3

The Six Towers of Izumo were isolated from the outside world by steep cliffs and an imposing black pentagonal wall. The only opening on this wall was found on the south side, from where it was possible to glimpse the interior. Inside, the area was divided among the Six Towers that were the town’s namesake, alongside a complicated interconnection of stairs and walkways that gave the whole place the feel of an oversized ants’ nest.

Suddenly, toward that tear in the south wall, a pair of dark shadows came tumbling out of the sky at a stupendous speed.

“Bisco, parachute!” cried Milo, unstrapping his cloak and tossing it into the wind.

“Now you tell me!”

Bisco aimed his anchor arrow and fired. The arrow pierced the cloak and, with a Gaboom! exploded into a white, cloth-like substance that caught the air and expanded into a huge dome. He caught Milo as he slowed, and the two of them drifted softly toward the towers, rolling as they hit the ground.

“It worked!” exclaimed Milo. “The balloonshrooms and steelspider silk! They were really hard to combine!”

“Don’t use us as your guinea pigs! Ugh…get outta the way… My stomach…!”

Milo gave his partner some space and set about removing the parachute with his knife. Just then…

“Bisco.”

At his partner’s whisper, Bisco turned to look. What he saw entranced him.

The pair looked up at a giant paper screen set deeply into the central tower. On it, the thin silhouette of a person stared back down at them. He was lit from behind, his expression too shadowy to make out, and yet something about the figure seemed calm and composed, even amused.

“Rin-kel-shad. Rin-kel-snew…”

Above the sound of the screen shaking, Bisco could hear something else, the whisper of a verse. From the voice, Bisco could tell it was the same old man from before, but something was wrong.

“That old fart…! Look at him laughing at us from up there! He was about ready to keel over and die just a few minutes ago!”

“Something’s not right, Bisco. Look at his arms and legs!”

As Milo pointed out, the old man’s missing limbs had completely grown back. Not only that, but his hunch had straightened, and he seemed much livelier than before.

“It is proof of my divinity,” he croaked, interrupting the pair’s thoughts.

“What…?”

“Proof of my virtuous deeds. As I lay dying, heaven saw fit to lead you to me. The power of the Rust-Eater will allow me to stand once more at the apex of the Six Towers! Yea, God has granted me another chance! Heaven wants me back!”

“Says who?!” cried Milo. The dark shadow laughed. He kicked aside the screen and leaped down nearly twenty meters to ground level. Then, wrenching free one of the many pipes that ran between the towers, he twirled it like a spear and faced off against the two.

“You seem quite lively for a man without a stomach, Akaboshi,” the old man taunted. “But no longer will you taste even a single drop of gruel. I had intended to leave you to die, but…”

The neon lights illuminated the old man’s face. He grinned a wide grin that exposed all his teeth, and his beady eyes glittered in the darkness. Even his limbs and torso, which used to be nothing more than skin and bones, had gained a little muscle.

“I see the spark of divinity in that Rust-Eater stomach of yours. Perhaps you are more than a meddling little imp after all. I had better dispose of you here.”

“…You talk a lot of shit for a scrawny old man,” Bisco retorted with a glare, baring his white fangs. “I took pity on you ’cause I thought you were dyin’, but if you wanna fight, I’m down. I’ll wipe the floor with you.”

“Hee-hee-hee. Such disrespect, Akaboshi. But I’ll overlook it. I’m in a good mood.”

“Well, you won’t be for long!”

The old man’s taunts spurred Bisco into action, and he reached for his bow, but before he could even draw it…

Splat!

The old man took the pipe he was wielding and plunged it, unbelievably, into his own stomach.

“Wh-what is he doing…?!”

As Milo reached for his bow, too, the old man’s peculiar behavior made him stop in his tracks. Suddenly, Bisco fell into his arms, shaking and coughing up globs of blood.

“Bisco!!”

“You piece of shit, that’s my stomach…!”

“Keh…heh-heh…ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!”

The old man cackled as a warm golden light spilled out of his belly. As he twisted the pipe free, Bisco cried out in pain again and coughed up even more blood.

“You bastard…!” Milo screamed as he landed an arrow in the old man’s shoulder. The old man stopped, frowned, and pulled the arrow free with his other hand, before tossing it away. Mushrooms began growing all along his arm.

“What a strange art,” the old man mused, stroking his beard as the fungi devoured his arm. You’re no mewling stray. I shall have to kill you at once.”

“Bisco, can you fire?! We need the King Trumpet and the Rust-Eater!”

“Got it!”

The two Mushroom Keepers readied their bows and faced the old man. The smile had now disappeared from his face.

Just then, a voice cried, “Over here, Kelshinha!” and out of nowhere flew several small, talisman-like slips of paper with razor-sharp edges that lodged into the old man’s head and body, freezing him.

“Nrgh?!”

Two figures dropped from the tall tower, clad in felt robes, and landed with nary a sound. The larger of the two unleashed a rapid-fire barrage of the knifelike tags, as the old man batted them all aside with only one hand.

“Master! I’m going to blow them up, get down!” said the smaller one.

“Got it, Amli!”

“Skerva-shad-snew!”

In response to her shout, the tags glowed red, and then, Boom! The old man’s top half was bent backward by the explosion, but his feet stayed planted firmly on the ground.

“Hmm. The swine,” he said. “I didn’t think you’d still be alive.”

