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Life is such a bothersome thing, Shuan thinks.
Twenty eight years and nothing on the Mud Whale has changed. Not the people, not the sea of sand, not the skies above. Only the names of the days.
Shuan leans back in the reed boat, propping his staff to the side. The sun has all but fallen. The faces carved into tower four watch it set without seeing. Shuan lets out a quiet sigh. He doesn’t bother making the hike up to tower four. It’s not like he has anyone he wants to see anyways.
A buzz sounds all around them, a million wire-wings taking off. The sky begins to fill with hoshiboshi crickets, false stars flying away towards the horizon, filling the night with a million suns.
He watches, some childish jealousy filling him. Even crickets can travel farther than him. Shuan lets out a dry laugh. Literal bugs. How pathetic.
The Elders are hiding a girl in their tower.
He wonders if this will be enough to break this purgatory.
-
Clowns rain down, bringing bullets and doom with them. Shuan fights, cutting them down with ease. Tearing limbs from muscle, bone from tissue. The air tastes like dried blood. He kicks a soldier into the wall. Hard. His back breaks on impact, form crumpling inward. Shuan fingers the soldier's sword, hilt molding to his grip. He drives it into the man’s throat.
Are these the people he was supposed to defend them from?
They’re barely people. Much less fighters.
Honestly. He should’ve known. Shuan flicks the sword, letting the blood splatter onto the ground below him. There’s more of those harlequin’s coming. Marching forward with their masks and spears and murderous intent.
He might as well fulfill his purpose, he’s come this far.
-
The little Mole has come out to play. Ouni glares at him, like he’s being forced in this little act of rebellion. Like it’s not part of his nature. Shuan brushes past the others, tossing Ouni a staff. “Was wondering when you’d show up."
The boy grasps it, still glaring. Honestly. “Is it really going to sink?” Ouni says.
The Elders won’t sink it. They’re not that type of people. But Shuan will allow himself to pretend. He gives his staff a flourish, smiling. “That’s right.” He says. “So let’s enjoy the show, now shall we?”
Ouni leaps at him, bashing his staff with a strength someone his age shouldn’t have. Shuan parries, stepping around, thymia igniting around him. Ouni retaliates with an aura of his own. He goes in for another strike. The hallway is cramped, stopping them from having a full range of motion. Blue and purple whirl together, wood catching on skin and clay.
“How can you be okay with this?” Ouni demands, kicking off from the wall above.
Shuan catches him with thymia, pushing him off down the stairs. Ouni stumbles, using his staff as a brace. “Why not?” Shuan asks amusedly. The boy hits him.
“Because they’re trying to kill everyone!”
Shuan dodges, feet shuffling, kicking his staff up through Ouni’s face. “Think about it-” He says, slowly, mesuredly, as if explaining to a small child. “Do you have any attachment to this life?” He brings it around for a kick, knocking Ouni further down the stairs. “I don’t. Living is hard.” There’s a nasty bruise forming on the boy’s brow. Shuan leans over him. “You develop skills to navigate the world you’re born into. If you don’t excel, you get worn down.” He leaps down, following Ouni deeper into the bowels of the ship. “This island failed to navigate.”
The boy kicks him.
Shuan hits his gut, slamming him into the wall. “So tell me, what’s the point? People are a pain.” Ouni collapses, clutching his arm. “The heart just gets in the way.” The boy glares. “So let’s be free, in the sand, away from the pain of living.”
Ouni scoffs.
The boy slams his foot down, staff coming up in a whirl of wind and wood. Shuan can’t dodge on time, holding his hand over his eye. The bastard- he actually used his own tricks against him. He blinks, taking in light from his other eye. He clambers for his eye patch.
“You don’t get to make those decisions…” The boy mutters. Shuan pauses. “You want to throw your world away. But that’s not our world.”
Ouni rises, staff spinning, thymia stronger than before. “We decide what we want!”
-
“Commander!” A voice cries indignantly.
He’s sitting at the base of Tower one, vigilante’s and Elder’s whispering about the oncoming attack. Shuan doesn’t bother looking over. “Ginshu,” he says.
“Commander,” the girl huffs, struggling with her bag. “So I know you’re powerful and all that-” she manages to tie it correctly to her sash, “but you’re a coward too.”
The word seeps into his skin. Coward. Well, that’s a new one. “I am?” Shuan asks.
She pumps a fit. “Yeah” Ginshu girns, “but not to worry! Frailties like that can be cured if you work at it! So just try harder!”
Shuan watches.
“Ginshu!” Someone calls.
She flinches. “Oh crap, I’m gonna be late!” Ginshu collected her things, waving. “Good luck guys!” She stumbles. Turning on her heel, Ginshu laughs, her coattails dragging behind her in the wind.
Huh.
