Makoto's Allocution

Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock, tick—an imaginary clock chimed in Daichi's head repeatedly as he processed Makoto's earlier words:

'Mirror? Don’t tell me . . . You got caught up in a Truth-for-Truth?'

There were still too many unknowns about this Raid Dungeon. Why was everything currently themed after a lavish Hollywood movie? Why were there references to real-world landmarks, alongside decorative instruments everywhere? The saxophone Daichi saw earlier in a glass case—did it belong to someone? Was it some sort of trap? What if someone stole it? And were all the paintings in these halls portals of some sort?

Something felt unnatural, as if there was an underlying conclusion he was missing; or more specifically, a memory that was being repressed by some greater force. Saxophone, landscapes, travel, paintings, records, musician, teacher—but whatever the thought was, it soon severed like someone interfered with scissors.

All Daichi could do now was focus on the smaller mystery at hand.

“T-Truth-for what?” he finally replied to Makoto.

The cowboy launched out of his red chair. “A Truth-for-Truth! Well, that’s just what we call em'—lil buggers that enter your subconscious and ask you stuff. Annoying critters!"

Wide-eyed Daichi gripped his leather armrests in suspense. "Yeah! It was just like that!"

"Woo-boy! I didn’t know there were any around here though! They’re super rare!” Makoto bent over to retrieve his hat then plopped it onto his head.

Enemy confirmed then? “It's strange though. It got in my face and I heard a random girl speaking, like it recorded someone else’s answer first.”

“That’s what they dooooo!” He started wriggling his fingers as if reciting a ghost story. “In exchaaaaaange for telling you someone's deepest truths, they expect you to expose your own. If they think you’re lying, or refuse to answer their question, they’ll lay a curse on you that’ll kill you someday and disables your revive ability! OoOoO, scary!”

Daichi breathed a sigh of relief. He knew his answers were honest, so he was safe—probably?

Makoto sat back down in his vinyl seat. “Well since you’re not shitting yourself, guess everything went fine? Not like it’s gonna matter soon but hey.”

“Hmmm?”

“Nothing, nothing! Anyway, what did it ask you?”

Daichi explained the entire ordeal in detail. “Don’t really have anything to hide though so it wasn’t a big deal. I just panicked since I didn’t know what was happening.”

“Right?" he chuckled. "They gave me a spook a while back too.”

“Wait, you got attacked by a Truth-for-Truth before?”

“Sure did!" Makoto pointed his thumb up behind himself. "In a Dungeon up north. I shat bricks when it got in my face! Couldn’t blast it at all! Probs got a real good pic of me for their family album.”

Makoto not being an ass for once? That I’d like to see. “What were you asked?”

His eyes glanced aside, as if nervous. “It’s kinda embarrassing actually. Ya' promise not to tell anyone?”

“If it’s that important, sure?”

"Fine." Makoto spat out his Wombat, splattering a brown glob to the tiled floor. “It asked me what I feared most.”

“Your fear? Do you even fear anything?”

“Hey, I fear tons of stuff!" he blushed somewhat. "When the mirror asked me point-blank, I wanted to give a dumbass answer, like being afraid of fat chicks or worrying about my dick going limp. But something about that paused world made everything feel private, like I could be honest for once—so I spilled my heart out.”

Daichi leaned forward in his red seat, eager to hear an answer. The revelations of a cowboy could shed light onto Lone Star's motivations. "What did you reply then?”

Without warning, an echo of small booms permeated through the halls, followed by the trembling of corridor walls. A chandelier above rattled ominously as Lone Star was likely in the midst of combat, but Makoto seemed unconcerned. Resolute eyes that'd witnessed innumerable battles were determined to convey their owner's gospel.

“I said I was afraid of being abandoned. And forgotten," the cowboy replied. Not a hint of sarcasm or insincerity lined his tone. It was as if an entirely new person had been born—or awakened.

That’s something Daichi wasn’t expecting.

Makoto slipped out a revolvewand and examined it like an heirloom. “My whole life I’ve worked to be someone people would respect, not could respect. I’ve done things I’m ashamed of but nothing I regret; so when I say I’m afraid of being forgotten, I mean it literally. There isn’t anything more disrespectful than people forgetting your existence. You agree?”

A metaphorical pit formed in Daichi’s stomach. His thoughts channeled to images of his mother—the mirror image of his silver-haired sister—but all that could appear was a body with a blank face. Why? Had it really been that long already? Was he beginning to forget one of the people most precious to him? Or was there something interfering with his memories?

