Chapter Fifty-Two

His Hands Only

(Part 2 of 3)

 

Last year in Izumo should have been Morokata's and Iokirihime's final one. Yet due to Morokata's absences and to his falling out of favor with the Head Priest, he had flubbed his exams and hadn't passed any requirements for graduation.

Thus, he had to remain for one repeated year. And he had to remain in the Shrine itself, studying with the other pupils instead of the general Wayfaring he was so proficient with.

The issue of why Iokirihime, a good, exemplary pupil in all her studies, had stayed in the repeated year as well was harder to explain. But the gist was that...

Ah, it was obvious.

She was madly in love with Morokata and she never wasted a chance to be where he was.

And most people didn't even view that as humiliating. On the contrary, this couple -- of the future Lord of the Mists and the future Lady of the Seas -- only inspired the talks and beautiful stories of romance and undying devotion. Why? Because apart from how mythically beautiful Morokata was, Iokirihime didn't fall far behind. Out of all the women in the world, she had to be the closest approximation of a goddess, according to almost everyone Nekohiko had heard on this topic.

He could understand what they meant. Iokirihime was... a very odd person, for sure, but part of this oddness was her undisputed beauty.

These two -- Morokata and Iokirihime -- were always in the vicinity of each other. Yet they never displayed affection for one another in the way most lovers or betrothed couples did. They were elegant, tasteful, impeccable. Being near, saying pleasantries to each other, sharing glances. And nothing beyond that.

And that was part of their charm, too. But that still didn't make Nekohiko want to be in the presence of either.

"How intriguing." Morokata grew thoughtful, leaving the door of his room ajar for Nekohiko to enter. The young man swept around to his girl, then gave Nekohiko a slight hug when Nekohiko stepped inside. "Iokirihime, this is Nekohiko. She is a very brave young lady."

Morokata's eyes swooped down to rest on Nekohiko's face askance. He smiled. "Incredibly brave."

What was this referring to?

To how Nekohiko had dueled Morokata? Or... to this very moment?

Morokata gently pushed the door closed behind Nekohiko like a lid of a trap, and Nekohiko felt that the "brave" statement definitely referred to now.

He swallowed with difficulty. His gaze trailed from Morokata's serene expression to the spiritlike young girl that stilled in the corner of the room, languidly reclining on a chair.

And that was the only thing Iokirihime was doing: reclining, and little else.

Before, Nekohiko had noticed many times that Iokirihime had this strange quality of stilling -- of freezing in one place and in one exact pose for whoever knew how long. She would walk through the cloister like all normal people, but once she needed to stop, she took a specific position of a very artistic, evocative standing and then just... remained in that pose until she had to move again.

He had no idea why she did that. It was always so unnerving. As though she wasn't really human -- more reminiscent of a Bound dummy. But nobody could deny that she always picked the most inspiring and splendid poses that highlighted her beauty. So, instead of looking like a Bound dummy, she looked like a masterpiece sculpture. A statue of ice and diamonds. Gorgeous, but utterly cold.

She seemed cold now, too.

Apart from stilling and refusing to interact with others, Iokirihime also didn't enjoy talking. Though Nekohiko could see that she was watching him very, very carefully from beneath her half-lidded eyes.

"Mmm," she said to Morokata's introduction.

Morokata leaned to Nekohiko again. "And this is my future bride, Iokirihime. Done? Everyone acquainted? Great. Now, what did you come here for, honeysweet?"

Ah. How he hated this.

Yet convincing these important and no doubt busy people turned out to be bizarrely easy. All Nekohiko had to do was say:

"Lord Hira Okinaga's ward is missing for the last two days and I am afraid he'd been kidnapped--"

And Morokata went for the door. With his brow raised expectantly, Morokata gave Nekohiko a confused look. "Well, what are you standing there for? Let's go. Your friend is waiting."

Huh?

And that was it? All it took to have Morokata help him?

