To Hell And Back

In the devilish realm of magic-users, on the night of second anniversary of Cursed Rain Cessation, the grand hall of freshly renovated Festivity Palace was filled with light, music and bustle. Garishly dressed crowd spilled across the floor in an ever-changing motley pattern, as groups formed around the hottest conversations of the moment, then broke apart, spread and flown through the openings, keeping the air abuzz with chattering and laughter. After two years of arduous recovery from the cataclysmic event, starved of proper high-grade leisure, elite society of magic-users’ world has long been craving to rebound with frivolity and bombast. Barely noticed by most, a slender young lad in a black suit coursed through these noisy currents, casting probing, yet cautious glances at people around him. He constantly fought the urge to raise his arm to his face, to check his mask – light and breathing, it clung to him like second skin, and the boy felt occasional pangs of anxiety, as if something was missing. He carefully observed the revelers, trying to avoid others’ scrutiny as best he could, and so far, young sorcerer was successful. For once, being a person of zero renown was playing to his advantage. Growing up, he dreamed of making it big – of joining high-class gatherings as a guest of note and soaking in the admiration of the crowd. But, since then, aspiring lad has learned the other face of that coin as well: the scheming, the rivalries, the jealousy, the ruthless plays in pursuit of status. This room was not a bush of chirping birds, but a pool of sharks, sizing each other up, choosing targets, tools and accomplices. He was way out of his depth. As if to reaffirm his bearings, the boy allowed himself a quick glance back to where he split off from his boss – the red-haired man who brought him here. A person of considerable notoriety, he sailed these waves with natural ease – courteously exchanging greetings and toasts with passers-by, as they smiled to his face, only to shoot daggers at his back. Young sorcerer didn’t have to concern himself with those for now, if only by the virtue of being an unnamed part of “with entourage” on the guest list. He returned to his search. Treading lightly, unassuming guest crossed the hall and went up a few steps on the main stairs leading to the upper floors. There, from his high ground, he peered into the shifting sea of heads, and finally had a lock on his target – a man with a gaudy, attention-grabbing mask. The boy closed his eyes and took a deep breath. His mission was about to begin. The previous day, the boy was lying face down on his bed, still fully clothed, recovering from his latest venture into the dark underbelly of the city. It took a good minute for the alarm clock to reach into the featureless murk that were his dreams and pull young sorcerer back into reality. The clock’s battery seemed to be running out of juice, distorting the jingle, making it hoarse and drawn out, adding a nauseating tinge to the boy’s waking confusion. He groaned, rolled off the bed and dragged himself to the bathroom, where his clothes went into the hamper and his head – under a cold shower. Spent or not, today, he had to shape up. Later, standing in front of the mirror, with a towel around his waist, young sorcerer studied himself with a mix of worry and timid vainglory. Going through the rigors of keeping pace with his senpai, he started gaining a bit of bulk, shifting from skinny to slim in the past year or so. A little more, and he’d even look fit. His hair grew out a bit long since the last time he cut it – now leaning down under its own weight, making the formerly clean, brush-like black and white rows mesh in fuzzy patterns. That part the boy intended to correct, but simply couldn’t find the time lately, resorting to just sleeking it back – though, a few stubborn strands would always find a way to break free. The first outcrop of facial hair began claiming real estate on his chin, and the lad diligently shaved it off every morning – a “grown up” routine gave him a measure of petty satisfaction. All in all, having stepped into his twenties, he almost looked like a young, capable adult. But would “almost” cut it today? The boy returned to his living room and began dressing up, while, in his head, already half-way to his destination. The thought alone added some spring to his step. Before leaving, young magic-user looked around the room one last time, as any responsible grown up person would. Was there anything in need of his last minute curation? His blanket was still crumpled from when he pulled himself