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“Step up to serve your kingdom! This bar is the ultimate test of readiness when it comes to determining your skill level for war!”
Sora felt Arin’s hand tug her back. She turned around and followed his eye through the crowd. The insanity of the market square was nothing new—at one point they had been orphans sleeping on these streets—and yet Arin seemed drawn towards the armored lieutenants and the prop they had brought to recruit soldiers on this particular day. A scrawny young girl around their age was attempting to do a pull-up as the crowd cheered her on. She made it halfway through the first motion before dropping in defeat, ignoring a boy as he poked fun at her and went up for his try.
“Those who join the military of Consecratia will receive training in order to make themselves the perfect knights! You will be made strong, you will be made cunning, and you will be made faithful in order to serve your kingdom!”
Arin scoffed. Sora tried to pull his hand along but her brother couldn’t look away. “A pull-up. That seems like a really low bar to join the Holy Knights.”
Sora could feel her brother’s grip on her hand tighten. “Yeah, literally, a low bar.” She gestured abstractly to the boy now fighting to pull himself up, struggling to make it even to where the girl had a moment ago. Arin huffed a laugh and finally smiled at her.
“We could kick those kids’ asses, ya’ know?”
“Arin, Sora!” They both turned to face their guardian, she was patiently waiting for them. “Come along, we have errands.”
“Oops, sorry Pixal!” Arin ran towards their guardian and dragged Sora along with him. They caught up quickly and followed as Pixal sped down the street and through the crowd.
Believe it or not, Sora loved her and Arin’s hometown of Crossway, even if they had lived homeless in it for most of their lives. The citizens were typically generous and more often than not the church had a place for them to spend the night. It may have just been a small farming village that edged into the modern world, but it was always warm and faithful.
Although the drainage system was actual shit.
Sora sidestepped a puddle of mud as she tried to keep pace with their guardian. She felt completely enclosed by sludge-soaked skirts and pants, her boots were nearly invisible through the layers of caked-on dirt.
“Sora, it’s okay to get dirty, everyone else doesn’t care about the mud,” Arin chided. “You look weird.”
“I’m sorry I’m embarrassing you,” she hissed, narrowly missing a small lake of murky water, “but I’ll never understand how everyone can just be fine with the mud. It hasn’t rained since Saturday, where is the water coming from?”
They slid beneath a woman carrying a large crate and followed their guardian’s violet cloak. Sora narrowly dodged another patch of soaked silt and Arin took the opportunity to walk right through it and splash a healthy amount on his sister.
“Arin!”
“Now you look normal!”
“Sora, Arin, where did you go?” They heard their guardian exclaim.
They both immediately dropped their feud and followed Pixal’s voice. “Coming,” they yelled simultaneously and ran to her side. She was looking through the butcher’s stand at a large assortment of meats.
“What do we want for dinner tonight?”
Arin excitedly looked across the cuts of hanging meat while Sora focused on anything else. She liked meat, but the butcher’s stand always grossed her out.
She scanned over the entirety of Sellers’ Street, including a different stand for every ingredient allowed in Consecratia, a variety of religious items ranging from mini crosses to hand-crafted bibles, clothing that had yet to be bought and still somehow had splashes of mud, and her personal favorite stand: Metal Wares.
Not many people in Crossway understood technology, so the stand was deserted and she could see clearly the wide range of wires, tools, batteries, and bulbs she was familiar with. But today something shiny seemed to wrangle her ever-wandering attention.
“Pixal,” she tugged at her guardian’s old blouse, “Pixal!”
“Sora, I’m trying to—“
“What is that thing?” Her tone was furiously urgent as she pointed at the glowing crystal on the shelf of Metal Wares.
Arin looked at her confused. “I thought you would’ve had that stand memorized by now?”
“Well that thing is new!”
“If I had to hazard a guess,” Pixal clarified tonelessly, “that’s the essence of an undead. It’s a power source harnessed when an undead is exercised.”
“A new power source?!” Sora was practically twitching at this point. They rarely got new items on Sellers’ Street, let alone something in Metal Wares. “Pixal, can I please have some money? I think I might need that thing.”
Their guardian rolled her eyes but dug through her satchel anyway. Arin noticed the butcher waiting for their order and took over.
