2.8 Unskilled, Untalented Wastes of Space

It'd been a combination of many, many things.

Hunger.

Insomnia.

An alarmingly increasing amount of untreated wounds.

Fear.

Fear? Or hatred?

Seeing Kaz. Hearing Kaz. He should be dead—all of them.

They should be dead.

It wasn't the first time Cerise had run away from a memory. So long as he kept drinking, it wouldn't be the last. Still—it'd never gone this poorly before.

"Oh, Cérise," mumbled Akiha, "I'm so sorry, I..."

Cérise surprised even himself when he replied, "Don't be," even though he really meant it. Granted, Akiha's plan (or lack thereof) had led them to this, but Cérise had been the one to alert Kaz, first by slipping on his way back, and then by stressing everyone enough to break the illusion spell that would've kept them concealed otherwise. "She's safe. For now. Besides, I'm the one who should apologize for... whatever that was."

Akiha blinked, shocked. For some reason, people always reacted like that when he apologized. It never got less grating.

Was Cérise so shaken that the ensuing silence made him cross his arms and look away awkwardly? Yes. On the bright side, that was how he realized they were close enough to Khon-Pak that he could see its walls at the distance, a rectangle slightly lighter than the sand in color, surrounded by cloudless cerulean.

As if on cue, Two-Rabbit pointed at the city. "Shade. Then explanation."

To such a sensible, eloquent request, how could they say no? Two-Rabbit stood up, dusting his fur. He yanked Mish up. He yanked Akiha up. He re-adjusted his red scarf. About three steps later, he collapsed. "Shit," was Akiha's commentary on the matter. Had he sworn before that? No, right? Maybe? "What just—is he—"

"Dead," whispered Mish.

This was enough to snap Cérise out of it, whatever it was. Someone had to come back to their senses. "No, you—he's just unconscious." He walked over to them, kneeling next to the blue-gray beastman. Though his fur made it hard to feel a pulse and he'd fallen facefirst on the sand, imperceptibly, almost, his rotund torso rose and fell. Without Snail, Two-Rabbit was heavier than the rest of them combined. The walk to the city walls, and thus, the shade, would take around ten minutes or so. "Let's roll him," Cérise proposed.

"What—no." That was Akiha.

"How do you know?" Asked Mish. "That they won't hurt her. How?"

"Shade. Then explanation."

"Yes," said Akiha. "Please. But let's not resort to barbaric methods for transportation."

Cérise gestured at the fallen warrior. "What, can you lift him?"

"No, I just..." Akiha crouched down, too, a hand over his forehead. "We can't roll him. Perhaps, if we combine forces, we could..."

"Allow me."

Both Akiha and Cérise glanced at Mish as though she'd proposed hurling Two-Rabbit like a javelin. Whether this bothered her or not would forever stay a mystery, but Cérise kind of hoped it did. At any case, as though she hadn't been shaking like a maraca minutes ago, she drew her blades, twirled on one foot, then bowed. Upon sheathing her daggers, stretching, and rubbing her hands, she casually slung Two-Rabbit over her shoulder. Kind of. She also wobbled.

"Nice," was Cérise's response. "You should've done that before."

"Enhancing one's strength requires great con... cen... tration. Shade, then explanation, right? I'll a... await you lot there."

Like a drunkard, Mish stumbled her way towards the city. That explained that—she'd probably 'enhanced' her speed during the encounter at the armory, which had turned her into a projectile once she hadn't been able to control her temporary power spike. A lot of unskilled, untalented wastes of space boosted their attributes that way, apparently forgetting how multiplying by zero worked. No use gaining fake strength or speed without the ability to back them up, although for smaller tasks like these, it worked.

Speaking of useless mooks: Akiha. He was curled in a fetal position, having buried his face on his knees. "Hurry," Cérise told him. To the lack of reaction, he added, "What is it now?"

"Nothing. Pardon... sorry."

"Then hurry."

With a groan, Akiha pushed himself up, which was when Cérise noticed he was almost the color of his hair. When, a second later, he fell, Cérise moved to the side to avoid touching him.

