Escon (Hideout)

“Sachi?! SACHI!!”

To Justo, who had not been included in Sachiko’s time-stop, the confrontation between her and Noe had looked as if his mind had lost connection for a moment. One instant, the latter was running towards the former, winding up for another powerful slash, the next, they both collapsed to the ground. In Sachiko’s case, a burst of flame had suddenly flashed into existence and struck her head-on; in Noe’s case, the sword simply slipped out of her hands, and she tumbled to the ground.

Justo quickly realized that Sachiko was still conscious; the repetition of the name “I…jyu…in…” followed by something along the lines of “Help…” being enough to tip him off. Justo rushed over to check on them both. Noe was unconscious, but uninjured and still breathing; it was Sachiko who was in worse condition. Where the flames had struck her clothing they burned almost clean through, and from there they scorched her body, leaving a trail of raw skin and blisters from her clavicle down to her pelvis and left thigh, as well as burns on both her hands. But that was not all that she must have felt in that moment, for her breathing was labored, as if the wind had been knocked out of her.

“Sachi!” exclaimed Justo. “The hell happened?!”

“The…sword…” Sachiko could barely eke out; she raised her arm and pointed to the weapon laying on the ground, well beyond the unconscious Noe. “Fire… It…shot…”

“A’right,” replied Justo. “Just keep calm. I’m gonna bring the truck around.”

Then Justo sprinted off and, true to his word, came back ripping three tons of steel and machinery through Sacomidzu Park—grass be damned, stone bridges be damned, and condition of the truck be damned. He was able to walk Sachiko to the cab and get her in the passenger’s seat, but Noe he had to carry, and lay on her side in the back row. Still she did not wake, even as Justo put the truck through hell trying to get it back on the main road.

* * *

When Noe opened her eyes the next morning (or so it seemed to be), her first thought was that she had spent the first night in some time without dreaming of fire and bloodshed. Instead she had seen herself sitting under a waterfall, like those weird hermits in Japan. She quickly realized that this was because she badly needed to use the bathroom.

She moved to get up and out of the bed—and yes, she could sense she was in a bed, under a ceiling she had never seen before—but was arrested before she could leave the covers by the sight of another figure sharing this ceiling with her (and that was all the room really was, aside from the bed and four walls). It was a girl, not much older than Noe, but dressed, strangely enough, in the costume of a nun. Or rather, some variation on a nun’s costume; she had a black habit on her head to be sure, but the rest of her outfit consisted of a white turtleneck, a simple black sweater on top of this, and a black skirt which reached all the way down to her ankles. She must have been standing there for some time, as it did not seem to register to her immediately that Noe had awoken.

Noe nervously looked down, checking to make sure she was appropriately dressed. To her surprise, she was wearing a simple white T-shirt and black shorts. Someone had dressed her. Back to the nun-girl.

“You’re awake,” was all she said to greet Noe. Some black locks peeked out from under her habit, and she had clear ivory skin. She was not icy like Sachiko, but rather…doll-like? Her flavor of stoicity seemed to lean more towards “taciturn and unsociable”, which were perhaps not the best qualities for a woman of the cloth to have.

“Yeah,” answered Noe, struggling a bit to find what else to say. She settled on “…Who are you?”

“I’m…a sister,” said the sister.

“Uh-huh… Do you know what happened to me? What is this place?”

“Do you know?”

“I—” began Noe, but thought twice about talking back to a nun. “I remember…being in Sacomidzu Park. A girl named Fuku-cha—uh, I mean, Sachiko (?) showed up ‘cause she was supposed to help me with my, er…my problem. But she had a…a pentagram on her glove. I think she was a witch or something, I got kinda scared. Then I…I think I blacked out. …Oh, God. What happened to me?”

The sister nodded. “I was told there was an incident last night involving your onryo.”

“O—Onryo…?”

The sister nodded again. “The term the onmyoji have for restless spirits of the dead. We might call them specters.”

“Onmyoji…? But—But aren’t they wi—”

“If you’ll excuse me, I was to bring Don Ijyuin here when you awoke.”

“Hey! Hang on a—”

The sister bowed and left the room. Noe hopped out of bed, ready to give chase. She noticed a pair of slippers on the floor and a robe on a coat hanger next to the bed, which she threw on. Procedures be damned, she was ready to get all the answers she needed.

* * *

In another room, similar to the one Noe had been asleep in but more decorated, was the other victim of last night. Sachiko lay in the bed, still sleeping, dressed in a medical gown, under which could be seen scars on her neckline and hands. Also asleep in a chair off to the side was Justo. Water was being given to Sachiko via an IV, and next to her bed there was a nightstand, which was bare save for a large burning candle and a lamp which was switched off. On the candle’s glass casing, curiously, was an image of an angel leading a young boy and a dog.

Prodded on by the sun’s rays shining through the window, Justo stirred awake. Before his vision had even cleared, he felt a third figure in the room throw itself on top of him.

“Oh my God, Justinho!”

The voice belonged to a woman, one who smothered each of his cheeks with a kiss.

“Are you okay, Justinho?!”

