1

After the affair with the Rust-Eater, Bisco and Milo said their farewells to Imihama and set their sights on Bisco’s homeland, Shikoku. In Hyogo Prefecture, while following a route across Mount Hachibuse, the two boys bumped into a caravan of Mushroom Keepers.

“Don’t move. Drop your weapons and— Well, well, well! Do my eyes deceive me, or is that Bisco I see? Hey, everyone, come and see! It’s Jabi’s boy!”

“That old troublemaker’s all grown up! And look, he’s even gone and got himself a pretty wife!”

“He’s not my wife, you idiots; he’s my new partner, Milo!”

It appeared news had spread that Imihama was accepting Mushroom Keeper immigrants, and several of them from the nearby prefecture of Tottori had formed this caravan. The two were treated to a lavish welcome (at least by Mushroom Keeper standards), and while they were there, they had asked the elder of the caravan for advice regarding Bisco’s condition.

“In this world, those you call ‘immortal’ are not as rare as you believe,” the elder said.

“What?!” cried Milo.

“And I have also heard that such immortality can be granted.”

“You gotta be shittin’ me. For real?”

“Bisco! Language!”

The elder puffed from a long pipe and laughed “Hee-hee!” at Bisco’s sprightly behavior. From her wrinkled smile, many tattoos, and piercings, the boys could see she was a venerable and seasoned Mushroom Keeper indeed.

“Long ago, we had a local god called Lord Kusabira,” she said. “However, a man called the Immortal Monk came from Shimane, and his followers burned down Lord Kusabira’s temples and shrines.”

“The Immortal Monk…?” asked Bisco. “And you fought against this guy?!”

“I know not if it was the same mushroom immortality you possess. All I know is I shot him twice with crimson tengu arrows and he survived. To me, it seemed like he was truly immortal, and so I fled in a panic.”

As the two boys shared a worried glance, the old woman smiled, taking a few more puffs on her pipe.

“That was a long time ago now, though,” she said. “There is a place in Shimane called the Six Towers of Izumo, where it was said a monk ruled for two hundred years without aging a single day. When I was a young girl, everyone knew that story. All who were plagued by the Rust, or who sought to be free of the shackles of their mortality, flocked to that place in droves. There they asked to join the Rust Speakers… Ah, in truth, their full name is the Speakers of Mashouten, the Rust Lord, but that is quite long, is it not? Everybody calls them the Rust Speakers instead.”

“Elder,” said Milo, “does this Immortal Monk still reside there at the Six Towers of Izumo?”

“I cannot say,” she replied. “Recently I have heard rumors that the entire sect was destroyed.”

Here the elder paused and blew her smoke directly into Bisco’s and Milo’s faces, cackling.

“Either way, the secrets of immortality will surely be there. If this Immortal Monk could truly grant it, then perhaps he could take it away as well. If nothing else, there must surely be some clues remaining.”

The old woman grabbed Bisco’s chin with a bony finger and pulled him close.

“Though, if it were me, I’d never throw away such a convenient body as yours!”

It was several months later, in the land of religion, Shimane. It was a curious land, culturally distant from the neighboring prefectures and even said to be on equal footing with the central government in terms of representation. This was because of the mighty influence that the various religions possessed. Followers of sects such as the Flamebound and the High Hall were found all across Japan; if the central government ever put pressure on Shimane, it wouldn’t be long before they saw the flames of rebellion sparking up all over the country.

Thus, Shimane was considered something of a neutral region. Some even called it an independent state unto itself. However, in these days, no land was free from conflict and subterfuge. Just as Japan’s prefectures quarreled among themselves, in Shimane it was the sects who held the knives to one another’s throats, and even now, the situation threatened to spill over into all-out war.

“Gosh, I thought my little sister would never come back home! I was thinking I’d have to close up the shop and become a nun! Losing her as well after Mom and Dad…”

The barroom lights were swarming with flies, to the extent you could hear the sound as they struck the dangling bulbs and knocked them from side to side. Below them, at the table, sat a merry group of farmers, sake cups in their hands and dirt caking their faces.

“I really can’t thank you enough! Eat all you like! Our food is quite popular, even around these parts!”

“Hey, Palen. My cup’s empty. Get us a refill, would ya?” asked one of the farmers.

“Get your own!” retorted the young landlady with a broad smile. “I’m takin’ care of these customers today!”