Alarmed, Nekohiko cursed himself inwardly.

How hard was it to remember one should never assume anything about Morokata? That anytime one did, Morokata would use it as leverage against them? As a disorienting trick?

Nekohiko forced himself to not appear too surprised, so he lowered his head and hid his expression beneath his hair as he followed behind the young man. This quality -- this elusiveness and unpredictability of Morokata's made him uncomfortable. He could still feel the pain of his bones breaking for having misinterpreted Morokata's actions and thoughts once.

He vowed to never make the same mistake again.

Behind them, the soft chime and clinking followed. Nekohiko glanced back only to see Iokirihime walking after them as though she had been invited, which Nekohiko guessed she might have been? He didn't know how Morokata and Iokirihime interacted, but judging from how in tune they were, many of their decisions seemed innately agreed upon by either.

Iokirihime's flowy robes emitted a watery glow, like shifting marble light. The many hanging ice beads and raindrop pendants made of clear water gave her every motion the added fluidity and elegance.

But the moment she caught him staring, she stilled. In a majestic pose, but a pose nonetheless. Something inherently artificial and odd for a human to assume.

Just like a statue.

And she only followed them again when Nekohiko stopped staring.

Spirits. Was this girl incredibly weird! Nekohiko had trouble deciding who was worse, Morokata or Iokirihime. Or himself, for choosing to ask these two for help when nobody forced him!

Instead of going out of the Shrine grounds, Morokata led them deeper into the School courtyards. It was a good thing so few people were around so that nobody saw this strange procession with Nekohiko between some of the most extravagant people in the Empire. However, there was a very concerned soul that saw them.

And chased after them, suspicious.

Morokata lurched to a halt in one of the covered bridges to peer back in distaste. Then the young man's eyes flicked to Nekohiko.

"It seems you are being watched. And that makes me a bit cranky because now I am being watched along with you," Morokata said.

Nekohiko swung around.

Just at the edge of the bridge, there loomed the giant phantom silhouette of the Spirit Fox with nine tails -- as transient and surreal as the mist behind it. Red markings decorated the Spirit Fox's head. Its huge dark eyes pinned Nekohiko with a curious yet also concerned look.

Warmth spread inside Nekohiko's heart from seeing it.

Ashflake.

Even when the Head Priest was far away, of course Ashflake would keep an eye on Nekohiko for the Head Priest's sake. Not that it changed anything or helped Nekohiko find Abihiko sooner -- because as all Spirits, Ashflake just didn't care much about anyone outside of the Shrine grounds.

But it would naturally care about Nekohiko. And now, it wanted to follow him because it sensed Nekohiko might be doing something that would endanger him or the future of the Empire if he went...

Nekohiko ran toward it. Ashflake inclined its big fluffy head toward him when Nekohiko opened his arms for an embrace.

The Spirit hug was insubstantial and fleeting, but it made Nekohiko feel slightly better.

He wasn't alone here with freaky Morokata and Iokirihime. No. He had some other being who cared for him.

But then, a pang of hurt clawed at his heart. Because, unlike him, Abihiko was not cared for by anyone. Only by Nekohiko -- and at the time when Abihiko's life could be in such grave danger...

"How bad is what we're doing that Ashflake is so concerned?" Nekohiko asked Morokata, unnerved. "Why are we going deeper into the Shrine?"

Morokata cocked his head to the side and crinkled up his eyes, which Nekohiko realized belatedly was how he showed off his extreme displeasure. Such a polite and utterly fake way.

"Finding the aura or traces of a Binder is a lengthy endeavor," Morokata said patiently, studying his buffed nails. "Instead, going directly to the place that Binder is in would be much faster. And will also get rid of the potential complications if -- as you said -- he is in danger and was kidnapped. No?"

What? Going straight to Abihiko?

But... how was it related to going deep inside the School?

Nekohiko's bewilderment got to Iokirihime as well. For the first time since he'd met her, she interjected on her own volition.

