Nostos: Journey

"I can't act," Korou complained as he slid into the royal robes of pre-Unified Ukiyan era Shaman King. It was a crude frost wolf coat with an intricate solar embroidery of crescent moon and sun overlapping each other. On his head was a crown of Crownbill feathers and cyan emerald.

"You will learn," Atla shrugged from the other side of the partition ante-chamber. She was changing as well.

"You learn when you have months, Atla." Korou laced his Teutonia-manufactured boots and stepped out. "Not overnight."

"I know you," She replied in reassurance. "You will pull through."

"At least, tell me it is okay if I don't."

"It won't change the outcome now?"

"Fair enough."

Atla was an ethereal beauty on any given day, but when she stepped out of that chamber, Korou's jaw dropped. She was clad in a silvery robe draped over her shoulder. She was slightly taller than he, thus its elongated curled edge barely touched the floor. Over the torso were magenta and obsidian flowers, arranged in a downward slope. Her slender arms were integrated seamlessly into the silver hand glove. Over her head was a floating tiara, with the signet of a crescent moon glowing faintly.

She smirked at his reaction. "I wasn't aware you were obsessed with me, dumb brat."

"That is still leagues better than being obsessed with Khamba."

That remark earned him a slap over the head and the silent treatment for an hour.

"Alright, try repeating the dialogue again." Riwkha, who was sober, commanded him with a rap on the stage.

They have been going at the rehearsals of Act I, before dawn broke in. His eyes were bloodshot, as he forced his lids to not shut. Even the caffeine from before had worn off.

"Why am I doing this again?"

"Keep your tonality to a minimum," Tuima yanked him by the collar and straightened his back. "We can't have the prince be foul-mouthed."

"What's wrong with that?"

"Everything," Tuima deadpanned, her tail wrapped around his torso as she pushed him towards an equally tired Atlanta. "Now look the girl in the eye and fall in love, little pup."

Korou least expected a blush to creep in. He was too weary and sleep-deprived for even embarrassment to settle in. "So very realistic of the Ballad."

"You have no idea," Tuima snickered, and Riwkha sighed.

"I don't know about you, prince," Atla leaned in with her clasped hand behind. Her scarlet eyes bored into his blue. She smelled of silver-moon. It was tranquil. "But I had dedicated all of me the moment I saw you."

At that moment, Korou learnt that a human heart could beat fast enough for everyone to hear its rhythm. And that sleep deprivation and embarrassment had no correlation.

It was at noon when Riwkha granted the duo a break. Atla was so exhausted that she dozed off at the first sight of the canapé. Korou, however, couldn't. He tossed and turned, but the dialogues of the benevolent prince Nongpok and his undying love for the Goddess played in his mind. Yielding to his inability to shut off the mind, he stepped out and walked towards the third marque. It was the creative workshop. The props, magic ornaments, the scripts and the writer's room occurred there.

Korou was curious to see what it was like. He tiptoed over its curtained entrance and glimpsed from its creaking opening. The darkness of the dimmed room shadowed over all the tools, making his effort unfruitful.

A tug over his collar brought him back to reality and raised him off the ground.

"Sleep, or you will fumble during the play." Riwkha puffing her third smoke of the hour scolded him. Her eyes were the normal shade of chartreuse; she had yet to get high.

"I can't," he mumbled as she hurled him over the makeshift bed in the fourth marquee: living quarters. His head hit the velvet, flushed bed as a fragrance of citric reminiscence fumed from the centre.

"Try closing your eyes and imagining something calming," Riwkah said assertively. "You were about to doze off in practice. Given the proper facilities, you won't last a second.

"Thank you for the facilities then," Korou yawned. With sleep creeping in, he had little self-control over his witting remarks.

"What a sharp tongue," Riwkah smiled with a rueful glance. "You really are her apprentice."

"Naobi?" He mumbled in a dozed off stupor.

"Who else?"

"Fair enough." Korou heard the sheets shuffle as the mattress bent down. Forcing his lids open, he gazed at Riwkha, who slid beside him. "What was your relationship with master?"