She motioned to the seats in front of the counter, but the two young patrons she spoke of were already wolfing down their food without an ounce of restraint.

“This tofu’s great!” said one. “Hey, sis, isn’t there any rice?”

“I don’t think you’re supposed to have that on its own, Ritz,” said the other. “I think it’s supposed to go with this soba.”

“Don’t you know about liver soba?” asked the landlady. “It’s Shimane’s specialty, made from the livers of flying anglerfish.”

“Slurrrppp!”

“Whoa, that’s disgusting! Why can’t you act more ladylike?”

Seated at the counter were two…girls. Hunters, going by their garb. One was a pretty, slender young thing with sky-blue hair as soft as silk that came down to her shoulders and bandages covering the left side of her face. She had a slightly mysterious air about her, but her smiling face was full of kindness. It would be hard to find a more charming beauty in all the lands.

As for her companion, however… She was a redhead with a rather imposing physique. Her crimson hair was scattered and messy, like a spider lily, and the right half of her face was wrapped in bandages, as if mirroring her partner. The remaining eye glimmered like jade, and her sharp look struck fear into anyone who made eye contact.

As for her makeup, well, it was difficult to say that it suited her. It was almost feral in its arrangement, but her face was pretty enough, and it wouldn’t be strange to see tough mercenary types who dressed as she did.

The two of them had deep scars on their necks and chests that the makeup couldn’t hide, and their cloaks, hung up on the wall, were weathered from long use. It was clear these two hunters were experienced, despite their young ages.

“Damn, I wish I’d known the food was so good. We could have gone from rest stop to rest stop instead of hidin’ and eatin’ dried lizard all the time.”

“Whose fault do you think that is? We wouldn’t have to hide if you didn’t make it so all of Shimane wants our heads, Bisco!”

“Watch it! It was you who said not to use our real names, remember?”

“Oh, um… S-sorry.”

If it wasn’t obvious by this point, these two women were, in fact, none other than the Man-Eating Redcap and Man-Eating Panda, and if you’re wondering why they’re in disguise, well…

There was little reason to fear the people of Shimane turning them in for the reward money. The borders of Shimane were open to all sinners seeking salvation, and their relationship with the central government was neutral at best. However, after the chaos they’d wrought at the temple of Mashouten, the two boys were back to a life of being wanted criminals.

Having tracked down where the priestess lived, they were taking her back home when the smell wafting from the rest stop became too much to resist. Telling themselves they were waiting for her to wake up again, they dressed up for a sneaky meal.

“What the…? Damn, this white mush is freakin’ delicious!” yelled the redhead.

“That’s deep-fried catfish heart!” boasted the landlady. “Tasty, isn’t it?”

“Come to think of it, all of Shimane’s regional dishes are based on organ meat,” said the blue-haired girl. “You think there’s a reason for that? Hey, Ritz! Don’t steal my food!”

The landlady answered her question. “There’re a lot of different religions in Shimane, but they all believe that the five vital organs of Buddhist medicine are the source of energy in the body. They believe if you eat animal liver, your own liver grows stronger, and so organs are considered good luck. I believe this all grew out of the Rust Speakers, who venerated the five vital organs.”

“…So these Rust Speakers…,” the redheaded woman asked the landlady as her partner wiped her food-stained mouth. “What’re they like? We heard it was this massive religion led by an immortal monk, but we’ve been all over the place, and we ain’t seen this magic shaman dude or whatever at all. It just looks like a scattered cult.”

The landlady paused before lowering her voice and replying, “You shouldn’t be so loud about that. There are still some of them around. Never know when they’re listening. The Rust Speakers fell apart ten years ago. That place you saved my sister from was where the remaining followers gathered. Before then, yeah, the Immortal Monk lived at the Six Towers of Izumo.”

“So he really does exist?”

“Never seen him myself,” the landlady said, “but the Rust Speakers were powerful in their day. The monk was a master of sorcery and could even bestow immortality upon followers he found deserving. All those who wanted to live forever flocked to the tower gates.”

It was the same story the pair had heard from the caravan elder. So it wasn’t just the tall tale of a mad old woman after all, thought the redheaded girl.

“…But if they had all these crazy powers, how come they ain’t still around?” she muttered.

“The monk could give out immortality, but he could just as quickly take it away again. So those who received it didn’t stick around for long.”