She lifted her hand most gracefully and pointed toward the koi pond further in the distance from the small creek over which they stood.

"No place in the Empire is free of water," she said in a grave, slightly monotonous voice. Then, as though what she had just said was a sufficient explanation, she went forward and left Morokata and Nekohiko behind.

Morokata didn't miss the chance to give Nekohiko another creepy smile. "Got it? You can bring your nosy little fox with you if you're so inclined. Or Iokirihime and I can just get your friend on our own, without you."

"No!" Nekohiko let go of Ashflake and ran to Morokata who already took an unforgiving pace after Iokirihime. "I'm coming with you wherever you two go!"

"As you please. But with or without your fox --" Abruptly, Morokata lowered his face to be level with Nekohiko's. Their noses almost touched, and Morokata's cool breath tickled Nekohiko's cheeks with a creeping sensation. The sight of Morokata's big, piercing eyes so close filled Nekohiko with sudden dread and an electric kind of revulsion. Morokata whispered, tenderly, "-- do not stall me. And do not pose obstacles in what I deem necessary to do. Never question me again. Got it? I am not your enemy, sweetie -- or anyone's." His lips were stretched thin in the sincerest rendition of a kind smile known to humanity. It made Nekohiko shudder. "It would be great if you remembered it once and for all, yes?"

Nekohiko's teeth chattered.

Displeased, Morokata's face turned grave, so Nekohiko forced himself to speak up. "Y-yes."

"Which is Hira Okinaga's ward?" Iokirihime's voice called from over the koi pond.

The terrible moment ended, and Morokata hurried to his girl, dragging Nekohiko behind by the hand.

"He's the obnoxious, loud kid," Morokata explained, opening his palm to Iokirihime who took it without hesitation.

She was already standing up to her knees inside the weedy water of the pond and now that they were holding hands, Morokata stepped into the water as well. Only Nekohiko and Ashflake were left on the bank.

A few heartbeats passed when nothing was happening other than Iokirihime holding on to Morokata's hand and staring into space as though seeing something illusory before her.

She slowly shook her head. "Sorry, I cannot read that. I still don't know who this person is."

"Ah, my memories are not specific enough?" Morokata smiled sadly, then squinted at Nekohiko. He beckoned him with one finger. "This little sweetheart's memories will probably suffice. I bet she will give you plenty of specifics about Hira Okinaga's ward."

Without any change in her detached expression, Iokirihime whipped her right hand out to Nekohiko, palm up.

Nekohiko dawdled, mortified.

Memories?

"Use Hisome or Towa methods, and we can share visual information in a blink of an eye," Iokirihime told him in an elaboration.

Oh.

This made Nekohiko clamp up even more.

He knew how to share emotions through Nagare and obviously had heard a lot about how visual aspects of things could be harnessed by Hisome techniques. He'd even learned about the Hira technique of transfusing knowledge or skills when he'd visited Lord Okinaga's castle. But being confronted with the infamous Towa memory manipulation was something he... wasn't very keen on.

Especially because he couldn't cast any spells outside of bare Imperial ones or Nagare ones. He simply lacked the ability while the other powers were still sealed deep inside him.

So in a way, while Iokirihime could maybe extract the specific memories out of him, without the basics of Towa powers inside him, Nekohiko would have no control overt which of his memories she would see.

Or what goals she would use them for.

He dithered, keenly aware of how much that irritated Morokata.

"Try me once more," Morokata sighed, putting his hand into Iokirihime's in defeat. "I'll do my best to be more specific this time."

"Mmm," Iokirihime said. After a few moments of reading Morokata's memories, she added, "I found where we can go."

Warily, Nekohiko glanced from one to the other when Iokirihime made a hand gesture he was sure was a complex Towa spell. He hadn't learned those, but he didn't want to miss out on a clue. How had Iokirihime found Abihiko? How was she going to "go" there? -- none of this mattered to him now.

