Traces 3
The back yard of the rest stop, swept clean by a howling squall of wind. The cheerful music and laughter had vanished without a trace, and in their place lingered the afterglow of battle and the sour reek of blood.
Santa was prying loose the dented armor plating from Rudolph's frame when he grimaced.
"The life-support unit's damaged. Needs replacing right now."
Jack O'Lantern piped up at his mutter.
"Want a hand, gramps?"
"Wouldn't say no."
With that, Santa and the two ROA members fell into seamless motion, lifting Rudolph's body with the practiced care of men who had done this a hundred times before.
"Is there somewhere we can operate?"
"There's a treatment room behind the counter. We'll use that."
And with that, the three of them disappeared into the rest stop.
Those who remained watched their backs for a moment, then each began to settle the turmoil in their own way. But Ash could not.
Because what flickered before his eyes was not the afterglow of battle — it was the swordsmanship the ninja had displayed, still shimmering there, refusing to fade.
Ever since the ninjas had departed, a single question had repeated itself in his mind, endlessly.
...Why.
Ash was no fool. Judging by everything he had experienced, he could tell at least this much: this world was a dimension wholly severed from the one he had once lived in. Its technology, its ways of thinking, its very culture — all of it differed.
And yet.
How can the martial arts of the Kunlun Sect exist in this world?
He stretched his imagination, trying to assemble cause and circumstance into some coherent whole — but no story would come together. With no answer to be found, the question simply circled on and on, and endless rumination filled his main core to the brim.
Perhaps I should pursue them even now—
"Mister?"
A voice. He turned his head. It was Akina.
She looked up at him — he stood a full head taller — her blue eyes gleaming.
"Are you okay?"
Ash nodded, forcibly shoving the swirling thoughts aside.
"Of course."
"That's a lie."
At the girl's blunt declaration, Ash froze for an instant.
"Something's up with you right now, isn't it?"
Had she peered straight into his mind? He deliberated for a moment over what to say, then let out a low electronic hum.
"And what makes you think so?"
"Hmph. All I have to do is look at your face."
"...Pardon?"
Ash instinctively ran a hand over his head. Had his face somehow been swapped for a human one? No — it was still, unmistakably, a humanoid's skull.
"I knew So-jae was a prodigy beyond reckoning, but I did not realize that prodigy extended to reading an expression that does not exist."
"I'm not joking."
"Nor am I. What truly transcendent perception—"
Akina took a step closer and grabbed his steel hand.
"That masked person from before. Do you know them?"
"..."
Ash could not answer right away. He lingered for a moment on the warmth he felt through her grip, then shook his head.
"Where would I have someone I know? Have you forgotten that since awakening in So-jae's hands, I have never once left your side?"
"Hmm... I suppose that's true..."
"More importantly — are you hurt anywhere? The battle was rather fierce."
At his words, Akina spun around in a full circle.
"Not a scratch! Oh — though I did sober up a little. From the shock."
"Hm. That is indeed good news."
"Good? What's good about it?! Sobering up in the middle of a party! What could possibly be worse than this!"
"...And here I find Sanctum's finest hedonist."
"Hedonist? What's that supposed to mean?"
Ash turned his head to find Ifrit. Clearly displeased with the current state of affairs, she had her legs propped up on the table and was chugging a flat beer. Just as she reached for the next can, she felt Ash's and Akina's eyes on her and flashed the heart-shaped glow of her eyes.
"What? What is it?"
"Mister just called you a hedo—"
"It's nothing."
"Boring."
Ifrit snorted, rapped the seat beside her, and went on.
"Both of you, get over here. This girl just started telling an interesting story."
The 'girl' Ifrit meant was Siren. She glared at Ifrit — then, catching Ash looking at her, blushed and dropped her head. It was behavior far too contradictory for the swordswoman who, mere moments ago, had run a ninja's heart through without a flicker of hesitation.
"I mean... it's not like what I'm saying is anything special... I was just muttering something I happened to know, and then Ifrit-unnie suddenly started asking..."
"She's useless. It's the ninjas' identity."
"Unnie!"
At those words, Ash's optical sensors flared brighter than they had all night.
"Truly? You know their identity?"
Unable to bear the weight of his stare, Siren hunched her shoulders and muttered,
"No, it's not exactly their identity..."
"Then what is it?"
She hesitated, watching Ash — who had, at some point, drawn near along with Akina.
"Um, so... 'ninja' is, like, slang. From Underland."
"Underland?"
Ash immediately searched his database at the word, but there was nothing on Underland anywhere. He glanced hopefully at Akina, but she only blinked wide-eyed — it was news to her as well.
Ash sat down beside Siren and leaned in, letting out an eager electronic hum.
"Tell me more."
"Uh, so, like... what, exactly? Underland? Ninjas?"
"Let us begin with Underland."
Siren scratched her cheek with an awkward gesture.
"Underland is... beneath Sanctum's feet."
"Beneath its feet?"
"Yes. It's, um, a kind of underground city... I guess?"
"Haha! An underground city? You're from there, aren't you — you're making it sound way too nice."
Siren glowered at Ifrit's needling, but Ifrit answered by simply extending her middle finger. Then she took a swig of beer and began explaining in Siren's stead.
"You can't talk about Underland without bringing up ZOT."
"...Pardon? What did you just call it?"