“I don’t like forgetting people I care about,” Daichi stated. “But I think others are better off being forgotten. If they’ve done something wrong, it’s easier to forgive them that way.”

Makoto rubbed his own chin, as if impressed. “Huh. So oblivion is both mercy and cruelty? Interesting. Never thought about it that way.”

“Yeah. We’re all gonna be forgotten one day, we just don’t know when. And we gotta leave our mark before then."

“Bah! As long as I got people following me, that's good enough!” Makoto hollered. His hands started playing dramatic theatrics again. “I wanna be a big shot one day! Big enough that the house I lived in becomes a tourist attraction! Ain’t nobody forgetting me! Dunno how it’s happening but that’s my dream!”

“Sounds like the Truth-for-Truth asked you the wrong thing." Daichi tried hiding a chuckle.

“Heh, those mirrors don’t answer to no one, not even Raid bosses! They’re their own boss! Big shots! No one tells you what to do! You wrap people around your finger and they’ll never forget or abandon you! Give orders, not take them! That’s always been my style and nothing's gonna change that.”

"Hmm? What do you mean?"

Makoto’s face took on an ominous contortion. He toyed with the revolvewand on his lap before holstering it again. “Means the ball is rolling, kid. Catch up or get left behind.”

It was almost like witnessing another, darker side of the cowboy. What else was he hiding? What was he plotting? But the air's intimidating pressure forced Daichi's eyes towards the ground.

“R-Right . . .” Was all he could reply.

Several minutes of painful silence passed. Makoto chewed on a new Wombat while he tapped on his armrests. There was no indication of what occupied his thoughts. Only a stern face staring off towards the side gave a glimpse of the cowboy's inner machinations. 

Daichi had also been musing to himself, sorting his own concerns:

There’s definitely something happening behind the scenes. What's Makoto deal? Is or isn't he a Dearth? If he wanted to kidnap me, he’d have done it by now. And what is Sanae to him? Is he just using her? Or is she the one using Lone Star?

The sound of slow footsteps coming up the hall made Daichi’s head turn. Hopeful, he leapt out of his chair and ran to greet them. Sanae, Hiro, and the others were trudging back from their tough excursion. Everyone was covered in dirt, had their weapons drawn, and their faces were all dotted with still-fresh cuts. Most notable, their expressions were ironclad—impossible to read.

And there was one less member than before.

"Ummm, how did everything go?" Daichi asked Sanae as she walked by him. She gave him a half-smile, but otherwise said nothing. Everyone else ignored his presence like he was a ghost.

Lone Star's returning members all grouped in front of Makoto. He was sitting with an annoyed look, staring around to likely pick someone to yell at.

Sanae stepped forward. She clutched a small crystal that glistened yellow, wrapped around her hand with a strand. Solemn emotions of everyone behind her started emerging on their defeated faces.

What's going on? Daichi made his way closer to see their meeting unfold.

“Report,” Makoto sternly asked her. His cheek was resting against his knuckles as he stared straight into an unnerved Sanae's eyes.

She untethered the Void Soul crystal and placed it in her leader's open hand. “Kazemaru died. We fought against Lich Lords that overwhelmed us with waves of undead. Kazemaru tried using wind magic to repel them, but eventually his MP ran out. I kept him alive for as long as possible—though the outcome should've been obvious."

Makoto inspected the glowing, yellow crystal like an appraiser. It further gleamed when he raised it against a chandelier above. “Well damn, times like these make me wish I joined Gendou’s Faction. Reviving Kazemaru is gonna suck dry our Guild Funds, so should we even bother?"

Her right hand at her side twitched then curled into a fist. Trembling lips proved Sanae was restraining an unbridled anger. “If we had more air support, the Liches could've been beaten—”

“Oh I’m sorry darlin', but you wouldn’t by any chance be trying to blame this on me?"

“If you let me finish, yes, that's exactly right!”

In a dramatic fashion, Makoto stood and got in her agitated face. Baneful eyes peered straight into her. “Who gave you balls to talk back? You’re a healer, you heal. I’m the leader, I lead. We do what I want. You have no bargaining power; that’s why we’re all here, and you know exactly why else.”

She looked downwards to avert his gaze, but Makoto’s hand shot out and forced her chin up to him.

“Never disparage me like that again, little bitc—”

An irradiating, pounding force drew Daichi's attention to his side. All eyes fell on Hiro as he glared Makoto down with viciousness incarnate.

