The Clockwork Keys

Chinatown, the day after the incident. The disorder found in the morning by the merchants is mostly cleant, a severely damaged stall is claimed to be a victim of vandalism. Despite that, there are already a few passersby in the streets, gradually growing.

    By the time a handful of policemen are sent, the Jikininkis’ corpses vanished. No one outside of Chûkagai knows they are implied in the ruckus. No one, except a man.

“So, four of them.” A deep, manly voice recaps, the tip of a pen grinding a notebook’s page. “Unnatural wounds, one of the monsters torn in half.”

    An unfazed expression over his face, scars running from his forehead to his cheek, Hans notes the rest of the details in silence. It confirms the information he got so far. He wouldn’t comment on the practice per se, but to be honest it doesn’t even surprise him that the merchants took the initiative to finish slicing the Jikininkis’ corpses to hide them from the police. These men wouldn’t allow a lost child to slow down their business. So, four suspicious corpses and a whole mess in the street leading the cops to close off Chûkagai for investigation? That’s a no-go.

    Thanking the masks’ seller with a nod, Hans turns away from his stall. Having narks in the Chinese neighbourhood sure has its perks.

“I’ve seen them.” A raspy voice with a heavy Chinese accent whispers the moment Hans bypasses the nearby stall. “Magic holders.”

    Slowing his pace, the man comes to a stop, turning his arctic blue eyes at the old woman. More wrinkled than a Shar-Pei, but her eyes still have that cunning glint.

    Turning to her stall, he approaches her without a glance at the merchandise.

“Two portions of Peking duck.”

    A smile answers him, only digging deeper folds into her face.

    Taking a plastic box in one paw, a spatula in the other, she begins filling the container with rice and rosy slices of meat.

“Last night, I closed late. I was still tidying up inside when the monsters attacked them.” She finishes filling the first box and takes a second one. “They were two, far from the ordinary. All that havoc, it’s their deeds. They fought these monsters.”

“How did they look like?” Hans questions.

    Closing the second box, the old woman stacks them and puts them on the counter with an old fox smile.

    For a while, Hans says nothing. He gauges her, he considers the importance of the information in the balance. That day he chased a girl through the city all he gained was her mysterious escape, same for the prints under the bridge. Vanished. Since then, he’s at a standstill.

“Eight more portions.”

    Keeping her smile, the merchant slowly raises her hands. Ten fingers outstretched.

    Hans grimaces. This is why he dreads grannies.

    Twenty minutes later, he’s walking down the street with a nicely filled notebook and twelve portions of Peking duck.

    This week’s menu is done.

⋆༺♱༻⋆

“Where is the director?”

    At my question, Edward blinks, pausing his daily knife sharpening activity for a while.

“Mr. Director? I haven’t seen him yet today.”

    Of course, each time I try to have a discussion with this man, he either remains vague or is nowhere to be found. But it’s okay, crutch or not I’ll scour this whole place, tent by tent if need be. ‘Just let him wait for me to find him.

    I turn away from Edward, about to try elsewhere, but a thought crosses my mind and I pause.

“Edward? Do you remember when we were trapped in the Marine Tower?”

“In the lift? I think I do..?” He tilts his head to the side.

“You said that the director took you away from a laboratory, from your parents-”

“Don’t speak about them.” Edward interrupts me with a vacant look on his face, yet his tone was the coldest I heard.

    It surprises me enough to make me turn to him. After all, it was far from the emotion he showed when mentioning his father in the lift. But again… He seemed in a panic back then, contradicting himself every few words. In many ways, Edward seems to me as a broken child.

“All magic holders experienced an important trauma.”

    I can’t help but feel close to him as I realise that I may not be the only one to hate those who gave them birth. How many times did I wish they’d refrain from it?

“I’m sorry.”

    Making a few steps towards Edward, I approach him until we’re close enough. So that no one else would see as I reach out for my bandages. Loosening one of them, I push it aside to let him see my forearm.

    The last marks are still there, colouring my skin in a mix of greenish and blackish stains. My body is just too used to them to let them fade away already.

“I get it.” I add. “I won’t mention them again.”

    For a while, Edward observes my arm, his lips vaguely parted.

“Does it hurt?” He asks.

“It always does. Right?”

    Staring at each other, we remain silent. Like we could see the answer in each other’s gaze.

“Mmm!” Edward’s ends up exclaiming with a smile, closing his odd eyes.

“Can you just tell me one thing, Edward?” I end up asking. “How did the director know where you were?”