"ZOT. You know, ZOT."
"Ah. You mean the city management system run by the Sanctum Administration?"
"Right. Because of it, you can't cause 'chaos beyond a certain level' inside Sanctum. The Safemen will come and sweep you all away."
"I am aware. That is why even the towering megacorps, for all their bulk, resolve their disputes out in the Outer — was it not so?"
"Exactly."
"Then what... what does ZOT have to do with Underland?"
Ifrit grinned.
"Underland is, literally, a kind of refuge that sprang up beneath Sanctum. A neighborhood that formed naturally because humans who couldn't afford the price of breathing pooled together — you could say? In other words, it's not a zone created by the will of the great and glorious Sanctum Administration."
"...Which would mean..."
"Looks like you've caught on. Underland is beyond ZOT's gaze. But it's sheltered from the ion storms."
She looked up at the sky, and Ash raised his head as well. Golden auroras rippled across the dim night sky.
"...Because it's beneath the city."
"Correct. A place protected by the Veil yet free from ZOT's surveillance. That's Underland in a nutshell."
Ifrit took another swig and continued.
"So you can imagine the vibe. Total lawless land, basically. Someone dies there, and nobody bats an eye. Ah — well, I guess it's the same on the surface too? Anyway, think of it as a neighborhood overrun with unbelievably magnificent sons of bitches."
"There was a place like that? In Sanctum?"
Akina said. She, too, had apparently never heard of Underland's existence. Ifrit shrugged.
"Sorry to say, it's secondhand for me too. They say the Restmen's home base is in Underland, so I did a little digging on my own. Oh, speaking of which—"
She turned to Siren. The heart-shaped glow of her eyes emitted a sharper light than ever before.
"The rumor that the Restmen's headquarters is in Underland. Is it true? You'd know."
Restmen-born. Siren. She only hardened her face, meeting Ifrit's gaze.
Then—
"We have our information on Underland."
Ash cut in. The friction between the two women was, at the moment, of no consequence to him whatsoever.
"So then — next. Would you explain the ninjas to me?"
At his mediation, the hostile current flowing between the two women dissolved as if by magic.
Siren took a moment to gather her thoughts before answering.
"'Ninja'... isn't a word for any specific organization."
"Then what is it?"
"It's what they call the fixers who operate in Underland."
"Fixers?"
"Yes. But their way of 'resolving' things is a little different, shall we say... Whereas surface 'fixers' dig up information or move goods — solving problems in perfectly sensible ways — Underland's ninjas... they just kill everyone."
"...I see?"
"The person who caused the problem, anyone who gets in the way, the organization they belong to — whatever it is, they resolve it by destroying it completely, without leaving so much as a trace."
"Eep!"
Akina, who had been hanging on Siren's every word, let out a squeak.
"Then isn't Grandpa Santa in danger too? He seemed pretty close with the guy being chased earlier."
"If it were only me, that'd be fine."
At that very moment, Santa appeared, reeking of blood and antiseptic, exhaustion written all over him. He peeled off his bloodstained surgical gloves, tossed them aside carelessly, strode up to the table, and drained a beer in one go.
"How did it go?"
In answer to Ash's question, Santa crushed the empty can in his fist.
"He'll live. Swapped out the life-support unit, patched up everything worth patching."
"I see. But he is an acquaintance of yours, then?"
"My junior. We worked together, way back. I knew he'd retired and gone into fixing work, but..."
Santa's face twisted into an expression too strange for any single word.
"Dragging someone into this shit-caked mess? Bastard deserves to rot. I'm already regretting not just leaving him to die."
He caught his breath for a moment, then swept his gaze over everyone gathered in the back yard. That gaze was heavier and more tangled than any party scene warranted.
"The young lady's right. If we just sit tight like this, the whole rest stop might go up in smoke. Those Underland types — one thing you can say for them is they hold a grudge."
"You know about Underland, elder?"
"Roughly, more or less. You live long enough, some things you just come to know."
With that, Santa slipped a hand into his shirt pocket, fished out a small data chip, and tossed it onto the table.
A faint hologram shimmered on the chip's surface.
— HOLOGRAPHIC DATA CHIP —
"Dream... weaver? What is this?"
"It was tucked in that bastard Rudolph's jacket. I'm pretty sure this is the cause of every problem we've got. All that talk about thieves and whatnot — I reckon it all traces back to this. So here's the thing. I've been thinking real hard, see?"
Santa pulled out a cigarette and lit it, then spoke to Ash.
"Ash. Any chance you'd moonlight as a fixer? I've got a job to commission."
At those words, a thin light flared in Ash's optical sensors.
"Do you mean... that I should see an acquaintance's task through on his behalf?"
"Precisely the opposite."
Santa tapped the chip lying on the table with one finger, then delivered the meat of it through a curl of cigarette smoke.
"This. We give it back to them. We make the theft itself into something that never happened. My thinking is, that's the cleanest way to close it out."
"...And that is permissible?"
"What's not to permit? Better that that bastard Rudolph finishes the job himself and gets stripped bare alone than that all of us get our coordinates stamped and tenderized by ninjas together. I saved his damn life too — this way he's getting off cheap. Am I wrong?"
Every word of it was sound. He flicked his ash, and just as it fell to the ground, Santa said:
"So. What do you say? Care to take a business trip to Underland?"