The blue-haired girl stopped eating and frowned.

“I wonder how much of that is true… What do you think, Ritz?”

“Don’t ask me. If you don’t know, I don’t know. Hey, lady, can I get some more?”

“Sure thing! Ah-ha-ha! You worried they’re gonna come after you? Don’t be! Just a couple days ago, this massive shiitake came up outta the ground and blew their whole base sky-high!”

“It was a crimson tengu, not a shiitake—” the redhead began just as her partner elbowed her in the ribs and smiled. The landlady gave them a curious look before continuing.

“…There’s just one thing that doesn’t sit right with me,” she said. “I don’t like that those villains were done in by another villain. Mushrooms are the doin’ of that Akaboshi group.”

The two girls froze mid-bite and stole a peep at the landlord’s worried face. Then, feeling something was not quite right with the way she said that, the redhead asked, “Akaboshi…group?”

“Oh, don’t tell me you haven’t heard? Lately…”

But before she could finish, there was a Bang! as the rest stop door was kicked open and a group of strong-looking men strode into the room.

“Well, you bumpkins sure seem to be in a good mood today,” one of them said.

“Ugh, it stinks in here, boss. Can we go?” said another.

“You idiots. These farmers toil on their hands and knees day after day so that we can eat the food we eat. Show a little respect.”

A group of what looked like, and indeed were, bandits entered the bar. One of them snatched up the liquor bottle from the farmers’ table and downed it as the patrons looked on in shock. At the center of them all stood an even larger man with spiky red hair. He wore a fur coat over his fancy armor and helm, and a scantily clad, blue-haired woman hung off his arm.

“Tsk. Here they are. Speak of the devil,” said the landlady.

“Hey, Palen,” said the man. “You seen the news this morning? I couldn’t let a favor from my favorite landlady go unpaid. I know you hated those guys, so we…”

“…killed them all, didn’t we, Bisco? You sure struck a handsome sight on the battlefield, splitting those monks’ skulls with your battle-ax.”

“Ngh! Cough, cough!”

“Whoa, Ritz!”

Upon hearing the name Bisco, the redheaded woman choked on her noodles and went into a coughing fit. Her partner rubbed her on the back, trying not to show her face.

The bandit chief frowned and was about to say something when the landlady spoke up.

“Marvelous work,” replied the landlady, calmly defiant. “And I suppose you’ve come to sponge some grub off my bar? Well, sorry, but we don’t give out food for free here!”

“Watch your tongue, bitch,” said Bisco, striking the counter and sweeping away a load of glass bottles, which shattered on the floor. The displeasure was clear on his face. “Your head full of straw, farmer girl? Don’t forget it’s me who keeps things nice and calm around here. Awful lotta brigands and vagabonds ’round these parts, and it’d be a shame if something happened to a sweet little place like this.”

At this, the blue-haired girl stood up from her chair, but the landlady motioned with her eyes to sit down, as if to say, Don’t worry, this happens all the time. The eagle-eyed girl on Bisco’s arm, however, noticed this and zeroed in on the table where the two girls were sitting.

“Well, what do we have here?” she said. “Looks like you got plenty of food and booze to me. How come you got enough to feed these two hicks, but not us, eh?”

“…Well, settle down, Milo. We wouldn’t want to scare the newcomers, would we?” said the red-haired man with a sly grin. Then he approached the table and drew his hand across the jaw of the blue-haired girl sitting there. “Besides, look at what a beauty she is. Ain’t no way she’s from around here… So where do you hail from, cutie? Fancy a drink?”

The blue-haired girl attempted a glare, but her unintimidating look fell to pieces upon Bisco’s sleazy grin. She let out a shuddering breath and gingerly looked back at her partner for support…

“Hey, lady, could you get me another sea urchin beer?” the redhead asked.

“Help me out, you jerk!” cried the blue-haired girl, striking her partner on the back of the head. As the redhead fell to the floor in pain, the man going by “Bisco” brushed aside the blue-haired girl and slowly walked over to her, lifting her up by the scruff of the neck.

“I don’t appreciate you ignoring me,” he growled. “Don’t you know who I am? I’m Japan’s most wanted public enemy number one, and I got a three-million-sol bounty on my head! They call me the Man-Eating Redcap, Bisco Akaboshi!”

