Vicissitude Yang Side

by Destine Williams

  Metamorphosis.

  1. A complete change of form, structure, or substance, as by transformation through magic or witchcraft.

  ~~~

  “The life and death of all beings are handled by the executioner of Nature

  Those who substitute the nature executioner to kill,

  Is like replacing the master carpenter to chop the wood.

  One who substitutes the master carpenter to chop the wood,

  Rarely does not hurt his hands.”

  —Lao Tzu

  ~~~

  A lone beam of phone light shines along the dark walls of the air-conditioned hall. Megumi turns the corner. Pace down. Turn right down another hall.

  From the ceiling, a warning sign burns red: Please Refrain From Interacting With Our Akuma Cell Subjects.

  Her heels click against the floor. The phone twitters like a bird. She runs her finger quickly across her screen to answer the text only to be intercepted by the camera screen and accidentally swipes the record button.

  “Stupid buggy phone,” Megumi mutters. She can’t answer a text without bringing up the camera. There’s been no word from the phone company on trying to fix this model either, a problem she chalks up to her phone being too new. Should have told Emi to just call me. Megumi stops the recording and goes through her gallery to delete the recording. Then she finally makes it to her text screen.

  Emi

  K. Lemme know when you find your cloak.

  Megumi closes her texts and sighs. Hopefully, her cloak is on this floor. It’s the only other place that she can think of where she might’ve possibly left it. She whistles and swings the drawstring of her burgundy Tokaido University hoodie.

  A whistle answers her. Identical to hers.

  Megumi slows, stops swinging her hoodie string. Is that an echo? She whistles a note.

  Nothing.

  She scratches her head. Shrugs to herself, but the hand around her string is trembling. Just the imagination acting up. Even if someone was here, it would be staff like her. She walks on.

  Two doors down, there’s darkness instead of a shut door. Her stop. She stops, shining her light inside.

  Inside, a young woman hunches over a table, auburn hair sweeping down her back in a smooth river of red-brown. Her pale hands spread something over the table’s surface. She measures carefully, snipping excess velvet, and pushing the red strips away from the main project. If the other girl knows she’s there, there’s no sign of it. Or perhaps she’s simply too preoccupied to care.

  Megumi cranes her neck. Is that her cloak in that girl’s hands? And she’s cutting it? “Excuse me, miss.”

  The other girl pauses, but it’s only to lift the red-hooded cloak from the table. She drapes it over her checkered black and white dress.

  Megumi cranes her neck, one-third annoyed, one-third curious, one-third certain that she may have seen this girl before. Her phone buzzes. Emi again. Megumi swipes her screen then straightening her posture. I need to take care of this quick. Megumi strides into the room. A little louder she says, “Excuse me. I think you might have picked up my cloak by accident.”

  The girl turns around.

  Megumi’s phone slips from her hand. Clatters to the white tile.

  It’s herself?

  Megumi rubs her eyes, making sure she’s awake. But it’s not a dream. She’s not standing in front of a mirror either. But this…other Megumi isn’t quite right. Her doppelganger’s eyes are two pools of molten amber, closer to gold. Charged with bioluminescence too like plankton. Impassive.

  Megumi’s mouth is blank for words. She reaches out with a trembling hand.

  The doppelgänger leans away, tilting her head in the cockatielish way that reminds Megumi of the way Masah Mune used to shy away from being touched in the middle of The Red Hood.

  Megumi’s breath snags in her throat. She squints. This is that tiny chick that she held? The one she watched The Red Hood with? Sure, Heaven had asked her to donate genes to help stabilize her, but she never imagined that they’d be used for something like this. This is—

  Masah takes a step forward, black buckle pumps clopping on the floor. Then another. Her gaze never leaves Megumi’s. “You are Megumi.”

  Goosebumps swarm down Megumi’s nape. She’s in her personal space. Megumi steps back. “W-what about it?”

  Another step forward. “Forgive me.” Bzzzrt! White sparks dance in Masah’s palms. The back of her cape lifts. Velvet turns to feathers. Seams become wing bones. “I have no personal quarrel with you, but I can’t allow you to live.”

  “W-what?” She sputters, stepping back. “Why?”

