Transit

Traveling through the Garden didn't exactly give Noa control. 

Over time, he gained the ability to go where he wished, but having any influence at all—that was harder. He wasn't even sure it would be possible at first. 

But as he gained a feeling for what the Garden was doing in different places, he found that if he exerted his will, he could sometimes have an influence on what was happening. 

He started doing small experiments. 

He could make the lights in the room they were in flicker. He tried that and then pulled back into his body to see if Nagasawa had noticed, only to see he was examining the circle, seemingly transfixed. 

He grew bolder. 

Traveling around the hallways closest to where his body was trapped, he found a room where the Garden was eating greedily. Feeling along the connections, he realized that what it was eating was probably blood. He tried connecting to the source of the blood, but it was inert and cold—blood that had already been removed, like Nagasawa had done from him. 

That, or it was blood from a person that couldn't connect to the Garden the way Noa did. He couldn't see through the Garden, so he had no way of knowing. 

He could interfere with power fluctuations here and there, but he wasn't sure where each part of the Garden actually was or what it did. It was possible that any fluctuation he caused would result in problems like the library, or what had happened at the Matsuda household. 

So Noa practiced traveling as quickly around the Garden and feeling as much as he could. 

He couldn't quite see most of the places he went—but he could feel them. The Garden was mesmerizing, wending its way through the city Noa had grown up in all his life, through nooks and crannies he'd never imagined, beating and growing through the foundations of the city itself.

Soon—sooner than he would have expected—it started to feel something like a giant body, though he could only ever stretch himself to feel a few different limbs of it at a time. 

Eventually, through some neighborhoods, he could feel the trains moving through and the power ebbing and flowing through lights, traffic signs, and other infrastructural spells. He could feel the strong flows of construction and architecture and quickly retreated from the countless minute spellcraft happening in hospitals. He could feel the rhythm of magic in clocks and factories buildings across the city, rhythms like countless tiny heartbeats.

And, as he acclimated himself…he started to feel the people, too. Footsteps like raindrops against the concrete, and then small, flickering shapes—some brighter than others, some larger or smaller. Living people's magic, just beyond the Garden's reach, warm like sunlight on the other side of a curtain. 

Noa found himself wondering whether he could find people he recognized—and if so, whether he could contact them somehow, let someone know he was down here.

He tried to remember what Miyori had felt like, when he'd been seeking out what he now realized was the Garden's energy. He tried to guess where the Garden came closest to their school, or where it had latched on to the Matsuda house. But it was no use; with no frame of reference, he couldn't quite figure it out. 

But then one day, passing through town, he felt something familiar—something that drew him in. 

He pushed towards it and felt magic thrumming just against the edge of the Garden—thrumming like a heartbeat on the other side of skin. 

He pushed up against it, like drawn to like, feeling the Garden's power thrum around and through him. 

He almost thought he felt something alive, something intelligent, a hint of curiosity…

And then came a spark of magic—different magic, foreign magic—into the system. Someone writing over top of it. A magic that felt so incredibly familiar…. 

He wanted to speak to them, to explain where he was and what he was feeling—and so he pushed his magic into the symbol, into the interface. 

I'm here! he thought. Come find me!

And then he felt something approach—but not from outside. 

Within the Garden, something was coming. It stretched and grew around Noa, leaving him no room to slip back the way he'd come. 

And then he heard a voice—one that was all too familiar. 

Well, well, it said. What do we have here? An intuder? 

Noa tried to escape, but instead he was held immobile as the presence moved past him, taking over the interface. 

Another family, the voice mused. It was Shijo—he was certain of it. He could feel her magic like a scent clinging to her honey-sweet words. And another…ah, I recognize this handiwork. Takasu, is it?
Found you. 

Noa shrank from the contact, not sure if she'd noticed him or just thought he was a part of the disturbance being cast from outside. He needed to get away, but if he separated— 

The Garden bent to Shijo's will, the symbol radiating power. Magic flowed through Noa and out, feeling like an arm throwing a punch into the darkness. 

The spell being written on top of the Garden shattered. 

Noa thought, for a moment, he heard a voice like vibrations through the ground, calling, "Sumiko—"

His mother's name. 

Blood—just for a second, he felt a flood of power, blood from outside touching the circle and opening it to the world, the beginnings of a wild laugh from Shijo—

Then, a sensation just like an explosion, and next thing he knew he was fleeing as fast as he could back down, down, to his body…and opening his physical eyes. 

He was back in the testing room, Nagasawa wiping the glass tube clean. Blood had dripped down the circle instead of being absorbed, and was spreading across the floor. 

"That's quite the bleed, there," Nagasawa said. "Are you with me, Noa-kun?" 

"Y-yes," Noa gasped out, hoping it was the first time Nagasawa had asked. "Where else would I be?" 

"In the land of the unconscious, unless we end this session here." But he seemed unconcerned, even as he wrapped bandages tightly around Noa's abused elbow. "You know, you're a very good test subject? You don't even scream when the Garden tries to bleed you out. Some of the others could learn from your example." 

Noa felt sick—not from the blood loss, or the travel through the Garden, but at the reminder that he wasn't the only one bleeding for the Garden. 

And it wasn't going to stop with the prisoners the Shijos had here, either.

The more he traveled through the Garden, familiarizing himself with its shape, the more he was sure: the Garden loved Kikyo. But it was the sort of love that trees had for nutrients in the soil, or a predator had for its prey. A love indistinguishable from hunger.

The Garden was trying to eat the city alive. And as far as Noa could tell, it was coming closer each day to being able to.