In response, the redheaded girl bared her sharp canines, and her hair flared up like a bonfire. A ferocious smile appeared on her lips, as if the constricting pressure around her throat was causing her no discomfort at all.

“W-what the hell…?!”

“You’re pissin’ me off. If you’re gonna do it, do it right,” said the girl, or rather, Bisco Akaboshi. He slurped up a noodle from the corner of his mouth and continued, “Your tattoo artist was makin’ fun of you, by the way… That’s the sign of the Chinese hackberry tree. It marks a coward who only feels big when he’s in a gang.”

“W-what? Who are…?!”

“Bisco Akaboshi’s tattoo…,” said Bisco, tearing off his bandages and revealing the magnificent crimson inking around his right eye, “…is the sign of the Rust-Eater. It contains the divine protection of Acala, the Immovable. If you’re gonna use my name, then don’t fuckin’ half-ass it!”

Bisco’s bare fangs and emerald glare stole all the color from the fraud’s face. He was like a yapping pup standing before a bear.

“Y-you’re…the Man-Eating Redcap! The real one…!”

“When are you gonna get your dirty hands off me?” said Bisco, grabbing the wrists around his neck and squeezing them like a vise.

Crunch!

“Aaaggghhh!”

Bisco’s monstrous strength crushed the bones in the faker’s forearm to dust, and the poor man cried out in pain. Bisco then swung him by the arms, tossing him into the distance, whereupon his body didn’t stop but spun like a pinwheel, smashing through two bar tables and flying out the door.

“B-boss!”

After quailing in fright, his henchmen pointed their guns at Bisco, but Milo was too fast for them, and his bow was already drawn. His thin arrows pierced the men’s wrists, releasing a bunch of tiny blue mushrooms that incapacitated them in seconds.

“W-waaah! I can’t feel my hand! What’s happening?”

“I-it’s the mushrooms! These guys are Mushroom Keepers!”

Milo put away his bow and turned to Bisco, scowling. His partner was hurriedly trying to replace his bandages.

“Why didn’t you help me? How could you just sit there drinking when I’m in danger?”

“Danger, my ass. You coulda taken those guys yourself, easy!”

“You’re unbelievable! You’ve got no kindness or morals whatsoever!!!”

Suddenly, they heard the sound of a megaphone from outside. “Listen up, you punks!” The two Mushroom Keepers opened the door to find the fake Bisco sitting atop a military tank, its turret pointed right at them.

“Say hello to Actagawa!” he said, gesturing to the vehicle beneath him. “I’ll teach you to make fun of me! I’ll blow both you and that bar sky-high! Then I’ll be the real Bisco!”

“Uh-oh, I think we pissed him off,” said Bisco, unbothered, as the gun barrel swiveled toward him with a creak. Bisco whistled through his fingers, and something enormous swept through the air, casting a dark shadow over the pair.

“Fire!!” yelled the fake.

A huge orange meteorite fell from the sky and, swinging its massive claws, deflected the shell like a Ping-Pong ball before it could harm either Bisco or the rest stop bar. The projectile went flying off into a distant mountain, where it exploded in a column of smoke.

“That was close,” said Bisco. “Sorry for the short notice, Actagawa!”

“Wh-whaaat?!”

The fake Bisco yelled in surprise at the giant crab, but by the time he’d finished, the two Mushroom Keepers had filled the tank’s armor with arrows. Mushrooms sprouted all over the tank with a Gaboom! Gaboom! plucking off the armor plating—red ones out of the main gun and blue ones out of the engine block.

“Waaah! Waaaaahhh!”

The fake Bisco crawled out of the cockpit as it spewed black smoke, barely escaping with his life before the fake Actagawa exploded in a ball of flame.

“I won’t forget this, asswipes! I’ll kill you! I’ll freakin’ murder you!” he cried as he regrouped with his henchmen and fled. Bisco cracked his neck, exasperated, and called out to the blue-haired woman standing frozen in the barroom doorway.

“What’s the matter? You’d better get running, too. I’ll let you go this time but tell that boss of yours to get his tattoo fixed.”

“W-wait, s-so… You’re really him? You’re the real Bisco?”

The fake Milo, who had spent most of the previous few minutes cowering in fright, darted up to Bisco and hooked onto his arm, crooning.

“Wh-whoa! What the hell are you doing?!”