Justo grunted. “Jesus…! I’m fine, Merry. It’s the other two who’re…” He suddenly realized one of those other two was in the room with them and jolted up, his eyes open wide. Upon seeing Sachiko lying there, he breathed a sigh of relief.

“How’d the healing go with Sachi?”

The woman, Merry, got up off of Justo, though she seemed a tad reluctant to do so. She was wearing a light tan overcoat over a simple striped T-shirt and black pleated skirt which showed a good deal of leg, and her bright-red hair was tied in a loose ponytail over her shoulder. One could only hope this was not how she was dressed while tending to burn wounds. As Justo likewise arose from his chair, Merry solemnly nodded and answered him.

“She’s stable, and doing better. I extracted fire from the burned areas as much as I could, burned away the clothing fibers that were in her wounds, cauterized the blisters and skin fissures, and removed the excess phlegma from her airways and skin. Oh, and the IV, of course, ha-ha. It has proteins and a dash of magic mixed in; you can see it’s already starting to scar. But, my goodness, Justinho! These were nearly third-degree burns! What could’ve done this to her?!”

“You’re askin’ the wrong guy,” replied Justo, scratching the back of his head. “The only one who saw the everythin’ was Sachi herself. But y’know, this whole deal seems…familiar.”

“You mean what happened in Nara?”

“Yup. A blogger killed backstage at their idol festival, just as Sachi’s group was boutta finish performin’ and run into ‘im. Hiromasa Ohtomo, his name was. ‘Parently he’s a big name in the media world, exposin’ all sorts ‘a scandals. Doctors didn’t know what to say about how he died. The whole front of his body was burned—like Sachi, but worse. In his case, there was traces ‘a black powder, but there ain’t nothin’ in the security footage showin’ any explosion; he just jumps backward an’ drops dead. I can’t shake the feelin’ that that incident an’ this one align in some respects. I’d wondered from the beginning if the Ohtomo’s death was alchemy or onmyo, but now I think we’re closer to an actual answer.”

Merry had a horrified look on her face. She leaned in close to Justo. “You don’t think Sachiko…?”

Justo burst out laughing. “What, is in on some conspiracy? Dealin’ with the dark onmyoji? In what world does gettin’ accused of orchestrating some third-rate journo’s death beat just walkin’ away from the guy and havin’ the tabloids chase your tail for a few weeks?”

Merry scratched her chin, taking Justo’s point. “Then what about the other girl?”

“Noe? Hadn’t really occurred to me, but…I doubt it. She didn’t seem like she knew anythin’ about onmyo. She’s just unlucky, but maybe…there’s a link. Some dark onmyoji pullin’ the strings, a chain reaction ‘a hauntings tied to some underlying event…who knows, honestly. Might be completely unrelated, actually. Speakin’ of, though, what are we gonna do about the elephant not in the room with us?”

Merry gave a nervous grin, one attempting to instill confidence where she herself had none. “Er-Erm, hope your new friend stays in her own room? I kept my lips sealed around him, though, so he shouldn’t have any reason to go snooping around. And, uh, let’s also hope he doesn’t ask for your body-cam footage. Anyways, I’m going to make some coffee, you want a cup? Oh, and I’ll make some for Noe while I’m at it!”

“Ehhh…” replied Justo. “I’m not really a coffee guy.”

Merry stuck her hands on her hips and pouted. “Are you sure?”

Justo sighed. “Fi—”

SLAM!

At that very moment, the door flew wide open. Under the threshold was standing a weary, frazzled, and upset Noe.

“There you arrrre…” she said, with an almost-deranged smile creeping across her face once she saw Justo.

“Meep!” exclaimed a nerve-wracked Merry. Justo simply froze, shocked still by the very thing he hoped wouldn’t happen, happening—until he saw the young nun-girl who had attended Noe enter the room behind her.

“‘Ey, Leonor!” he exclaimed. “I thought I told you to make sure she didn’t leave!”

The nun-girl, Leonor, let a sigh escape her lips, though her face remained as deadpan as it had back in Noe’s room.

“I tried.”

“JUSTO!” hollered Noe. “You have some explaining to do, ‘cause I’m fed up with all the side-stepping! What happened to me, what is this place, who was that ‘Sachiko’ girl, who are you, and what are you gonna do about my possession?!”

Merry stepped in between her and Justo, in an attempt to calm the former down.

“Now, now. There’s a time and a place for—”

Noe, heedless of her words, sidestepped her to confront Justo directly—but she was stopped in her tracks by the sight of the scarred figure on the bed.

“Huh…? I—Is that Sachi? I—I didn’t do that to her, did I…?”

Justo and Merry both gulped, hesitant to tell her the whole truth. Then—

SLAM!

The door flung wide open again, after Leonor had closed it. This time the person standing under the threshold was a man—a massive, musclebound, and very irritated man dressed in ceremonial shamanistic robes.

“What in the hell is going on here?” he said, in a voice that both complimented the sudden hush that fell over everyone else in the room, and betrayed none of his anger.

“Meep!” came the sound again from Merry.