It was said that in ancient times, people cremated their dead.
Why did they do that? Koushi wondered absently as he looked down at the coffin in the earth below him. The dead could no longer move and breathe, but did that mean they couldn't feel pain? Would burning them after they died hurt them? Or was fire only a symbol of suffering now, and it wasn't in ancient times?
About a year before, Koushi's mother had fallen ill. She'd taken the raw silk that was gathered by the merchant carts and dyed it different colors. She'd also refreshed discarded clothing, sewing on embroidery and little details to make them more attractive. Koushi's mother had been skilled at her work, but that hadn't helped her. Her wages were meager, and since she worked for herself, she bought her own materials and dyes. She'd died poor of the poisons that her work had exposed her to.
Deaths like Koushi's mother's were common in the capital's factories. The chemicals and waste produced by them were hazardous to human health. The capital used to maintain a fishing port, but it had closed long years before due to rampant pollution. The modern age thought itself more enlightened: there were supposedly so many efforts to prevent pollution-based deaths, at least of people, and yet people still got sick and died all the time.
I'm sure that back in the days when people could use fire without fear, we had the knowledge to prevent sickness, too. We lost that, along with fire. And now there's no way to relearn it.
The world had died, once. The humans who'd survived that death were different. People in ancient times didn't combust when fires burned nearby, and they didn't have to scrape by for survival. Some of the knowledge and techniques of the past had been preserved, but when it came to fire, they weren't helpful.
The ocean was visible from the cemetery. Thin clouds scattered across the sky, sunlight trickling through and tinging the clouds a dingy gray. It looked like rain.
The cemetery grounds were thick with short green pine trees. Koushi stood before his mother's grave marker--before her coffin as it was buried. The grave markers all around were made of stone, and the names of the dead were engraved on them. There was a pine sapling next to the grave that would be planted above his mother's coffin.
Two grave keepers shoveled in soil over the wooden coffin, moving slowly but efficiently. Koushi couldn't quite believe that his mother lay inside that tiny wooden box, in a cramped position with her knees folded in and her arms around them. Since she'd been afflicted with disease, she'd been bathed in medicinal water and given even more medicine post-mortem to prevent her body from decaying and to prevent her illness from spreading.
A raindrop fell on the edge of Koushi's glasses. It wasn't rain, but saltwater blown in from the ocean. Spring had come late this year. The cemetery, exposed to the harsh sea breeze, was deserted in part because of the inclement weather.
Koushi's
younger sister stopped crying. She'd cried for a long time before, loud. She
clung to Koushi's legs and pressed her face into his clothes. His hands and
face felt too warm.
"Hinako... I thought I asked you to stay home and wait for me."
Koushi picked his little sister up, a trifle irritated. She had a fever. The woolen shawl she wore had belonged to their mother.
The grave keepers continued heaping soil on the coffin, then planted the pine sapling with practiced movements. It was silent all around: no voices, no prayers. Koushi said no final words to his mother. The grave keepers didn't encourage the children to say their farewells. Maybe they didn't think they were capable of that, or maybe they just didn't want to get involved.
That
made Koushi more irritated. His mother's funeral was perfunctory: dull and
maudlin and pointless. Part of him felt like he was the one who'd died. He
would have to take care of himself and his sister from now on.
The grave keepers adjusted their loose hats on their foreheads, then carried in stones to place along the base of the pine sapling. Only their mother's name and date of death were engraved on her marker. There were no words of prayer or gratitude there; there was no money to spend on such a luxury.
"What about dad?" Hinako asked in a voice that was hard to make out.
The grave keepers removed their hats, then walked behind the sapling and grave marker and bowed their heads.
Hinako's mouth snapped shut as if she were terrified of what the grave keepers had just done. She pressed herself against Koushi with all of her considerable eight-year-old might. She looked tiny and petite, but she could be fierce.
Koushi copied the grave keepers and bowed his head. The wind blew in from the sea from many directions, complex as if the air currents were tangled threads. Some people said that the memories of the dead were stored in the ocean. There was a guardian deity in the sea--a large whale that watched over the dead.
But no: that was just a fairy tale. It must be.
Still, Koushi looked up, and then out at the sea, wondering if there truly was a guardian god out there that had accepted his mother's soul.
Koushi hadn't been indoctrinated to believe in any such god. He wasn't sure if he believed or not, but in this moment, he felt calm. It was difficult for him to think about the possibility of dying, himself. His own body was as frail and apt to die as his mother's.