“Just look at these muscles!” she said. “There’s no way you’re a woman. I finally found you, Bisco! Hey, listen, that asshole tricked me, too. I’m a victim here! Everything’s gonna be okay now that you’re here. I’ll take you back to our stronghold and we can…”

Bisco’s face went red as the fake Milo continued to whisper into his ear. Suddenly, the real Milo clapped her on the shoulder and, with surprising force, ripped her away.

“H-hey, wait…! Ah… Ah-ha-ha… Oh, yeah. There’s a real version of me, too. You can be…um…our cook…”

“…Your black mark. It’s on the wrong side. It should curve around the left eye, not the right,” Milo said, clenching his fist. “…Want me to fix that for you?”

He was a far cry from his usual timid self, and his voice dripped with venom. The impostor quivered in her boots before turning and fleeing, still half-dressed, into the night. Bisco was just as surprised as she was.

“Dude, why can’t you always be that threatening?” he said.

“Because I’m not always that angry,” Milo replied before heading back inside the bar. Standing in the threshold, he surveyed the damage. “Ahh, look at this place. It’s a wreck.” He sighed. Chairs and tables lay strewn about, upended and splintered in the wake of the fight.

“Oh, it ain’t that bad,” said Bisco. “At least it’s still in one piece. That’s more than you can say for some of the places we’ve been.”

“Bisco! They fed us! How can you say that?”

After the landlady had recovered from her shock, she jogged over to the pair and vigorously shook their hands up and down.

“Wow! You got rid of Akaboshi! I didn’t know you two were Mushroom Keepers! That’s amazing! Oh, what a load off my mind!”

“I’m so sorry about your bar, ma’am…,” said Milo.

“Oh, don’t you worry about that! It’d have been much worse if those thugs had their way! I’m just lucky some big, strong customers like you two were here to stop them!”

The landlady laughed heartily. Not only was she unbothered by the damage, but she didn’t seem eager to kick up a fuss over the pair’s true identities as Mushroom Keepers, either.

Just then, one of the other customers spoke up.

“Why didn’t you two finish the job?” he said after tying up one of the bandits. “You let Akaboshi go! You can bet they’re gonna be coming back here with the rest of their tanks!”

“Don’t say that!” said the landlady. “These two saved our lives, you know!”

“But you know what those thugs do to rebellious women, don’t you? They take ’em away and sell them off at Six Towers. They been turnin’ a blind eye to us so far, but now…”

“What are you so afraid of?” said the landlady. “Didn’t you see the way that cur pissed his pants just now? He’s just a common thug, that’s all. Next time he comes by, we’re going to tie him up and get that three-million-sol bounty all to ourselves!”

At her brazen suggestion, the farmers looked at one another uneasily. Bisco watched the conversation unfold with indifference, but when he looked down to see Milo tugging at his sleeve, eyes pleading, he heaved a sigh and addressed the room.

“Where’re those guys hidin’ out, then?”

“Huh?”

“Akaboshi’s lot. Where’s their base? We’ll go and sort things out. It’s our fault things got heated in the first place…”

“Don’t be silly!” said the landlady. “If two girls go into that place alone, there’s no telling what they’d do to you!”

Milo glanced at his partner, who was sulking, arms crossed, before flashing a slight smile and replying:

“I think you should be more worried about what we’ll do to them!”

Nearly half a year after the appearance of a new Rust-Eater forest in the center of the Northern Miyagi Badlands, the excitement was dying down. However, at the time, the news of this event, as well as the fact that it somehow involved Tetsujin itself, came as a shock to people all over Japan.

One of its consequences was an epidemic of Bisco Akaboshis.

From Japan’s smallest village to its highest castle, there wasn’t a man or a woman in the land who hadn’t heard tales of the vigilante Bisco Akaboshi and his exploits. Exploits that had now earned the man a bounty of over three million sols. What the government had failed to predict was that raising his bounty and publishing news of his misdeeds had only elevated the Man-Eating Redcap to a living legend in the eyes of the people.

To those who were displeased with the government’s rule, which was no small number, Akaboshi was something of a folk hero, a modern-day Robin Hood who mocked the government and stood up for the little people. And as days turned to months and Bisco did no such thing, some took it upon themselves to adopt his name and fly his flag, proclaiming “No, I am the Man-Eating Redcap!”

