The Present

Rikka sat in her hospital bed and was convinced she lost her arm, the same arm she made a pinkie promise with because she broke her promise and told her mother that her father had started scrambling people’s minds.

She now knew another horrible secret, her uncle was mad because her father had chopped his brain into sludge. Maybe he was always mad, and he had an ability that no person should have even if they had their wits about themselves, but now it made no difference.

The only people who knew about how Maximillian acquired his abilities were her, her father, and Michael. They all took turns being his handler, and it was taxing, all of them trying to understand how a singular man kept regaining his memories, how he was so obsessed with power, and it was even harder keeping the secret away from Santos.

The monster could smell lies, and the day he found out that they had been hiding several things from him would not be a good one. They learned of his new hobbies of decimating entire towns and his children’s current split into various factions.

Their pet monster was off its leash without their patriarch, and every year that passed with Michael gone from the mortal realm, it became more obvious that Santos did what he wanted, whenever he wanted, and he didn’t eat them all in the middle of the night because they weren’t the flavor he liked.

Irrationally she started to believe that if she told anyone what her uncle could do she would now lose her right arm. While deep in thought, worrying if everything would repeat, counting the number of bears in her room, her father came into her room.

Rico had visited her every single day she was in the hospital.

Her mother Diana was on her way to come see her, but it was a weeklong trip. Her father tried to make up for her absence by visiting twice a day, but every time he came to visit it was now twice the pain.

Rico was unshaven, but his hair was combed, he wore loose jeans, and a simple yellow shirt, and brought with him a change of clothes for his daughter.

“Thank you,” she groaned.

“Anything for you,” he mumbled. “You’ve healed so fast…”

“The blessings of our gross ancestry,” she said grimly.

“Don’t say that.”

He started to cry again, and she didn’t, because she strangely had already accepted that there was no changing it. Her arm was gone, David was gone, the children were gone.

She was numb inside, even though he was right next to her sharing her pain and doing everything a parent should do, but she didn’t want him there. She didn’t want anyone there, to see her like that, laid up, filthy, pale, but she wanted him there, to never leave.

“Don’t cry, dad. We did our job,” Rikka said.

“What job?”

“We burned the list.”

“What list?”

She nodded, smiled, and raised her right arm up, offering to accept a hug, and leaned in to give her one.

Another promise was kept, to ensure daily that Rico wouldn’t remember where he hid the cursed objects, that only his daughter would remember the list he wrote them all down on, and soon burned after she read it.

“Dad, don’t be angry?”

“I’m not angry, you haven’t done anything,” he chuckled.

“I think you’re getting old.”

He laughed and wheezed a little, and started to unpack the bag he bought for her. A book to read, her favorite snack, wasabi peas, and little things to keep her busy.

“I mean it. When we get old, our ability weakens or it fades away, right? Maybe that’s why Uncle Max keeps remembering.”

Rico paused and there was an issue with the coding.

He knew that his job was to stop Maximillian from acquiring several...objects.

Which objects?

He knew that Maximillian couldn’t remember how to use his ability, and then Rico worried that his daughter was right, he was getting old, he couldn’t remember anything!

“You’re right. I think I’m slipping, I can’t remember a thing,” he mumbled. “I’ve got to find him and make sure he isn’t chasing that poor Ionadian kid again.”

“He deserves it. He’s a bad person,” Rikka said.

Rico shook his head no, and he continued to unpack her back, and then paused, once he got out a Sudoku book for her. She was left-handed, and her hand was now gone. He put the book away and hoped she didn’t notice it.

“I think I’ve erased his mind so many times his brains are mixing in truth and fiction.”

She yawned, the conversation too much for her, her rapidly healing body needing more food than conversation.

“He thinks that kid is related to Sunshine Bitch, ” Rico laughed. “Crazy.”

Rikka giggled, and then she started to tilt her head to the side, tired, finding it so silly that the same man who had a new celestial no one had ever heard of, who also happened to be an Ionadian, who looked like the man who chopped her arm off, who was having an affair with her cousin, who…

She jerked awake making a strange noise, scaring her father, and she forced her eyes wide open, shaking in her bed.

“Are you okay,” Rico mumbled.

“Yes. Dad. I need you to Moogle crazy man talks about lizard people at town hall.”

“.... What?”

Rikka explained that one of the nurses left the local channel on the television when they were discussing what to do about the various fires around town. She believed that Rikka would want to watch since the arsonist chopped her arm off.

All she saw was a crazy man ramble about the end of time, which was the most interesting highlight, but after that, it was nothing but random complaints.

Rico watched the video, softly smiling at various parts, and then becoming uncomfortable once The Prophet told his fortune.

“This filthy homeless man is saying the Empire is invading, and you believe him,” her father asked.

“Levi’s special friend looks like the guy that hurt me. They're both Ionadians. It has to be true.”

Rico squeezed her shoulder, and she gave him a fierce look, refusing to admit that she wanted him there, and he told her he knew it was going to be an adjustment, but she couldn’t blame an innocent man for the crimes of another.

“Why can’t you believe me,” she asked him quietly. “Thousands of times I’ve lived the same life, and you never listen to your own daughter.”

“I’m here. What else do you need?”

She turned away, looked at the cold white wall, and said it was all she needed for now. Her father sat with her, in a quiet, but not awkward silence, only wanting to be next to her, and the entire time, Rikka was plotting many ways to kill Ace.

He had to be a spy.

It was the only conclusion she could come to.

Her grandfather, his soul stashed inside her rosary, fueled her belief.

Those pale-faces have stolen Leviathan from us, he said. It’s no wonder he fell into sin, tricked by base desires.

Michael whispered into her ear more things she could never forget, but now she didn’t want to forget, and her face flushed in excitement. The prospect of killing the man who had cut her arm and Ace, the man who trapped her inside a prison for hundreds of years was exhilarating.

Don’t be wilful and fall into base desires like him, her grandfather cautioned her.

“Never,” she mumbled.

“What,” Rico asked.

“Nothing.”

You’re the only one who hasn’t fallen to degeneracy, Michael said. I trust you the most.

She was given a mission, and Rikka’s lips twitched, she started to sweat, and her heart monitor beeped faster. Her father pounced like a lion, turned her over, and she looked upset as if he had interrupted something important.

“I want to be alone.”

He left, reluctantly, and Rikka hatched her escape plan from the hospital.