  Masah looks at the ground. “I’m sorry. I will try to make it painless for you.”

  Megumi’s chest squeezes tightly. She bolts. Her shoes clop madly on the floor.

  Little Red Riding Hood, quiet as a panther, slips after her prey.

  Vermilion feathers fall unseen in the dark.

  Left behind in the room, screen cracked from impact but camera still recording, Megumi’s phone buzzes.

  Emi

  Yo. Did you find your cloak? We need to go.

  Five minutes roll by. Another text message.

  Emi

  Hey. Is everything okay? Five more minutes.

  A shrill scream pierces the halls.

  Five more minutes.

  Megumi’s phone rings. Twice. Thrice.

  A shadow falls over the phone. Mura scoops it up and swipes the screen, but it prompts her for a password. She frowns and slips the phone into her pocket. Mother is finally safe from the likes of you.

  At home, wrapped in black fleece throw, a young Jun sits alone in her room, nimble fingers prying the tiny shrine of Ise from its place on the puzzle box model. The first half of the puzzle is solved. Now how to solve the second—

  Crasssshhhhhh!

  Jun cringes.

  A vase. Something fragile is broken.

  Her father’s howling drifts from upstairs in blips. “Tired of you…don’t even…Tired of you…do anything! All of us…keep moving? What the hell is really going on you fucking bitch!” He yells in Pua Velu Jun doesn’t understand. But his tone. His volume. She can almost see the veins throbbing at his russet neck. The fire flaring in his gaze. Feel the bite of his yellow unclipped fingernails against palm-flesh.

  Her mother is wailing, blubbering some watery apology Jun can’t hear clearly.

  There’s a loud thump.

  Quiet. Sobs. Quiet.

  Jun sits like a hunched gargoyle on her bed, staring sightlessly at her white stucco walls. Paradoxically uninvolved, but feeling completely involved at the same time. She wants to run to them, tell them to stop fighting. She wants to clamp her hands over her ears. But she can’t bring herself to move. She wonders if Kyo is feeling the same as her, two doors down, but she is too afraid to leave her bed to check.

  Feet are thundering down the staircase. They stop at her door.

  Jun throws herself onto her pillow, covers her head, clutches the Ise Shrine box to her chest, and prays to its goddess that her father won’t yell at her too.

  The door squeaks open. Yellow light slants toward her window. Her father’s shadow stands in a rectangle of hallway light. “Jun?” He calls to her sweetly. “Baby, are you awake?”

  Jun says nothing. She forces her breaths to even, all the while watching her father’s shadow through a tiny hole in her throw and clenching with her puzzle box to keep calm.

  There’s a shuffling of feet. Her mother’s shadow joins her father’s. Her father says, “I will pick up Jun tomorrow.”

  “You can’t—” Her mother starts.

  “I’m getting her tomorrow.”

  Her father leaves. Her mother’s shadow stays behind. And it lingers.

  And lingers.

  And lingers.

  Finally, door keens shut. Darkness swallows the room once more.

  Down the hall, her father rouses Kyo from bed and tells him to get his stuff. That they a
re leaving. Sometime later, the house door slams shut. Quiet floods the house.

  Many moments pass before Jun pokes her head out of the blanket. Then the arm that holds her puzzle box. She moves a side panel. Slides the fifth roof katsuogi down from the front, then the third. Twist the chigi. The doors slide open.

  Something cold and small falls down into her palm. Jun doesn’t look at it. Water wells up on the rims of her lower eyelids. She puts it back into the tiny shrine model.

  Tomorrow, she will show her mother what she’s done. Tomorrow, she will try to fill the strange silences with her smiles and cheer. Tomorrow, she will wait with her stuff packed.

  But tomorrow, her mother rushes her to Mai’s house. Her father does not find her.

  And Jun never hears from him again.

  3-1 'Ah'

  Outside the cave, the sky is cloud-swollen and concrete gray: the first overcast day we've had in weeks. I hope it means that sticky-backed summer nights are gone for good.

  Dark waves thunder against the rock crags and throw froth and foam against the coast. It seems all the more monstrous this morning, now that I can actually see it: a beast devouring the land.

  Regi comes up to my side, lacing his fingers in mine. “Ready for part two?”