A grave keeper tapped on Koushi's shoulder from behind. He turned and looked the man in the eyes. He was an old man with broad shoulders and washed-out grayish skin. There was a folded piece of paper in his hand, and he held it out to Koushi.
"It's an address. If you have nowhere else to go, then go here."
The grave keeper mumbled a bit, so he was difficult to understand. The other grave keeper had gone back to the grave keepers' shared hut to put away his tools.
With Hinako still clinging to him, Koushi reached out and took the piece of paper. It was thick, with a pale blue tint, and felt like it was high-quality. Koushi unfolded the paper one-handed and saw a map.
"It's a terrible tragedy for a decent working mother to pass on and leave her children behind. I wanted to give you two a fighting chance at survival, at least. You seem like a smart kid, so do your best to protect your sister and make it through," the grave keeper intoned as if he were reciting scripture.
Hinako became even more frightened. She wrapped her arms around Koushi's neck and buried her face in his shoulder.
Koushi's throat felt tight; he didn't trust himself to speak. He hung his head, though it felt wrong, like an unnatural pose.
Hinako had been weak since she was a baby. She'd been born too small, and even now, she suffered frequently from headaches, fever, and chills. Their mother had been working at the factory while she was pregnant, and the doctor had said that the contaminants that she came into contact with on a daily basis must have spread to her unborn child.
So their mother had quit factory work and gone into business for herself, but that hadn't helped much. Eventually, it had cost her her life.
Koushi
went home and put Hinako to bed. She was frowning when he set her down, faint
wrinkles marking her pale forehead.
Koushi took a deep breath and examined the piece of paper that the grave keeper had given him again. On it was written, Okibi Estate, along with a detailed map.
The capital occupied a high hill, and on the very top of it lived the merchant lord that more or less ruled over the city. Most of the wealthiest, most influential people in the capital were factory owners or managers. The Okibi were a well-known family, but why had the grave keeper told Koushi and his sister to go their estate?
The answer was obvious, when Koushi thought of it. Fire Hunters made their living by hunting the Fire Fiends that lived in the forests around settlements. They brought back materials from the slain Fire Fiends that they then sold. Koushi and Hinako's father was a Fire Hunter, so them going to Okibi Estate for help made sense.
Fire Hunters were tightly regulated by the guardian gods that watched over the capital; those gods were the de facto rulers of the nation, higher in power and status than even the factory owners. The guardian gods were descended from previous gods that had existed in the ancient world. As their divine status would suggest, they possessed longevity and extraordinary abilities that ordinary humans didn't have.
It was said that the guardian gods once ruled over the nation with cooperation from humans--Fire Hunters, specifically. Fire Hunters collected precious fire fuel in dangerous places that other people would never dare to go. The capital's Fire Hunters had to pass through a tunnel through a cliff that lay beyond the city's industrial area in order to reach the surrounding forest. Their units and movements were determined by the capital's guardian gods, and it was those gods who decided where fire fuel would be distributed inside the city.
Factory owners often held drinking parties and banquets to reward Fire Hunters for their difficult work. The guardian gods regulated and managed Fire Hunters, but it was the factories that truly benefited from their work. The Okibi family was one of the most powerful and respected factory factions; Koushi remembered his father attending many parties there.
The year before, Koushi's father had left the capital--and his family--behind. Shortly after, Koushi's mother had fallen ill. Surprisingly, none of the other Fire Hunters knew where he had gone. Koushi himself had received many questions--some angry and rude--about where his father was. But once it became clear that no one knew where he'd gone, not even his family, the questions ceased.
My father... isn't coming home.
Koushi remembered thinking that for the first time. The thought had occurred to his mother and Hinako, too. Their mother became more and more tired, and Hinako expressed agitation and fear as the days stretched and he never came come.
Koushi piled up books on the writing desk in his room, thinking about what came next. He looked up.
I have to choose. Either we stay here and make a living as best we can, or we go to Okibi Estate for help.
Their father might be a source of support still, but that was uncertain. Fire Hunters risked their lives to bring light and fuel to others, and that meant that some of them died. A light fueled by his father's expeditions burned in his room, but it still seemed dark inside the house. It was customary to shutter the windows of a house where there had been a death for a week. Superstitious people believed this custom prevented the dead from returning home and helped them find their way in the land of the dead, but the real reason for it was more mundane: people in the house used the time to mourn, plan funeral arrangements and decide what to do with treasured items and heirlooms. The practice of shuttering the house also served as a deterrent to thieves.