The explosion tore off half his face, exposing the bone and brains within. Yet the old man seemed unbothered as he turned to face his new opponents.

“Did you crawl back up from Hell itself?” asked the tall figure. “There is no longer a place for you here at the Six Towers.”

“Heh-heh. And you mean to stop me? You two remnants cannot hope to stand against my power.”

“We’re the remnants? You’re the coward who fell from grace.”

Kelshinha easily dodged the next barrage of knifelike amulets, but an arrow from the side very nearly pierced him. Sweating, he turned to see the red-haired Mushroom Keeper loading another arrow.

“Rin-kel-shad… Akaboshi, you’re a man to beware. The time is not right.”

The old man glared at his missing arm before twisting like a snake to avoid the next arrow. Leaping between the buildings, he disappeared into the upper levels.

“Son of a bitch!”

Bisco aimed his bow high overhead, and as if waiting for that exact moment, a glittering Rust-Eater stalk burst through his back. The force knocked him to the ground, and Bisco wailed through clenched teeth in pain.

“Aaah! Bisco!!” Milo called out.

“God…dammit…! These damn mushrooms…!”

“It’s the Rust-Eater again! Hold still, Bisco! I’ll cut it off!!”

As Milo lopped off the golden mushroom, the larger of the two figures landed beside him. From her cloak, she took out a thick bundle of paper amulets and launched them in the direction the old man went.

“Skerva-krik-shad!”

The talismans all froze in the air, forming a long staircase. Just then, a group of masked men gathered around her.

“Kelshinha has returned. You know the plan. Go!”

At the taller figure’s command, the masked subordinates all disappeared up the staircase in pursuit of the old man. Just as she, too, was about to follow, the smaller of the two landed beside her and whispered something to her. Her eyes were on the two Mushroom Keepers, and there was a sense of pity and unease in her voice.

“…It seems Kelshinha took his stomach. He will become a walking corpse ere long.”

“I see. I must follow Kelshinha. Can I trust you to finish him off? I know it’s not a pretty job, but…”

“…It’s not my first time.”

The larger one took off up the paper staircase, while the other turned toward Bisco. Her pretty face peeked out from beneath the hood of her robe, and her lips were tightly pursed. With brisk steps, she made her way over to the two Mushroom Keepers…whereupon she stopped and frowned.

Usually, a human in this state would be either half crazed with panic or already dead.

Bisco, however, was neither.

“I removed the Rust-Eater, Bisco! Does it hurt anywhere?”

“Argh! My stomach…!”

“Your stomach hurts? Hold on, I’ll grab the syringe…”

“I’m so damn hungry…! That’s why I can’t fight…!”

“You what?!” cried Milo in hysterics.

The small figure’s eyes went wide in shock. The pair’s conversation was ridiculous enough, but on top of that, the red-haired man still seemed full of life. His eyes blazed like stars as he wiped the sweat from his brow.

…How is he still alive? His stomach has indeed been taken, has it not…?

“Please excuse me.”

“Mmmeh?!”

Before Milo could even turn around to face her, the small figure swept over to Bisco and gazed at the hole in his belly.

“…It’s gone. I knew it. But…what is this? Inside, it’s like the sun…”

“Wh-who the hell are you…?”

“It is I who should be asking that. What manner of creature are you?” asked the small figure, lowering her hood. Her face was struck with puzzlement.

She was young, perhaps thirteen or fourteen, with clear white skin and a cherubic face adorned with silver curls. Her robe was covered in strange markings—characters, a spell of some sort? Her clothing exposed her smooth stomach, and her hakama was tied up with a simple belt, with none of the fiercely individualistic eccentricities such as a religious figure might usually wear.

But there was one strange blemish that marred her otherwise perfect appearance. Her left eye was made of glass. Not only that, but it was held permanently open by four thin belts that extended from her eyelids in a cross. That green eye, totally motionless even as her violet right eye darted around, created a very strange impression.

“Um… He’s Bisco Akaboshi, and I’m Milo! Milo Nekoyanagi. Do…do you know something about that elderly gentleman from before? He took Bisco’s stomach!”

“I know that!” she shot back. “That’s the whole reason I’m… No. I must deal with this first. I’ve never seen a doctor who could bring the dead back to life…”

The girl took out a paper tag from her pocket and held it in front of her face, muttering a spell. The paper began to flutter in an unseen wind and flew toward Bisco’s stomach, where it stuck.

“Wh-what on earth was that? Can everyone here use magic?” asked Milo.

“You earthly folk are very quaint. This is nothing more than a bandage. You will not last another twelve hours. We must get you to Master at once. Mr.…Milo, sir, was it? It seems you are still healthy. You must carry Mr. Bisco and come with me.”

“Th-thank you so much! You’re a lifesaver, Miss…”

“Amlini. My name is Amli Amlini.” Amli did a somersault and curtsied, pinching the hem of her hakama like a dress. “I deeply apologize for the inconvenience. I would have liked to end your suffering immediately, but it seems you may yet be saved.”

Turning around, she took off at top speed across the rooftops. Milo panicked and raised the immobile Bisco onto his shoulders before following after her.

“Hey!” Bisco whispered to his partner. “You sure we can trust her? She seems like a psycho to me.”

“We have to!” replied Milo. “What else can we do?”

And so, stepping across the telegraph lines that spanned from building to building, the pair flew deeper and deeper into that strange land of neon lights and unfamiliar faiths.