CHAPTER 404: ARC 6, CHAPTER 20: FRAGMENT

On the tips of their toes, they made it as quickly as they could towards the sound. "You’re sure there’s nothing?" Fumeko asked again as they climbed up a secluded stone stairwell.

"Uncertainty alludes me. The scattering vermin are certain to be within these desecrated walls. Beyond any such disturbances lied no other form to mine awareness."

"How reliable is your echolocation?" Jotou queried at the top of the stairs.

Tiffany from below looked up, "Do not lay doubt upon mine steadfast ability," she exclaimed in a hush.

"Whatever the case," Jotou glanced down both sides of the castle’s second floor hallway. "Stay on your guard," she unsheathed her sword and did not light it up in sparks.

They followed, not pausing to check the other rooms or examine the torn tapestries and pried apart sideboards. No sudden movements, lest they alarm the sound to stop.

The sound grew louder and louder; it was no creaking pipe or squeaking rat, but a sob. It was the sound of whimpering child. The five noted this fact as they all witnessed it before them, through an open archway with no door.

The archway led into some sort of library? That would explain the rows of old books on high shelves and the torn pages all over the brick floors. But then how would one explain the alchemical equipment across the stone desk that was built along the wall?

By that desk, arms around his knees and face against it, was a little boy who was sobbing. "Are you lost?" Hotaru stepped in first, followed by the others.

"Why are you crying, are you hurt?" Asobi walked next to the redhead as the two approached the weeping child. Jotou crossed her arms and gave a squint, while Fumeko examined the room and the child all together, prompting Tiffany to stay back as well.

The little boy glanced up. Dark hair, fair skinned and brownish eyes—he looked no older than five or six. He wore a white shirt with ruffles all over and short trousers with knee-high socks—the only other notable thing he wore being a brooch with a red gem.

Asobi brought the light closer and dimmed it a little. "Are you alright?" Hotaru asked again.

He wiped the tears off of his face with his sleeve and nodded, trying to hide his gloom. "I-I am fine miss..." he spoke with a bit of an accent.

"Are you from the town?" Jotou asked from a distance.

The boy looked over, "Alänschäf, yes..."

"What are you doing here then? People must be worried sick," Hotaru crouched down to greet the child’s gaze.

"I... apologize," the boy lowered his head.

"What’s your name?" Asobi queried, bending her knees a little.

"I, do not..." the boy sealed his lips shut and faced the floor sheepishly. "I should refrain from speaking to strangers."

"Well, strangers or not, you shouldn’t be here. Let’s get you home, okay?" Hotaru put her hand out.

Fumeko narrowed her eyes, "Aru, be careful..."

"Okay," the boy said and got up first, stretching his knees a little. He then gulped, looking at the wolf-girl offering her hand with an inviting smile. Hotaru’s ears spiked in response, making the little boy smile somewhat as well.

He reached out his hand and it passed right through Hotaru’s hand. Hotaru’s ears bristled and her tail spiked as she felt a chill across her skin—the sudden hitch of her breath was followed by a puff of cold from it in front of her.

The redhead immediately shook and furrowed her brows. The boy glanced up to look at Hotaru and his eyes widened in fear. "You are not real. Like everyone. You are fake. You are a figment. You are not real, you are not real."

The boy clutched his own head and breathed quickly into a panic and words spilled out faster than his lips would move, "You are not real you are not real youarenotreal youarenotreal youarenotrealyouarenotrealyouarenotreal-"

Hotaru immediately backed away as Asobi yelped and ran behind Hotaru. The boy’s neck twisted to the side and blood like tar spilled from his rapidly shifting lips as his body spasmed, slowly lifting into the air.

In an instant, the child’s visage blasted and flew towards Hotaru’s face as the redhead covered her face with an arm and stumbled back. "AH!" the wolf-girl fell backwards, knocking into Asobi who hopped away onto her feet.

But within the same instant, the boy was gone without a trace or a warning and they were simply in the room—no child, no blood, no sound. Everyone’s eyes were wide open and...

"Hey, you alright?" Jotou took the panting off the floor and lifted her up onto her feet. Hotaru’s hands had glowing water and her hairs were stuck spiked up. Her shot-open eyes darted to Jotou then to where the child was on the floor.

Her grip on Jotou’s hand was like iron clasping it shut and it did not seem she was letting go. Hotaru took breaths, calming herself while Asobi squeakily breathed ducked behind Fumeko.

"What, in the ever-loving fuck, was that!?" Tiffany shouted out, making it bounce across the walls. Her hands were constantly shaking as she tried rubbing her palms on her blazer.

