A Final Talk

Jenn saw it: tongues, ribs, tripe, and all manner of offal and meat. They were all lined on pretty plates, on even prettier tables. She grabbed several pieces, a selection of each kind, stuffed them on her tray, and returned to her table.

Jenn had breakfast alone this day. Filly was somewhere. Igen was somewhere. They were all somewhere else, and that somewhere was far from her. She sat in a corner of the room, next to Hornet-Dancer-Man, and a robot with a planet for a head.

“Good morning, Jenn.”

The loli had shown herself, this time in more casual wear. Just a white shirt and shorts. She sat in the empty seat next to her.

Jenn swallowed a mouthful. “Hello… Cerica.”

And now the discomfort washed over, making them both rather silent.

“Why aren’t you calling me hag… lolibaba?”

“Why did I call you Jenn… hag?” Cerica stopped, then chuckled a bit. “Sorry. I guess I just remembered that I should treat my elders well enough.”

“Don’t expect anything from Grandma here,” Jenn replied. “I won’t be knitting sweaters for you and Kaito-kyun’s deformed harem child or whatever.”

“You won’t need to. We’re done, ya know? Like Rome and good leaders after the year 476.”

“Done?” Jenn looked incredulous. “Doesn’t he have to meet his designated trope quota? I don’t think he had any other lolis besides you.”

“I’m not one of his buddies, you know. I only met him on the way here, to this Indaria or whatever.”

Jenn paused. “So you willingly stuck yourself to him. That’s even worse. Are you sure your parents weren’t related?” She had her hand on Cerica’s head. “What’s inside this skull? A piece of unwashed cabbage?”

“Oh? Would you like to peel it open and find out? Hehe.”

Jenn pulled back her hand, sighing. She said nothing for a close ten seconds, then chewed on her beef tongue.

“Hey, Jenn-baba. Why did you hate me?”

“Do,” she corrected, a bit uncertain. “There are ugly things and there are pretty things. You just fell in with the former.”

“Are you sure you just don’t like horse-cock?”

“I like any type of cock. So long as whoever has it is interesting enough. And no, I don’t mean it literally, you perverted little creature.”

“So.. if I was interesting enough. Would you suck my totally figurative, not literal cock?”

She exchanged looks with the loli. “No. But I would like you a little bit more.”

“Can I tell you a story?”

“Sure. It can't be any worse than talking to you.

“This one’s about someone who hates themselves. Someone who looks in the mirror with loathing. Who laments their own weakness and that they were not stronger on a fateful day. And yet, this one does nothing to change themselves. They lament their dependence on others, while constantly courting them all the same—under a veneer of false intelligence, and very real kindness.”

“I want my time back. That wasn’t a story. You just read off a checklist. Shit sucked.”

“True. But, doesn’t the person this checklist describes sound kinda interesting?”

“I’m pretty sure you can make reporting taxes sound interesting if you tried. Let me guess, this person is someone you know?”

“It is. Katou, actually.”

Jenn spent a few short seconds thinking that over. “Am I supposed to feel inadequate compared to this tragedy of a figure?”

“How about a little empathy?”

“No.”

“Not even a tiny bit? Like, if he was sitting across a table, and you had nothing better to do, you wouldn’t wanna talk to him?”

“I already did that. And I thought about blowing out his brains when it happened.”

Cerica looked at the unrepentant woman, looked a bit longer, then swallowed a sigh. “Can you stop being a meathead?”

“No,” said the meathead (also called Cockehead). “You wanna get a salad? You go pick out some radishes, watercress, onions, and toss them together. You want meat, you go kill a cow. You don’t ask a cow to become a vegetable, unless you’re planning to hit it over the head. Are you gonna hit me over the head?”

“I don’t like vegetables, actually.”

“Unfortunate. I wasn’t planning to become one.” Jenn gave Cerica some contemplation, showing an uncharacteristic empathy in her beady brown eyes. “Listen, I just have tight standards, alright?”

“Like what? Good fashion sense? Women? Animal-hybrids? Boys who look like girls but aren’t?”

“That last one is oddly specific.”

“But am I wrong? Is that may-be what you like?”

Jenn felt Cerica’s burning interest. She thought long and hard. “When I say standards, I mean people whom I find aesthetic.”

“And people you find aesthetic are?”

“People, I think, whose existence makes the universe a better place. That doesn’t detract from it. That actively contribute to its beauty and sense of wonder. They can kill. They can save. They can be a saint, or a demon, or both at once. As long as they do it well, and they do it with a sense of aesthetics, I’m fine with it.”

Cerica pointed at herself in a half-joking manner. “Would I count, Jenn-chan?”

Jenn drank a cup of hippocras and heaved out a hard sigh. “Yes. You obviously have some basic autonomy and sense of aesthetics. You’re crazy. Your cute looks offset your personality and body horror. You’re weirdly compassionate for pseudo-vegetables, and your willingness to be friends with me and Filly obviously shows that you’re not just a lewd slut looking to get a fisting by the next black-haired isekai protagonist called Kaito, Katou, or Batou. I respect that.” Jenn drank from her empty cup and set it down in a fit of energy. “But don’t ask me to become a pseudo-vegetarian who appreciates herbivores cause they got an F in high school, and ‘cause they have too many models sucking them off to enjoy life. If someone like that asked me out, I’d push them into a locker. That is all.”