“Don’t ever touch Sanae,” he growled. The huge sword in his hand trembled with fervent restraint. “Nothing is her fault. Blame me instead—and just try putting your hands on me. I’m waiting.”

Makoto was unfazed by the display. Annoyance permeated his face more than anything, and he calmly released Sanae from his grasp. “Bro, why can't you be this motivated more often? But whatever; my subordinates are mine. Don't ever tell me how to interact with them."

"We're all comrades, not playthings. Find a sandbox if you wanna act like a child." Hiro replied. The demonic, closed eye on his sword's hilt twitched, as if reacting to his emotions. 

"Ah, the gentle giant grew a backbone? Bahaha!" But Makoto's laugh was empty, beyond forced, and more akin to a warning. Hollow eyes challenged the towering Berserker's resolve. "You owe me bigly, so don't be giving me attitude again. Capiche?"

Their confrontation had peaked. Tension in the air settled when Hiro calmed down and unequipped his sword. But he gave Makoto one last defiant glare before retreating into the hallway. No words. Only his black cape trailing behind him whispered unspoken sentiments.

"Well that's that then." Makoto tucked the Void Soul into his pocket and waved everyone away. "We leave in five minutes, people. Rest while you can. Next stop: Domination."

The whole group was still uneasy but split up to relax by themselves. Shielder in shining armor went to admire a painting, while the fire mage started examining various music records.

Daichi made his way towards Sanae who'd taken a seat in his red chair. She doesn’t need to hear about the Truth-for-Truth right now. She’s stressed out as it is. But he didn’t know what else to say. Are you okay? Do you need anything? It all felt superfluous, and who knows if she’d even be honest.

Sanae peeked over her left shoulder. Wistful eyes settled on Hiro standing far down the hall by himself, resting against a wall. He seemed unfettered by everything, almost bored, but how much of it was a tough guy act? Did the stress of operating under Makoto's boot cause the earlier rebellion? Or did he sincerely care about Sanae?

She turned back to her lap and tightly gripped her robe. Trembling hands conveyed her frustrations to everyone in the area.

Guess that's how it is, huh. Daichi tried cheering her up with small talk. “You went up a level, huh? Congrats, you’re almost level 60 now—”

“Sorry," she said in the gentlest tone, looking away from him. "Could you leave me alone for a bit? I just need a little break.”

“O-Oh, okay yeah, no problem,” he flashed a fake smile. “I’ll be, errr, somewhere else then.”

He walked away and into the lavish hall. The others were still doing their own things, but now readying their equipment to depart once more. Daichi kept wandering deeper down the corridor until he found himself standing next to Hiro. His always stoic face and crossed, muscular arms did well to hide whatever worries ailed him.

"Hey." Daichi attempted to meet his eyes. "You're close to Sanae, right? Compared to everyone else?"

Hiro took a few seconds to reply, and only granted brief eye contact. "We're just guildmates. Nothing more."

"Still—I think she wants you to talk to her."

“That’s up to you now."

Why? Daichi's fists clenched. He didn’t want to be the reason this group fell apart; they didn't deserve that after taking him in. But everyone in Lone Star was likely experiencing their own ultimatums. Should they all seek out their own personal goals, or follow whatever their cowboy leader decreed? Or maybe they sought reprieve from needing to make such decisions. To just lay wherever the winds carried them. 

“She's stronger than you think she is," Daichi finally replied. Somber pitches lined his voice. “But everyone deserves their own happiness—their own future. They just gotta search it out.”

Hiro chuckled. “I’m not a good person; I don't deserve anything. You’re better off looking after her than me."

"Are you really okay just letting Sanae go though?" But trace amounts of selfishness inside him felt the slightest bit relieved. And he hated himself for it.

"Like I said, I'm not a good person. She should just forget I exist—for her own good.”

'There isn’t anything more disrespectful than people forgetting your existence,' Makoto's piercing words from earlier echoed within.

Daichi took a deep breath and poked Hiro in the chest. “Listen—you can’t completely forget the people you care about. Their faces or their voices might fade, but chasing them out of your life will just make you regret it later. Don't confuse pride with principle."

"Huh? Wait, this isn't—" Hiro tried to say something but restrained himself. His face looked taken aback, but ultimately it seemed he knew he had no rebuttal.

Daichi walked forward down the hall without another word. He didn’t know what lay ahead, but he wouldn’t let himself be a handicap anymore. His eyes screamed determination.

After some quick chatter, the rest of Lone Star soon followed behind him.