  Ah, yes. That part two. “Do I have to close my eyes?”

  “Nah. They need to be open for this.” Regi points between two pillars of stone.

  Tied by a thick cord of rice straw, two rugged rocks jut up from the ocean’s surface.

  I squint. “Rocks?”

  “Not just any rocks, babe. Wedded rocks.” Regi squeezes my hand. “A lucky symbol for our prosperity.”

  Now it makes sense why he had me close my eyes. Would’ve been really awkward for him to bring me to the beach, see those rocks, and then for me to actually say no to his proposal. But in face of the angry sea and thickening clouds, the two rocks seem so vulnerable there. And the string that holds them looks so fragile doesn’t look like it could really hold through a storm. “How long have they been there?”

  “The rocks?” Regi scratches at the few wisps of ginger on his upper lip. “Thousands of years, I think.”

  “Well, I have to give you props for thinking this all through.”

  “Good plan, right?” Regi grins. “Anything else you want to do while we’re out?”

  “Breakfast would be nice.” I lean on his shoulder. “I really just want to shower and sleep. I’ve got so much I need to do.” Looking for a new car. Trying to figure out how to get to work. And figure out how to get that note to Mai. Just thinking of it makes my limbs as heavy as sandbags.

  “Take a nap at my house, then," Regi says. "Mom is probably already making breakfast."

  Hunger rumbles through my stomach at the thought of Elise’s cooking. “I’d love that.” Light drizzle peppers my face. I tent my hand over my forehead, looking up. The sky belches a long peal of thunder. “We should hurry up. It's gonna pour on us."

  "Afraid of some rain?" Regi teases.

  I smack him on the shoulder. "All of us aren't eager to get wet."

  “What about your Showguns stuff though? Aren’t you still doing that?”

  “Yes, I can’t put that off.” And I can’t put off that tap check for my phone.

  Regi frowns. “Ehh. Is it alright if I don’t tag along in the car for that? I’d rather stay where its warm and toasty.”

  “Sure, it’s gonna be a while because I have to detour,” I say, pointing to my clothes. “I can’t go to Showguns in these.”

  Regi grins. “Yeah. I’d rather be the only one seeing you in my clothes.”

  Wet spots dot our clothes by the time we reach the long driveway of Regi's house. We run across the concrete from the car to the safety of the beige portico, shivering close together until the faux rice paper door chuffs open.

  The kitchen is already alive with the sounds of clattering dishes and running water. Regi’s adolescent brothers are at the table, shoveling eggs and pancakes into their mouths. Elise dabs her lips with a napkin at the head of the table. Mr. Beauregard rinses his plate at the sink while Mina actively tries to be a nuisance by head-butting Mr. Beauregard’s calf.

  “Heyo, everyone,” Regi calls. “You might want to get your coats.”

  Elise tilts her head. “We noticed. The rain will do us all some good.”

  “Not for me,” mutters the jersey-wearing teen closest to Elise. “I still have practice.”

  “Rain won’t hurt you, Sparky,” Mr. Beauregard says. “Besides, don’t you play volleyball indoors?”

  Sparky frowns, shoulders slouching. “I want to play outside with my friends, too.”

  “Another day,” Elise says, rising with her empty plate. Then her gaze shifts to us. “How did it go, Regi?”

  “She said yes, Ma!” Regi tugs me into the kitchen, holding out my ring hand. “Look!”

  I swat Regi with my free hand. “Hey! I’m still attached to that!”

  Elise’s eyes widen. “Congratulations! I told you it would go well."

  I gawk. "You knew?" Is that why Elise said it was okay to call her Mom?

  "Oh, yes. We all knew." Mr. Beauregard dries his hand on a towel. "It was only just a question of when."

  "Well… now there's just Tammy to tell," Regi says.

  There's no telling how she'd react. "If you want to do it in-person, we should do it soon. She's going to be going overseas for three weeks.”

  Regi puts an arm over my shoulder. “Parties for three weeks, you say?”

  I elbow him in the ribs. “Absolutely not. Megumi and Jin are still there you know.”

  Regi’s grin sours into a frown. “Oh, yeah, Jin.”

  “And Megumi.”