Sora held down a scream as Pixal placed ten dirty gold pieces into her awaiting palms. “It’ll cost more than that,” she warned, “so be ready to negotiate.”
“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Sora recollected Arin’s hand and dragged him across the muddy street with her.
“Hey! I was getting a sandwich!”
“Too bad, you’re getting the essence of an undead with me now!”
Sora had to recompose herself before entering the zone of Metal Wares. She took a long breath before stepping up to the counter. “Hello, Offyd.” The man immediately groaned when he saw the children. “How have sales been—?”
“What do you want, Sora?”
Sora leaned against the counter nonchalantly, (or tried to), and pretended to scan the items like Pixal had taught them. “I just happened to notice that little crystal thing up there, it’s new, right?”
“‘Might be.”
“Well,” Sora tried to adjust her pose and release some of the tension in her form, “do you have any clue what it is— I mean— what it does?”
Offyd stayed silent. She could almost feel Arin roll his eyes behind her.
“I mean… if you aren’t sure about it, I might be able to take it off your hands. I’m sure it’s a pain to clean and stuff— for you to clean— but I’ll take it if you want me to. But I don’t need it or anything… just like— if it helps I’ll give you five gold for… whatever it is.”
Offyd stared blankly at her. She tried to smile and shifted again to an even more uncomfortable position.
“You are shaking so hard right now, Sora,” Arin deadpanned.
She turned around and sneered at him quickly before smiling back at Offyd. Sora bounced impatiently and stared directly into his four eyes as they blinked listlessly. After a full minute of awkwardly waiting for something to happen, Offyd squeezed his eyes shut and sighed. “Pay me seven gold and go away for the rest of the day, I’ll let you have it.”
“You know what? I’ll make it eight for your trouble.”
“Sora, you are making it more expensive—“
“Shut up, I did it.”
Offyd turned slowly and slid out of his chair, staying the same height as he stood. Sora placed eight gold on the counter and watched keenly as he made his way towards the back of the stand. She expected him to grab the crystal and toss it to her, but he knelt down, (with much effort), and grabbed something from below. Sora could vaguely make out two thick leather gloves that he slid over his hands. He snatched the crystal the moment the gloves were on and brought it to the front counter. She reached over to grab it but he smacked her hand away. He pulled out a silver cloth and gently wrapped the crystal in it. Sora once again went to grab it and he once again stopped her, this time hissing a touch to get the point across. She slid her hands into her pocket with a frown and watched cursorily as he pulled out a small drawstring bag. At first glance, it looked black but Sora could see golden thread intertwined with the soft fabric. He dropped the cloth with the crystal into the bag and pulled the top closed tightly. Sora nearly went to grab the sack from him but stopped herself as he grabbed another bag, (clear plastic this time), from under the counter. This bag had a yellow triangle with weird black circles overlapping it and Sora shot Arin a suspicious look.
“What does that thing mean?” Arin raised an eyebrow and Sora watched Offyd seal the top of the bag.
Offyd didn’t bother to look at them as he double-checked the wrapping. “Wear gloves and a mask when you handle it.”
Sora opened her mouth wordlessly before closing it, struggling to comprehend what was happening. “Should we be wearing masks right now?”
“We’re outside.”
Finally, he set the crystal, (and its protective layers), on the counter. Sora forgot her caution and grabbed the bag as fast as she could. “Offyd, thank you so much, I really appreciate—“
“What was the second part of the deal?”
Sora froze. “Uhhh—“
“We would leave you alone,” Arin answered. He grabbed Sora’s free hand and pulled her back a step.
“Not you,” Offyd muttered, “just her.” He sat back down and picked up his bible, turning the page loudly. “Seriously, you should get that girl exorcized.”
Sora spluttered uselessly. “Noted,” was all Arin remarked before pulling them away from Metal Wares. She didn’t manage to recompose herself until they were closer to the butcher’s stand. “I don’t understand why you put up with that guy, he’s a jerk.”
“And he’s the only guy in town who sells electronic components—“ she held up the bag in her right hand “—and whatever this thing is…”
“Yeah, I think that’s a demonic weapon, by the way,” he muttered.
Sora smiled at her brother then her new favorite part. “Well it’s our demonic weapon now.”