"You aren't aware?" She brought down her chillam as a fleeting glance of disbelief crossed her face before she composed herself.

"Lamphi, until recently, was hell bent on keeping me in the dark. Books were fictions, and the world a fleeting notion." He bellowed in complaint. "If it weren't for eavesdropping on my father's conversation, I would have remained illiterate."

Riwkwah let out a rueful laugh. "That sounds like what Lamphi would do," She scooted next to his slumbering profile and fondly gave him a head pat. Korou peeked at her with burning eyes. He caught a glimpse of a nine-beaded Karunglai, the symbol of excellence given to only those who graduated from Pakhangba Monastery with merit. "We were classmates, and later formed a party. Although our tales of adventures were popular before our retirement, I wonder how you never came across them." She paused, her fingers gently rubbing the back of his ear. It was soothing. "Have you heard of Nostos?"

That was a nostalgic name. Korou had spent most of his infancy reading the picture book where the fictitious hero Nosto emerges. It was the only manuscript readily available to him and thus the one he spent most time with.

He gave her a weak nod.

"Naobi and I were at the same party as him. Actually, Naobi was the one who formed it."

"I see," Korou, halfway into slumber, muttered. "That's nice..."

Korou abruptly shot up with a start. He was wide-eyed, tears spilling. He needed sleep, but the reveal was too abrupt and sudden to let his racing mind rest.

"Are you being serious?" He grabbed Riwkha's shoulder. "You were in the part with Nostos, the hero, who defeated Demiurges...he is real?"

"I can't believe you thought he was fictional," Ibo said, placing six baskets of snow fairies—an indigenous winter flowers symbolising Sepia's eternal love. It was to be used to make a crown for Atla.

"But his tales were extremely overexaggerated." Korou flipped through the picture book that his mother had delivered earlier. He had been bracing for a scolding, but Anemone gave him headpats and praised him. She was proud of his participation in the Cherouba.

Iromi, who had been helping Anemone in Atla's absence, bumped Korou's head with her gifted volume of 'Histories de Kangleipak'. She wore an exasperated smile.

"Every tale is an overexaggerated anecdote of real events," She pulled up the preface of the picture book and tapped at the opening sentence. "This book is a revision of events that might or might not have happened."

"Wow," Korou replied mockingly. "That tells you so much."

"It's more than enough for you." Iromi rolled her eyes and pointed at his head.

"Because I am smart?"

"No," She was grinning. "Because you possess common sense."

"He was my grandfather." After Riwkha's great revelation, just an hour later, Atla found it appropriate to break his constructs of reality once again. While grimacing, Korou sat by the canapé, serving the white-haired girl a packed lunch. Courtesy of his mom and Iromi.

"Holy Pakhangba, you are surely lying."

"Can't you see the similarities?" Atla yawned and flaunted her dual braided snow-white hair. It was strikingly similar to that of Nostos. Korou winced at the memory of him overlooking it as a toddler.

"Other people have that too." He blurted in defence. It was an old habit. He couldn't accept he was wrong; he just needed to prove otherwise.

"Who else have you seen?" Atla challenged with a lidded gaze. Korou pursed his lips, but scooped a handful of rice and fed it to her.

"Old people..." He tried. It was a losing battle.

"Seriously," Atla let out a yawned laugh. "Have you exchanged your smarts for common sense?"

"Fine, you win." He raised his hands in surrender. "But surely there have to be others out there." Korou pointed at her hair. Her striking snow-white hair was something he hadn't seen anyone else possess. It felt like an exclusive keepsake for whatever lineage Atla belonged to.

"No, there aren't." She replied quietly. Korou gave her a sidelong glance. Pulling off the blanket, Atla stretched, her lips curled into a scowl.

Korou shook his head and draped his frost-wolf jacket over her trembling shoulder. It was cold, and despite the marque's insulation and enchanted heating ward, the continuous entry and exit by the troupe members sanctioned the frostic eddies to seep in.

