Chapter 5

Rionne tried very hard to grasp the meaning of the place. And failed. “This is… what? A festival? I refuse to believe this is just a celebration of storytelling as you said.”

“But it is.” Rumiko allowed herself a grin. “I wouldn’t say this country makes a living off that, but it’s close enough.”

Naomi was consulting the schedule. “The panel will be held on the second floor of Hall C. But there’s no way to go around the Bunny Asylum exhibit.”

Rionne gawked briefly at her. “I surmise that exhibit is not about insane rabbits.”

The succubus laughed. “Nah. Bunny Asylum is the studio that produced your anime.”

A blink. “A ‘studio’. My ‘anime’.”

Naomi judged it best to have her confront that now. She looked up the opening of the show on her phone. “You should watch this.”

Rionne stared at the screen. “That art style again — why everyone has such huge eyes…” Then her voice trailed off.

And she turned chalk-white again. “That’s… that’s Lucern… and Tealoth… and…” The opening quickly cycled through faces and scenes, with the climax showing Rionne herself standing before the avatar she had fought, a tiny speck next to a red and brown dragon the size of a skyscraper.

Rumiko eyed Naomi. “We should have shown this to her before coming here.”

“Yeah. But that train has left the station.”

The shock was short-lived, however. If anything, it intensified her curiosity. “The art style aside, it’s quite accurate.”

The succubus knew she should have done better, but could not hold herself back. “You fought and defeated that thing?”

“To say that I ‘defeated’ it would be to stretch the term.” Reliving that titanic clash was giving Rionne new strength. “Rokyyr posits that only through might the right to live is earned. So when he encountered an adversary that matched his avatar in power, he tested me, then withdrew. You could say he ‘found me worthy,’” she said with disgust. “But those found wanting perish. He offers no second chances. Neither do his followers.”

Rumiko absorbed every word the wizard said. “That’s brutal.”

“In that we are in agreement. There would be wisdom in his tenets if they left room for compromise. As they stand, they merely serve as an excuse for madmen to indulge their bloodlust.”

Naomi was looking around herself. “There will be people cosplaying as other characters. Especially Lucern.”

Rionne swallowed. “I see that now.”

Rumiko was puzzled — briefly. “Your lover, right?”

“The… the ‘manga,’ as you call it, describes our… ‘dalliance’ in rather vivid detail.” The elf’s voice trembled. “That was the most sacred and precious moment of my life. Millions of eyes were on me then. And I did not feel them.”

The succubus grimaced. “Shit, girl. I’m sorry. I get thrills from that, but not everyone does.”

It took Rionne an effort to regain composure after that, barely nodding her gratitude. Naomi observed this, and again looked around them — more on guard now.

But there would be no avoiding that. A cosplaying troupe was entering the venue behind them — and spotted them right away. Heading the troupe was a tall and handsome young man dressed in sable and silver, a filigreed rapier by his side, black leather boots and a majestic black cloak completing the picture. “Hello!” he greeted them warmly with a friendly smile. “We’ve seen some pictures and were looking for… Mion-san, is it? We’ve never seen anything like her work. Would you agree to take some pictures with us?”

Rionne quickly turned away. “Excuse me. I’ll have to refuse.”

“Oh… that’s a shame,” the girl to the left of the leader said, her druid garb abundant in leaves and nature imagery. “Your costume is one of a kind.”

Naomi stepped forward. “Mion-san said she would prefer not to. Please respect her wish.”

The girl retreated immediately. “Of course—I’m sorry. My bad.” She bowed slightly in apology.

The young man cosplaying as Lucern followed suit. “Please excuse us. We didn’t mean to be rude.”

Guilt lashed through the elf—the admiration of this troupe had been sincere. “It’s—fine,” she said, stumbling slightly. “I’m just—I’m not well at the moment.” She blindly sought a way to save the situation and preserve her dignity. “After the—the panel? Would that be agreeable?”

The members of ‘Lucern’s’ troupe exchanged looks, and ultimately agreed. “We’ll find you. Get better soon,” the boy said in farewell.

As they were leaving, Rionne overheard the ‘druid.’ Someone else would not have heard that, but as an elf, her senses were on an entirely different level. “What happened to her? She looked like she had seen a ghost. We weren’t that rude, weren’t we?”

“You went over the line a bit,” another girl said, “but not that much.”

