The Strange Man

The old hourglass in the landlord’s room showed that it was nearing midnight. He sat outside his apartment room on the first floor, enjoying his cup of purple herbal tea. The light bugs were flying aimlessly in the bushes.

In the darkness, a faint figure slowly approaches. It first crossed the street, then into the playground. The landlord placed his tea on the table, and stood. He pulled out his old tome from the table. Without batting an eye to the book, he opens to a page.

“Who goes there?” he demanded.

No response. The figure in the dark came closer. The light bugs, seeing the intruder, hid in the bushes. The old man readied his spells. His eyes glowed orange. A ball of fire sparked in his palms.

“Helloooo!” a cheery voice greeted. “Hello, are you the landlord?”

The landlord’s eyes went back to normal. The fire in his palm fizzled. Out from the darkness came a man wearing a black coat that was too big for him.

“What’s wrong with you!” The old man tossed his tome at the stranger. “Going around in the middle of the night scaring people. Looking for trouble, are you?”

“I apologise,” the stranger said with a smile, “I’m just looking for a place to stay.”

“A place to stay, eh? Well, this ain’t a hotel.”

The stranger stood confused for a moment, before a sudden realization. He reached for the backpack he was carrying behind him. His movement was awkward and stiff. It took him several attempts just for his arms to connect with the straps and for him to dump the backpack into the ground. He dug into the large overflowing bag with pots, pans, and other tools strapped on the outside.

“There we go.” The stranger tossed a bundle of cash to the old man. The old man eyed the bundle of wet and torn money. He gave the stranger a look, and then went on counting the money.

“Very good.” His face turned pleasant in an instant. “Can I offer you some tea, while I get your keys?”

“No, thank you. I want to get to my room as fast as possible, please.”

The old man shuffled inside his room. After some cluttering and angry murmuring behind the closed door, his head pops out his open door.

“Wait a second.” The old man’s face was unpleasant again. “You’re not from the countryside are you?”

The stranger cleared his throat.

“I don’t want any non-mages lodging in this apartment.”

“Why of course,” the stranger said with a chuckle, “we couldn't possibly be one of those people.”

The landlord’s face grew suspicious.

“Show me.” He was now outside his room. “Show me a spell.”

The stranger turned around and hunched over. “Let me get my scrolls,” he said nervously. There were some whisperings and murmurings, and a lot of shuffling inside his oversized jacket

“What are you doing in there?” the old man said impatiently.

“Just a second.”

The stranger finally turned back around with an unrolled scroll in his hands. “Sir,” the stranger confidently said, “allow us– allow me to show you the prowess of our magic.”

The stranger began uttering an unknown language. Then, he spread out his arms wide and let go of the scroll. With a strong voice, he shouted: “Fire!”

Nothing happened.

He did the motion again, still nothing. Every time he spread his arm out, there was a clicking sound followed by a subtle blowing sound that was abruptly cut after no fire appeared. The stranger began to panic. Click. Click. Click. Still nothing. Finally, with one large thrust, the stranger with all his might opened his arms as wide and as fast as he could. From his hands, a huge burst of flames spewed out that lit up the dark playground.

“Fire magic,” the stranger said, trying to pat the fire that had caught the baggy sleeves of his jacket, “a thing of beauty isn’t it.”

“Heh, I’ve seen better.” The old man went back inside his room. “Ok, kid, let me get your keys for you.”

A little while later, he appeared with a scroll and a metallic card with a strange symbol on it.

“Here.” He handed the items over. “Your room is on the 20th floor, room 2022. Next to the Iwanaga’s. Rent’s due every month at the fifth.” The old man began to clear his things off the table. “Oh, and kid, keep working on your fire magic, that was horrible. The scroll’s for the one you used, my treat.”

The landlord took his cup and chair inside.

“Good night, kid.” He slams the door shut.

The stranger stood in silence. Inside his jacket, something wriggled.

“Huko,” the stranger said, “we did it!”

“That was too close, Kenta!” a muffled voice said from inside the jacket.

From the jacket, a boy came out and headed over the bushes behind the playground. He picked up his backpack, also equally overflowing with things.

“We have to figure out a better way than using lighters and me spraying alcohol through a tube in your sleeve,” Huko said as they waited for the elevator.

“Relax, will you. It worked fine, didn’t it?” Kenta said, still satisfied with himself.

“That alcohol was disgusting and you almost blew it!” Huko said as he wiped his mouth.

“Yeah well, I don’t see any other way we could convince him we had magic,” Kenta said.

Huko couldn’t come up with anything either. He had to admit defeat for now. The elevator arrived, and the two boys went in, on their way to their new home.