The drugs and chemicals used to treat their mother's body were supposed to ward off evil spirits and Fire Fiends from the grave, though Koushi didn't believe that would work.
Hinako, still asleep, turned sharply onto her side and coughed. Koushi pulled her blanket up to her shoulders and tucked her in. It was chilly inside the house: no lights were on, and they had no fuel for heat. The reality that it was only the two of them left here sank in.
We can't wait here until dad comes back. I have to protect Hinako. If I don't...
Koushi banished the image of his little sister being buried next to his mother. He'd never let that happen. They had to go to Okibi Estate. Koushi was already fifteen; most people in the capital had jobs by that age. If he was hired on by Okibi Estate, he'd make a considerable income. He could sell some of his mother's belongings to tide them over until then. He'd have to sort through all of them at some point, anyway.
Koushi wandered around the house, restless. He paused in front of his writing desk and stacked up his notebooks and pencils in neat piles, like a child putting away their toys. He was upset with himself. He finished straightening a stack of notebooks and scratched his head.
I'll have to stop going to school, too. I have to work; there's no time to study. If I don't get a job soon... No, I have to calm down. What will happen if I don't do this right?
It started raining; Koushi heard droplets patter against the window. He left his desk and set Hinako's favorite doll beside her as she slept. She didn't wake: she was sleeping soundly from the day's exertions, and from grief over their mother. Koushi scrawled a note for her and placed it near the doll.
I'll be right back. Stay inside the house and wait for me to come back. Even if someone else comes, don't answer the door.
Koushi sighed. If Kanata were here, he wouldn't have to worry about leaving his little sister alone.
"Kanata..." Hinako's hands twitched in her sleep as she called the dog's name.
***
The
capital's residential districts were patchwork, haphazard: houses built of
galvanized iron, wood planks, bricks and other materials dotted the line of
hills that led to the highest one in the city's center. Waterways cris-crossed
the entire area. Koushi and Hinako were fortunate to live in a house that was
in good repair. Their surroundings looked like a scrap-heap; the sea swept
metal and pollutants into the sea in the middle distance.
The other side of the hill was an industrial area that belched sulfur-colored smoke into the sky. The poorest of the poor lived there; they couldn't afford a house in one of the residential areas. These poor folk made their living by scavenging through garbage and stealing from others. Crows perched on roofs, fences, rusted pillars that Koushi didn't understand the purpose of, and street lights.
Koushi pulled up the hood of his raincoat and headed for the top of the hill. The black-feathered crows stuck out like sore thumbs in the grayish-blue, washed-out illumination of the city at night. Rain still fell. Koushi passed people headed to work at one of the factories. Mothers carrying young children on their backs served food from communal kitchens at odd intervals as he walked down the street.
I was supposed to graduate when I turned seventeen...
His mother's illness had put Koushi's education on hold. He hadn't shown up in person for a year. Koushi's family wasn't wealthy, and he should have been working long since, just like most of the children in town. He wasn't working now because of a fortunate accident that had happened when he was six. He'd been helping out a local laundry shop. The owner was a real miser; instead of using running water, which was expensive to fuel, he had the neighborhood children fetch him all his washing-water in buckets. It was time-consuming to do this, and many of the children weren't strong enough to carry much water, so Koushi had gathered scrap wood and nails to build a crude water pipe that he and the other children used to draw water from a nearby canal.
A
teacher from the local school caught sight of the pipe and asked who'd made it.
Koushi had been slated to work at a thread-spinning factory the year after, but
the teacher was so impressed that he granted the six-year-old a seat in the
capital's academy. He had to arrange for his own housing and books, but it was
still a good opportunity. He'd started his studies by researching medicine,
hoping he'd be able to do something to help his little sister's condition.
It
must have been difficult for Koushi's parents to keep paying for books and fees
from the school, but they never complained or asked him to drop out. They hoped
he'd be able to get a high-class professional job with his degree. Now, all
their hopes for him had drifted away, like sand falling between his fingers.
Koushi stopped dead in the street as the rain fell all around him, struck by the sparkle and shine of the city in a rainstorm. For a brief moment, he felt like he was dreaming. He kept walking, shaking off the dreamlike feeling, and reached the top of the hill. The road leveled out and became paved with different-colored stones in place of dirt. Koushi had never set foot in this part of the city before. Tall walls all around him created a maze of pathways; he caught glimpses of glittering roof tiles and garden trees.