“Me and my big mouth,” the ‘druid’ bemoaned.

The youngster cosplaying as Lucern was uneasy. “Something about me? She turned away from me the moment she saw me.” Then they walked away.

Naomi was careful to give Rionne space. She walked her towards a wall and away from stands or exits.

Rumiko eyed the wizard worriedly. “She’s in no shape to take the stage.”

Rionne wanted to object. “This is a momentary weakness.”

The tall redhead shook her head. “No, Mion-san, it’s not.”

There was a note of anger now. “I said this is momentary!”

“And I say it is not.” Naomi glared right into the blazing violet eyes. “This troupe you just met? They were just six. When you take the stage, you’ll be facing a thousand people, plus who knows how many watching the live stream. All of them fanatically devoted to Rionne-sama.” The elf’s glare did not waver, but she did flinch very slightly at that. “I tell you—you can’t take it. You’ll shatter like glass.” She turned to her succubus friend. “We’ll have to rethink the cosplay contest thing.”

The elf was on the back foot. She was no stranger to people arguing with her in disagreement, but Naomi’s efficient management so far had misled Rionne into not expecting it from her. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply once. “Your judgment is not unfounded,” she admitted, then reopened her eyes and muttered, “What would you suggest?”

Rumiko thought for a moment. Then a devious half-grin appeared on her face. “Something traumatized her. Well, let’s use that trauma.”

Naomi frowned slightly—then she understood. “Oh. Smart. Yeah, that might work.” She turned to Rionne. “Stay here with Ayase-san for a while. I’m gonna try and talk to the panel organizers.”

A reluctant nod. “This is your territory.”

“You keep people away from her, Rumiko-san.”

“Gotcha. Don’t worry.”

Naomi walked away. Rionne watched her go, then inspected the ground for a moment before sitting in a lotus flower position and closing her eyes.

The succubus did not take her gaze off her. “Can I get you something? Water?”

A slow headshake. “Not necessary, Ayase-san. My thanks.” She then opened her eyes with a tired smile. “You were correct earlier.”

“Huh?”

“I said I did not anticipate any challenges.” She let out her breath slowly. “By the Saint, how much of a fool I was.”

“Oh. That.” Rumiko sat next to her. “Woulda happened eventually, girl. Culture shock’s a bitch.”

Rionne dwelt on her words for a moment before speaking. “A most accurate expression, ‘culture shock.’”

A snort. “Had to deal with that myself. ‘twas rough.”

The elf could not ignore people were still noticing her and looking at her from a distance — but she also noticed the succubus sitting next to her was vigilant, ready to intercept anyone who approached.

“Before you relate that tale to me, please answer this. How does a demon become so kind?”

Rumiko smiled. “You should meet Aoi-sama before you leave. She’s an angel. She would say, ‘there’s demons, and there’s demons — in the same way as there’s angels, and there’s angels.’”

Rionne bowed her head slowly. “Most correct and wise.”

A woman bearing a badge and escorted by two security guards approached them. The succubus got on her feet at once. “You are Rumiko-san and Mion-san, right? Please come with us. Kurono-san spoke to Katsumasa-sensei about you.”

The woman with the badge led them through a door marked ‘staff only,’ then through a series of almost vacant hallways save for the occasional employee, staff member or security guard, the din and chaos of the convention completely gone here, to eventually take an elevator and walk them through carpeted corridors to a closed door. “Katsumasa-sensei will see you now. Come in.”

Rionne had spent some time going over Katsumasa’s biography. Formerly a teacher of numbers in academies for Japanese young, he had lived in obscurity for most of his adult life, contributing to tomes and volumes printed by devoted followers of diverse stories — before the tale of Rionne and her struggles had catapulted him to worldwide fame and acclaim.

Those facts were in her mind as the door to the conference hall opened and she first laid eyes on him. He seemed barely taller than her, wore eyeglasses, and dressed rather conservatively, wearing a plain but spotless white shirt and a long piece of black fabric that humans called a ‘tie.’

He was focused on some tome on the table before the stage when they came in, but after a few moments, his gaze came up — and met hers. His face softened into a smile. “Good afternoon,” he said kindly in welcome. “I believe you are Mion-san?” He leaned forward and blinked. “If you’ll allow me the observation, you are extraordinarily gifted. I’ve never seen such a faithful recreation of Rionne-sama.”

