Chapter Text
“Stay focused, Eiji,” Ibe tells him. Eiji rolls his eyes.
“I am not a child.” Even as he says it, though, he looks in wonder at the New York Public Library. The lion statues outside are so grand, they almost look like how Eiji imagines viventem—that’s the word in English—the magical creatures that are practically legend. Beasts hunted to near extinction decades ago due to the danger they posed to humans, and now kept under lock and key.
Eiji shivers, looking up at the giant lions, and shuffles after Ibe.
“I do not want to be at this library anyway,” he grumbles.
“Help me set up the camera,” Ibe says, ignoring Eiji’s complaints.
“They won’t let you use the tripod inside. I read about it online.” Eiji unlatches the camera bag on the steps with a sigh. He’s here for track—and sure, he agreed to help Ibe with his photography when he wasn’t practicing and competing, but he wasn’t expecting that to start the very day he got off the plane. His first day in America, and this is how he’s spending it?
He’s here for track. And he may be planning on donating any of the prize money that he might win from this competition back to his university, but it’s about more than the money right now. It’s about his future. Because ... He doesn’t have anything else going for him, really. One of the many downsides of being born magic immune in a world that’s increasingly relying on magic. As research expands and the lines between magic and technology blur, things get harder and harder for people with Eiji’s particular ailment.
Eiji stands, about to hand the camera lens to Ibe, when he nearly trips over something—someone?
“Ah!” Eiji yelps, jumping back away from the boy. But the kid—bright blond hair and all—just slips between Eiji and Ibe as if it’s not rude to walk between people and step over their stuff like that. These Americans have no manners, do they?
The boy turns to look at Eiji, expression puzzled. Eiji glares at him, biting back a remark about how he should watch where he’s going. The boy stares at him, and stares, and stares, as though Eiji can’t even see him looking. Eiji’s brow furrows as he looks back, and as he registers the spots of blood staining the boy’s clothes, and the bruises on his wrists and around his neck.
What is ... ?
Just when he’s about to say something, Ibe’s hand is on his shoulder. “Eiji!”
“H-huh?” Eiji says. He glances to Ibe and then back to the boy, but the blond head of hair is already weaving its way through the crowd. Eiji hands Ibe the camera lens. “I’ll be right back,” he mumbles. “I need to make sure he’s okay.”
“What?”
“I’ll keep my phone’s GPS on!” Eiji calls behind him. He knows Ibe won’t be able to find his location through magical means, so he has to rely on technology instead.
“Eiji—!” But Ibe’s voice is already fading through the crowd.
The bright blond hair is easy to spot and follow, and Eiji tails him effortlessly. Not that he really seems to be trying to hide, despite his injured appearance—rather, it seems like he doesn’t care about the people around him, slipping through the crowd and missing people by centimeters. Is New York City really so harsh that people don’t care about someone so clearly wounded in front of them? Eiji guesses that does match up with what he’s heard ...
The boy heads into the library, and Eiji follows him into a room labeled as the Rose Main Reading Room. And then—
Through an unlabeled door. Into an empty room.
Completely empty, except a desk with a lamp and a few textbooks, and Eiji, and the blond haired boy.
“I—” Eiji starts as the door swings shut behind him.
The boy nearly jumps out of his skin, turning to face Eiji. “Fuck,” he hisses, and Eiji steps back too. “How did you ... ?”
“Sorry?” Eiji tries. “I just—are you okay? You look ... hurt.”
The boy stares at him, eyes hard and emotionless.
Or ... almost emotionless. But there is something there. Sadness?
Eiji takes a step closer, but the boy’s eyes widen, so he stops. “What’s your name?” he tries instead.
The boy looks down, and then, “... Ash Lynx,” he murmurs, glancing up expectantly through partially hooded eyes.
“Okay,” Eiji says, hesitant. “I’m Eiji. Can I call you Ash?”
Ash stares at Eiji for a long moment. “... You’re not from this area, are you?”
Eiji bristles. Was it his accent? That’s rather rude to point out, isn’t it? “What makes you say—”
“You don’t know me,” Ash interrupts. “You don’t know what I am.”
“... What?” Eiji echoes. “What do you mean?”
“You should go back to your parents, Eiji,” Ash says. There’s a hint of something dark in his eyes. “Kids like you don’t belong around things like me.”
Things? “I’m nineteen,” Eiji says, wrinkling his nose. “You look like you are younger than me.”
“I am,” Ash allows, but Eiji glances at the bruising on his neck again, and it doesn’t feel like a victory. Ash sits down at the lone chair at the desk in the center of the room, which allows him to still face the door Eiji is in front of—the only exit that Eiji can see. Ash rests his chin on his hand, elbow on the desk. “Look. Eiji. You seem like a sweet kid. So I’m going to give you some advice.” He crosses his legs, though he winces as he does so. “Leave me alone.”
“You are hurt,” Eiji observes. “I thought so.”
Ash frowns.
“I have an adult with me,” Eiji says. He knows that age of majority here in America is 18, not 20, but Ibe still feels like he would be better equipped to handle this situation than Eiji is. “He can help—”
Ash’s eyes flash. At first Eiji thinks it’s anger, but—fear?
“Stay away from me,” Ash growls. “All of you.”
“Ash ...” Eiji says, lowering his voice. Why does he feel like he’s trying to calm a feral alley cat? He takes a slow step forward. “I want to help you. Will you let me?”