-
One week into being the mayor, Suou has already managed to get beaten up and preached love and peace at his enemies. Shuan watches a pink-haired soldier kick him into a wall. Quite honestly he’d find it impressive if this was anyone other than Suou.
“I’m not the crazy one!” The lion boy cackles. “This world is!”
“You’re right.” Shuan agrees, sing-songing from above. “The world is messed up. Though-” he sucks in air through his teeth. “That kid is more or less my boss, so lay off him will you? Also...” He leaps down from the ledge above, robe billowing around him. “You’re really annoying.”
The soldier scoffs. “Well this should be good.”
The sand storm whips around them.
-
Shuan stands over the soldier boy, blood leaking from his shoulder, the sharp end of his staff plunged into his gut. His eyes are wide. His lungs shake. “No…” The boy says. “No- I don’t want to die!” He claws at the ground, moving at an agonizing rate. “NO WAY!” he screams.
Even when he’s been stabbed twice, the boy wants to live.
Shuan moves to finish him off.
Suou grabs his shoulder. “Don’t. Focus your efforts on helping everyone, rather than finishing off our enemies.”
He glances at the boy crawling towards the horizon, desperate to despite the clear pain life has caused him. The soldier dreams of making people laugh and cry. Of bringing out all the deepest emotions in people. “I’m glad you have something to look forward to.” He says, cloak billowing.
-
The mass of Skyros fractures and crumbles into the sea of sand, the dark shadow it had cast over the Mud Whale vanishing over the horizon. Shuan feels something hum inside him.
The entire ship is gone. Returned to oblivion. He pries his blade from the harlequin’s chest, it coming out slick with blood. “Did the kid do that?” He muses, almost surprised. Shuan should’ve seen it sooner. “Well, he’s pulled it off.”
Falaina rumbles below them, welcoming its true child.
Something feral stirs within him.
-
There’s a ruckus in the Tower 5 plaza.
Shuan observes from above. The marked children gather, a small rainy parade. The twins stand above them, masses of black and ink holding a flag made of feathers. Like they’re high and mighty. Shuan scoffs at the idea. He’ll intervene if he needs to. “This flag was made from birds we shot down with thymia.” The twins declare. “It is our pledge as Marked, to form a new party to guide the Mud Whale.”
A murmurs surges through the crowd.
“I know we don’t have your trust yet.” Shikon says, waving as if to disperse the noise. “But that is because we have been silenced. We haven’t been allowed to explain where our anger comes from.”
Shikoku appears behind him. “Right now the Mud Whale is on a journey to Amonlogia. We’re finally able to navigate the sea of sand freely. We are no longer slaves to the currents and tides. But let me ask you- who decided that we’d go to Amonlogia?” A smirk toys at his lips. “Not you guys, that’s for sure.”
“The Unmarked decided!” Someone yells.
“I know.” Shikon says boredly. “But why?”
People exchange glances. “Because that’s how it’s always been!”
Shikoku sighs. “Tell me- how many Marked died during the battle of Skyros? Hm? Too many to count right? Wanna know how many Unmarked died? One. And that’s only because Hakuji didn’t stick to the plan.”
“We were the walls the Unmarked hid behind!” Shikon declares. “We were the ones they sent on the front lines. But we can’t allow ourselves to be pushed around any longer!”
Mayor Taisha’s archivist surges forward. “That’s not true!” He yells. “The Unmarked- all of them! They’re trying to live for us! I promise you!”
Shikoku scoffs. “That’s rich, coming from you. I hear you knew they’d make Suou the next Mayor, and that you wanted to marry his sister right? Wow Chakuro, you really are shameless.”
Heat rushes to the boy's face. “What do you want?” He grits out.
“We want to liberate you.” Shikon says. “We will decide for ourselves where to go! We’ll abandon Amonlogia!”
Chakuro whirls around to face the crowd. “None of you listen to them! Not a single word they say!”
The air hisses with thymia, white lighting up against the twins' dark clothes. “Shut up.” One of them say. “Filthy destroyer. You can’t even use thymia well, can you?”
Chakuro inhales, skin lightening up with swirls of gold and yellow.
“Stop it Chakuro.” Someone hisses. “You’re just giving them what they want!”
“That’s right.” The twins scoff. “Come right at us! Power will be everything on this new island!”
A hand grasps the Skikons’ wrist, kicking Skikoku to the side. Ouni glares, eyes hard. His grip tightens. “There’s no need for pointless violence.” Ouni says, voice low.
Shikon grins warily. “Have you become a dog for the Marked too?”
Ouni smacks the idea away. “I’m not on anyone’s side.” He grits. “But you two are Moles. I don’t want to see you cheapen yourselves.”
White.