Rionne felt, rather than seeing, Naomi’s flinch and Rumiko’s instant unease. They had every right to be unsettled. The elf had drawn upon her immense willpower and her centuries of discipline and training to steady herself — but being once again mistaken for a cosplayer undid that composure in a heartbeat.

But even her outburst was measured. She scanned the room, noting the few other people present —the woman that had escorted them there, a pair of guards—, and closed her eyes.

“That is, Katsumasa-san, because I am not Mion!” She wielded her staff right-handed, then opened her eyes, now filled with a fierce glow—and many things happened at once. A brief pulse of light erupted right in the middle of the woman and the security guards, and they dropped unconscious where they stood. Doors locked closed tight, chairs and other furniture around barricading them. Almost every lamp, LED and fluorescent light in the conference hall popped like balloons.

Then the glass shards and papers and debris flying around froze in midair, the atmosphere suddenly became stifling, and all sound was dampened out to near silence. Except for the loud voice of Rionne herself as she floated upwards and forwards, tendrils of lightning arcing from her eyes to her staff and left hand. “I am Rionne Laurescient, Silver Archsorceress and anointed Champion of Tealoth, Ancient of the Purple Hills! And I am here to demand answers! What gave you the right to happily divulge accounts of the most precious and private moments of my life?!”

Everyone was paralyzed.

Katsumasa gaped at the coolly enraged Rionne, white with surprise.

Almost fifteen seconds of utterly complete shock passed before he was able to utter, “You’re…”

“Real?” The elf gritted her teeth. She clenched her left fist so tightly that her knuckles turned almost razor-sharp. “You require even more blatant proof? You know what I am better than anyone in this realm. You know what I am capable of. Do not push me! Answer the question!”

The writer went rigid with fear, but then he leaned forward as his brow knotted slightly. Very slowly and carefully he stood up, walked around the table, and then a few steps up the aisle towards Rionne.

He raised a shaky right index and pointed at her right hand. “Your… your palms… they were burned…”

Rionne saw how wonder and amazement prevailed over his fear. “And you know where and how it happened.”

“That was… Rokyyr, right…? Wounds from a god—they never quite heal…” He knelt and bowed on the spot until his forehead almost touched the floor. “It never occurred to me that—it could be anything other than my imagination. If only I had known, I—” his voice quivered. “To you, it must feel… beyond horrible. Nobody deserves to… to have their life exposed like that.” His last words choked out of his throat. “I’m sorry, Rionne-sama.”

It was the wizard who was paralyzed now. She panted once, twice, then floated downward, toward the still kneeling Katsumasa, her glare blinding and terrible and not veering away from him in the slightest.

After a few moments, a whisper trickled out faintly. “You are not lying…” Her voice broke. “You are not lying!”

The writer did not raise his head. “Please believe me — I wish I was.”

What Naomi had predicted happened next: Rionne shattered. She dropped to the ground and to her knees before erupting in loud sobs.

That was Naomi’s and Rumiko’s signal to spring into action. The succubus raced to hold the crying elf, while Naomi approached the writer. “I owe you an apology,” she said contritely. “I should have managed this situation better, but I didn’t see how.”

Katsumasa stumbled back to his feet. “Who… who are you people?” he asked weakly.

“I didn’t lie,” the tall redhead said flatly. “I do work with an NPO that assists trauma victims. Rionne-sama just happened to be one.”

The writer regarded his ‘creation’ with misery in his eyes. “I wish I had known.” He crouched next to the elf. “I’m so sorry. I wish I could take it back.”

Rionne needed the better part of a minute to regain control of herself. “My apologies, Kurono-san,” she said in a brittle voice. “You were correct.” She looked around herself in the penumbra. The conference room was almost completely dark, save for one fluorescent light and a few LEDs. “That was most undignified on my part. I will undo the damage.” She held up her staff and spoke a single word, then just slid her right index finger counter-clockwise before her, the motion leaving behind a trail of white light. As if in a movie being played backwards, every bulb, light and LED returned to the state they had been not two minutes prior, and every piece of furniture, every piece of paper and debris floating in midair went back to their original place.

Katsumasa’s eyes almost jumped out of their sockets, and grew even wider when he noticed the papers and other pieces of debris frozen in midair. “I never thought you could do any of this.”

Naomi bowed her head. “Then you didn’t create her. You just saw her.”