The gate leading in to this part of the city was lit with lamps that perpetually burned; these lights never went out, and this was a sign of ostentatious wealth and power. More small lights, dimmer, shone through the rain.
Okibi Estate was to the north. It would be visible from the factory that overlooked the great Shrine of the Gods. The Shrine was in a relatively secluded part of the city, so Koushi had a bit of a walk before him.
A huge oaken gate stood before the Okibi Estate, so tightly shut that not even an ant could squeeze through. Above the gateposts, two small lights burned with a faint humming sound. How do I get inside? Koushi thought. He checked his map. He could push the gate open, but some irrational part of himself believed that his commoner's hands might defile it. The gate was spotlessly perfect; not even the rain seemed to touch it.
Stop thinking like a little kid, Koushi scolded himself. You were invited here, remember?
Koushi snapped his mouth shut, then stood up straight and knocked at the gate. He wondered if anyone could even hear anything since the gate was so thick.
Suddenly, a small wooden door beside the gate opened, and an old man peeked out from inside. "Who are you?"
Koushi froze and turned his head to conceal his blush. He handed the slip of blue paper to the old man. "I... I received this earlier today. I was told you might help me. My father is Haijuu. He's a Fire Hunter." He just barely managed to suppress the tremor in his voice.
The old man checked the paper, then nodded. He beckoned Koushi inside the gate. "Come in."
The man was short, but he moved with a quickness that didn't match his stature or the hunch of his spine. He was probably an employee of the estate. Koushi felt ashamed that he was following after an old man so much shorter and smaller than himself. The shame burned as if he were a snake moving along fiery ground.
Koushi put his shame aside and kept walking. He wouldn't be able to support Hinako or himself if he turned back now.
The open gate revealed a surprisingly luxurious world. The Okibi house was large, two-storied, and coated in white plaster. Its roof tiles were a brilliant shade of red. There was a central entrance leading into the house's living areas and a path leading directly into a garden. The garden was beautifully maintained, with not a leaf out of place.
Koushi followed the old man down the path, which was paved with beautiful multi-colored stones. He was invited inside the house and asked to remove his raincoat and shoes. The old man accepted the raincoat with careful, practiced movements, as if he did this every day. Then Koushi was ushered into a room to the right of the entrance hall.
Richly decorated lights are hung from the ceiling, shining brightly. A rush of excitement overwhelmed Koushi: there were five of these lights, an exorbitant amount by any standards. He remembered tales of ancient times, when humans had the freedom to use fire freely. Lighting must not have been as precious then, but lighting at this scale came at a premium cost now.
"Please wait here for a moment," the old man said, gesturing to a chair. He left the room.
Koushi looked around. The floor was made of polished stone. The chair that the old man had recommended was decorated, too, and the design was so strange and delicate that Koushi was scared to touch it in case he damaged it. Everything like this is made in the villages and then brought back by the black collection carts that go into the forest...
Villagers lived differently from those in the capital. The Black Forest was a constant, looming threat for them: Fire Fiends roamed and humans dared not enter it. Still, these villagers made a wide variety of goods to trade. These goods were then collected and processed within the factories in the capital. Processed and manufactured goods would be shipped out and sold to the villages once a year. Each village was separated from the others by the forbidding forest.
Koushi found himself wondering what village life was like. Maybe his father had gone to one of the villages? He'd have no companion there but his hunting dog. Where had he gone, and why hadn't he told anyone--not even his family? The unanswered question coursed through him, body and mind, like the poisonous illness that had killed his mother.
Left alone in the bright, elegant room, Koushi felt himself go a bit stir-crazy from the stillness. All he could hear was a rhythmic tick-tick sound. He looked around and identified an antique clock inside a wooden cabinet. It had a strange shape; usual timepieces had hands that moved down a vertical scale as the date changed, with several other hands moving around the clock face to tell the current time.
It looks like a clock from a long time ago. Koushi was fairly certain of this. He'd seen clocks of this shape in one of his old school library books. Most clocks from those days indicated that time moved in a circle, so perhaps the people of the past hadn't believed in the end of the world.
Suddenly, the door opened. A young man, very fat, entered in a richly embroidered robe. The robe appeared expensive, but subdued; the embroidery was done in black and gray thread. Was the man dressed in mourning, because of the passing of Koushi's mother? The clothes were of high quality, but did little to conceal or elevate the bulky figure of the man that wore them.