Only Abihiko and getting to him faster mattered.

Nekohiko jumped into the pond, splashing water onto annoyed Morokata.

"I will touch you now," Iokirihime told Nekohiko coolly, and Nekohiko readied his hand for her to grasp.

He appreciated that she asked, though. Because Morokata didn't. Rudely, he grabbed both Nekohiko and Iokirihime and then --

Something unspeakable happened to Nekohiko's vision.

The Spiritside's dark wind swept through Izumo, and Nekohiko found himself and the two others in the middle of a desolate twilight of the shadowy version of the Shrine. But this wasn't what surprised him.

As though gaining a strange new ability to see on top of his usual sight, Nekohiko saw. A mirrory ice glass spread before him.  In it, the beautiful tracery of rime and hoar and snowflakes amassing into patterns that resembled a map.

A view of the world that Nekohiko had never seen before.

It was a map of rivers and creeks and lakes and even puddles and rainwater barrels in the vicinity. Each small water space glimmered before him like constellations that he could focus on and see where exactly it was located in the Izumo Shrine. But if he tried to focus on all of them, his head began hurting so much he felt like fainting...

With deepening awe, it hit him that Iokirihime could probably see even beyond that. Farther than Izumo -- all throughout the Empire.

"Lady of the Seas, sweet sister," Iokirihime called softly into the waters. "Can you hear me?"

Her voice trickled through the pond's surface like warble of the waves, sending her message and plea to the one who held the current title of the Lady of the Seas of House Towa.

She could talk to her any time through the water, it seemed. Nekohiko had never thought about how useful and impressive Towa magic could be.

"Sister, please open the river gates through which we may pass," Iokirihime added even softer.

Nekohiko didn't hear any response to her pleas, but of course he wouldn't. Only Iokirihime would. Everyone else was participating strictly on her good will.

"Hold on tighter, or we might scatter you on accident," Morokata said to Nekohiko in his usual cheery tone.

Scatter?

"Wha--"

"Or I'll hold on to you, then," Morokata snapped.

His harsh, painful clutch around Nekohiko's wrist came just in time because, in the answer to Iokirihime's magic, the water in the koi pond suddenly boiled and frothed up as though alive. A tingling surge of frostbite traveled up Nekohiko's legs in a flash.

"Ahhhhh!" Nekohiko tried to withdraw -- but too late.

Being held by Morokata on one side and Iokirihime on the other, Nekohiko felt himself submerging into this shallow pool of water.

No. Submerging would be the wrong word to describe this.

He felt himself scattering, dripping, trickling down. No longer a human, he became water itself. Like a generous splash of pure water, he and the two other youths splattered into the pond and sprayed around it in a cool drizzle of fine, clear drops.

The disturbed koi fish hardly noticed them gone, so fast it happened.

 

---

***

 

The travel was kaleidoscopic and maddening in its speed and tumble. Nekohiko didn't even have time to comprehend how he, a person, could travel through water -- and at such great distances, too!

And already, he was coming back to his senses, erupting in an explosive fountain of water out of a stone well in the middle of nowhere.

His body coalesced from water droplets into his solid human form in the air and fell to the ground already fully human. A very wet, very miserable and scared human who plopped gracelessly to the tiled courtyard ground in a tide of stale water from the well.

Next, Morokata and Iokirihime emerged from the same fountain of water he came in. The two also turned from the water drizzles into their human forms mid-air but kept their footing when they landed to the ground.

Ah, not only did they keep their footing -- they also looked extremely statuesque and splendid as they did. Which -- tsk. So unfair.

Morokata was obviously the future Lord of the Mists, so the fact that he could control his Spiritside body through water wasn't a great surprise. And Iokirihime, the future lady of all waters, solidifying down in a flurry of snowflakes, was even less impressive.

Yet that didn't take away from their poise and the sense of competence they emanated. 

