“They are worse,” I said. “You think the beatings will stop when you marry one of them? You think they’ll transform from wolves into domesticated dogs? Loyal and obedient? They’ll break you, Nahaya, behind the closed door of your home, and no one will step in to protect you. No one will cross that threshold. How can you possibly think that freedom is worse than that fate?”
“But you’d be leaving your roots.”
“My roots are in Okaporo. I didn’t leave them; they were taken from me. From all of us. And blood was spilled all over them.”
4
KIOTO
Miya slid along the bench next to me.
“Kioto,” she whispered. “I’ve got a memory trading job, and I want you to come with me. To assist.” She winked at me.
“Really?” I gasped.
“There’s only so much that I can teach you in a classroom, and you have all the theoretical knowledge you could ever need. You need practical experience now, if you ever hope to become a trader.”
“Why me?” I asked, lowering my voice.
She smiled. “You know why.”
I nodded gently. I did. I’d been told, so many times, that I came from a strong trader heritage. That my lineage was, almost, the best a trader’s could be.
“You have what it takes to be a great trader,” Miya whispered. “If only you’d learn to be more disciplined.”
I looked at her. “Disciplined?”
“When you’re fighting out here…” She gestured to the room around us. “When you’re pushing back, and causing conflict. You take that fight in here.” She tapped my forehead. “Anyone can be a good trader, even when they’re tormented. But only a trader at peace with themselves, and with the world around them, only those traders can become great. You have the potential, Kioto. You need to shed off the need to fight back at the world.”
“How can I ever have peace?” I hissed. “When the killers of my parents, my sister, my entire colony walk free somewhere out there? The world is giving them sanctuary. How can I possibly find peace, until they are caught?”
She closed her hands around mine. “You just have to find a way.”
The house was in a quiet street in Kagosaka, neither rich, nor poor. The kind of house where tradespeople, such as ourselves, were free to knock on the front door, but needed to wipe our feet before we stepped inside.
“Thank you so much for coming, Nitaro is in her bedroom waiting for you.” The woman fussed around us like a bee around flowers. “Thank you for accepting this job, I know that there are rules about extracting from children, but she’s so nearly sixteen, and she needs a clean slate.”
Miya shot me a warning look. I knew what she meant without her having to say it aloud. We must never, ever tell anyone about this.
As the mother led us upstairs, she offered us refreshments; reeling off a list of everything they had in the house.
“Just some water, thank you” Miya said. She touched the woman’s arm, stopping her. “You don’t need to be nervous.”
The woman turned back to us, gripping the banister tightly. “It’s just the shame,” she said with a shake of her head. “And I don’t mean the shame on the family; I don’t care about appearances. It’s just her. She is so ashamed. Disappointed in herself, but none of this was her fault. I don’t want her blaming herself for the rest of her life. Having it taint everything.”
“I know,” Miya replied. “The world is such a tough place at that age.” She gave a slight laugh. “I’m glad my teenage years are behind me.”
The woman seemed to relax, her smile lighting her face. “Me too.” She looked past Miya to me. “She carries the scars of it, I can see that. She has the same look in her eye as—” She cut off, turning away from me. “I’ll get you some water. Nitaro’s in the bedroom at the end. The door’s open; just go on in.”
“Thank you.”
She squeezed past us, and I followed Miya up the last few stairs.
Nitaro’s room was decorated like that of a teenage princess; pink walls, plush white carpet, white bed strung with fairy lights. But the girl sitting on the bed, head bowed, long hair hanging like a veil, was at odds with all of it.
She was dressed in all black, her wrists laden with bracelets, her fingers with rings. She looked up at us, her true expression masked behind heavy, black eye shadow.
“Are you…?” She left the sentence unfinished.
Miya swept forward, perching herself on the end of the bed.
“I’m Miya, and this is Kioto. She’s my student. She’s going to be assisting me, if that’s alright with you?”
Nitaro raised a pencilled eyebrow, apparently surprised that someone was asking her opinion. Handing her the reins for once.
She looked at me. “You’re a memory trader?”
“Well, I’m still training,” I offered.
“Have you done an extraction before?”
I shook my head.
“Then I want to be your first.”
“I can’t—” I broke off, looking to Miya for support.
“Kioto’s a novice. She’s never done an extraction before. There are many things that can go wrong.”
“I couldn’t,” I said. “I don’t think that your mother—”
“That’s not my mother. She’s my aunt. I’ve already been sent away in disgrace, and now I’ve caused even more.” She looked at Miya. “Please, I don’t mind, I’ll sign anything you want to.” Her eyes flicked back to mine. “I’d rather let you see my secret. I think you’d understand.” She glanced back at Miya. “No offence.”
Miya smiled softly. “There’s nothing you could have done that I haven’t seen before. And I won’t judge you. And your secret is, quite literally, safe with me.”
“But, you sell them on, don’t you?”
Miya nodded. “But no one knows that it’s your memory. When someone takes on someone else’s memory, like I will take yours, it feels odd at first. Unfamiliar. Like wearing someone else’s shoes. But after a while, it moulds into the shape of your own brain, and fits in with your own memories. Eventually, people forget that it wasn’t their memory to begin with. Their brain makes up connections, weaves it into their life, with made-up bridges between their own memories, and this new one. The brain wants to make it fit. It craves patterns and linear timelines.”
