes:

eheheheheHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHeeeee

the noahmio has finally noahmio'd
but at what cost

Chapter 45: Special Inquisitor

Notes:

oh, i said tuesday? and then wednesday? then friday? what do you mean it's saturday? what? that's totally wrong i definitely didn't--

...

i think i've said aplenty how much senior year is kicking my ass
hey! at least my weekends are open now! i'd totally look for the next edition tomorrow!

enjoy

Noah proved to be one enigmatic creature. She had seen the glint in his eyes before everything happened, but she chose not to react until...well, until everything happened.

 

Now, she held his hand, attempting to siphon all the energy she could from her core to help one of his Bionis friends fix his numerous burns and scrapes — why, oh why, had they met like this again? Twice now they have exchanged a conversation or a glance and twice now it has led to a physical confrontation, some strange aura about him as he stared death in the eye and defied it.

 

Mio supposed the better question was why care so much? He was clearly capable of handling himself in that kind of situation thanks to her first encounter witnessing it and her many long years in Aionios watching N go crazy, but she stepped in again, trusting a dying, fleeting feeling instead of her own moral compass and logical reasoning. If he wanted to burn, then perhaps it would be better for her to let him.

 

…Yet here she was. Helping him.

 

She felt him squeeze back, his less-blemished arm capable of more than the rest of his body appeared to be, and let her heart flutter. It wasn’t the fact that he was alive — she and his friends made sure of that when things threatened to turn for the terrifying — but the fact that he was still fighting and clinging so hard.

 

That was Noah. Mio was sure of it. Whoever he was during that fiery fight, he was someone else. And judging by his sword, magically in perfect condition despite going up against and feeling the wrath of some of Alrest’s strongest Blades, she sincerely wondered which evil spirit fought his battles for him.

 

“Concentrate, Eunie.” Mio clenched both her and Noah’s hands as tightly as she could, energy flowing outward slower than she wanted it to.

 

Eunie failed to conceal an eyeroll, her staff’s crest shimmering a baby blue, “I’m trying. This is just…the opposite of what I do.”

 

You’d be surprised what you can really do, girl. She held her tongue, knowing she would tell her — actually all of them — sooner rather than later. What came first was fixing Noah so he would corroborate her story and therefore she would not sound utterly insane and finding a way to also fix his criminal status.

 

“Deep breaths. Don’t pool it all in one place, remember?” Taion stepped in, placing a gentle hand just below hers on the staff’s pole, “Should feel like the summer’s sun, not an oven.”

 

Mio held on as long as she could, ether spreading thinner and thinner as she let Eunie build her own understanding. In Aionios, this was second-nature. They learned each other’s long-trained skills in a matter of days, not years. Here, it was different. The simulation was gone; no longer did they enjoy such simple pleasures. Yet Mio believed she could still teach and Eunie could still learn, even if the medium was different.

 

She was fortunate enough to not be bound to the specific type of ether a core crystal produced, even if she herself seemed inept with its manipulation. That was fixable. And Mio watched as Noah’s deep, gruesome wounds slowly faded.

 

Nothing perfect or complete, but she managed to expedite his natural healing process by at least a month: his leg wound stitched itself back together, and his numerous burns went down a degree of severity.

 

Mio coughed and let go from both of them, swiftly sucking in air as she took a step back to recharge. Eunie opened her eyes and gasped, amazed with herself. Cheering, she dropped her staff, running over to Lanz exclaiming, “I–Noah–he’s not actively dying anymore! Lanz! I actually did it!”

 

“We’ve gotta do it again,” Mio spoke hoarsely, “I think he’s…only halfway there.”

 

Taion rushed to her side, giving her some of his own ether to prop her back up, “A break would be best, though. For now we celebrate a hypothesis proven correct and make sure you don’t also die on us.”

 

She took a deep breath, feeling much more upright with the boost, “Okay. I can recover quicker near a body of water. I used all I had and this moist little overhang only has so much to spare.”

 

“Want me to come with you, Mimi?” Sena offered, “There’s a big lake a few peds outside the city.”

 

“I shouldn’t go anywhere near Torigoth. What about Lyta Oasis?”

 

“...I mean, sure. We’ll have to cross half of Gormott, but…” She frowned, “Why can’t we go to Torigoth?”

 

“‘Cause we’re criminals I guess.” Lanz interjected, monotony in his tone, “Noah kinda stabbed a couple people.”