Granted, the suns, the stress, and almost getting sold into slavery hadn't exactly done them any favors, but to be this worn out? Could it be due to the teleportation spell from earlier?

Come to think of it...

"Can't you just teleport again?"

"...huh?"

"To the city."

Now Akiha looked at Cérise as though he'd done a Mish dance. "I'd die," he replied.

"Really." Akiha had no apparent reason to lie about this, but that only led to more questions. From what Luke had told Cérise, teleportation was banned. For one, the amount of energy it required could drain a city's surplus for hours. For two, it took a very, very skilled magician to pull it off. If Akiha was powerful enough to channel such extreme amounts of magic energy from an oasis and not turn them into a fleshy soup in the process, why hadn't he shown this before? At such a level, a hypothetical army of 'heroes' would just hinder him. Yet... there he was, pale and trembling, both from fear and exhaustion. "Can you walk?"

Closing his eyes, Akiha shook his head.

"You should've said so earlier so Mish could..." Cérise trailed off. "...fine." He held out a hand. "Hurry."

Akiha's fingers were ice cold. Cérise had to grit his teeth to keep himself from yanking his hand away. Physical contact was revolting. It'd only get worse. Why? Because, while Akiha stood, he all but used Cérise as a cane.

It was fine.

All was fine.

All good.

One.

Two.

Two and a half.

Mish and Two-Rabbit were specks at the distance.

Did he hate touching or screaming more?

Two and three quarters.

Two and—

Cérise slung Akiha's arm over his shoulders. He let out a breath. Three. Weakly, Akiha laughed. "Do I disgust you that much?"

Cérise began to walk.

"...sorry."

Weird. First he swore, now he laughed. Perhaps the mask had slipped and he'd forgotten how and where it fit.

"About everything."

"Stop talking," said Cérise.

"I'm unsure as to when I'll have the..." Akiha stumbled, so Cérise slowed his pace a bit. "...sorry, the chance to say this again. To you. I told the others about it already, that, um. I have no fighting experience."

"I know. Shut up."

"Y-you do? How?"

He hadn't, actually, but Akiha's reaction seemed sincere. He also had no visible scars, no edge to his gaze, and seemingly no weapon. Nothing gave away a mage's inexperience as much as them naively assuming they'd be able to get by unarmed. To top it all off, he was built like a coat hanger. "I just do."

No response. It wasn't because Akiha had finally decided to conserve energy, magical or otherwise; he'd passed out.

Oh, good.

It was a lot easier to carry him if Cérise pretended he was a corpse, so he slung Akiha over his back, then kept walking. Mish kept pausing, either to gather her balance, or to check behind her. Each and every time, Cérise looked away.

This walk sure felt endless.

"I don't even know why I'm here."

It was a lot easier if he talked, for some reason. Because his audience was functionally a corpse?

"I don't hate you."

Otherwise, the only sound was sand crunching under his feet, like foam.

"I don't like you."

His—their—breathing.

"I don't hate or like anyone."

How eerie.

"I don't hate or like anything."

Almost there. Or halfway? Less than? Did it matter?

"Maybe that's why."

For a moment, he froze, because it almost seemed as though Mish was eavesdropping. But no, she just had something in her ear.

"And you? You're also here because someone else told you to."

Since Akiha could not respond, he didn't.

"Once this fails, I wonder..."

Almost there. Not halfway, no less than, and it didn't matter.

The shade of the city felt slightly less uncomfortable than a splash of cold water or carrying a stranger. By the time Cérise reached it, Mish and Two-Rabbit sat against the walls, with the latter fanning both of them with his paw. This, plus the city's residual cooling, had seemingly revived him.

Cérise wasn't as tired as he should've been. He almost forgot Akiha existed, until the guy groaned and moved so suddenly Cérise dropped him and shriveled. Talk about uncomfortable.