Rocks pelt Ouni’s skin, leaving cuts and bruises etched into his body. Shikoku slams Ouni into the wall, using his flag as leverage. He scoffs disbelievingly. “You really can’t use thymia!” Shikoku grins, leaning close. “Say it, Ouni. Say you’ll be on our side. If you support us, I’m sure the others will be convinced.” He casts a glance back at the crowd. “I know you don’t like anything underhanded. You’ve got a soft side too. Back when Suou supervised the Moles when he was mayoral candidate, you wouldn’t let us lay a hand on him- no matter what we said!”
Shikon appears behind his brother. “But understand that that situation’s changed now that we’ve been attacked.” He turns back to the crowd. “And even if they’re right, we don’t have room for the useless! So Ouni, even if the mayor compromises, they’ll never accept you. Ever. How could they? You’re the bloodiest devil on the island. The mighty demon that’s killed countless enemies.”
Shikoku addresses the Marked. “This island isn’t weak, got it?” His voice echoes off the cliff face. “Until the visitors came, we didn’t know the people of the empire weren’t the only ones who could use thymia. I thought we were just weak and ignorant targets. But we’re not.”
Shikon sweeps an arm over the crowd. “We’re actually strong. If we get rid of the unmarked and go out into the world on our own with this power, we will never be crushed again! We can make other’s surrender too!”
They cast a sly look at Ouni. “So what do you say? Wanna live free and strong?”
He watches their outstretched hand. Ouni chuckles slowly. “Are you serious?” He repeats. “The purple winged rudder? Do you think you’re birds?” He grips the hilt of the flag, grining. “You and I are still Moles crawling underground.”
That’s when it happens.
Blood and muscle emerge from Ouni’s skin, thrumming with the lifeblood of the ship. “If you don’t wanna be moles anymore,” He says slowly, moving closer, “stop with the cheap theatrics and come at me for real.” Ouni scoffs. “I can take you barehanded.”
The twins back up. “Y-you still have thymia?” Shikon says slowly. “Why is it a weird color?”
Ouni holds up their flag. “Don’t come any closer!” Shikoku hisses. “I swear I’ll-”
The flag breaks on the edge of the clifface, a million feathers scattering to the wing. “Break it up.” Ouni says, shoving the twins aside. “If you can’t move without someone else calling the shots, just play with your boats and pray quietly.”
Falaina’s real Daimonas has emerged.
-
Shuan find Ouni huddled under the terrace of a field. So small and pathetic looking, compared to the power held within him. “I never expected you to meddle.” Shuan says, playing with the water in a puddle. “Could it be that you want to go with them to Amonlogia? You should know our curse doesn’t allow for dreams like that.”
Ouni struggles to meet his eyes, clutching his barely recovered shoulder. Patterns have begun to seep into his wounds- black, ebbing, knit from muscle. Exactly like Shuan’s eye. Exactly like his thymia in Olivinis’ room. “What are we?” He asks, blinking rain water from his eye. “Are we different from everyone else?”
He sounds almost hopeful. Shuan scoffs. “Yes.” He says, leaning close. “We’re completely different. So give up those happy dreams.”
He stares wide eyed. “What’s bothering you?” Ouni asks.
What’s bothering him?
The air is set ablaze with purple. Shuan points his staff at Ouni’s throat- his real throat- “Have you ever thought about where the rain comes from?” He asks. Ouni’s back hits the wall, hands gripping the staff. “Beyond the sea of sand is an ocean of water. Even little raindrops can travel vast distances.” Shuan leans in close, grin playing at his lips. “But we can never travel anywhere.” He says. “We can never escape this isolation.”
Patterns of white ignite around them. The giant woman stands back, yanking the staff from Shuan’s grip.“I don’t get it.” She says, staring at Shuan disbelievingly. “It’s not like you to pick on a younger kid.”
The commander stares. Probably one of Rochalitzo’s goons. “Not like me?” He echoes. “Well that’s amusing.” Shuan splays out his hands, as if this isn’t any more ironic than it already is. “Foreign warrior- I’ve never spoken to you. What makes you think you know who I am?”
The woman stiffens, face growing red. “Th-the real you…” she says slowly, looking away, “is very kind. I just know it.”
“The real me..?” Shuan repeats.
A laugh wracks his body, painful and loud. The commander’s voice bounces off the cliff, sounding out across the fields. He braces himself against the cliffside, struggling for breath. “The real me? “ He laughs incredulously. “Who on earth could that possibly be?”
Ouni stares.
“Well,” Shuan chuckles, wiping his mouth. “I’ll have you know I’m not picking on him. The boy is far more dangerous than I will ever be.” He turns, slapping a hand on Ouni’s shoulder. “Sorry- it’s just so funny.”
The man leans close, whispering in his ear. “Since the marks have appeared, your thymia won’t be far behind. When that happens, you’ll be king of the island. Then those little twins won’t even be a bother.”
-
“Thank you Shuan.” The Elders say, bowing their heads.
After all these years.