Making a quick session of prayer gestures, Morokata dispelled the Spiritside as only the best Binders could. Nekohiko wasn't even surprised by this point. Why would he ever doubt that Morokata was a powerful Binder? Of course he could shift to the Spiritside and back again on nothing but his will. The fact that such an inherent and vast difference in power existed only gave Nekohiko a slight pang of envy.

Just a sliver.

But an undeniable one. Yes, he was envious of Morokata and Iokirihime's skills. Nobody had ever tried to seal their powers, had they? Nobody constantly told them they should keep their abilities and ambitions in check.

And at the same time -- Nekohiko had witnessed Morokata abuse his powers at least once. So... how was it that Morokata had full access to this powerful level of Binding even when he used it for personal gain -- but Nekohiko couldn't?

Forcing Nekohiko to rely on others when he really didn't need to?

Face it, he told himself as he scrambled to stand up from his puddle. If he had full control of all his unsealed powers, would he even need these two here, to begin with? Wouldn't he be the most competent person around at any moment? Would anyone even dare kidnap or endanger Abihiko or... Saho, Kusaki, Hachiro -- or even Nekohiko's parents -- if Nekohiko was there to stop them? Would anyone be able to?

His thoughts dwindled out the moment the warm, furry muzzle of the white Fox Spirit prodded him in the side as though trying to make him focus.

Absentmindedly, Nekohiko rubbed Ashflake's ear.

Ashflake was right. He had to focus on saving Abihiko, not on imagining all the myriads of ways in which Abihiko should have never been kidnapped if Nekohiko was able to protect him.

Good, wise Ashflake.

"Where is this place?" he asked when Morokata and Iokirihime strolled out of this ramshackle yard and toward the grim-looking building this yard belonged to.

Nekohiko slowly took note of his surroundings. The air was the same humidity and temperature as Izumo, and even the weather looked similar. So this had to be in the same general area as Izumo, maybe only slightly inland because no sea scents tickled his nostrils here.

This rustic place must have been charming some time ago, but now -- the building walls were mildewed and cracked, the stone tiles in the yard grown over with moss and weeds, the trees in the neighboring garden seemed weakened, blighted, fetid. In truth... the air itself here seemed foul. The well water on Nekohiko's drenched clothes also emanated this... aura, this revolting stench of fear.

From beyond the courtyard's edge, Nekohiko saw the adjacent houses, but those were just as decrepit and deserted as this one. If this place was a village, this village had long gone abandoned.

...why?

And why had they come here to find Abihiko? For which reasons would Abihiko be in such a depressing place?

A creeping chill climbed up Nekohiko's ankles through sodden clothes.  If Ashflake wasn't close by, drawing all this fear and resentment of the place away from Nekohiko, Nekohiko didn't know how he would still stand. He would have probably already run away in panic or froze over with doubts.

He dashed after Morokata just to remain next to someone human, someone alive and familiar.

Morokata acknowledged Nekohiko's reaction to the place. He brought a finger to his lips.

"Probably the First-rate aspect contraband den," he whispered, his eyes flitting about as though to hint Nekohiko to keep quiet and cautious.

"First-rate aspect...?"

Nekohiko stared, cold.

This didn't sound good in the slightest! All Binding consisted of separating aspects of existence into three primary qualities: the Third-rate aspect -- matter -- dead and fixed like any material from which things were crafted. The Second-rate aspect -- the tissue, a kind of matter that was still alive and able to conduct motion and will through itself. Like animal organs or whole creatures used as tissue.

And last, the First-rate aspects. Which was the most important factor in making a Bound thing "alive".

In the general sense, the First-rate aspect was life itself.

So, for example, the Bound dummies were made with Third-rate matter -- wood, or stone, or metal. Then lathered and covered with Second-rate animal tissue of fat and nerve threads to provide connectivity for the dummy's impulses. Then, to finish it off -- it was given the First-rate aspects: will, cognition, voice, sight, or maybe even a mind of its own.