As if to show her point, Jenn bit into a juicy cucumber and chewed on it happily. Showing the intrinsic supremacy of vegetables… but the literal kind.

“Wait…” Cerica said, growing more and more pleased by the moment. “Does that mean you actually like me?”

“Maybe,” Jenn said, finishing her cucumber. “I’ll leave it up in the air as punishment for annoying me.”

No sooner had their conversation receded into eating and drinking, did voices come from the end of the hall. The hush of White Hat Guards, and the entrance of the Lord Regent Wakisaka and his two twin attendants.

“Hello, everyone.” This time, Wakisaki did not greet them atop a platform, but on the ground. His tone was calm. The usual, dried, and thin wail of a voice. “It has come to my attention… that a significant number of you are displeased with my promises. Discontent amongst the many…” His pale face looked towards the ceiling, hollow meat against sunken cheeks. “Yes. I am loath to make false promises. I am loath indeed.” The pale man came forward, coming deeper into the crowd. “So, I shall attempt to alleviate such fears at this instance.” He plucked a branch of grapes from a table-plate, and bit a chunk off, flesh, wood and all. Wakisaki choked a bit, a branch-shaped lump in his throat. “The King will awaken. He will fight. Have no misgivings about this.”

“How can we know you’re tellin’ the truth?” asked Filly.

Wakisaki turned, a blur of white. “Let all White Hats and Participants bear witness. As of now, I issue this Imperial Edict: If the King does not wake before dusk, I shall allow all Participants, here or otherwise, to murder me with impunity.”

His words, absurd as they were, were spoken with his usual seriousness. With such resolve that none could deny his claim.

Mo Xixi took a step forward, brandishing his red taselled spear. “How can we be sure you won’t retract such an edict? That you won’t cower in a bunker, while your White Hat guards line the perimeter?”

“Oh, do you doubt your ability to cut through them?” said Wakisaki in defence.

Mo Xixi did not rise to the bait. “Not at all. I would simply that you face your death with honour. And not make an escape by foot, boat, or any other means.”

Wakisaki returned with an impassive look. “I hardly think I’d be able to, with this many warriors around.”

“I hardly know of your capabilities, Lord Regent. I never take my enemies in vain.”

The Lord Regent smiled. “Put it into writing.”

His two attendants did just that, drafting a paper and having the pale, ghost-like man sign it. This was no guarantee, of course. But it did issue a sense of certitude in those present.

“So be it,” said Mo Xixi, with a boom of a voice. Delighted, at last.

“That's ‘bout rank two in absurd,” followed Filly. “Ain't nobody killin’ nobody over a tournament. The King don't wake, we let the sun set and wait another day.”

“The Lord Regent has made a promise. If he is path is right and true, he will follow it to the bitter end. Or would you deny his resolve and right to self-determination?”

“Self-determination? Young’uns self-determine in acts of puppy love from dusk till dawn, babes self-determine to wander off a high cliff, don't mean it ain't silly. Don't mean it ain't dumb.”

“If you think a man's honour bears such an adjective as ‘silly’, then it is perhaps you—Filly the Foal, who courts ignorance.”

“I ain't courtin’ nothin’ friendo.”

“You are.”

“Ain't nothin’ here but what you want to see.”

“Perhaps. But then again, who here would excuse a chance to do battle?”

Mo Xixi’s eyes gained an edge-like quality, cutting and slicing at Filly. In his head, he probably imagined all the ways he could dispatch this potential foe.

A spear to the throat. A feint to the left. A fist to the liver.

A draw of the gun. A pull of the hair-trigger. A bullet through the noggin’.

Jenn seemed to be on the mixed side of things. On one hand, this was a tried and true aesthetic, honour for the sake of honour. On the other hand, getting slaughtered on a King’s nocturnal whim seemed rather unaesthetic.

Horseman and wuxia warrior spoke no further, instead sharing a mutual, intense stare.

Hornet-Dancer-Man stepped in. Still in his tight, green spandex. “Look, let's all drink some juice and sunbathe a little. Get our Vitamin S, and work things out later. I read a study once about it, and really it expl—you know what I think I'm gonna stop myself.”

It was obvious that not everyone agreed. A form of tension had gripped the air, and the remaining Participants in particular seemed rather disposed to it, taut as a bow string, ready to be shot at whoever tempted them first.

That was when the Lord Regent—Wakisaki coughed, and a series of White Hats entered. “Now then. To avoid further discussion, we present the format for the tournament today.

From a platform above unfurled a long banner of yellow paper. There were six boxes on it, each with an illustration of a Participant. And above the illustrations were the rigid lines of a tournament format. Indicating a total of three matches.

“These matches will be held before the King himself. Depending on who proves most valiant. Depending on who comes out the circumstantial victor, will be used to determine who faces the King in one-on-one combat.

“That’s me,” said Jenn, looking at a rather life-like image of herself. “And that’s…”

Kyoujyou Numarei. In an image right next to her.

“The next challenge will be an Athletic Contest. Composed of three separate parts, conjured by our Three Wise Mages. You will be visited by a great body of water, a path of stones, blades, and questions and at the very end—you will be visited by whomever remains. All the while, having a partner alongside you—who, if in any shape or form, is rendered unable to continue, will disqualify you too.” The man bowed. “Shall we begin?”