 

Sena gasped, “Stabbed a couple people?! Mimi, you don’t mean he–”

 

“My Ma was there! No high-ranking Ardanian officials felt anything afterward other than a broken pride.” Mio grumbled defiantly.

 

If Ma hadn’t been such an advocate for capturing Noah and helping that Shulk guy do whatever, no one would have showed up to intercept that ship. Da was vehemently against it, and because he wasn’t helping, neither were Aunts Pyra and Mythra. They would have calmed the fires before they burnt Noah to a crisp — but they just weren’t there to stop it.

 

It ate away at her. Mio was nowhere near her parents’ level yet had to step in and act as though she was. Maybe in Aionios she had something with all those years of training and practice understanding her equipment, but out in the real world…nothing. Her most useful act as a Blade was being Eunie’s battery.

 

What was she going to do against the entire Gormotti government now freshly empowered by its imperial overlord?

 

“I mean, but still! That’s like…treason, probably!” Sena cried out.

 

Taion clarified: “High treason. Aggravated assault against an Ardanian official is punishable by hanging. It’s worse since Noah’s from Bionis, I believe. It may be taken as an act of war.”

 

That gave everyone a good gasp and a subsequent jolt. Mio had to calm them down as best as she could, “Stop, stop. He didn’t instigate war. If he actually did any damage to the Special Inquisitor, well, who knows, but he didn’t. She’s just pissed off, I promise. I guarantee Noah, Lanz, Eunie, and I, were just declared terrorists.”

 

“Just declared terrorists, she says!” Lanz threw his arms up, “Like that’s any better!”

 

“I’m just saying war wasn’t declared against Bionis solely because Noah’s an idiot.” Mio defended herself, hands placed angrily on her hips.

 

Her statement garnered a thumbs down from Noah’s unblemished right hand — what it meant she wasn’t quite sure. Was that a no to him being an idiot or a no to him being a terrorist? Either way, he was wrong.

 

It was nice to see him engaging, though: a good sign he was still hanging on. A better sign that Eunie’s healing wasn’t just superficial.

 

“See, look at that. Even Noah disagrees.” Eunie chuckled, walking back over to his bedside and changing her focus toward him, “Feeling any better?”

 

He raised his right hand and made a “so-so” motion. To Mio, that meant he was doing better than he believed he was: previously, the entire left half of his body up to his ear had tasted the Special Inquisitor’s wrath. Now he was several shades redder than he should have been, but no longer was he charred to the muscle. With that auspicious sign, Mio wished her ether had regenerated to help prop him up again, but…it would take more than a few minutes of recovering and conversing to repeat it.

 

“You look a lot better, dude.” Eunie smiled, “Mio here’s gonna go fix her ether thingy or whatever and then we’ll get you back up all the way.”

 

Noah coughed, clearly attempting to give a verbal response with limited success. His vocal cords scratched against his throat as his good hand moved to touch the new skin. 

 

Eunie stopped him: “Hey, relax, okay? You can yell and kick and scream later. First we have to put you back together.”

 

He made another thumbs down gesture before pointing to Mio.

 

“Me?” She cocked her head to the side, trying to figure out what that could possibly mean.

 

A thumbs up, followed by him making a sort of jagged motion with his hand closed as though it held a pen.

 

“Me…write? You want something to write with?”

 

An enthusiastic thumbs up this time.

 

Mio sighed, turning to the rest of the group: “Anyone got pen and paper?”

 

Taion quickly pulled a small book with a beautiful inky pen hooked in the bindings, triumphantly smug as he ripped a page out and placed the pen in Noah’s hand. The latter began quickly scribbling onto the page, penmanship either scratchy by weakened muscles or by general lack of skill, plopping down the pen gently as he finished.

 

Mio picked up the paper, squinting and struggling to read, quickly realizing she recognized no characters, “What the–”

 

Lanz swaggered over, extending his hand and accepting the note from her as he slowly intoned: “I AM NOT A TERRORIST.”

 

Sena shook her head, folding her arms, “If I go into the city, I bet I could see your face on a wanted poster.”

 

Lanz returned the paper to Noah after he waved his pen in the air a bit, flipping the page over to the other side, letting him write before reading the note aloud again: “I can explain. Just need speech back please.” 

 

“Well so can I,” Mio hissed, “I was there.”

 

Noah gave a thumbs up.

 

– [] – [] –

 

She stood atop the world, staring down toward the docks as she and Noah locked eyes and he raised his dark blade toward his potential jailors.