She realized she may have spoken too loudly when Arin threw a hand over her mouth. They both looked around to make sure no one had heard her and were relieved to find everyone walking past without a care. Arin pushed an exhale past his teeth and tentatively dropped the hand.
“Let’s get back to Pixal before you get us arrested.”
“What do you mean, isn’t she right there?” Sora turned around and saw what Arin meant. Their guardian had disappeared from the butcher tent. “Darnet.”
Arin walked up to the butcher and asked him if he saw where Pixal went. He pointed them towards the potato vendor, who pointed them towards berries, (“Oh perfect, we were out of snow berries”, “Arin, focus”, “I am focused… on the snow berries”), and the berry lady told them to check with the seamstress.
While crossing the intersection to reach the seamstress’ tent, a boy about their age came barreling down the street and crashed into Arin—hard. Both of them splatted into the mud and Sora dropped Arin’s hand to avoid going down with him.
“Ow!” Arin exclaimed. “Watch it, dude!”
“Oh no no, my robes,” the boy cried. Sora leaned down to help him up, (he tried to get up on his own and slipped on the mud), and instantly recognized the white robes beneath the mud.
An acolyte.
He tried his best to wipe the mud off but it just got worse and he gave up after a moment. Sora helped Arin up as the alter boy composed himself and looked at them.
“Arin and Sora! Oh thank the lord, I’ve been looking for your mother for an hour!”
Sora felt the need to interject. “Pixal isn’t our mom, it’s more of a—“
“Yes, yes, of course,” he interjected. “Do you know where Madam X is? The Priest has asked for her urgent assistance.”
Arin frowned. “Actually, we were—“
“I’m right here, Hershel.” Pixal’s purple cloak poked out from the crowd as she came forward. At this point, a small and curious audience had formed around them. “What can I do for the church?”
Hershel, (how the heck did their guardian remember everyone in town’s names?), was breathing heavily like he had been running all day in the mud. “An outsider arrived in town this morning and collapsed at the church stairs. We have reason to believe he is badly injured but he won’t let us near him. We need assistance in treating him.”
Pixal nodded humbly. “Of course. Have him brought to my home in an hour and I’ll be there to treat him.”
The acolyte squirmed a touch. “The priest would still like to insist that the church’s facilities are available to you—“
“And I would still like to insist I have all that I need in my own home, though I appreciate the gesture.” Pixal could probably see the boy’s discomfort because she quickly offered to accompany him to pick up the outsider. Arin and Sora were sent back to their house to prepare the materials and the guest room for a new patient.
~
“You know, when Pixal said to prepare the room, I think she meant we should both help, not just me.”
Sora was sitting in the chair in the corner of their windowless guest room with a book on the undead in one hand and the crystal, (still in its protection; she found gloves but not a gas mask), in the other.
“I’m just trying to figure out what it does—“
“—you mean besides causing miscarriages?” Arin smirked. Sora glared but he apparently hadn’t had enough. “I mean, it’s still in its bag but I can feel the radiation poisoning from here.”
“Oh no,” Sora faked concern, “what if it kills your brain cells? There are so few left, we can’t afford to lose them!”
Arin just kept flopping on the bed and trying to adjust the sheets.
“But honestly, I don’t even know if it does that. Besides, you’re doing…” she flipped the page and tried to overlook the vivid diagram of a zombie’s decomposing organs “…a great job setting up the room.”
“Are we looking at the same room?”
She glanced up from the book. Arin was lying spread out across the bed, failing to get the fitted sheet on all four corners without it popping off. He scrunched his nose tight and frowned at his sister as two corners slid off at once and the sheet swallowed him whole.
She shrugged and returned to her research. “Don’t look at me, I don’t understand those things either.”
“Well could you at least double check the locks on the medicine drawer, I know you know how those work.”
Sora was about to protest and keep reading, but she found another page with an overly revealing image and decided it was time for a break.
She managed to make it to the third lock before the front door creaked open. Arin was adjusting the final pillows on the guest bed, (it took him another quarter-hour to get the sheet on), when their guardian called for them.
“Arin, Sora! We’re back!”
They made eye contact with each other before racing through the door and out to the kitchen. It was always fun to meet new guests, a perk of their guardian being the town’s doctor.