“And what about me?”Nitaro asked. “Will I have a big gaping hole in my memory? Will I know that something’s been taken?”
“You will. At first. It’s like when you lose a baby tooth. At first, the gap feels weird, and your brain will keep focussing on it, and why it’s there. But then, just like a new tooth grows to fill that gap, your brain will fill its own gap. In a few weeks you won’t even remember that I was ever here.”
“Will my brain make fake memories to fill the gap?”
“Possibly. Sometimes that happens. Other times, it just skips over it. Takes away those hours, or days, or weeks, as if that time didn’t happen at all.”
“So, I could lose more of my memories?”
Miya shrugged. “We forget things all the time. Do you remember being born? Your first birthday? Your third, or fourth even?”
Nitaro frowned down at her feet. “Isn’t this all really weird for you?”
“We get used to it,” Miya said.
Nitaro’s aunt came in with our water; a jug and two glasses on a small, floral tray. It all rattled as she placed it on the dressing table.
“Is there anything else I can get for you?” she asked.
Nitaro looked at her, but the aunt kept her gaze fixed firmly on Miya. Was it shame that stopped her from looking at her niece? Guilt?
“All I’ll need is a quiet place to lie down afterwards.”
The woman nodded quickly. “Certainly. It’s all arranged for you.” She nodded again. “I suppose I’ll leave you to it then.” She hurried out of the room, gently closing the door behind her.
“Are you ready?” Miya asked Nitaro.
“I
guess.”
“Lie down on the bed, and get comfortable. Just relax.”
Nitaro snorted.
“Well, try to relax,” Miya corrected. “You’ll hear me say some strange words, but that’s nothing to worry about. It’s simply part of the ritual. When we begin the extraction, you’ll feel my mind starting to move into yours. Your instinct will be to fight against the intrusion, to try and push me back out. You just need to relax, and let me come in. I won’t be prodding around in there at anything you don’t want me to see. Simply think about the memory you’d like to forget, and it will be pushed forward towards me.”
“Will it hurt?”
“Not at all. You’ll just feel a slight tugging as I pull the memory out. It’s nothing to worry about. It might just feel a bit uncomfortable or disconcerting.”
Nitaro nodded stiffly, finally lying back on the bed. Her breathing was rapid and ragged, the duvet screwed tightly into her fists.
Miya sat next to her, placing her palm onto Nitaro’s stomach. Miya’s hand bobbed up and down like a boat on a stormy ocean. Nitaro was beginning to panic.
“Just try to relax,” Miya cooed. “Concentrate on your breathing. In, and out. In, and out.”
Far from calming Nitaro, Miya’s words seemed to provoke her, and the panic swelled like sea foam, finally bursting forth.
Nitaro scrambled up the bed, away from Miya’s reach, and curled herself tightly against the headboard.
“I can’t, I can’t,” she said. “I’m sorry, I can’t do it.”
“It’s alright,” Miya said. “We can wait a while. It can be scary the first time.”
“But it’s not my first time,” Nitaro whispered. “I thought it was, but all of this feels weirdly familiar. Like I dreamt it once. I can’t quite grasp hold of it. And they’ve all been whispering about me. They think I don’t hear it, but I do. Under the doors, through the walls. They say “again, again, again.” This has happened before, and I don’t even know how many times. I don’t know what’s been taken from me.”
Miya looked up at me, her face a mask of concern.
I crossed the room, sitting myself on the other side of the bed.
“You think you’ve had this done before?” I asked.
“Yes. Yes, I’m sure of it. I’m just… I’m so confused.”
“It’s alright,” Miya said. “If you don’t want to do this anymore, we won’t. You don’t have to have this extraction. It’s completely your decision.”
“No,” Nitaro said. “No. I want it. I need it. I’m just feeling so weird. Like all of this has happened before, but also that it’s brand new all at once. It’s just freaking me out.”
I reached forward slowly, taking hold of her hand. “I can sit here with you through it all. If you want.”
“Can you drug me? Or can I be drunk?”
Miya shook her head. “You need to be fully conscious, and sober. Otherwise I wouldn’t know what memory to take, or you might give me the wrong one. This is the only way that it can be done.”
Nitaro gripped my hand. “Can you do it? I don’t care that you’re just a trainee, I just… I think I could relax if you were doing it. Please. Please.”
I looked up at Miya. She cocked her head, passing the decision back to me.
Of course, I’d already made the choice. “Alright,” I said. “I’ll do it.”
Nitaro shook my hand vigorously. “Thank you, thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet.”
“I’ll walk you through every step,” Miya said.
Nitaro lay down on the bed, closing her eyes, and breathing deeply and steadily. Her transformation was so sudden, and so complete, that I wondered if it might have been fake. I scrutinised Miya’s face, but found no hint of conspiracy.
I lay out my altar items. I’d brought them to practice the Dedication as Miya said hers. So that I could almost pretend that I was carrying out the extraction myself. And here I was, about to carry it out for real.