"Thank you." She mumbled, clutching its edges.

"Does it belong to a family? Or lineage?" Korou asked after a halt. Atla was done with her lunch and was headed towards Riwkha for information on the manager.

She stomped the floor and cast a glare at him. Korou grimaced, making a quick mental note never to mention the topic again.

"Korou," She spoke with utmost constraint and rigour. "The only one with hair like me is me; everyone else doesn't exist anymore."

The final practice before the show was complete when Korou found the red-haired elf by herself. Usually, she was snuggling with Tuima. It was impossible to not see them over each other at any given point.

"So lucky," Atla had mumbled with dreamy eyes, when Korou brought them during a break between rehearsals.

"Is that your ideal?"

"My ideal is already with me." She shrugged and darted off towards the elf girl.

"So.. um.. my master and Nostos were a thing?" Korou stammered, unsure if he should ask the question.

Riwkha's elongated ears perked up as she gave him a sidelong glance. Her lips were curled into a sly smile that betrayed her expression. "By a thing, if you meant married, yes, they were."

"Are you talking about marriage, Riri?" The feline Tuima perked from behind them, rubbing the elf's cheeks. "Are we getting married?"

"Not us," Riwkha shook her head, "He is asking of Naobi."

"Oh, you wanted to know about them little pup." She leaned in her tail, swaying in excitement. "Are you interested in romance? Oh, wait, are you into the white-haired one?" She was cut off by Riwkha's abrupt pull on her tail.

"Too many questions, frosty." Riwkah petted her. "You will overwhelm the pup."

"I was curious Riri." She whined but sat on her lap, placing her head by the elf woman's neck.

"Anyways," Korou shrugged and continued. "Were you with them even afterwards?"

"As members of their party, yes," Riwkha scratched the Tuima's ear, drawing an ecstatic purr and a lick on her cheek. "But we parted ways after the Eterna Greater Demiurge subjugation. His vision brought him towards rebuilding what was lost, while my ambition was to exterminate." Her eyes were now cast at Atla, who was swinging an Eternan forged sword. It was a replica of Nostos's, a gift from Zoram, the dwarf. "Sadly, later on, we parted ways. To uproot the Demiurges, I had to travel across the Great Ocean. But he was happy for me. We disbanded under mutual agreement."

After a brooding pause, Korou pursed his lips and whispered.

"How was he?"

As a close romantic associate of his master and Atla's great-grandfather, Korou was curious to know. So far, he was aware of the hero Nostos, but the man, husband, father and friend were still a riddle waiting to be solved.

"Last of his kind, too compassionate, overly ambitious, wanting to save everyone, and a hopeless romantic." She had a frustrated smile. "Journeying with him was a pain; he wanted to help everyone with everything."

"Isn't that how heroes are?" Korou drew upon his idea of his previous world's glorified men and women. Those types were always brimming with compassion and a layer of kindness, which they can flaunt over the media. But only those close to them would know what lies underneath the mask.

"Hardly, heroes are self-righteous egoistic pricks who would do anything to satisfy their fragile reality." She rapped her knuckles on the table, drawing a hiss from the slumbering feline. "Nostos was too kind. Every village we would save, he would stay there for months helping them rebuild."

"Why?"

"It was his ideal, or reason for journeying." With a rueful glance, Riwkah recited. "Anyone can win you wars, violence and extermination are two different faces of the same coin. But what about the tranquillity the common man desires?" She chuckled in a bittersweet remembrance before popping the bottle of cyan liquid open. The feline shot her a concerned glance, and she shrugged. "He believed the displacement and suffering caused by Demiurges needed to be taken care of before the villains themselves could be sundered."

"So he decided to become the Herald of deliverance?"

"He wasn't that egoistic," She chugged in the vial with a sweep. And the feline sighed and gestured for Korou to scram. "Just delusional."

"Did he, um, succeed?"

"Look around, what do you think?"

Korou didn't answer. For he didn't know yet. His world was confined to the borders of Lamphi. And the world Nostos lived in was the vastness of Yaldaba.