Pixal effortlessly carried the man through the living room bridal style while two acolytes followed. She greeted Arin and Sora with a curt smile, marched into the guest room, and plopped this poor unconscious man on top of the pillows. His neck was tilted at an odd angle but Pixal passed it over in favor of walking back to the front door to take off her mud-logged shoes. The rest of them followed her seemingly cluelessly. The acolytes had obviously been sent to help and Arin and Sora were waiting patiently for Pixal to assign them a task, so all of them were just awkwardly on standby. Their guardian pulled her boots and purple cloak off and hung them by the door. The acolytes made moves to do the same but Pixal interrupted the process.
“May I ask what you are doing?”’
They both looked at each other skeptically. “We were sent to assist you, Madam X,” the older one responded. Well, Sora assumed he was older, this one was at least Arin’s height, and his face wasn’t decorated with pimples.
Pixal sighed and slipped on her house shoes. “I appreciate the Priest sending assistance, but I can handle this alone. You may return to your regular duties.”
“Madam X, we would—“
“If the Priest insists on the two of you being here allow me to reciprocate the gesture; I insist I can handle this on my own as I have for a long time now.” Their guardian stood to her full height and towered over everyone in the room, quite literally looking down on these children. “I do not need to be babysat and if he truly does not trust my capability to care for a patient nor motive to follow the Lord’s will, he may supervise me himself.” She stalked towards the front door and opened it, letting the implication hang heavy in the stale air. The shorter boy looked at the other and wordlessly they both paced out, nearly breaking into a run across the threshold. Pixal waived after them “have a blessed day” before nearly slamming the door shut.
She took a moment to recompose herself before turning around and attempting to smooth the dirt off the front of her skirt. “Took them long enough.” She met both of their eyes for a brief moment. “Do you two mind helping me out for the evening?”
“Of course not, Pixal” Sora grinned, “what can we do?
“I would appreciate if you could do dinner tonight, I got steak and potatoes that I had planned to—“
“Wait,” Arin cut her off with a raised brow, “what about the patient?”
“I was planning to treat him while you two made dinner.”
Arin and Sora looked at each other confused. Sora spoke up “Don’t you want us to work with you and get experience?”
Their guardian seemed to pause for a moment and think. “How about Arin helps me and Sora cooks?”
“…But I suck at cooking—“
“Yeah, Sora’s better at first aid than I am—“
“Exactly, you’ll both get experience in things you are unfamiliar with.” Before either of them could protest, Pixal walked away bristly. Arin chased after her with one last shrug towards Sora.
She stood there for a moment trying to process what had happened.
“Well, I guess I have to figure out how to cook potatoes now…”
~
An hour passed before Pixal and Arin finished tending to the man. Typically, they would let the patient rest and wake up on their own but Pixal was weary of the outsider. They, (well, Pixal—Arin offered to help but was dismissed), moved the man to the couch to watch him while he was out. Pixal had left a few minutes beforehand to change into clean clothes while Arin rushed to the kitchen to help extinguish a small fire, (they were down to just potatoes for dinner). The two of them worked in silence with Arin fixing the potatoes, (“you put them in at 150 F?” “Do you want me to light them on fire? I can light them on fire.”), Sora washing dishes, and both of them keeping a close eye on the stranger. He was not a peaceful sleeper and every twitch he made set Sora further on edge.
Their guardian was normally very collected regarding the acolytes and the priest, no matter how frustrating Sora found them Pixal always smiled and nodded her way through, however today she was unkempt and it could have very well started with the man on their couch. Sora noticed that the leather jacket she had seen before was gone yet she could decipher no large injuries. No matter how pale every inch of skin seemed to be, his hair was paler; if she hadn’t known better she would have said it was white. He had no slack in the skin on his face and a nearly skeletal form, alluding to drastic malnourishment. Light scratches crossed his form, all of them an unnatural, deep carmine that stood stark against his translucent skin.
Something was off.
“Sora?”
She snapped out of her thoughts to face her brother. “Yeah?”
He didn’t answer but rather gestured to the sink behind her. It was overflowing and water was running past her feet. “Oh shoot.” She turned the sink off and grabbed a towel, though it would do little to assist the minor flood she had started.
Arin ran over to help and remarked “you’re officially banned from the kitchen for the night.”