off it this morning, and, hurriedly evening it out, he only now noticed a dried smear of blood, likely carried on his jacked last night. It undoubtedly seeped through the blanket slip and stained the insides too, promising a bothersome cleanup. Seeing that dark blot killed the boy’s momentum. His shoulders slumped, gaze became gloomy and detached. ‘I can’t do everything in one day…’ he exhaled, with heaviness in his voice, but then shook his head. ‘But I’ll do what I can. All I can…’ He checked the clock one last time, grabbed a small pouch off his nightstand and went out the door, masking up on the go. Sometime later, the boy arrived to the place where his hopes were being dashed year after year – a wide hallway with two doors at the end. The smell of this dingy place, the echo of his footsteps in the side passages – all the little familiar details reminded the young sorcerer of his previous attempts. He would much prefer for those memories to lie dormant, but, alas, the path was too well-trodden. As he expected, a long line has already formed to the door on the left. What he didn’t expect was to see his boss, the head of the notorious En’s Family, in the empty second row, leaning against the wall, with his arms crossed on his chest and an expression of profound boredom on his face. Gathering people kept eyeing him with tense suspicion, and the line formed a bit of a curve around where he was standing. ‘En-san?’ called the surprised boy, joining the back end. ‘How come you’re here?’ ‘Ah, Fujita!’ livened up the man and strolled over. ‘Took you long enough. There’s something I wanted to talk to you about in person, before you went in.’ ‘You’ve been… waiting?’ ‘Well, at first, I went to look for Kikurage,’ copped the red-haired sorcerer, ‘but it’s an ordeal to get ahold of her these days. Figured, I may as well grab your ear instead.’ Fujita raised a brow, still no less perplexed. ‘Here…?’ ‘Yes, here. What’s wrong with here?’ “He still doesn’t know where my room is…” deduced the boy, but decided not to test his boss’s benevolence. ‘Nothing, nothing, just making sure. What’s going on with Kikurage?’ ‘Ah, she’s in the blues again…’ shared En with genuine sadness. ‘Doesn’t want snugglies, doesn’t want to play. Just sleeps somewhere out of sight all day long.’ ‘Poor thing,’ sympathized Fujita. ‘Must be missing her playmate.’ ‘Bah, nonsense!’ huffed the sorcerer with sudden anger, startling the lined up people. ‘She’s just overworked is all! Good riddance to that little ingrate!’ The boy realized his mistake too late, and was preparing for a long tirade, but was saved by the bell. The door on the left opened and a dog-masked attendant stuck out his head. ‘NEXT FIVE, IN!’ he barked, and the line shifted forward, giving Fujita an opportunity to change the subject. ‘Anyway, En-san, what were you looking to discuss?’ ‘Ah, yes,’ collected himself the man. ‘It’s about that rumor you’ve been following. I had someone look into the matter.’ ‘Was it true?!’ burst young sorcerer, nearly jumping out of the line. ‘What have you learned?!’ ‘Compose yourself,’ imperiously instructed his boss. ‘You’re not a child.’ Feeling a sobering jolt of embarrassment, Fujita blushed and stepped back. Just this morning, he wondered if he would pass for an adult man, and here was his answer. ‘Right, I’m sorry…’ he mumbled, restraining his fervor. ‘But… What did you find out?’ ‘I will hold on to most of the details for now,’ disclaimed the red-haired sorcerer in a voice clearly meant to clue Fujita in to mind his tongue as well, ‘but the lead you’ve been following had gone room temperature.’ The boy’s excitement evaporated. ‘Then it was a bust after all…’ he hung his head. At the sight of this reaction, En could not suppress an eye-roll, but, against his reputation, the man remained patient with his young underling. ‘Don’t despair at the first setback,’ he commanded. ‘There are few things I hold in greater contempt than flakiness.’ ‘I’m sorry,’ once again apologized Fujita, straightening up. ‘Was there something more to it?’ ‘As it happens, there was,’ nodded sorcerer, with an impish sparkle in his eye. ‘When you told me about the guy you were looking for, it occurred to me that there was a good chance he’d end up in the Hole. So I shared our venture with Shin and sent him to see what he can dig up. That was asking to find a needle in a haystack, of course – I didn’t expect anything immediate – but Shin came back with results that same night.’ ‘Really?!’ jumped Fujita with shocked disbelief. ‘Just like that?! That’s Shin-senpai for you!’ ‘Well, don’t get too starry-eyed,’ warned the sorcerer with a skeptical grimace. ‘It’s not like he brought back all the answers with a bow on top, and he didn’t have to do much anyway. He popped in to an acquaintance of his who runs a local clinic and browsed the records on magic-user corpses finding their way to the morgue in the past months.’ ‘And, with how things are now, there couldn’t be many…’ figured the boy. ‘With only one fitting within the estimated window of arrival,’ confirmed his boss. ‘Shin wanted to pick the body up, so we could resurrect and question the stiff, but, alas, it already went to that researcher brat who once enjoyed our hospitality.’ At the sound of that description, Fujita twitched – a scowl contorting his face. ‘Kasukabe…’ he muttered with open hostility, barely holding back from crushing the pouch in his hands. ‘That sack of shit was the one who… Dammit! If not for him, Matsumura could be here today!’ ‘Or he could be decomposing in the Hole somewhere, unfound,’ countered En pedantically. ‘Or, even if not, he could still perish during the crisis – his devil tumor lost forever all the same. What happened – happened. You shouldn’t waste your time on unhelpful-’ glancing briefly at the boy’s face, sorcerer stopped himself and retracted a bit. ‘What I’m saying is: if you’re still angry, direct it at a goal, not at a target. That will get you somewhere. And, if it makes you feel better, Kasukabe managed to be of use to our little mystery-solving here. Consider it his atonement.’ Fujita nodded silently. Pride and sense of injustice kept flaring up inside him, but he couldn’t allow himself to be distracted. He should have been past that grudge by now, but it still stung. ‘Splendid,’ returned back on track En. ‘When professor received the body, he studied it, and he shared his autopsy notes with Shin, as well as circumstances of death, partly speculative as they were.’ ‘Should we trust what he claims?’ asked sullen lad with cold disdain. ‘Don’t be a hypocrite. You started all this by chasing a rumor,’ reminded the Family head. ‘Now, where was I…? Right! Turns out, our deceased friend one day woke up in an alley under a piece of cardboard or somesuch. As you can imagine, a magic-user of his caliber did not enjoy such accommodations, and wouldn’t stay quiet about it, seemingly not concerned with ramifications. It wasn’t long before he found himself a target of mobbing and relocated to the morgue.’ ‘Could it really be our man then?’ questioned Fujita, still working on shelving his inner turmoil. ‘The real deal could have defended himself, no doubt. Or simply left.’ ‘True,’ agreed En, quickly checking the tail end of the line that only kept growing, ‘but that is a discussion best reserved for a different crowd. For now, I’ll only say that this whole situation looks very promising. Your intuition didn’t fail you.’ ‘NEXT FIVE, IN!’ Dazed with this reply, the boy missed the cue, and only snapped out of it when the person behind him nudged him forward. ‘Ah, sorry!’ he blurted with a stupid grin, closing the gap. ‘But that’s awesome news!’ ‘Don’t start celebrating a victory you haven’t yet achieved,’ once again corrected him En. ‘Even if we were to take the “what” for granted, it means little without “how” and “at what cost”.’ ‘That’s… true…’ soured Fujita, but quickly caught himself. ‘Though, you didn’t wait for me here just to bum me out, right, En-san?’ ‘Glad to see you’re quick on the uptake. It may come in handy soon,’ commended him his boss. ‘Now, it took some work, but we managed to trace the rumor to its source, and it lead us to a certain someone who appears to be at the center of it all. So, what do you reckon our next step would be?’ The boy took one hand off the pouch he was holding and grabbed his chin, still rubbery after the morning shave. He wasn’t used to being asked for input, and wanted to savor the moment. ‘Hmm…’ he said, after weighing up options in his head for a short while. ‘Investigating them? Or, perhaps, capturing and interrogating?’ Forgetting all about maintaining the air of secrecy, En laughed heartily at that suggestion, once again scaring the gathered people. A few latecomers quietly backed off and disappeared into the side passages, deciding to try their luck another time. ‘It would be the latter just a few years back,’ admitted the red-haired man in an unsettlingly matter-of-factly tone, ‘but the world has changed. And I’d like to think the same of myself, so you are correct on the former.’ ‘NEXT FIVE, IN!’ once again came the attendant’s belligerent yelp, and, after the door closed, the line was now headed by Fujita. “My turn next,” thought the boy and rummaged through his still somewhat shaken mind for pertinent inquiries. ‘So, who are you appointing to conduct the investigation?’ ‘Why, you, of course,’ responded En in a tone that made it clear he thought the question stupid and unnecessary. ‘Me?!’ jumped Fujita. ‘Why me?!’ ‘Because it’s your quest,’ reminded the man sternly. ‘Do not mistake my willingness to assist you for desire to carry you to the finish line on my shoulders.’ Even before red-haired sorcerer could finish the last word, the boy took a deep bow so swift his mask nearly flew off his face. ‘My deepest apologies!’ he burst with vigor. ‘I did not intend to presume!’ ‘Apology accepted,’ said En in a softer tone. ‘So, about that investigation. Our intelligence revealed that the person we’re talking about is an avid partygoer, and, much to our serendipity, tomorrow night, there will be a grand soiree at the Festivity Palace – the biggest event in two years. It is a given that they’ll be there, and that is where you’d have the best opportunity to approach them. Now, getting you on the floor is a trivial matter, but your endeavor still has a terminal obstacle you must remove today.’ ‘What is it, En-san?’ asked Fujita tensely, fixing his lopsided mask. ‘Exactly this,’ replied the man, pointing at Fujita’s face. ‘According to what we’ve learned, our target is… How should I put it?’ he challenged himself for a spell, but the clock was ticking. ‘Well, “an elitist snob” is close enough. Therefore, I can tell you with certainty, that, unless the devil bestows you with a proper mask today, your failure is a foregone conclusion.’ Hearing that response, the boy froze – his fingers still pressing against the rough surface of his simple, long-nosed piece. Year after year, he was coming here with burning desire to have it replaced and gnawing dread of having to wait another go round, but he never expected it to become a harsh, “all or nothing” stipulation. ‘But that’s…’ young magic-user gulped nervously, ‘that’s not really up to me, is it? I mean… I always come up with thoughtful offerings, but, because of my weak magic…’ he paused and stopped himself from making more excuses. ‘How can I be sure?’ ‘You can’t and you don’t have to,’ replied En in a tone that perfectly failed to convey support. ‘You’ve been in the field with Shin for over a year now. If your magic could improve, it did improve. Devil will decide if that made a difference. And if it didn’t, at least you’ll know there’s nothing more you could do.’ ‘Eh-heh-heh…’ laughed Fujita sheepishly. ‘I appreciate your kind words…’ A long moment of awkward silence later, the two heard footsteps coming from behind the door, and En clapped his hands, as if concluding a meeting. ‘Alright, that’s it then,’ he said in a business-like tone. ‘Keep your eyes on the prize, and the rest will sort itself out. I’ll meet you at the exit.’ Having said that, the man turned around and sauntered off, to most everyone’s relief, but, as the attendant hollered the next group in, his final words of guidance kept looping in the boy’s mind, blocking even the domineering shouting that was filling the air. He went through the familiar, humiliating steps on autopilot, knowing the procedure by heart. Clothes off, coveralls on, the water, the flames, the muck, the metal casket around the head. “Eyes on the prize…” repeated Fujita, slowly bringing the thought into context. Each year before now, his goal was to escape the ranks of bottom dwellers, to become somebody who is somebody. He begged the all-knowing devil for an out from his miserable, insignificant existence, offering his awed reverence as grease for the wheels. It never worked. The boy blamed his magic for devil’s scorn, as even the fellow magic-users held him in contempt for it. Was there really any room for doubt? Devils were known to reward greed, selfishness, recklessness, vanity, and his goal was selfish enough. Somewhat vain, too. The issue couldn’t be anything but magic. But what if it wasn’t true? What if it’s the intent behind the plea that failed to impress? The more he thought about it, the more it made sense. He couldn’t possibly be the only floundering sorcerer to seek a devil’s favor – the size of the line he joined every year was a testament to that. And every person before him must have beseeched with the same refrain: “Spare me the ignobility of being me.” But this year was different. He came in, not with a vague, ubiquitous want, but with a clear objective that was his alone. The process approached its endpoint, as the group was brought to the final chamber and put on their knees. It was about to be decided. The oily goop inside the casket was stinging Fujita’s burnt face, gluing up his eyes, getting in his ears, muffling the sounds from outside even more. He paid it no notice – his mind was a buzzing beehive. He even missed the moment of devil’s arrival, and the attendant had to jab him with his cane. ‘OFFER THE GIFT!’ The boy stood on one knee, heart pounding, and raised up the pouch. ‘O, great devil,’ he uttered same old words, ‘please accept this gift and, if it is to your liking, grant me a worthy mask.’ For the first time in all these years, his voice did not sound ingratiating, and Fujita felt a chill running down his spine at the thought of coming off as brazen. But he couldn’t help himself. Before, he would come here, and, in his heart of hearts, already half-expect failure. Not today. With so much more riding on the outcome, he couldn’t tolerate the notion. The pouch was lifted from his hands, and the boy froze in anticipation. The seconds crawled by, as the devil studied the offering. Or was it studying the applicant? “Please, o mighty devil,” feverishly implored Fujita in his mind, “grant me this boon! I beg you with all I am: allow me to go on with my quest! No matter what lies ahead, I will not waste your benevolence!” The foul muck has already clogged both his ears, but, for a second, the boy thought he could hear sardonic laughter. However, before he could focus on it, the goop inside the casket came alive and swirled, enveloping Fujita’s head. It covered his nose and mouth, smothering him, and, in a flash of primal panic, young sorcerer frantically reached for his face. Yet, before he could even touch the metal, the casket popped, sending its disjointed sides rattling on the floor. What Fujita’s fingers then reached wasn’t the muck, nor his skin, but thin, silky fabric. It was so smooth it felt cool to the touch, soothing his abused face, and it took a few seconds for his shocked mind to comprehend what happened. Then, as understanding began to form, the boy threw himself prone before the horned creature. ‘Thank you, o great devil!!’ he yelped, exhilarated. ‘Thank you so, so much!’ ‘DON’T HOLD UP THE PROCEEDINGS!’ bellowed the attendant and jabbed him again. ‘Yes! Of course!’ fervently conceded Fujita and hurried to the changing room. As the boy was changing back into his clothes, his mind was racing, seemingly in several directions at once. He focused so absolutely on getting the mask that he’d forgotten all about what would come after. More challenges were awaiting him, more unknowns, more risks. Yet, somehow, he felt nothing was unattainable to him anymore. Maybe it was his elation talking, or maybe it was the mask – the proof of his recognition. Its effect was hard to describe. He felt it in his body, all the way to his toes, and the sensation was polarizing. As if nothing had changed, but everything was different. As if nothing was added, yet he felt being so much more. He felt like an electric circuit that only just now had been completed. Heading for the door, he didn’t know what to say. How could he best announce something that was right there for everyone to see? ‘En-san…’ he uttered stepping out, and couldn’t think of anything to follow it up with. Surprise was the first thing to jump to his boss’s face, but it quickly gave way to satisfied approval. ‘Congratulations, Fujita,’ he said with contentment. ‘I will begin making the arrangements. And, if everything goes just as smoothly…’ The man stopped, considering if he should speak of things beyond his full control, but the look in his underling’s eyes was unmistakable. He needed to hear it. He earned it. ‘If everything goes as smoothly,’ En restated firmly, ‘you may yet get your partner back.’ Thus, the goal was set. In a very different place called Hole, a petite figure walked down a dirty, squiggly road – or what passed for one around these parts, anyway. Sporadically paved with impressed bricks and splintering wooden planks, it snaked between ramshackle, chaotically crammed together buildings that were seemingly clambering over each other, as if competing for the right to put their ugliness on display. The figure looked hardly out of place – shabby, hooded coat and baggy sweat pants concealed its features, and the duffle bag slung over its shoulder seemed loaded enough to perhaps be the sum of one’s possessions. Another not-so-subtle sign of familiarity with this place was a little scythe fastened to the person’s shoulder, just within reach of the slender, feminine hand holding onto the bag’s strap. Darting out furtive glances at rare passers-by from under her hood, the girl