"A ghost if had to guess," Fumeko regained some composure and sighed into a groan. "I told you to be careful. That thing didn’t have a shadow," she stated.

Hotaru took a few more gulps of air before closing her eyes and raising her brows, "And instead of saying that, you told me to be careful?" she sassed.

Fumeko shook her head and leered, "I didn’t know fully what it was. Even if I did, I didn’t want to tip that thing off!"

"Creeeeepy..." Asobi shuddered, still clutching onto Fumeko’s shoulders. "I don’t like it here."

"I think this is beyond creepy," Jotou remarked. ’Good luck sleeping tonight.’ The blonde took a deep breath, "Come on, we’ve faced ghosts before, we can take them. Get it together," she told everyone.

"I wasn’t prepared for s-some haunted castle," Tiffany had her hand pressed above her heart.

"Well get prepared. You could probably blast it through the walls of this place, we’ve got nothing to be scared of," Jotou reaffirmed. "Hey you little shit! Get your bitch ass back here so I can kick it out a window!" Jotou shouted out.

"Why are you angering it...?" Hotaru whined.

"Proving my point," Jotou replied.

"Anyway, the ghost must’ve been in this room for a reason. Let’s see if we can find anything," Fumeko walked further into the room.

"The sooner we can get out," the crouched Asobi followed.

"Hiic." "Wah." "Waill..."

A cacophony of similar yet varying sounds of crying and sobbing began echoing through the hallway outside of the room, from every direction. "EEP!" Asobi popped into invisibility.

"Ai, ai, ai..."

"W-what now?" Tiffany faced Jotou.

"Seems it’s being confident, so let’s confront it. Magic can deal with ghosts, so just keep your wits about. We’re not leaving this place till we search it proper and this thing’s in our way," Jotou moved to go forward, but was unable to.

Hotaru looked down to the hand she was still clutching, "Sorry," she let go of the blonde and cleared her throat.

"Let’s go find this kid," Jotou stepped out into the hallway, only to hear the sounds coming from multiple sides. She sighed, "I know it’s cliché, but it might be best if we split up."

"Split up!?" Asobi’s voice squeaked.

"You four pick pairs between yourselves, I can go alone," Jotou replied and sparked her sword. "Things won’t go well if we ignore a ghost like this; it’ll start to get worse, better to cut it off now."

"Don’t be reckless," Hotaru said her parting words.

"I’ll definitely try," Jotou jogged down the hallway, back the way they came.

"Are you sure we should l-let her go by herself?" Tiffany peeked out of the archway.

"She’ll be fine," Hotaru replied...

_

"DUFF!"

’I swear the sound was in here.’ Jotou surveyed the small bedchamber and left the door ajar as the sound emanated from someplace else. She rushed towards the direction, through dusty and sunless hallways with nothing but the glow of her sparks.

’Every ghost in a game’s terrifying cause the game doesn’t let you truly act the way you can in real life. Now the tables’ve turned. Haunted castle with some creepy ghost kid? You’re not that scary.’

The sound grew closer. "Crash!" Jotou kicked in the already weak and ajar door. It was some sort of study, but everything was somehow... a little less rummaged than the rest of the castle she had seen.

Books were in shelves less dustier and a page was turned on the desk with a quill in a pot of ink. The sound had stopped and she looked around the quiet... Her feet paused and she glanced around as her heart began to pulse a little faster.

She stuck her head out the door and heard no other cries either. Jotou inhaled and walked into the centre of the room- "Creak..." "Nope, you’re not doing that," she quickly turned back and kicked the door open as it was about to close.

"The door stays open," she pointed into the room and looked at the ceiling. No reply came, not even a sign; she gulped and felt her palms get clammy. ’...Okay, maybe I’m lying to myself and I’m terrified, but still.

Ghosts can’t hear my thoughts, right?’ Jotou overloaded her thoughts with elevator music, removing any overthinking or paranoia.

Jotou sighed and cautiously stepped into the study. "What’s the bargain here? You wanna talk? Let’s talk. If you jump-scare me, I swear to every hell-"

"Flip."

Jotou’s eyes darted to the open book on the desk as a page turned. "Oh great..." she whispered. She sheathed her sword, opting to spark her entire form except her right hand.

"Fwsh!" The lanterns in the room all lit up.

"Thanks..." she picked up the quill from the black ink that had not dried out despite what the dust on the feather would tell. Before her was an empty yellowed page.

She placed the tip of quill down and wrote in this world’s script, "You want to talk?" she spoke as her fingers adeptly moved.