The writer blinked. “I saw her? How?”

It was Rumiko who answered that, glancing at Naomi. “He’s a sleeper, right?”

The tall redhead had her eyes on Katsumasa. “The Fuyutsukis will love to hear about this.” But then her instincts took over. “Rionne-san, what about the staff? The guards and the woman?”

“Time is suspended,” the elf said in a quiet but brittle voice. “But this will not last long. After the magic expires, they should return to their senses relatively quickly.”

“It’s best if we leave before that happens. Katsumasa-sensei, I strongly suggest we get together in private later.”

The man wanted to disagree, but after a moment’s thought he nodded. “Tomorrow, perhaps? I have a very busy schedule today.” He shook his head. “Getting through the rest of the day is going to be a challenge. There are so many things I want to know…” Then he steadied himself. “But tomorrow is tomorrow. However much I want to, I can’t ignore my commitments.”

The elf kept her gaze on the man who had told her tale, honestly believing he was creating where in truth he was describing what he saw through a talent he did not know he had.

Then smiled slightly at him. “This will help you make it through the day.” Again a wave of her staff, a single command word, and with her left hand she spun a ring out of hair-thin threads of light that quickly coalesced into silver.

The writer stared in silence at the ring hovering before him. He needed a few seconds to organize his thoughts and emotions before he could talk. “It’s… hard. All I know of you feels wrong now. I don’t want to wound you further.”

“That is why you should have it. It’s freely given. Don’t let a guilt you don’t merit get in the way.”

Katsumasa took the ring reverently. “I will cherish this.”

Whatever effect held the atmosphere stilled and heavy ceased to function. Everyone seemed to relax and breathe easier now. Naomi checked her phone for the time, then interrupted carefully, “If you’ll excuse me, we should exchange contact information while this private moment lasts.”

“Yes, yes—of course.” The writer took out his phone. “Here. You can scan it.”

Naomi did as he suggested, then sent him a text. Katsumasa’s phone rang at once. “There. We’ll arrange the details over the day.” A formal bow. “I apologize for such a rude and traumatic awakening. But there was no easier way to reach you.”

Katsumasa bowed back, as deeply. “I would never have learned of this if not for you.” Then he bowed to the elf wizard. “I hope our next meeting will be on friendlier terms, Rionne-sama.”

An equally polite nod. “Likewise. Until we meet again.” She closed her eyes, clutched her staff with both hands, and spoke a few words of an arcane language that nobody understood, except for one: Naomi’s name. There was a thunderbolt, a flash of light, and the wizard, the succubus and the tall redhead all vanished in thin air.

To reappear in the living room of Naomi’s apartment.

Rumiko snorted with amusement. “Pretty neat trick. Teach it to me.”

Rionne took a deep breath, then sat slowly on the couch. “I could. But I need to impart years of knowledge upon you before I can even start teaching you about transportation magic.”

Naomi thought she had figured out something. “And one of those basics is that you can’t teleport to places you’ve never seen, right?”

“Correct.” Rionne leaned her head backwards, eyes closed. She felt exhausted, but at ease now.

Then she heard Rumiko’s voice. “We could have shown you a picture of the place, or something…”

“I did that,” Naomi said, “but I guess it’s not as reliable as having been there. And when this spell fails, she ends up in strange places. Like here in Tokyo.” The elf confirmed this with a tired nod.

Rumiko was studying her hands. “I’m surprised I didn’t notice the burns on your palms before. It seems so obvious now.”

“You know what to look for now. It is as Katsumasa-san said. If you receive a wound from a god, no magic within mortal reach will completely remove it.”

Naomi spoke quietly next. “I haven’t read all the manga, but I didn’t see that detail there.”

Rionne blinked her eyes open, perplexed. Then she closed them again. “It is as you said, then. He did not create me, he merely saw me and my world.” She then let out a long, relieved sigh. “I wish I could convey to you how much of a comfort that is. I had feared… The night we met, you had theorized I could be the figment of someone’s imagination come to life. All this time I have been dreading the possibility of that being true. If my entire life had just been the product of fantasy, all of my successes and failures and happiness and grief… I have seen pain and death and suffering on a scale you can’t possibly comprehend. If all of that had merely been conjured by one person…”

The tall redhead shook her head. “In this world we have nothing to learn from others when it comes to violence.”