Cold Wrath

  The nihonga tableau had been painted over with a surreal, cubist nightmare: disemboweled, the shrine laid engulfed in vermilion flames, tall and unrelenting; before the cindering structure, the torii gate was dissolving into a thick cloud of dark pixels; and there, towering forty meters high, stood a Frankenstein's megatruck, made of sentient, bellicose ice cream trucks, looming like Benkei, unyielding against his foes.

  Lifting a foot up in the air, the giant fractured the ground under his still planted leg into countless shards of jagged, pixelated artifacts.

  “Terminating protocol initiated,” he stated in a chorus of mechanical, mismatched tones.

  The menacing shadow of his machine base advanced on the group with a devastating vengeance. It seemed inevitable, approaching deliberately, heavy and slow, when, with a booming clang, it stopped dead in its tracks; big and growing bigger, the Yuki-onna was now standing at half the megatruck's size and she was holding his foot up with her hands, pushing back against his weight with all of her might. The stone pathway cracked and grated at the skin of her feet as the Goliath pressed her toward the ground bit by bit; but, as she grew further— she was now two thirds of the megatruck's size—she managed to anchor herself in place. And then, throwing one leg behind his, she made the robot hit the dissolving torii gate with full force. The structure atomized into the night sky brutally, disseminating the smell of burned plastic. The megatruck fell down the stone steps and into the parterre of cedar trees below with a blasting noise.

  “What is… this?!” asked Lu, gesturing broadly at the scene.

  The Yuki-onna stood bare, her skin alive with an iridescent shimmer from the countless reflections of the fire and the moon. As she gazed down at the megatruck from atop the carved stone steps. Her torn kimono, red and navy shreds of shed layers, blew away in the wind.

  “It doesn't compare to Kyotoite craftsmanship," she said quietly. "Figures…"

  Imposing, she turned her inky, bottomless eyes to the group.

  “It's thanks to you,” she said, her voice resonating fiercely. “You melted the snow.”

  Inês felt a warm tug at her heart. Next to her, Jin shifted. Thinking the both of them might have been sharing similar thoughts, she placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it tightly. The boy shot her a timid, hopeful smile. Then, through the night's fleeting respite, a set of buzzing beams: red, green, and blue came flashing through the air from down below like inverse lightning, hitting the Yuki-onna in the chest. Despite her size, her body was projected several meters backward, crushing the rapidly disappearing shrine under its colossal frame.

  “No!” exclaimed Lu.

  In one movement, the group ran toward the flaming ruin. There was a stillness in the air from which only the overwhelming crackling of the fire stood out. Down in the steps behind them, they heard the megatruck moving menacingly, its heavy metal shifting and rearranging to arise. There was another slew of luminous projectiles, shot up like distant arrows on a medieval battlefield. The group scurried to avoid them. Wherever they landed, the rays distorted anything they touched into further corrupted cubes.

  The ground trembled as the machine took its slow, hulking steps.

  “It might be hopeless, but we have to try again,” said Jin through his slough of despond.

  And so, he raised his komabue once more and blew into it. There was anticipation, but, just as the first time, the only music that sprung from the instrument was the static noise of white snow. Pleading, the boy looked at Inês. She nodded and closed her eyes. Gathering her breath, she opened her mouth to sing, but the air got stuck in her throat. She clutched her chest, breathless; it felt like drowning. Finally, it was Lu's turn to try. Dancing with abandon, she stomped and twirled, the tassels of her jacket following her in concert, but naught ignited. With tears in her eyes, she looked back to Inês and ran into her arms.

  “Debuu-san?” asked Inês. “What should we do?”

  She was trying to disguise the worry in her voice, but she had little control over it. For its part, the bug's expression was hard to pinpoint. It seemed to be running through its own calculations at a rapid pace, its gaze darting through futures no one else could read. That's when, it arrived. At the top of the steps, in place of the majestic torii gate, there stood a repulsive monstrosity: a patchwork of frigid technology, directed by human thought and powered by human bodies, looking to kill the same people it couldn't subsist without.

  There was a blinding glow in the megatruck's headlights, where the beast prepared its next attack. Then, with a splitting sound, it busted forward. Inês' eyes closed despite herself and she held on to Lu tightly as a whetted gale tore through the night air. She thought that was the end, but with a clinging toll that rang in her ears like church bells, she heard the beams plaster against a sudden barrier. When she finally did dare look, she saw her: the Yuki-onna, standing above them; she was holding the shrine's gleaming mirror in its expanded state. Inês felt safe.

  “Yuki...” she said, looking up at her in awe.

  The Yuki-onna's face was one of determination. Even without ice powers, only grit and sheer strength, fighting against a monstrous abomination, she was a formidable opponent.

  The megatruck fired more laser beams in quick succession, but she sent them all back. A few of them reached him square, morphing chunks of his sheet metal into barbed spikes. Kneeling, he uttered a terrible plaint. Then, panting, he let out a pressurized noise from his chest with a faint, blue glow, from which vapor of carbon dioxide came tumbling out. From the dark cavity emerged a figure, tall and thin, with brown hair and silver eyes that gleamed like two full moons. The boy was wearing a flowing sokutai in shades of deep blue and pearl grey. As he leaped from the megatruck and flew above the battleground, his mirror fan reflected the fire's flames and the pale moonlight in erratic flashes. When the light illuminated his face, his vacant eyes glared like a beast's in the night.

  Looking up in shock, Jin let out a gasp.

  “Marcel...” he said softly.