kept her distance and maintained a brisk pace, until she reached a cheap eatery – one of many of its kind here on the outskirts. In line with local lack of city planning, this particular establishment looked like it was forcibly wedged into a nook between two buildings, which had to contort to give way. After a moment’s consideration, the girl stepped inside and scanned the place, keeping her head low. It was the same dreary image she saw the last few times: a poorly-lit room with several tables, occupied by men and women in clothes as worn down as their faces, all stewing in the thick smell of local cuisine, or maybe someone’s inability to hold it down – a sickening mix of sweet and tangy. And, same as before, none of the patrons here were who the girl was looking for. The burly owner with a thick, bushy beard sized the visitor up from behind the counter – catching, both, her intent to remain discreet and the weapon on her shoulder. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t seen before. ‘Comin’ fer some grub?’ he asked plainly, more to acknowledge her presence than expecting an answer. ‘Or just lookin’ fer someone?’ ‘Just looking,’ replied the girl dryly. ‘Same crowd every night, or folk come and go?’ The man shook his head with a wry grin. ‘This ain’t no in-fer-mai-shun bureau, pup. Order something, then ask yer questions.’ Having mulled that over for a little, the hooded visitor approached the counter, taking her hand away from the scythe. ‘What do you have to eat on the go?’ The owner raised one arm and began counting, bending his lumpy fingers. ‘Fresh buns, dried bread sticks, sweet rolls, hot dogs if yar willin’ to wait a tick, cold dogs if not. Also…’ ‘I’ll take a sweet roll,’ stopped him the girl, pulling money out of her pocket. ‘Wrapped.’ While the hefty man was counting the coins and stuffing the girl’s order into folded paper, she snuck another glance around the room. Against her plans, her standoffish attitude did not go unnoticed, and a couple of customers were now eyeing her with morbid curiosity. That development was unwelcome. Thankfully, despite his build, the owner didn’t seem to be lacking in dexterity, and finished his task in a jiffy. ‘So?’ he asked, handing the girl her purchase. ‘Who is it yar lookin’ to find?’ ‘A guy,’ replied the little sneak, putting wrapped pastry into her bag. ‘In his twenties, maybe. Dark hair, cross-shaped tattoos around his eyes.’ ‘Cross tattoos, ey…?’ thought back the human. ‘If I remember right, some o’ them displaced magic-users had those… The outcasts that were left in the Hole two years ago – that lot. If so, then yer guy’s in Hernia – that eyesore they cobbled together on the west end of Hole. Dreadful place, it is – they harbor every sort of riff-raff in that slum. If ye ask me, one has to be all kinds of twisted to…’ ‘West end, got it,’ interrupted the girl in that same reserved tone and stepped towards the exit. ‘Wait, pup, don’t even think about just strollin’ in there!’ warned her the owner, surprised by this abrupt reaction. ‘Didn’t ye hear me? They have right bastards shifting about in there. Think it’s separated fer no reason? If snatchers grab ye, no one will lift a finger.’ At the sound of this warning, the girl stopped and looked over her shoulder. ‘Snatchers?’ ‘Yar from the center, aren’t ye?’ presumed the owner with a tired sigh. ‘Ye lot have it good in there. Here, on the fringes, ye still have to watch yer back all the time. True, magic-users don’t pop out anymore, but there’s always someone scummy enough, or plain desperate, to club ye over the noggin’ and sell ye to those ungodly freaks fer coin. The farther out, the worse it gets, pup, so think twice before wadin’ in there.’ The fleeting glimmer of interest faded from the girl’s eyes. She turned away. ‘I see…’ she uttered flatly and made her way to the door. ‘Lass?’ again called the man – this time, with something more urgent in his voice. The girl lingered, with her arm on the door handle, but wouldn’t even turn this time. ‘Look, I don’t know what that guy did, but I’ve seen enough kids like ye – all cold and determined-like…’ burly man appealed, if for no other reason, then perhaps to placate his conscience later tonight. ‘If it’s about payback, then… ye best let it go. Revenge is fool’s gold. True, those devil-spawns caused a lot of grief, but things are lookin’ up fer us in the Hole fer once. Don’t waste it pickin’ a fight with someone who’s stronger. I can guarantee ye, whatever ye have right now – it’s more than what ye’ll have if ye go there.’ The girl waited until the man was done, then walked out without a reply.