Of all things, Akiha's first reaction wasn't pain, or to redundantly point out their arrival, but to sit up, gasp, and shake sand off his hair. This was arguably worse. Cérise didn't feel like sitting, so he just leaned against the wall. Why did Two-Rabbit fan Mish and himself when residual cooling did the job for them? Whatever. "Now we're here," he said, still wiggling his paw, "I'd like to request two explanations. One: Snail. Two: teleportation."

"Me too," added Mish, which was very annoying for some reason.

"I, uh..." Akiha cleared his throat. "Shereez, go first. Please." Then he combed his hair with his fingers.

Shereez really did not want to talk. He'd done so enough already. To himself. To the desert. His throat hurt. But knowing this bunch, the more he avoided this, the worse they'd get. Thus, he said, "Kaz doesn't hurt merch," which was the second worst response next to 'I know him enough that he dined with my family more than once'.

For better or worse, the stunned silence did not last for too long. "Kaz?" Asked Mish. "You know him? How?"

"Like you, probably."

"No, no. Answer me."

Akiha squinted. "Who? The kid from earlier?"

"I used to be a swordsmith. He frequented the smithing shop I worked at. By the time I realized he was... that... I couldn't just tell him to go away without endangering my family. They wouldn't have believed me anyway. I'm more surprised he's alive." Often, one could gauge how little somebody wanted to answer a question based on how much inane tangents they took. "And you?"

"I ripped out his eye." Mish put her hand over her own. A lie for a lie, he supposed. In the heat of the moment, he hadn't noticed or cared, but... come to think of it, Kaz had been wearing an eyepatch. Heart-shaped, to be precise.

Thus spoke Two-Rabbit: "And Snail."

"Same thing," replied Cérise. "Him recognizing her is another reason why she should be safe for now."

"Why did he recognize her, but not you?"

He shrugged. "She stands out more."

Two-Rabbit stared at him—through him. Cérise didn't have to look back to know. "Hmph. Now, Akiha. Your turn. Teleportation. Explain."

Akiha, who had been glancing at each of them as they spoke, flinched as though someone had slapped him. As he spoke, he began to braid his hair. "Very well. I believe my story is simpler: for a forbidden spell, it's very easy to learn. Clandestine spellbooks are abundant wherever mages—ow—gather." He'd tugged at his locks a bit too hard, and the result was a white furball, which he shook off his hand. "It was that, or... dying?"

"We could've also died with what you did."

"Yes, but... yes. Exactly. Better to die trying than give up."

"Hmph." By then, Two-Rabbit was so fed up with their lies that his fur had begun to bristle. "Where did you get the energy to do that."

Based on how long it took for him to respond, it was clear that Akiha had not expected him to get there, which lent even more credence to the theory that he lacked real experience; mages often seemed to forget that everyone took basic magic classes at school. For three years. (The other three were a specialty of their choice.) "...honestly, I didn't think of that at the time..."

"Doesn't matter. Where. This is a desert. City surplus would've run out if you'd used it. So where."

"I don't know," Akiha mumbled.

Then Two-Rabbit bristled. Mish did, too, for this startled her. "I had no expectations when I joined this thing, and. Somehow. Somehow. I'm still disappointed. Enough is enough. Three of you personally know a wanted criminal and the other one uses forbidden magic that could destroy cities. But that's not the problem. The problem is. You're all terrible liars. And weirdos. A child has been kidnapped and her legal guardian says, oh, no, she's safe for now. A magic student could've nuked the region and all he says is, oh no, we could've died, so I gambled everyone's lives, and I mean everyone. And Mish uses detergent for her tail instead of shampoo."

Mish blushed.

"Does the dark lord even exist."

Akiha, who had gone back to a fetal position (with his face up) said, to the sand, "Haku isn't a dark lord."

"Then what is he."

"My friend."

"So you lot are friends with criminals and dark lords and nuke cities."