"I'm sorry to have kept you waiting," the man said in a cheerful tone. His voice was bright and high like a trumpet call, and his words hit Koushi with the force of a shout. "You must be wet and cold from the rain. I'll have something hot to drink brought in for you." The man gestured, and a servant came out from behind the doorway. She was a young woman, not the old man who'd guided him in. She bowed silently, then walked down the hall.
The fat man approached Koushi, clouded in an unfamiliar sweet scent. He gripped Koushi's chin and forced his head up without so much as a by-your-leave. He tightened his grip briefly, then bowed his head. "How unfortunate, for your poor mother to pass away while your father is absent. I am Yuoshichi Okibi, the owner of this house. You look a good deal like your father Haijuu. I heard from him that your mother has had struggles with her health. I was concerned, of course, but I never thought she would die--certainly not so soon. You have my sincere condolences."
Yuoshichi bowed his head gravely.
Koushi wasn't sure how to respond. This whole situation was awkward, and he had no idea how to behave.
"I... have a little sister." It was the first thing that came to his head; the words came out like an innocent plea. "She's chronically ill, but I'm a student and don't have a job yet. Might I ask you to be kind enough to let me work at your factory?" His eyes shone under the bright lamps hanging from the ceiling, as if they'd trapped a bit of light within.
Yuoshichi rubbed his mustache, shaking his head. "I am aware of your sister. I didn't call you here because I wanted you to work." He spoke a little too loud and slow, dragging out his words. That wasn't reassuring.
At that moment, the servant from earlier returned to the room carrying a tray. She placed two cups of steaming tea on the table without looking at anyone, along with a modest tray of baked goods, which were still warm. She bowed her head, then left the room without a word.
"Help yourself," Yuoshichi said. He moved to the chair behind Koushi and sat down. Koushi followed his example, choosing another richly appointed chair to sit down in. It was a soft, yet supportive seat; Koushi was even more impressed with the chair.
Yuoshichi took a sip of the aromatic tea, then closed his mouth. "I've known about your father's disappearance for some little time. I also know that your sister is ill. When I sent for you, I wasn't thinking of having you work for me. You're both invited to live in this house, if you'd like."
"What?" Koushi's mouth fell open. Live in this house? Was he talking about adopting them or something?
The head of the Okibi Estate peppered him with more questions as they drank their tea. His posture was relaxed; he leaned back against the chair, which encouraged Koushi to lean forward.
"My family has suffered nothing but losses this year. Our house is so empty; it feels lonely. Losing our mother is such a shock. I'm sure you can empathize with how my sister and I feel. The capital is hardly safe for two children alone, even as developed and advanced as it is."
"That is certainly true," Yuoshichi said. "Shall I prepare rooms for the two of you here? What is your answer?"
Koushi's mouth tightened. The lamps were too bright, and the scents of Yuoshichi's cologne and the heady tea were overwhelming, dulling his senses and slowing his thoughts.
I can't make the wrong choice here. He felt nervous, though he wasn't sure why.
"I thank you for your generosity, but I imagine that my father's disappearance has caused some trouble. I wouldn't feel right staying here on charity, if there's anything I can do to ease that trouble. I know that my father is only missing, not dead, and coming here would be like abandoning him."
"I'm not planning to adopt you," Yuoshichi said. "I'm inviting you to stay for awhile. Until your father is found, perhaps."
Koushi shifted in his seat. "For how long, sir?"
Yuoshichi folded his hands on the desk before him. He took a few moments, nodding to himself before saying, "I can see that you're not sure. Take some time to think about it on your own. If you remain a student, you'll have to leave your sister alone during the day."
The mere thought made Koushi's eyelids droop from exhaustion. Hinako...
Up until this point, their mother would come home periodically while he was going to school to feed her children lunch. If Hinako was sick, she'd take the day off to take her to the doctor. When his mother couldn't get off work, Koushi would take her to the doctor instead. Now he'd have to take care of Hinako all the time, and there was no one to help him if he couldn't do it.
"If you both say here, your sister will have access to better medical care. As for you..." Yuoshichi trailed off. Though his face was pudgy with rounded cheeks, as if his features were made of clay, the bridge of his nose was perfectly straight. His eyes were large and light-colored, staring intently at Koushi. "The academy is difficult. We can arrange for a private tutor for you. You don't have to get a tutor, of course. You'll be given access to the Central Archives, which should assist your studies. In addition..."
Yuoshichi stood up. His flowing clothes drifted around him, the embroidered cuffs gleaming in the light of the lamps. The sight made Koushi more self-conscious. He didn't belong in such an ostentatious place.