I reached out, and touched the rim of the bowl with my clammy hand.
“My life was given by you,” I said, “and will be offered up to you again. I will treasure your gift and use it in a way that glorifies your names.”
I completed the Dedication flawlessly, despite my insides turning to mush. I spoke every word with weighted consideration, with absolute reverence, as if the performance of the ceremony would directly determine the proficiency of the extraction.
I glanced quickly at Miya, and she nodded, smiling proudly.
I placed one hand on Nitaro’s stomach, and the other on her forehead. Closing my eyes, I pushed my consciousness down my arm, into my hand, and then past my fingers. As I entered Nitaro’s mind, there was resistance, like piercing a springy membrane. But there was no panic, no fight. After a moment, a memory was pushed forward towards me. I could see it glowing, feel the heat from it. I cradled it into my consciousness, gently unhooking the threads that connected it to the rest of her memory. I tugged, and it came loose, lifting out as my mind retreated.
It felt alien and unwanted instantly, like a blood clot flowing up my arm to my brain. Like something that might kill me. I wanted to give it back, and started pushing it away.
I felt Miya’s hand on mine. Her whispered voice. “Relax. You’re fine. Just relax.”
I swallowed, and took a deep breath. It sat like a stone in my brain. Jagged edges pressing against my mind. Foreign. Misplaced. Awkward.
I blinked my eyes open and looked at Miya.
“Well done,” she said. “That was perfect.”
The angles of Nitaro’s memory pressed harder and harder, the pain growing in my mind. Warming it. Setting it ablaze.
“Let’s get you lying down,” Miya said.
Her voice sliced into my pounding head. Her hands thudded onto my arms, and my clumsy feet slammed against the floor with each stumbling step. The world was noise. Noise and motion and gaudy brightness. My stomach roared, and the vomit came fast, coating my hands. Coating everything. And the world was nothing more than stench and agony.
5
KIOTO
When I woke, it was dark outside. The curtains were open, and I squinted against the glare of street lights.
The bedroom was lit with a single lamp, a white shade muting the bulb to a soft, cream glow. Miya was slumped in an armchair, breathing deeply as she slept.
I sat up, slowly, but my head still complained about the motion. I closed my eyes against a rush of nausea.
“Miya,” I whispered; my voice little more than a croak.
I looked around. A glass of water was waiting on the bedside table. I drank from it greedily, almost gagging it straight back out again.
“Miya,” I tried again.
She stirred, moaned, and then mumbled something, turning her face towards me. She blinked, looking around as if she needed to remember where she was. And then her sleepy eyes focussed, and she smiled.
“You’re awake,” she said.
“Just about,” I replied.
She swept over to the bed, placing her hand against my forehead. “How are you feeling?”
“Like shit. This is the throw, right? Will I have to go through this every time I do an extraction?”
“Not to this extent. It’s always far worse the first time. But, I’m afraid, it’s just an occupational hazard.”
I sneered. “Makes me wonder why anyone becomes a trader.”
“Because we don’t ‘become’ traders. We’re born traders.”
“Well, the boys don’t know what they’re missing out on.”
Miya stroked my hair back from my face. “I know it doesn’t feel like it now, but you are so privileged to have this gift. I’m sure that many of the boys wish they did.” She leaned in closer, dropping her voice to a whisper. “But this is a girls only club.” She nudged me playfully, and my brain jangled in my skull.
“Can we go back now?” I refused to use the word ‘home’. Kagosaka had never been that, and never wo
uld be.
“We’ll let you recover a little bit more. Besides, it’s very late and they’ve invited us to stay the night.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Really? People usually want us out of the house as quickly as possible.”
“We’ve done them a big favour today. There are very few traders who will perform an extraction on a minor. And no decent merchants; none who would be discreet about it. I can’t imagine how many people have turned this job down before we came along.”
“Will I get into trouble?”
“No, not at all. This is all on me. Besides, if no one ever finds out, then…” She ended her sentence with a shrug.
“My very first extraction, and it was against the rules. And I can’t tell anyone about it.”
“No one,” Miya warned. “Not even Nahaya. We went against all of the teachings. The whole code. Some would see this as a betrayal of our entire heritage.” She rolled her eyes, leaning back. “And you know how seriously traders take things like that.”
She gestured casually towards her right eye. Three deep scars stretched down from above her eyebrow, past her eye, to the top of her cheek. The traditional marks of a memory trader, and the same ones that lined my own face.
“You’re against scarification?” I asked her.
“It’s outdated, and completely unnecessary.” Hers was a rare, and unpopular opinion among traders, and I was shocked to hear it coming from a rook. A teacher. Someone who taught me all of the traditions. All of the old ways. And the ways were truly ancient, and rarely challenged.
I ran my fingers over my own scars. I could barely remember having them done, but I wore them with pride. But then, I’d been told to. Conditioned to. Had I ever thought to question it?
“Never mind that,” Miya said, patting my leg. “Would you like something to eat?”
At the mention of food, my stomach tensed. It ached with hunger, but I wasn’t sure if it was ready. I nodded cautiously.
The Stray Page 2