And as the months went on, more and more of these fake Akaboshis began cropping up all over Japan, gathering followers and taking to lives of crime: looting, pillaging, robbery. By this point, there was no doubt that they were the bane of every vigilante corps and police force in the land.

On the other hand, this was quite convenient for the real Bisco and Milo. Not only were the fakers throwing their weight around and keeping the security forces busy, but many of them looked even more fearsome than the real thing. There was no way anyone would suspect these two young lads of being the legendary brigands, and as a result, the pair had gotten quite adept at slipping across the borders unchallenged. There was only one checkpoint left in the land, nestled on the southern border of Gunma Prefecture, where the guards would never, ever forget the faces of those two Mushroom Keepers.

“Hey, Bisco? What should we do after this? Carry on to Shikoku? Or should we try going after the sect again?”

Milo leaned over and wiped the makeup off Bisco’s face as he sat at the reins, steering Actagawa through the night with the aid of his cat-eye goggles.

“I’m curious about the Six Towers. If this monk really did have the power to remove immortality, then perhaps the secret is still there. I want to go check that out before we go back.”

“…Bisco, to be honest, I’m not sure we should. That place… It purports to be a holy city for all of mankind, but I’ve heard that the conflict between the sects still rages to this day. It’s too dangerous to go there just based on hearsay…”

“Shh. There, up on the hill.”

Milo followed Bisco’s finger to see a dilapidated two-story building faintly illuminated by the early light of dawn. According to the landlady, this was the hideout of the fake Bisco and his gang.

“Ugh, I can’t be bothered. I’ll just hit ’em with a crimson tengu from here and—”

“No, Bisco! There might be hostages inside! And you promised me you’d only kill if they really deserved it!”

“Well, that’s hard to judge. How do you even know who’s evil these days?”

“Well, you know, if they’re like Kurokawa… Or if they hurt cats and crabs.”

“Who are you, the Humane Society? C’mon, let’s go.”

Bisco and Milo dismounted and scaled the cliffs toward the hideout. However, they encountered not even a single bloodthirsty bandit. In fact, the place appeared to be completely deserted.

“Bisco, I smell blood. You think they had a falling-out…?”

“Perhaps, but…it’s too quiet. Let’s take a closer look.”

Sneaking right up to the building, they stole a glance through the windows, but there was not a soul to be seen or heard anywhere. Bisco looked at Milo, who nodded, drew his bow, and slipped inside the building itself. In the large hall, several moths swarmed around a white lantern, casting fluttering shadows across the walls. And there, strewn across the floor, were the pallid bodies of the bandits.

…! They’re dead…?!

Milo tried to collect himself and looked around the room, when his eyes fell upon the large body of the man who had been impersonating Bisco. Milo ran over to him. An unpleasant sweat tickled the back of his neck.

Wh-what in the world…?! What happened here?!

As both a doctor and a Mushroom Keeper, Milo was no stranger to death. However, none of those experiences had prepared him for the strange corpse of the fake Bisco before him.

His stomach was missing. Through the hole sliced in his belly, Milo could only see the rusted-over viscera that lined the cavity where the organ should have been. Even the blood had turned to rust.

“The skin is fine. Only his insides have rusted. I’ve never seen anything like it…”

Then Bisco leaped down from the second-floor balcony and whispered, “Milo. Something’s not right. I can’t find anything but dead bodies, and there’s no signs of a struggle, either.”

“Yeah. There’s no external injuries. It’s just his stomach that’s been ripped out… It’s weird. I don’t like it. And it’s the same with all of them…”

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” said Bisco. “’Kay, I’m gonna look for prisoners and then we can get the hell outta here. You go get Actagawa.”

“Okay!”

Milo began descending the hill, while Bisco slowly made his way down a stone staircase leading to the basement. He turned on his cat-eye goggles to search the dark room and found, through iron bars, a pile of female bodies lying limply atop one another.

Bisco clicked his tongue. The women’s mouths were stained with blood, and just like the corpses upstairs, their bellies had been sliced wide open.

So they weren’t here for the women, and they weren’t here for money… Who were they?

Bisco pondered before deciding it would be faster to pick his partner’s brain about it. He headed back upstairs, leaving the corpses of the prisoners behind, when…

“…ru…kyurumon…snew…”

A faint groan echoed off the basement walls. So faint, only Bisco’s keen hearing could hope to pick it up.