“That is completely fair,” she raised her hands in mock surrender and walked out to leave the mess to Arin. “I honestly don’t know why Pixal put me in charge in the first place.”
Sora stood there for a second before absent-mindedly wandering towards the patient. She inched closer as she watched his unruly jerks and pained expression from what was most likely a nightmare-ridden sleep.
“Don’t.”
“What?” Sora asked, mere feet from the man.
“Pixal said we aren’t supposed to go near him.”
Sora was officially confused. “Then why would she bring him out here?”
Arin shrugged before continuing to wipe up the water, letting the silence hang for a moment. “Is Pixal acting weird to you?”
“Yeah, she is.” Sora looked at the man again. Something certainly wasn’t right. “What’s wrong with him anyway?”
“‘Dunno. I think he’s just cold and malnourished. Didn’t seem super hurt.”
Sora took a moment to closely examine the ever-paling form. “Cold?”
Arin had stopped what he was doing in favor of investigating with Sora. “Yeah, he’s like—freaking freezing. Here—“ Arin stepped within range of the patient and placed a delicate hand on his cheek, only to pull it away with a hiss. “He’s like ice.”
Sora watched Arin nurse his hand and brought her own to the stranger. It couldn’t possibly be that cold.
She set it delicately on his bare shoulder and discovered that—yes—
“Son of the lord! What is wrong with this guy?”
“Right?!”
—it was that cold.
Sora’s hand was already paling and she rubbed it furiously against her clothes. “What is he…” something clicked in Sora’s head “…made of?” She knelt carefully at the couch’s side and raised her hand, once again preparing for the pain of frostnip.
“Sora?”
She placed the hand back on the stranger’s shoulder, disregarding the pain in favor of testing her theory. Arin stayed quiet as she moved her fingers along the collarbone and neck, finding no pulse. She clenched her second hand into a tight fist to help ignore the growing pain in the first. Her fingers glided over his chin and she rested them on his freezing cheek, which felt gaunt even for a starving man. Sora tapped the cheekbone and her suspicions were solidified with a simple clank.
“That explains it.” She ripped her hand away from his face and immediately cradled it close. “He’s a robot, like Pixal.”
“He prefers the term ‘nindroid’ if you would like to be specific.”
Sora jumped so hard she bumped into Arin and knocked them both over. Pixal was standing at the entrance to the hallway, staring at their guest. She walked into the room and stood over the couch with a neutral expression. Their guardian was no longer cloaking as a human so they could see her metallic outer coating and the circuits that crossed her face for what they were. Pixal ran a fond hand over his cheek and let a thumb rest on his nose.
“How do you know that?” Sora questioned, though she was confident she could reason out the answer.
“We were friends.”
Arin stepped forward to stand on the line as Sora. “Friends?” Despite the odd tension, he smirked at Sora.
“I suppose you could call us ‘exs’, if that is what you are interested in.”
“You used to date someone?”
“Why not? He was kind and courageous.”
Arin still seemed to be reeling from the idea that their incredibly independent guardian could have put her trust in this man— nindroid, but Sora had her own questions. “What’s wrong with him?”
Pixal was silent as she thought. “I believe it is something internal, I’ll have to ask him to let me help when he wakes up.” Their guardian grimaced coldly. “I highly doubt he’ll want me looking through his systems without permission.” A timer went off in the kitchen, but neither Sora nor Arin made a move to check the oven. “Will one of you get that? He’ll wake up soon enough and I would like to have the food ready by then.”
~
It had been exactly 42 minutes since they had pulled the potatoes. Arin and Sora sat in their usual seats and Pixal sat across from them. Dinner in their house was typically a silent affair but today it felt suffocatingly mute. As much as she tried to ignore the elephant in the room, it felt like Sora was stealing glances at the mystery man every other minute. She wanted to meet him, badly. Their guardian was never impressed by anyone, it was amazing that this ‘nindroid’ had managed to get near her, let alone date her.
It was around minute 44 when he abruptly sat up with a faint cry. He clutched his chest, struggling to swallow a substantial breath. His legs were still aligned with the length of the couch and he was facing the wall away from them, so Sora could only just make out the glow of his eyes. He finally managed to regulate his breathing and started to examine the space around them, pausing when he reached the family eating at the table. Arin was watching him just as cautiously as Sora but Pixal hadn’t looked up from her meal, seemingly unfazed by this development.