 

As soon as he raised it, Mio went on guard, her previous exhaustion fading as terror replaced it. What she didn’t witness with Shulk and Melia she was about to see firsthand. So, she descended the exterior watch tower, slowly and carefully stepping down the ladder.

 

“You! Lower your weapon!” The Special Inquisitor barked, certainly drawing her own twin whips, “We know precisely who you are and what you intend: submit to arrest peacefully and nothing has to escalate beyond that.”

 

“You intend to kill me.” Noah replied, voice even and calm despite his prior visibly weary state. Something supernatural permeated his tone, and Mio was lucky her Gormotti ears were tailor-made to pick up subtleties from afar.

 

“No, that’s not true.” A man spoke, audibly on-edge, “No one’s trying to kill you.”

 

“My apologies: you intend to use me as Alcamoth’s battery. You intend to capture me.” Came the kid’s response.

 

“We intend on stopping you from repeating the history you’re pushing toward. That is all.” The man retorted.

 

“Enough. I wish to speak with Pneuma.” Noah growled, “Allow me to do so and I’ll be on my way peacefully. It is all I seek.”

 

“You have no business with the Aegis. Stand down.” The Flamebringer spoke, clearly threatened by that statement — perhaps by some visual cue Mio missed while struggling to climb down that ladder.

 

“I have even less business fighting you, Moràg. I am wounded as-is.”

 

“How do you–” She stumbled, quickly clearing her throat and regaining her tough persona, “Then lower your blade and let us be done with this! You will cease your search, return your stolen goods, and return to Bionis to answer for your crimes.”

 

“I see. That is why you did not engage on the boat, Shulk: you required help.”

 

Shulk did not respond. Noah sighed and spoke again as Mio reached the tower’s base: “I am going to speak with Pneuma. You may either grant me passage or I will carve it myself.”

 

“If you engage, child, you will commit crimes on Ardanian soil and face its full wrath.” Brighid warned, forming an affinity link with her Driver.

 

Noah took two steps in the opposite direction before the flames rose, erecting a firm, fiery wall and blocking the exit. It was happening all over again.

 

Mio could not see the rest of it — she instead just darted toward the source of conflict and attempted to make her way to Noah’s side. He was going to die at the Special Inquisitor’s wrath if she did nothing: she would lose him all over again, never able to make him tell her what was going on.

 

When she grew closer to the port, the sounds of combat grew deadly. Steel clashing against steel as Driver Arts echoed in the air as battle cries — not just the Special Inquisitor’s, but Ma’s as well. She was working overtime to keep everyone healthy, though swift sword swishes cleaving through flesh over and over again…she could not do it forever.

 

The worst part of it was the screams. Mio covered her ears as Shulk and the Inquisitor cried out repeatedly in pain. Her concern stopped being for Noah’s wellbeing, but rather his assailants’. It’s what pushed her past the fire, her Twin Rings tight in her grasp as she cut a small window through the wall, entering the ring ready to end the conflict one way or another.

 

“Mio!” Her mother gasped, concentration breaking, “What are you doing?!”

 

When Ma gasped, so too did Noah, taking just a moment to stop massacring his foes to glance back at the new face, eyes widening with the discovery. Just long enough to allow the Flamebringer to get in a nasty blow.

 

Cerulean flames ate away at him, forcing him back at a massive disadvantage, death close at hand. That’s when Lanz reared his head, diving recklessly into the chaos. Mio’s ears hurt listening to everyone yelling over each other, though she noticed one constant: Noah was silent.

 

Maybe that’s what won her over. Her hands moved instinctually, attempting to douse the flames long enough to take Noah and run. The other two rushing forth from the boat proved to be useful human shields — the Inquisitor struggled to avoid hitting them, and thus failed to land anything further.

 

They ran, Lanz carrying Noah and a small backpack over his shoulders as Eunie threw beams of light back in the opposite direction, the two working together as though they had done this countless times before.

 

Noah scratched out a thank you before his throat caught fire again, Mio’s water ether not swift enough to prevent it from killing his vocal cords, and the four of them just ran as far as they could for as long as they could until they believed themselves free.

 

They weren’t — Mio knew it well. It was only a matter of time before hiding out beneath some random overhang meant they cornered themselves, but she didn’t say that.

 

She dared not tell the group as she told her story that she knew her mother was somewhere near and approaching fast. She did not have the heart.

Notes:

college applications be killing me

its okay we press on. this is how i get good at writing so my shoe doesn't get spat on when i apply fr fr!!
v_v