“Uiiiisu, you're lucky to have me on cleaning duty, hehe.”

“Shut it.”

“Yayaah, Suruj telling me to shut up.”

Suruj and Toqemur were the first pair assigned to clean the right wing. It was an Azu tradition that people would clean their own facilities. Both of them went with L along with the girl, Lanu, Shunji, and Hyun-woo. Him and Toqemur were holding grass brooms, a newly developed technology with a mechanism called a ‘spray bottle’ filled with soapy liquid, and fiber cloths.

Suruj was in a difficult situation during L’s lecture. L had him perform other spells other than Daigdig, but to no avail. Maybe it was some defect of his; the saharic particles would not react to the the first and second generation syntaxes, and only did Alam perform under the Daigdig spell. But he remembered L’s notion. ‘If your mind is clear, fate is good’. Was it that his mind was clouded? No, he could only use Alam Daigdig since he was but a toddler. An offensive spell used on that day…

“It was interesting learning about how that girl can’t generate saharic particles for herself, she had to get a transfer of some before she could actually practice,” Toqemur rambled, humming a tune while sweeping the sand off the floor. Suruj did the same, as they made sure to gather the dirt and dust into one pile.

To him, the nameless girl had a defect as well. Like biological defects, their cases were most likely genetic. However they both had a high sahar level and mastery to boot. What a balance, he thought. Gathering sahar was inherently easy. He had to focus solely on it, feel it in the air, and the particles would gravitate towards him. When it entered his body, he felt a slight tug on his chest. Saharic particles would only become visible to the eye once a being called upon them. He learned in school that other animals could control the arts, and even the mythical Yyvubia was the alleged controller of the universe’s sahar in books.

“Oya, he has gone silent after hearing my enchanting monologue,” Toqemur grinned at him as she covered her mouth.

“Don’t speak of me in third person, Toqemur.”

“Mouka. We don’t follow Azu and Z̆ongren formalities,” She pointed out. She was right, but they were in Azutami.

Suruj didn’t know how to react, except for the fact that she smiles habitually. He couldn’t phrase it into words, but those false smiles gave off a bizarre feeling. So he had a conscious mental guard raised.

“Okay, mocha.”

“Now that’s a drink.”

“Well I believe that you do match the description-”

Suruj received a well-earned stomach stab from her broom. He folded like a sandwich and dropped to the ground.

“Classic Buhang boy eh,” She placed her hands on her hips, looking away. Particles gathered around her.

“Shoot, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that as a-”

The sky was dark. The smoky air stunk of the dead. In the confines of a burnt Khoitan yurt tent, a circular dwelling now reduced to ashes, was a little girl standing. Charred bodies littered the area, the blackened almost unrecognizable. The atmosphere was unbreathable. The girl had glowing green eyes, which could be seen in the dark. Silver hair marked her a Khoitan, her skin almost one with the ash.

“C’mon pogi, don’t look, let’s go,” His mother picked him up and covered his eyes. He saw through his mother’s fingers the girl staring at them as they headed in the opposite direction.

Suruj snapped out of the trance. He had been hit with a spell. One tear dripped down his cheek. The 1968 Kalyk-Khoitan genocide. He stood up, wiped the tear off and dusted himself off. They had to restart again. He had a few questions to ask. His face tensed up.

“You’re the last survivor of the Kalyk people… Right?”

“Yes, I am. What of it?” She responded inherently quickly. He was taken aback.

“... Why would you smile if you saw what happened a decade ago?!” Suruj threw his broom to the floor. He finally recognized the green eyes. The Kalyk were exterminated ten years ago in Dyak-ar-salaam. Kalykeño Ward was burned to the ground.

“Perhaps I could say the same for you,” Mouka pressed into Suruj and pinned him to the wall. Although there was a height difference, she reached to speak softly into his ear. “Why are you pretending that you’re normal if you know what happened that day?”

“...”

He thought of the massacre, his nanay and totoy. He couldn’t breathe. It was an uncomfortable position, and an uncomfortable question. Suruj could feel the breath from her mouth, an ominous scent lingered. Many thoughts went about his head. Mouka moved away from his head.

“Don’t be like a hero, Suruj. Have you heard of the tales of Alą̧̄utl, the story where a Buhang conquistador united the continent? Just like your people setting my people ablaze for your ‘beautiful’ city of Dyak-ar-salaam, the character did not show any grief for the deaths of his comrades, his family. When our ward was reduced to ash, there was nothing. I had no choice but to ‘sell the seasons’.”

“... What do you mean?...”

“You’re acting like you haven’t seen someone close to you die. Because you have your mental crutch, that nameless girl, putting a bandage on your brain.” She put her finger out. “That won’t last forever. Take that away, and you’ll be broken unless you prevent yourself from going mad.”

“A crutch? Everyone here has survived from their circumstances until we all ended up here. If it weren’t for this mess I would’ve spent my life catching fish and helping my fam-,” Suruj’s throat began to tense, holding in his composure, “That girl, has more potential than I could ever have. Other than not being able to accumulate particles, she was able to use every spell L taught us. Meanwhile I can only use one spell well. I can barely use Baohu. So don’t call her a crutch.”

“...”

“...”

Awkward stillness. They had nothing to say to each other. Abruptly the doors that lead to the stadium flew open as a girl leaped out of it. It was the Obaa-san’s granddaughter, Saya. She stopped as her sword gradually stopped swaying. Mouka and Suruj’s head turned towards her as she stared at the two. A grin came over Mouka’s face.

“...”

“...”

“Sorry for interrupting!”

Saya dashed across and sprinted up the stairs. The sound of a door opening and slamming. Even after that, there was silence backing away from each other.

“Well, it’s our fault we escalated our talk,” Toqemur shrugged her shoulders, twirling her silver hair. “I shouldn’t have hit you with that spell.”

“No no, it’s mine for bringing up the thing with the Kalyk. I went over the top,” He responded back.

Suruj went down on his knees, and prostrated himself in front of her, following from what the nameless girl had taught him in Azu customs. He was the one that made a rude insult. The one that was in the wrong was him.

Suruj felt a light poke on his head. When he lifted his head, there was a broom in front of him.

“Oioi, we haven’t finished our cleaning, right?” Her voice shifted to normal, sweeping up the mess they had made. “C’mon, let’s hurry up so we can finish.”