The stranger blinked consciously and shrunk back into the couch. He watched both of them with his frigid eyes and steel gaze.
“Where am I?”
He seemed to scan Sora and Arin’s faces before finding the third person at the table. Pixal only then turned around to greet him and the man’s eyes widened further than Sora thought possible.
“Pixal..?”
“Good morning, Zane.” She set down her silverware and stood. “How are you feeling?”
Zane didn’t let his eyes leave Pixal for a single second, and Pixal reciprocated with her own serene energy.
“Wher—“ Zane stumbled through the sentence “Pixal, where are we?”
“My home,” Pixal explained, her tone placating as ever.
Zane made a swift move to stand but swayed violently and grabbed his head all at once.
Pixal just stared at him, her blank face beginning to unnerve Sora.
“You have two options;” she stated simply “join us for dinner, or take a shower and change your clothes.” Zane was watching the front door like it would run away. “You will end up eating and showering regardless, so do not let yourself think the decision matters beyond personal comfort.” He took a soft step towards the exit and Pixal easily matched it, moving into position to block any attempt to run. “Afterwards I plan to talk with you” she gave him a hard look while remaining expressionless “about all of this.”
Zane stood there for a moment, still ready to run. Pixal crossed her arms patiently and relaxed in place.
—and Sora only had a blink to process Zane trying to run and Pixal easily apprehending him.
It truly felt like the moment where everything had happened got skipped.
Arin shot up in his shock and his chair skidded backwards. “Holy crap!” Pixal had pushed Zane against the wall with his hands behind his back.
“No,” Pixal chastised. Zane didn’t even try to fight back. “You clearly do not care about yourself or what happens to you so I will assume you won’t mind eating dinner before you shower.” She pulled him free of the wall but held his hands tight while escorting him to the table. She threw him harshly into the seat before turning towards the kitchen counter. “Stay.”
Arin sat back down anxiously and found Sora’s hand under the table. He squeezed it twice to let her know he was uncomfortable and Sora began to think through her list of distractions.
“So…” she began, making eye contact with her brother before taking the plunge “…this is what our birth father looks like?”
Zane’s face instantly shifted from broody self-hatred to alarmed confusion, Arin threw his other hand over his mouth, and Sora heard something hit the floor in the kitchen.
Yeah, that probably did it.
Arin wiped a hand across his face, (not so discreetly removing a tear in the process), to compose himself.
Then he joined in.
“I mean yeah,” a giggle, “he looks different than I expected—“
“Shouldn’t he look like at least one of us?” Sora added.
The grip on her hand tightened to the point of pain as Arin turned to face their guardian. “Gasp,” (he actually said gasp), “did you cheat on the man you had an affair with?”
A throwing star narrowly avoided both of their heads and stuck firmly in the wall behind them. “You two are lucky I don’t cook you for dinner.” Upon second inspection Sora realized that it was actually a fork that had been weaponized. Their guardian waltzed back in with Zane’s plate and took her seat.
“Sorry, Pixal,” Sora was having a little bit of trouble reading her guardian’s robotic face, but something told her Pixal wasn’t actually that upset. “I was trying to lighten the mood…”
Pixal finally cracked a soft smile and cut off another bite. “You two are fine. It was funny, and I think my friend here deserved it.”
Zane’s face was flushed a deep red as he looked across the table completely baffled. He ultimately looked Pixal in the eyes and whispered a strangled “what did you do?“
“Zane,” she interjected. “These are my adopted” she stressed ‘adopted’ and the two of them snickered “children.”
“I’m Arin and that’s,” Sora waved, “my sister Sora. We were living on the streets until Pixal let us crash here.” Their guardian frowned. “And don’t worry about the maternity thing,” he added, “my parents are dead and Sora’s—“
“—those breeders are gonna wish they were dead when I find them again—“
“—are somewhere else…we think.”
Zane nodded slowly, taking his time to process. Pixal tapped his plate with her own fork and pushed it closer to him.
“Eat now, talk later.”
~
Sora stepped out of the bathroom with a cloud of steam following her. “Hey, I think the shower’s backed up again. We need to—“
“Shh!”