A way to make the Bound dummy care. A way to make it aware.

And like the other two types of aspects, this one also never came from nothing. To get stone or wood, one had to destroy a tree or a mountain and steal the materials for themselves. To get animal tissue, one had to destroy an animal to steal its organs for themselves. And surely, to get the First-rate aspects of anything, one had to destroy a creature who possessed a needed aspect -- its sight, or its voice, or its very soul. And then steal it for themselves.

It sounded cruel and barbaric at first, but it wasn't that much different from farming animals or using them for fuel or food. Binders used humane methods of extracting the Second and First-rate aspects from animals, and this was how this field of Binding prospered without becoming outlawed or forbidden for the cruelty of its trade.

After all, one of the most important First-rate aspects in existence was called Resign, or the ability of certain herd or guarding animals to serve, to be tamed, to be submissive. Without Resign, no Bound dummy, servant, or guard would even be able to comprehend commands, let alone follow them. Some things had to be done to maintain order in the universe, and most people didn't even question these things. Making dummies docile and quick to follow orders was one such thing.

The law even stated that nothing except for the animal's Resign could be taken to prevent an animal's soul or mind getting trapped inside a dummy because of how horrifying such a fate would be!

The human voices and sight were only to be taken from executed criminals -- and only after their death was confirmed so as not to ever toy with the possibility of a living being trapped inside a dummy.

All in all, there were many restrictions on this trade to avoid causing unnecessary pain to living creatures when crafting the Bound dummy versions of them.

Nekohiko was creeped out by this area of Binding yet not to such an extent that he felt it was sufficiently different from raising animals, fattening them up through force and torture, then disposing of them cruelly for food or leather afterward.

But, like most people, he did not tolerate anything that touched upon the "First-rate aspect contraband".

Because -- if the animal farming for the First-rate aspects was legal, then why would anyone need to contraband it?

Think about it.

...

The answer was way too horrible for anyone to wrap their minds about it at first.

The only need to contraband a First-rate aspect would be if these illegal Binders were farming something other than animals.

"What do you mean -- contraband? Here?" Nekohiko caught Morokata's sleeve and jerked to himself. "They abduct people to farm their souls or minds while they're still alive?!"

No...

A fate worse than death, to have one's ability to be aware of one's existence or be in control, taken away. Then have it trapped in some dummy, unable to ever escape this gruesome, agonizing existence. 

And most people would never even be able to find such poor trapped souls because they would assume that your "awareness" was that of a cow or a sheep with all of its mind gone, sold legally like all Bound dummies.

Not of a tortured human soul, fully aware and Bound into a doll against their will.

Morokata shrugged him off. "Why do you think this place's aura reeks like this?"

Oh, Spirits...

He felt like throwing up from the mere realization. The amount of foul, tainting energy in this place from such vile deeds... it would definitely spill out of the Spiritside and start corroding everything around it.

A hand lay gently on Nekohiko's head, and Nekohiko flinched.

Morokata petted him. His voice was soft and sweet in Nekohiko's ear. "Don't worry, sweetling. I am here, aren't I? As long as you stand by my side, no harm will ever come to you." His eyes turned into crescents. "All right?"

Deadened, Nekohiko wormed out from under Morokata's touch. Luckily, Iokirihime called them, so he didn't have to respond to the taunt.

"I'm going to leave," she told Morokata, and after Morokata nodded, she was gone.

Just like that -- her figure splashed down again in a dazzling glitter of snowflakes, then soaked right into the ground between the broken tiles.

Nekohiko gaped, but Morokata seemed very much unfazed. Perhaps, this was typical of Iokirihime, too?

"She'll deal with most of them, don't worry," Morokata sighed as he and Nekohiko made their slow way around the house to find the entrance. "She might even find that boyfriend of yours while we slog around behind her."

He yawned to Nekohiko's gasp. "But... shouldn't we help?"

