Cursed

“But Riku, you don’t know where they are!”

“I’ll find them,” I said simply.

“Riku, let’s just think about this—”

I whirled on the hypocrites at my back. “Oh, like you two have been doing? Should we think about you guys’ brilliant plans? Shuto, you should be happy with this! I’m finally agreeing with you!”

“But you’ll get yourself killed,” Kyouko argued.

“And Kitsune will die if I can’t get her back!” I snapped. “I don’t have to think to know that.”

“And you’ll take all of us down with you?!” Shuto yelled. “Just wait a second so we can plan this out!”

“Yeah,” Kyouko added. “Then we can kick their asses.”

Of course it takes me snapping for them to finally get their priorities in order. Maybe I wasn’t being reasonable, but the idea of my Kitsune in the hands of self-righteous lunatics made me see red. She was the rock—or doll—that always had my back. When the training got tough, when the air was thin with fiery smoke, she always supported me, sort of like Shuto and Kyouko were supporting each other. But having allies now required more planning, which took time I couldn’t afford, so I brushed past them.

“Riku.” Shuto was exasperated. “What about that shit before about not taking ‘unnecessary risks’?!”

I rolled my eyes. “You guys don’t need to follow me.”

“Riku, stop.” Kyouko put herself in front of me. She took a deep breath before continuing.

“I know taking action feels good. You show some assholes you’re not a pushover and it’s just so satisfying. But every action has consequences.”

Why was she lecturing me on something so damn obvious? If she wanted cause and effect, she could just look at my strategies. My marbles enhanced the training ground, then almost crushed everyone. The sand took down the enemy, but it didn’t do shit when they escaped. Pretending your hero’s death wasn’t a big deal was so comfortably numb, then your best friend almost dies because of it.

“I thought I could be the hero, you know? If I could find the Searchers before anyone else, I’d get another hit of that feeling, but I was stupid.” Self-loathing clouded her eyes. “So fucking stupid.”

“When Haruki,” her voice broke, “saw me breaking away from the others, he insisted on following. I tried to get him to back off. I didn’t want him getting caught up in my idea when I knew I could do it by myself, but if he hadn’t taken that blade for me, I would have died.”

I wasn’t Haruki, and I had no idea where she was going with this.

“Riku,” Shuto said, “if you die, what’ll happen to Kit?”

Oh.

Oh, no.

We altered our clothes to be darker—mostly covering it in mud for stealth. As uncomfortable as it was to wear nature, it was nothing compared to the itch I had to find my Kitsune. Shuto had suggested I just follow my instincts to lead us to her. According to him—and Kyouko, who was apparently on his side now—they couldn’t be too far if they’d been able to launch the fruit so easily.

The whole ‘fighting food’ thing was still bothering me. Where had they been getting such supplies in a place like this—just woods, with no civilization in sight. Were the others not as far as we had thought? No, we had explored pretty much every corner of those woods, so perhaps they had something else up their sleeves? It wasn’t a conjure—one of the cardinal rules was that conjures weren’t edible.

“Riku,” Avon said, “Do you have a direction for Kit?”

Having overheard everything, he had volunteered to join our little rescue mission. I was worried at first, but having a Mender on standby would be insanely useful if things went sour. Also, Avon had suggested our current plan: rely on my connection with Kitsune to find her.

The emptiness in me grew smaller as we got closer, but the food was the real giveaway. All around the ground were cuisines of all kinds, but they all looked off. I saw pineapples with burn marks and hollowed out pumpkins that belonged in an American Halloween movie. Once I looked closer, I saw that the pumpkins weren’t empty at all, but what reason would they have for filling them with water? I stepped on an orange and knew I had to keep going.

“Fascinating,” Shuto said in awe, “They truly are weaponizing food.”

I had to agree as the people came into view. One man had a shield fashioned out of pineapple skin, and I watched as a Fyremental let loose on him. Nearby, a woman threw an egg at a target, calmly grabbing another even before it hit the center. Another man swished a long fish like a floppy sword. What would Kit think of this? She loved seafood.

Keep moving.