Arin snapped his head back around to peer at the mirror in the hall. The loft staircase didn’t have a perfect view of the living room but they could see a mirror that reflected everything. Sora came to his side and watched Pixal and Zane argue through the mirror.
“You shouldn’t be spying on people,” she whispered harshly.
“Oh come on, you aren’t a little bit curious?”
She wanted to protest it, she really did, but he was right. She was curious.
“Zane.” They were talking in quiet voices, probably trying to keep the conversation private. “How did you get it this stuck?” Zane had his shirt off, (making the eavesdropping even more uncomfortable), and Pixal was running her hands over his chest, occasionally stopping to tap it. Pixal often used motions similar to this while examining patients, so Sora was mostly desensitized to the otherwise intimate act. However, she could see Pixal’s face twist in frustration and the way she looked at Zane with the soft eyes typically reserved for her and Arin, and it was obvious that this went beyond medical care. “I understand—“ she grabbed something and tried pulling it “—that you’re scared of others touching your internal units, but this seems beyond paranoid even considering all that has happened.” She finally managed to get a touch of leverage and began to pull the hatch open when a jolt shot out and sent her away.
Their guardian was flung back against the opposite arm of the couch. “Pixal!” Zane quickly went to check on her, but she pushed his concerned hand away easily enough.
Her frown was palpable.
“I’m getting Sora.”
“No! You promised it would just be us!”
Footsteps, one set calm and the other frantic. “I promised I would help you, and I promise she will help you. She’s incredibly talented with these things, she will be gentle.”
At this point, Sora and Arin scrambled away from their spot on the floor to pretend they had been asleep for the past half hour.
“Pixal…” his voice became quiet and timid “please?”
The calm footsteps stopped, then the frantic ones.
“One more try.”
“Thank you, I really—“
“One more try then I swear to the First Master,” she punctuated those last two words and Zane fell silent. “It’s not that I want you to be uncomfortable… but you have to be functional…”
Sora heard their footsteps wander back towards the couch and buried her head deeper in the blanket. She listened as Pixal started muttering to herself indecipherably and the odor of smoke wafted up the stairs. Further creaks crossed the floorboards and she silently turned to see Arin making his way back to their spot.
“Arin!” He didn’t hear her, (or—more realistically—ignored her), and moved back into position at the top of the steps. Sora cursed her idiot brother and slid out of bed after him, crawling over and punching him in the arm.
He looked at her audaciously. “I’m still curious, aren't you?”
“No.”
Maybe.
“For the sake of—“ something loudly clanked downstairs and they both focused back on Pixal and Zane “—got it!”
A plume of smoke escaped the nindroid’s chest hatch and Pixal recoiled. “Why is it smoking? You are the master of ice!”
Zane shrugged nervously and pushed himself further against the arm of the couch.
Pixal gritted her teeth as the cloud dissipated and began to sort through the tangle of parts Sora couldn’t see, (something in her mind nearly convinced her to go learn).
“Stop tensing,” Pixal grunted. She pushed herself up onto her knees on the couch to get a better angle.
Zane moved his hands behind his back and started playing with his fingers.
Pixal looked at his face and sympathy reigned for a moment. “Do you want to talk?”
“About what?”
“Anything. You’re scared and that isn’t good.”
The fidgeting became more aggressive.
“Zane, it doesn’t have to be a painful retelling of our time apart, just tell a story that makes you happy.”
A moment passed and Zane continued to wring his hands behind him at an insane pace.
Then they faltered.
“I miss our family.”
Pixal nodded understandingly, leaving open space for him to continue.
“I need to move on and forget about them. Things will never go back to the way they were, and mourning the loss of familiarity and routine is ultimately a waste of time.”
“But you still miss them?”
“Yes!” His voice spiked and Pixal glared harshly. Zane started playing with his hands again, this time focusing on the thumbs. “I still miss them despite all logic and reason,” he spoke softer, “although I have come to learn that familial love surpasses that expectation of normalcy.” Pixal stopped to frown at him, though it was obviously playful. “Romantic love surpasses logic as well, if that is what you want to hear.” She nodded and returned back to her task. “Family is oftentimes formed through the bonds built by war and tragedy, and it feels incredibly odd to not have my family here as we suffer yet another war.”