Shuan moves, dumping his uniform and staff in a heap. A grin plays at his lips. The Elders watch, eyes heavy. “I really am sorry, you know.” He says. “That all of that stuff was for nothing.”
His mother won’t meet his eyes.
Shuan turns, pulling his coat over him. “I hereby resign from my position, due to my thymia fading.”
-
“Commander, sir!”
Ginshu appears behind him, hair mussed and out of breath. “Commander,” She repeats, wiping the sweat from her brow. “You can’t do it- It’s not good for me if you leave the vigilante corps!”
Shuan looks away. “The wind is strong.” He muses. “The sand is biting.”
“Did you even hear me?!” Ginshu cries.
He sighs, facing his subordinate. “Why is it bad for you, Ginshu?”
She glances away, playing with her thumbs. “Because if you aren’t commander anymore, what am I supposed to call you?”
He blinks. “That’s it?”
Ginshu puffs her chest. “What you call someone is very important!” She puts a hand on her hip, huffing. “What’s your name again, Commander?”
“Shuan.” He supplies.
She nods. “Right, Commander.”
Honestly. If it was anybody but Ginshu he’d leave.
“Why are you leaving?” The girl asks. “Is your thymia really going?”
Shuan turns, sighing. “Hm, I wonder.” He casts his gaze back towards the towers, each one housing a million secret histories. “I exist solely to protect the Mud Whale. We’ll be docking at Amonlogia soon. And when everyone goes, there won’t be a Mud Whale to protect anymore. Then there won’t be a need for me- it’ll be bye-bye Shuan.”
“Oh right,” He muses, “the Elders want me to pick a new commander.” Shuan turns, facing Ginshu once more. “I know!” He sings, swishing a finger. “The next commander of the vigilante’s is…”
His finger lands in front of Ginshu’s face.
She stares, before breaking out into a grin. Ginshu throws her arms around him, squeezing tight. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” She shrieks, “I won’t let you down!”
Distantly he thinks, he probably should’ve made himself a higher bar.
-
His mother is collecting herbs again, blanketed form crouched in the fields. Shuan watches from above, lying on his stomach, head propped on one arm. “When we stop living on the sand,” he asks, “will we stop being so covered in it?”
Rasha glances up, offering no reply.
“Mother, are you going to leave the ship?” Shuan drops a hand. “I wonder if my body will be able to handle it. The Elders were nice to me up until the very end, even though I was incomplete.”
He buries his head into his arms. “Why did you allow it? Was it because you were afraid of losing your precious late-life child? Were you sad that your son had been born Marked? Did you think he would have a long life, if he were turned into a Daimonas that sucked away everyone else’s lives instead?” Shaun chuckles. “Did that child wish for it?”
Rasha takes in a breath. “What we did was taboo.” She says. “You becoming so twisted was inevitable.”
Something dies inside him.
“But you and that boy protected everyone.” A voice whispers. “You and that boy had meaning.” He freezes. Shuan clutches his head, trying to banish Falaina away away-
-
He’s nine. Wearing that dumb headband he’d refused to take off for years.
Taisha stands at the entrance to the room, deep in the bowels of the ship. The door glows with blue and sunlight. “Remember who you are, okay?” She says. Her voice still sounds like Mother. “You are you.”
The door bursts open, a flood of lives and stories grasping his chest. People smile at him, pushing and pulling this way and that. Shuan stares at the mass surging forward. He’s a toddler with dolls. A teen with heartache. A boy getting married. An old man saying goodbye to his friend. He wants to be a warrior, a mayor, a writer, and a wife. He hates and loves at the same time.
All he has is that name. That assignment.
You are Shuan, and you are going to protect the Mud Whale.
He wonders what kind of person he was. What that child wanted to be. If that child would be disgusted with himself, with what he became.
Everyone is leaving for Amongolia. His body, his heart, everything- is pointless now, isn’t it?
Shuan chuckles painfully, pressing a hand to his face. “I’m broken, aren’t I, Mother?”
-
The boat to Amonlogia smells of pine.
Shuan watches the Mud Whale grow small, letting himself breathe in time with the waves. Footsteps sound to his right. "What are you doing here?" Rochalitzo demands. "You're one of the sorcerers. You're going to cause a panic."
Shuan wants to scoffs. The boy really isn't from the Mud Whale, he's so bad at keeping secrets. "Young sir," Shuan says slowly, "I'm nearing the end of my life, so I can't use thymia anymore. You know that's why I quit the vigilante's corps, right?" He casts his gaze towards their new horizon. "Won't you let someone who has so little time left see a new land?"
The prince hesitates. "You can't use your power, correct?"
Falaina's souls still thrum under his skin. Shuan nods.
Rochalitzo snaps, turning his head away. "Then you're the only exception."
His mother looks at him pitifully.
Even now, he's a slave to his purpose.