“Ehhhh? But that’s obvious.” He answers with a laugh. “Mr. Director also had a white blouse. People who have one can always enter laboratories!”

    A white blouse? Was the director a scientist? Or did he just infiltrate the lab? But then again, how would he have known about Edward… What does this all have to do with the Clockwork Dolls Circus? I hesitate to press on, but I don’t want to bother Edward too much. If there’s one person who knows the truth, it’s the director himself.

“Thank you for telling me.”

    After that, I let Edward resume his occupation while I walk away in search of the director, limping against my crutch.

    I inspect the whole goddamn tent, asking whoever I stumble upon, yet I can’t find him.

“Ahh, but I only looked through the main tent.”

    The smaller ones are mainly used to store cumbersome pieces of set and less-used accessories, from what I’ve heard. I guess some do have their rooms there, too.

    Decided to end my research on a success, I head to one of the smaller tents. There’s one I remember having seen the director head to in the past.

    For some reason, my steps are almost reluctant as I get closer to the entrance. Once facing the door made out of fabric, I extend my hand. I feel like I shouldn’t be there, but it only takes a short while before pulling the thick fabric aside, allowing to step in.

    Everything’s silent, and there’s no light.

    It takes me a few steps at random, multiple barely avoided embrace with the ground, before I light up a bluish spark at my fingertip. Guided by the bluish glow it throws over my surroundings, I begin to inspect the tent.

    For some reason, when I open my mouth to call the director, my voice fails me. I know that it’s stupid, but the idea that something might be looking at me from the grim parts of the tent scares me. Anyway, if there’s no light, that means the director isn’t here. Prolly. Plus, the place is pretty much empty, aside from stairs leading to a raised, round deck.

    I glance at the steps, hesitate.

“What is this tent for?”

    Against my better judgment, I approach the stairs. Once right before them I pause, before taking a first step.

    A hideous squealing echoes through the tent, making me stiffen. It reminds me of the noise it made at home. The stairs always ended up betraying my presence, attracting the only monster I truly feared.

    It takes me a deep breath to calm down and resume climbing the stairs, step by step. Pretty old stuff… I’m sure particles of dust are falling from underneath each time my feet lean against the steps.

“I shouldn’t be here.”

    At the top of the stairs, a grid leads to a circular room, every wall covered in colourful fabrics. Except the colours are faded due to dust.

“I should go back.”

    Slowly, I reach out my hand to the grid, fingers brushing the lock keeping it closed. I try leaning in, but it’s pitch-black. I can’t see anything beyond…

“That said… Even if I find the director, nothing tells me he’s gonna be honest.”

    Approaching my finger topped with a spark of mana to the lock, I press the bluish sphere against it.

    Crack.

    The lock breaks open and falls to the ground with a thud. The echo makes me wince and I can’t help but glance all around, even if I wouldn’t spot a rat before my feet.

    The moment I pull the grid and enter the room, I beg for a lamp to be here. I don’t want to waste my magic and use but the tiniest spark possible, when something brushes my cheek.

“Who’s there?!” I half-shout with a jump to the side, my heart pulling a tantrum inside my chest.

    Reaching my weakling of a light forward, I realise with a scoff that I just got victimised by a rope hanging from the ceiling.

    With a sigh, I grab it and pull on the rope.

    A click.

    The room suddenly lights up.

    As I turn my head to scan the room, my breath falters. Despite the urge, I’m unable to scream, unable to move.

    A heap of hands, legs, and heads. They’re all stacked right before me, at least a dozen of them, maybe more. They’re not corpses though, but human-sized dolls. It’s the slight relief I can get.

    Or, so I thought.

    Since a step closer allows me to recognise his orange strands of hair, his azure eyes… Tatsuya’s figure lays on top of the stack, his limbs bent in an unnatural pose. This marionette and him, they’re identical, if not for the missing key.

“That’s not possible…” I mutter. “They are just dolls. Just fucking dolls.”

“Untrue.”

    The sound of the close, familiar voice makes me shiver.

“They were all magic holders.”

    In a brisk move, I turn around to face the director. His expression unreadable as always, he keeps his hands intertwined behind his back.

“What did you do to them?” I ask with a cautious step back. “Why are they like this?!”

“The key.” The director replies. “They all used their magic to the last droplet. And thus… it changed them into dolls. It was to protect them, it was… the best I could do.”

    My heartbeat increases.

“Protect them from what?!”

    I can’t believe it. You don’t protect people by changing them into dolls.

“…From turning into Jikininkis.”