Sora had become engrossed in the conversation at this point. Their guardian’s past was a fascinating mystery she and Arin had always wanted to untangle, and now the truth was coming to light before their eyes. But the way they spoke and the words they used…
She turned to Arin at the same time he looked up at her.
He whispered as quietly as he could, “what are they talking about?”
“Their life from before?”
Sora watched Arin’s eyebrows furrow as he ran over the words. He made eye contact with her. “Did they fight in the military?”
“Really,” they both tuned back into Pixal’s voice, “I just wish you would take better care of yourself. With or without the others it hurts to see you like this.” She rolled her eyes softly. “Lloyd would call you a hypocrite right now.”
“And that would be hypocritical of him. Lloyd told us all the time to avoid being reckless, then—“
“He fought Garamadon alone?”
“That is one example in a long list of foolish and self-sacrificial behavior.”
They got quiet again after that. Pixal said something about needing a certain tool and started walking towards the stairs again. Arin and Sora darted for their beds and pretended to be asleep. Footsteps made their way up the creaky stairs and their guardian walked past Sora’s bed and grabbed a toolbox from her nightstand. There was a pause in her footsteps as she walked to the stairs and she doubled back to give both of them a soft kiss on the forehead. Her lips were technically metal and they weren’t technically a family but Sora still felt happy.
~
She was somehow still awake several hours later. The waxing moon was shining brightly through her window, but the glow wasn’t what was keeping her up for once.
She tried turning over, but the thought wouldn’t leave her mind.
Did their guardian fight in the military and never mention it?
Fighting for Consecratia was a massive prestige, was Pixal really humble enough to never mention it? It was also off-putting that Pixal had seemingly informed them of her motives when she first took her and Arin in but never said she was a veteran of the holy knights.
She and Arin fully understood that they were their guardian’s cover story, but wasn’t it so much more than that? Weren’t they…kind of a family?
Sora realized something was off when Arin rolled over in his own sleep. Her brother genuinely slept so deeply she had questioned whether he had died on his pillows before.
“Are you awake too?”
“Big time.”
Sora rolled off of her bed and into her slippers, grabbing one of her stuffed animals in the process. The beady-eyed cat smiled back as if nothing were wrong.
Arin had already made space for her and she pulled herself under his covers, bringing their foreheads close.
“Pixal was a holy knight…” he muttered.
Sora inched closer. “We don’t know that.”
“But don’t we? Who else would she have fought for with that guy? How are they friends?”
Sora ran through the alternatives, only thinking of more questions. “How are they both robots?”
“Right?! What is up with that?”
She shook her head fondly and wrapped an arm around Arin.
He scooted closer.
“Hey Sora?”
“Yeah?”
“Can I tell you something?”
Uh oh.
“Of course.”
“I—“ his voice dropped pitifully low “I want to join the military.”
…
“Sora? Please say something?”
“Oh.”
“…okay, maybe not that…”
She looked down at her stuffed animal and looked back up at him.
“Are you sure—“
“Yes.” He left no room for question. “I’m not smart like you and Pixal but I’m strong and I’m tough. I want to use that to fight for what’s right.” His gaze was absolute. “I want to be like Pixal.”
Sora was a little bit bewildered. “You do?”
“She’s done so much for us and she didn’t even know us at first. She helps people and she’s clever and cool and nice— I would like to make her proud.”
Woah.
Sora thought over every word he had said. Arin had left out so many incredible words that could describe their guardian and something seemed to fall in place for her too.
“I’m coming with you.”
Arin’s hand found hers. “You are? I mean—“ he looked her in the eyes, as if he hadn’t been expecting Sora to follow him to the end of Consecratia. This was her brother, whether they were related by blood or by the mud splattered on their boots or by their magical robot guardian, she loved him.
“You and me, all the way.”
He wriggled around a touch before getting comfortable and placing his head under her chin.
“Thank you.”
She felt his body start to shake a touch and those were definitely tears on her collar but it was okay. Sora would be lying if she said the moonlight wasn’t reflecting off her own sparkling eyes.
It was moments like these with her brother and best friend that she wouldn’t trade for anything. Following him into battle seemed like a small price to pay if it meant they were still together.
“But wait…” Arin’s voice was scratchy and soft “…are you able to do a pull-up?”
She kneed him in the balls.
Moment over.