"No-no-no. My Iokirihime has a certain bitterness about those who abuse First-rate aspects of others. Trust me, never step between her and her prey, or she might not notice if you are any different from it, ha-ha! Oh. The door. After you, sweetheart."

From somewhere beneath the floor and the ground of the courtyard, muffled rumbles and even screams of people started coming. Nekohiko's heart stuttered from even the idea that Abihiko was held in such a terrible place. He wanted to hurry in and find him, but Morokata took his time.

The young man was extremely cautious. He checked every floorboard and every step of the rickety wooden ladder that led underground from within the grimy, mold-ridden kitchen. Sometimes, he even stopped to dispel some wards lining the walls or the floor, but Nekohiko didn't pay attention.

All of his thoughts, his fears, his pains went to Abihiko. Nothing else mattered.

So he did miss a man lunging for him with a dirty rag in his hand.

A rag? Nekohiko's delayed thought was.

Why did it seem like the rag was the weapon?

Morokata's reaction was instantaneous. He yanked Nekohiko backward by the hair, then pounded his boot right into the man's stomach. The shove was so harsh, the attacker flew backward and down the stairs, crashing into barrels and ceramic jars.

Only the pitiful blur of the man's rag flew into the air in his wake. 

"Honey, do not breathe," Morokata told Nekohiko, finally letting go of his hair. He quickly assembled a few Hisome signs, walling a thick screen of mist right between himself and the rag that plopped to the floor. Only when he was done, he turned to regard Nekohiko playfully. "Or you will end up exactly like your feckless boyfriend. Unconscious and probably prepped up to have his cognition taken away. We wouldn't want that to happen, mmm?"

Nekohiko dashed to his feet, every insult of Morokata's forgotten.

"Do you think that's what they would do to him? But... he's an important person. They wouldn't dare!" Nekohiko began.

Morokata was already descending the stairs, carefully stepping over the shards and overturned boxes the man had crashed into. Nekohiko followed his lead, trying to mimic the exact cautious way in which Morokata moved.

Far down the building, another loud smash of something metallic sounded. Iokirihime was doing her thing, it appeared. Nekohiko struggled to decide whether he needed to stay with Morokata or to rush to wherever Iokirihime was.

"Well, let's find out what they dared and not dared to do to him, then," Morokata murmured and leaned to the moaning man who slowly tried to lift himself off the floor.

Morokata dug his boot into the side of the man's face and pinned him hard to the shard-ridden ground.

"Tell me, sweetheart," Morokata cooed at the man. "Where do you keep this loud, messy boy in bight yellow Izumo clothes that you recently acquired? He is alive and well, isn't he? Because if he isn't... tsk. You are in a very bad position, I'm afraid."

The man's face paled with fright as he blabbered, pleading Morokata to let him go.

Which only made Nekohiko that much colder. "You didn't answer. Is he alive?" Nekohiko gritted at the man. "Is he?!"

The man nodded maddeningly.

But then he stopped, tears already forming in his eyes. "Alive, alive. He's alive... only... please..."

"Only?" Morokata smiled wider and wider. He pressed his heel into the man's eye, gleeful. "Only what?"

"I'll show -- I'll lead the way! But please... please don't hurt me! We were only following orders! We had no idea who he was or--"

"What did you do to him?!" Nekohiko roared, grabbing the man's collars.

A stranger's calm voice broke the man's incessant blubbering. From down below, at the bottom of the stairs, a child not much younger than Nekohiko stood.

He watched Nekohiko and Morokata with terribly-hollow eyes on his white, sickly face, pressing a small rag doll to his chest with his bony arms. The child's toneless voice very much fit his lost, numb visage.

"You mean that dummy boy who used too much Binding?" the child asked, dull. "He was causing them so much trouble with his spell-casting, wasn't he?"

The child shrugged, lifting his hands to his face as though unsure what they were. He added after a painful delay,

"So they cut off his hands. Isn't that obvious?"