The main tent was easy to see, and we all gawked at the sight at its front. From chicken to cake to strawberries, the entrance was surrounded in nourishment. Or, it had been until it started rotting. My instincts told me to get as far away from the despicable display, but I could feel the pull towards the interior. My Kitsune was in there, and not even the man walking out was going to keep me from her.

For someone surrounded by so much food, he was rather thin. With sunken eyes, he surveyed the area. His belt slipped under the weight of the hammer attached to it, and he kept having to pull it up. The black hair on his head was stringy, like he’d never heard of a hairbrush. We waited until he was gone to enter the tent.

My Kitsune was at the far end of the area, surrounded by rotting food and strange newspapers. The first one was about how the fall of a company had left many women jobless. I tried to recall the incident, but the date on it said I was probably about four when it’d happened.

The next clipping told how the Windall family was forced to abandon their home. I remembered that one: after the husband had died, Merriam Windall and her son, immigrants from another country, had fallen on hard times. When Merriam had lost her job to… the bankruptcy of the company, they’d had to leave their beautiful home. The dots started to connect as my eyes fell on a third page, this one on an altar of its own: Taihens Repair Old Windall Home.

“Well, what do we have here?” came a spine-chilling voice.

Windall Azzie had found us. The man whose family had been shattered by things he’d had no control over, who had likely started the Taihen Advocates to prevent such sorrows, was now grinning madly, teeth shining whiter than any toy’s paint. What had caused his courageous ideal to become so twisted as to allow the decay of everything honorable about it? No, I couldn’t feel bad for the man who had taken my Kitsune.

“I was wondering when you’d show up.” Azzie chuckled.

He wasn’t important. If I could just get to Kit, we could all leave. Was she already getting sick? Would I be able to touch her, or was she fading aga—

“Hey! Are you listening to me?” He demanded.

I crept towards the back of the room, ignoring the corroding items littering the floor. I would reach my Kit—I had to.

Poof!

“HEY!” Windall was red with rage. “DON’T IGNORE ME!”

We all reared back as he appeared in front of us, blocking the way to Kit. A Teleporter would be tricky to handle, but it wasn’t impossible. If I could get him to keep moving, he would eventually tire himself out. I opened my mouth to speak, and then he giggled.

He giggled.

“You think I’m a Teleporter, don’t you, Riku?” He smirked. “Yeah, I know your name. How could I not know the name of the only man almost as innovative as me?”

I couldn’t see what was innovative about living in degrading filth, but then I thought back to the battle food. Pineapple protection would stop many Fyremental attacks, and throwing eggs could splash into the eyes of Bubblementals who needed to aim their water. How long had he been planning this? No, it didn’t matter what some deranged lunatic’s motives were.

Azzie’s hand became a blur as it reached towards his belt. In a flash, the hammer was off, swinging before I could process. Cackling, he slammed it against the floor. From the impact, pears came into existence, the floor being overtaken by green. It made me hungry to see so much food, and Windall appeared to agree as he snatched a pear. Eyes wild, he put it to his mouth, took a bite. . . and gagged. Tears streamed his face as the fruit fell from his hands.

“You bastards!” He wailed. “Just let me have one bite!”

His cries turned to screams as he slammed his hammer again and again. There was a mouth-watering turkey, some marvelous tofu, and even sushi. Every time he brought it to his lips, he retched and dropped the food. But then why had we been able to live off his oranges? I understood being picky, but this was ridiculous.

“DAMN YOU!!!” He screeched. “THIS WAS MY PLAN, MY CONJURE! LET ME EAT IT!!!”

“Riku,” Avon whispered, pointing to Kit.

My Kit was moving, moaning softly. If I could get Kyouko to teleport me past Windall, I could grab her, and we could ditch this lunatic. We grabbed hands to do just that, both of us eager to be away from his ear-splitting wails. Yet, as if she knew I was close, my Kitsune turned. Her fur was as pink as ever; solid. Those little paws were clean and unharmed. But her eyes shined with something. My brows furrowed as I searched—had she been splashed with juice? Then I saw the tears streaming down her face.

She was crying.

My Kitsune was crying.

And I snapped.