"Uncertain. Continue," ink appeared on the page, letter by letter underneath what Jotou had wrote.

"Are you truly a child?" Jotou wrote under the appearing ink.

"Yes and no."

’Sigh...’ "What is your name?"

"I do not recall."

"I can’t talk if you give me no concrete answers," Jotou wrote back.

...

"Who are you?" the ink appeared in reply.

"Jotou Howllett, the Thundering Blade. I was once dead."

"You are among the living."

"I cheated it. But know that I may understand not being fully dead. I bring you no harm as long as you do no harm to me."

...

"Why are you here?" the ink appeared.

"To seek answers to a threat we face. I could ask the same of you."

"Home."

Jotou took a pause. "We won’t intrude more than we should. Can you grant us some passage as we search for what we need?"

...

"I cannot aid you."

"You don’t need to, just don’t disturb us and that’ll be help enough," Jotou knitted her brows.

"The fragments will not listen."

"Fragments?"

"I am one of many, many of one. You will not move freely Jotou Howllett."

"You seem amiable. Can’t we talk this out?"

"No."

"Show yourself."

...

Jotou looked around the room. "Show yourself," she wrote again.

...

The blonde’s eyes waned. "Are you scared of me?"

...

Jotou took a deep breath and glanced about at the still lit up lanterns. She dispelled every spark on her form. "Are you trapped here?" she wrote.

...

"Yes."

"Let me help."

"Help?"

"Help you move on or whatever it is I can do to get you un-trapped. Would you please show yourself? I’m not going to hurt you."

Right next to the desk, the boy was standing, looking at what Jotou was writing. Jotou’s head turned and her entire body jerked in a sudden reaction. She shut her eyes and calmed the heart that just leapt out of her chest.

"Thank you," Jotou put the quill down.

The boy seemed sad and an expression away from crying. He looked at her, "How will you help me?"

"Well," Jotou breathed. "I don’t really know. But I’m sure we can figure something out given time."

"How much time?" the boy hauntingly responded.

"I wouldn’t know. But it couldn’t hurt to at least try to see what we can do, could it?" Jotou shrugged, trying her best to act casual. "Me and my friends wanted to just explore, so you’re a surprise to us."

"You cannot help," slowly tears began rolling down his face.

Her eyes glazed over, "Hey, I didn’t say that." Jotou cautiously approached him around the desk and crouched down to his height. "No need to cry. It’ll be okay," she soothed.

The kid shook his head and rubbed his eyes, "I have done too much. They will undoubtedly take notice," he sobbed.

"They who? What do you mean too much?" Jotou queried.

"I do not recall. I only know to be afraid. I am scared Jotou Howllett," his voice shakily squeaked.

Jotou gazed at the boy. "You don’t have to be afraid of me at least. For what it’s worth, I can be your friend."

"Friend?"

"Yeah, I was mean a few minutes ago, sure, I’m sorry," Jotou admitted. She then revealed a small smile, "Look, whoever they are, they’ll have to go through me, okay?

I’m the Thundering Blade of Kria and Cravolta," she sparked her eyes. "I swear on my name, they’ll be dealt with. So chin up; we’ll figure it out," Jotou put her open hand out.

The boy kept looking at her with a widened gaze, "I cannot hold your hand."

"You can pretend, can’t you? It won’t bring you true comfort, but it’s something," Jotou convinced.

...

The boy slowly placed his small hand in Jotou’s open palm. Jotou wrapped her fingers around, leaving some space around as if it to mimic holding it. ’It’s cold. My entire skin feels like it’s crawling... Eugh...’ "Let’s find my friends and we can talk, alright?"

The boy however was staring straight up at her face, expressionless, "Why do you show kindness to the departed Jotou Howllett. I do not exist."

’Please stop staring at me like that...’ "What’s that have to do with anything? You’re scared and crying, sounds human to me. As far as I’m concerned, you’re living—just with an odd set of circumstances. Doesn’t mean I’m not gonna help."

...

"Let’s go," Jotou took a step forward.

"Your kindness shall not be forgotten Jotou Howllett."

"Hm~" a small smirk played onto the blonde’s lips.

"Fwiring!"

Hundreds of shifting eyes appeared in the form one large eye in the space before them. The spectral form blocked the exit and had a non-stop howl, like the wail of hundreds of damned souls.

"There you are. After all this time," and from it a single voice reverberated; a drowsy and blasé voice that spoke with an accent. "Crack."

By the time Jotou turned her head to look at the hand she was holding, it was already gone. In the air right above, the boy’s figure was broken at every joint by multiple cords in an instant, snapping the neck to one side.