“…ru…snew…kyurumon…kel…”

Bisco nocked an arrow and slowly approached the source of the sound. He passed by one cell, and another. In the third, he found an old man, pale as a specter. He lay curled up in the corner of the cell, endlessly repeating a strange chant.

“Kel…kyurumon…kel…”

The man was little more than skin and bones, but the fiery glimmer in his eyes was enough to make Bisco sweat.

Who’s this old dude…?

Bisco was so shocked, it was a while before the realization caught up to him. This man was the sole survivor. Bisco put away his bow and rushed over to help.

“Hey, Gramps. It’s safe now; the guys upstairs are toast. Let’s get you outta here. Where are you from? We’ll take you home.”

“Kel…kel…kyurumon…kugunotsu…”

“This is getting me nowhere. I need Milo…” Bisco sighed and lifted the old man onto his shoulder before exiting that foul place as quickly and quietly as he could.

“…I’m sorry, Bisco, but there’s nothing I can do for him. The rust is too deeply ingrained. His insides are completely covered in it. It’s a wonder he’s even still alive.”

“What if you use my blood?” Bisco asked.

Milo ran his diagnostic scope over the patient’s body and shook his head. “Even if we cure the Rust now, there’ll be nothing left of his organs. I can give him some wortshroom medicine, but even then he’s only going to last another two days at most.”

As a doctor, Milo was well accustomed to the crushing sense of helplessness that came with being unable to save someone, but that didn’t make it any easier to deal with.

“I see,” said Bisco. “I guess that’s it, then. At least we found him before he died.”

“Huh? But…we couldn’t do anything…”

“Everyone dies. It’s what we’re born to do. But he can at least be surrounded by his loved ones when he goes. He must have a family, a grandkid or somethin’, right?”

“I… I guess so. But how are we going to find them? We don’t have much time, and we’re fumbling in the dark.”

As Milo spoke, Bisco rummaged through his pockets and pulled out a wooden slab that looked like a keychain. In the center of its brightly lacquered front was the word Izumo in bright-red letters. It was clearly an item of significant value.

“T-that’s a promissory note from Six Towers!”

“It’s all he had on him. Musta been important. I guess that means he’s from there, right?”

Bisco tossed Actagawa a handful of Shimane oysters he’d picked up at the rest stop. Actagawa caught them in his pincers and stuffed them, shell and all, into his mouth.

“Bisco… You’re not thinking we’re going to take him all the way to the Towers, are you…?”

“It’s perfect. We needed an excuse to get inside anyway. And if we take this guy with us, we won’t even need a disguise…”

“You haven’t been listening to a word I’ve been saying, have you?!”

Milo grabbed Bisco by the lapels and yelled into his ear. Before Bisco could put together a response, Milo spun him around and shouted at him to his face.

“Didn’t you see what they did to those bandits?! That was the worshipers’ doing, no doubt about it! You’d have to be insane to consider going into the belly of the beast right now!”

“You still think sanity matters, Milo? Besides, it’s you who likes helping people so much! Didn’t you want to take this guy back to his family?”

“I…I do, but…”

“Listen. I’m not just talkin’ outta my ass,” Bisco scowled as he rubbed his stinging ear. “I know it’s dangerous. Everyone knows Mushroom Keepers are polytheists, so they’d really have it out for us in Izumo.”

“Right! So then why…?”

“Because you’re with me!” Bisco said, turning and looking Milo in the eye. “I could never do it alone, but with you at my back, nothing’s impossible. Let’s do this. Together.”

“Wh-whaaat?!”

Milo’s face went bright red at Bisco’s words, and all the thousand comebacks he had prepared vanished from his mind.

“Still, if you really don’t want me to go, then I won’t. You’re way smarter than me, and I trust your judgment. So? What’ll it be?”

“…B-Bisco…,” Milo stammered with crimson earlobes before finally managing to string together a response. “O-okay. I…I understand. W-we’re partners, after all…”

“Well, I guess if Jabi were here, that’d work, too.”

“Oh, come on! Say it has to be me, even if it’s not true!!”

As the two bickered, the old man lay behind Actagawa’s rocking saddle, using the tent as a blanket. In half sleep, he muttered his verses as if in delirium.

“Rin…shulk…karna…”

“Rin…shulk…karlo…”