Ash’s expression shifts back to neutral, with a hint of sadness still behind the mask. “No.”
“Why are you hurt, Ash Lynx?”
Ash seems to almost flinch—at the question, or at the use of his full name? “It doesn’t matter,” he huffs.
“It matters to me.”
“Eiji,” Ash says again, and somehow the way that Eiji’s name sounds in his voice is almost ethereal. He closes his eyes for a moment, which is the closest thing to trust that he’s shown Eiji since the two of them stepped into this room. He takes a breath, eyes still closed, and whispers, “I’m a viventem.”
Eiji takes a step back, startled, and Ash’s eyes snap open.
“No you’re not,” Eiji says. He almost wants to laugh, but Ash seems far too serious for Eiji’s liking. “Viventem can’t speak.”
Ash shrugs. “I do.”
“They don’t—look like ... us.”
Ash’s gaze is almost violent. “I do.”
“So you’re not! A ... viventem.”
“I am.”
Eiji groans in frustration. This is ridiculous. “I don’t know why you are lying to me, but—”
“Go out there. Find someone who lives in this city. And ask them what Ash Lynx is.”
Eiji suppresses a shiver at the word what.
Ash stretches lazily, wincing again as the motion clearly pulls at some injuries.
... Injuries that should be easily treatable by magic, unless Ash is also magic immune. But that would be incredibly unlikely, with how rare magic immunity is. Almost as unlikely as ...
“You’re not a viventem,” Eiji insists. The more obvious explanation is that he is magic immune, or that—he doesn’t want his injuries to be healed, for some reason. Not that ...
But as Eiji watches Ash stare back at him, he does have a certain ethereal sense about him. He’s beautiful, at least. And Eiji’s never actually seen a viventem in person before. Maybe they can ... ?
“What kind of creature are you, then?” Eiji asks, entranced.
Ash grins, dark and chilling, but Eiji can’t feel anything but warmth when looking at him now. “I’m something far too evil to fall upon your innocent ears.”
But ... he looks human. He looks human. He looks ... so incredibly human.
And so sad.
Eiji’s phone vibrates, startling him.
[Shunichi Ibe:]
Where are you?
You said you would leave your GPS on
Eiji blinks at his phone, confused. He did leave his GPS on. Maybe the reception is poor inside the library?
“I should go,” Eiji says to Ash, putting his phone away. “My mentor is looking for me.”
“He can’t find you here, can he?” Ash muses, smug. The sadness never leaves his eyes.
“Huh?”
Ash waves a hand. “Go. Back to your world, little bird.”
“Will you be here tomorrow?”
That seems to startle Ash. “Why?”
“So that I can see you.”
Ash’s gaze sharpens, and he stares at Eiji from his seat at the desk for a long moment. “... I’m here every day,” he says eventually. “But I have to be—back. By evening.”
“Are you always this hurt?”
Ash bristles. “Eiji—”
“Sorry. You do not have to answer. I just want to help.”
“Well, don’t. You ... shouldn’t come back, either.”
“You seem lonely.”
Ash barks out a laugh, bitter and harsh. “I’m the furthest thing from lonely you’ll ever meet. I guarantee you that much.”
Eiji frowns. He doesn’t like these sort of riddles; he’ll be blunt, instead. “Would you mind if I visited again?”
“... I guess I wouldn’t mind,” Ash whispers, eventually. “If you wanted to.” Then his gaze hardens again. “But only you. Not—not your adult friend?”
Eiji hums. “Only me. Then I will be here tomorrow. Are you always in this room?”
Ash looks down at the desk, then nods. “Always. When I can be.”
“Then, Ash Lynx, I will see you tomorrow.”
“... Tomorrow.”
Eiji turns and walks out of the room.
When the door closes behind him, he checks his phone, and—his location is turned on, just like it should be. He looks up, and Ibe appears in front of him.
“Eiji! There you are. Thank god. You just came through on my phone again.”
“Sorry,” Eiji says sheepishly. “I had to make sure that boy was okay.”
“Who?” Ibe asks.
“The ...” Eiji trails off, shaking his head. Maybe he should try a different strategy here. As he and Ibe walk out of the library, he asks. “Ibe, you ... you know of the records on the viventem, yes?”
Ibe nods. “Yes, of course. Most journalists are aware of all the stronger ones that are still around, at least.”
“... Are there any here? In New York City?”
Ibe frowns. “Why would you ask such a thing, Eiji?”
“I just—” Eiji clears his throat. “Want to stay safe, is all. I know how dangerous they are, and in Japan there was only the one I knew of in Tokyo.”
Ibe takes Eiji’s arm and pulls him closer. “Well, if you want to stay safe, start by not running off on your own next time, no? But ... There is one notable one here I’ve heard of, yes.” Ibe’s eyes shift back and forth nervously. “I think it is called Ash Lynx. But you don’t need to worry about that, okay? All the viventem are kept under close watch, including the Lynx. Some here in America are kept as—pets, I suppose.”
Eiji physically cringes. “And ... Ash Lynx?”
“Yes, that one too. I believe it is in the care of a very rich man in this area as well. Dino Golzine, if I remember correctly.”
Eiji thinks about the bruises on Ash’s neck and the blood on his clothing, and shivers. He has a feeling that he’s not very fond of this Dino Golzine already.