"No, I... no." Akiha sighed. "Like I said before, it's very easy to get forbidden spellbooks. Even the teachers do them sometimes. We probably share supplies. In any case, while most of us knew where to stop, he didn't. He lied about it, too, claiming he was no longer interested, and Hua and I—she's our other friend, by the way—didn't wanna to argue with him because he has such a short fuse, like fuck, so we acted like we believed him when he said he'd stopped, which obviously backfired. Oh, Two-Rabbit, you think teleportation is bad? Bandits? Please. Come back to me when your entire town is enslaved by an insane, emotionally unstable asshole and your only hope is to somehow get a group of warriors that'll join your cause for free in order to prove your worth and their worth to an even more insane ascetic monk who's the only one who can exorcise said friend from whatever took over his mind. And that's not even mentioning how he sent me to this wasteland where you get fined for wearing blue in restaurants. Fuck! Happy now?"

Two-Rabbit stood up.

So did Akiha, who was clearly fighting back tears.

Two-Rabbit spoke: "I'm going for falafels."

And he left.

Mish's ears were flat against her skull.

As for Cérise: he snorted. He would've bit it back, but it surprised even him. Covering his mouth with the back of his hand didn't help. Well, that was embarrassing. All of it. All of them.

"Go on," Akiha told him. "Laugh."

"Don't," Mish peeped.

"That's all he's been doing this entire time. That's all he does."

"Hardly," said Cérise.

"There's more than one way to laugh. At least I'm not a husk who doesn't know why he's alive."

"...yeah. No. Bye." Mish bolted after Two-Rabbit.

Would they ever come back?

Did it matter?

"So you were conscious."

Akiha wiped his eyes.

"Very well," mimicked Cérise. "Go on."

"...what?"

"Or is it my turn? Because, trust me, I could insult you all day."

"Do it, then. Maybe you'll feel happy for once."

"Dork," said Cérise.

Akiha waited. And waited. And waited.

"That's it. Your turn."

"...are you... was that a joke?"

"No."

"What are you..." Akiha trailed off. "...oh, you're... you want me to... lashing out isn't making me feel better."

"I don't want you to feel better."

"Right..." Akiha laughed. It sounded just as breathy as before, and was just as humorless... or was it? "Dork," he mimicked. "Please." And then it was genuine.

This had worked with Luke, too. Cérise had tried it once or twice with Snail, but it'd only made her cry more. His siblings, too. No one else. He'd never interacted with anyone else enough to try to... whatever this was. As Akiha took a handkerchief from his satchel, Cérise told him, "I think those two will return."

Akiha nodded, wiping his face.

"I'll go for Snail... after getting some falafels. With that magic dent you left, even someone like me can track that place."

"Someone like you?"

"I don't use magic."

"Why?" Akiha grimaced. "Ow, my head..."

"I hate it. It's a tension headache." Plus dehydration. Plus prolonged sunlight exposure. Plus also nearly dropping a magic-induced atomic bomb. "And inflamed sinuses."

"Yes. Did you choose healing as your specialty?"

"Yes."

Akiha kept the comment to himself, which was a good thing. Unlike literally everyone else Cérise had told this to, instead of blinking, shocked (again), he smiled. "I assume your plan to get Snail back is to talk to, uh, whatshisname. Even if he's an, uh. Since he knows both of you, I'm sure you he'll understand."

Cérise said the following because of the lack of shocked blinking, probably. "He won't."

"Why do you say so?"

"You should know. Sometimes dialogue doesn't work."

When had Akiha leaned against the wall, next to Cérise? Him taking pity on a sheltered student throwing a tantrum did not translate to a desire for prolonged socialization, but he supposed he'd have to bear it until Mish and Two-Rabbit came back—since they would. Mish, because she believed. Two-Rabbit, because he wanted to. "Then," said Akiha, "We'll fight."

The sensible thing would've been to tell Akiha to fuck off and that they were all useless and a joke, but.

"I know what you're thinking, but I think we can do it."

"I think so, too," said Cérise.

"Is that a joke?"

"No."

"Uh..."

"It's not. I don't know."

And for the same reason why he thought so, and why Mish believed, and why Two-Rabbit wanted to believe, at the distance, both of them came waddling, laden with falafels, and a carriage trailing behind.

"I don't know."

But.