  Regi lifts his arm from around me. “I’m starved. Any food left?”

  Elise suds her plate up with dish soap. “I left it on the stove for the both of you.”

  Grin on his face again, Regi leaves me behind to stride into the kitchen.

  I stare after him. Guess someone is still sore about getting pecked. I give up on him and Megumi. I head upstairs. Half-way up, my phone rings. Tammy. I answer it. “Hello?”

  “Kitty-cat, did you talk to Megumi yesterday or this morning?”

  I put a hand on the banister as I climb. “Megumi? No, why?”

  “Jin said she didn’t come home after work last night. I called her and she hasn’t been picking up,” Tammy says. “No one knows where she is.”

  Missing? On a work night? My foot halts on the top stair. “I haven’t talked to her since Sunday, but I’m pretty sure she didn’t mention any special plans.”

  “Do you know if maybe Mr. Takahara came by to pick her up?”

  “He wouldn’t really pick her up on a weeknight. He lives too far to commute her to work.”

  “He’s the only one I haven’t talked to yet, but I don’t have his number, do you know it? I’ll still contact him just to rule him out. But if you hear anything, let me know. Otherwise, I’m going to have to call and file a police report for her when it’s been twenty-four hours,” Tammy says.

  I hold my scoff. Police? What’s the police going to do? They can’t find shit. Showguns, on the other hand, can find her easily. I just need to use the locator once I get to the PoleControl building. I ought to check on Shig while I’m there. Remembering Tammy, I quickly give her the number to Megumi’s Dad.

  “Thanks, kitty-cat.” Beep. No good-bye.

  I slip into Regi’s bedroom and reach for the strange hoodie folded atop Regi’s computer desk. I pat the pocket. The note is still there. I’ll give it to Mai if I see her. But first, I reach for my blueberry muffin.

  Regi scoops his laptop from the desk and plops onto the bed. “Here.” He reaches in his pocket to toss me the keys. “Put gas back in.”

  I catch it. Alright, time to see what everyone in Showguns is up to.

  I swing by my house for a quick change into business attire, an umbrella, my raincoat, and my wallet, then I pick up breakfast a
nd drive all the way down to PoleControl. My access card still works at the reader.

  Wisteria branches shiver and sway from the arched tunnel. Drizzle-spray taps down onto the windshield in a beaded water mosaic. I slow down in the parking lot, cutting on Regi’s windshield wipers but they screech like a dying animal, so I opt to leave them the hell alone and find a compact space five rows down from the pagoda.

  At the door, I put my finger to the entry Dao panel. The double doors gasp open.

  Black and white tiles sprawl across the lobby floor. Like chess pieces on a board, security guards stand between the faux wood pillars on both sides of the building, eyes forward, hands crossed in front of them, headsets in a c-curl at their ears. The security guards affiliated with Showguns acknowledge me with a respectful nod.

  Warmth blossoms in my chest, despite my rain-chilled skin. I love that about Showguns. Your ties never die. Every member is respected, not just tolerated.

  I get into the elevator and punch in the seven. Inside, a small tv runs a trailer. A man with an AK-47 rounds a corner in a tall-walled maze. A tiger-shaped PoleControl mech waits in the corridor, whirring to life at the sight of the man. It bounds at him.

  Is this some kind of game?

  The man jerks the rifle to his shoulder. Then aims and fires. Bullets rat-tat tat against the mech’s steel coat. Just when the tiger lunges for the man, the screen fades to black. White letters drift in. Lost In PoleControl’s Maze. Coming soon this fall!

  Coming soon to what? How can they run an ad and not even say what it’s for?

  Ding! The elevator doors draw open.

  I pass into the short corridor, make a right, and open the last door at the end of the hall: the Locator Room.

  Inside it’s dark, save for the monitor lights of the rows of the computers and a projected map of Tokaido on the back wall. No one is in here. No assassins on duty, I guess. I pull out a swivel chair at the nearest computer to sit and move the mouse around.

  The screen flashes to a login screen.

  My fingers clack in my old login and password. At once, I’m taken to the PoleControl Chi Database that shows as a map of Aoikai right now and the white and black dots that represent the chi polarities of every person in the prefecture. I click the search bar and type in Megumi Takahara.