Yuoshichi's hand fell heavily on Koushi's shoulder. His fingers dug in briefly. The
hand was larger than Koushi's father's, who was a Fire Hunter. The weight
reminded Koushi of the artificial meat that the Okibi family was famous for
producing. It wasn't made of real meat, but had similar nutritional value.
Seeing Yuoshichi so overfed made Koushi realize that he was malnourished. So
was Hinako.
The smell of Yuoshichi's cologne made Koushi's head spin. The room was dazzling. Koushi wanted to leave. The darkness and rain outside would be a relief to his senses.
"Your father left a good deal of fuel here. I'll give you permission to use it at you see fit." Yuoshichi's deep voice fell on him from above, as if he were far away.
Wait... his father had left fuel here? Why would he do that?
Yuoshichi was looking at him. "Were you aware of what your father left behind?" He let go of Koushi's shoulder. His deep voice took on a hoarseness, as if he were whispering. He took a graceful step away from Koushi, moving like water. He joined his hands behind his back and started walking around the room. Shelves set into the walls displayed beautiful items with no clear use: a jade vase, a carving of a bird, crossed swords that were purely decorative.
"Your
father came to me some time ago. He seemed to have concerns about the future
and concealed a cache of fuel here in case anything happened. Not just the
normal fire fuel, either, but lightning fuel--very special, much more
rare." He paused. "Koushi. Your father left the capital because the
world is changing. I believe that he sensed the unrest in our government and
wanted to prepare for its impending collapse."
Koushi didn't believe that what Yuoshichi was saying was true, though he certainly seemed to think it was. He looked right at Koushi, unwavering. Koushi felt like he was wandering in a dream--like everything since his mother's burial had been nothing but one long dream. But it wasn't a dream. His mother was definitely dead. He remembered her taking her last breath. Her body had been warm, for awhile, until...
Koushi had tried to revive his mother, in a clumsy way: he'd expected her to move at his touch, or to respond in some way, but she hadn't. She was gone.
"Unfortunately, my factory workers lack some in expertise when it comes to handling raw fuel. Too many accidents happen, not just here, but in other factories as well. I'm performing research about different vessels that the fuel can be placed in. Something safer, more versatile, more useful, you understand."
A new vessel? Usually, fire fuel would be placed in a large tank that was kept filled; the fuel in that tank could power all of the major machines in a factory for quite a while. The reserve fuel held in such tanks was earmarked for use during times of government unrest.
But Yuoshichi was asking about an alternative way to handle and store fire fuel. Was that because he feared a government collapse? One that would happen soon?
"I don't care how much you spend on materials and funds. I'll give you the same terms that I offered your father. Our nation is in danger. The long rule of the guardian gods will come to an end. When that time comes, we will need to have enough stored to keep the capital going while the city rebuilds."
Our nation is in danger... I wonder if people of the past had warning about the disaster that changed their world, Koushi thought. He remembered the circular clock and thought that there was once a time when people didn't believe in the end of the world.
But Koushi, and all other modern people, knew better. He knew that the world could end. The world could die.
Lightning fuel was a rare subset of fire fuel. Fire fuel was harvested from the Fire Fiends that wandered along the ground in the Black Forest. Lightning fuel could only be harvested from Fire Fiends that flew. Flying Fire Fiends were called Fallen Beasts, and their materials were more valuable than those harvested from the more common Fire Fiends. Lightning fuel was more valuable specifically because it lasted much longer than fire fuel. It was also more volatile. If not handled properly, fire fuel would burn, but lightning fuel would actually explode.
Consequently, lightning fuel could be used to power large structures--like the capital's factories--but not for smaller applications, like powering the lamps of a single home. A small amount of lightning fuel generated an enormous amount of power. Only a handful of Fire Hunters had the skill to hunt Fallen Beasts. There was no training or protocol for hunting them as there was for regular Fire Fiends.
Koushi knew that his father had hidden a sealed vessel full of lightning fuel in the basement of their home. He also knew that was very dangerous and illegal. All of the fire fuel and lightning fuel that Fire Hunters harvested should have gone to the guardian gods that ruled the capital. Koushi believed that his father had hidden the vessel to help his mother, in case he died or was gone for a very long time. Selling that vessel to the guardian gods would mean that Koushi's mother would never have to work again.
But it was against the law to hide that lightning fuel. If Koushi handed it over to the guardian gods now, he wouldn't be paid anything. He'd be lucky if he wasn't punished.
Koushi
had never touched the hidden vessel of lightning fuel. Shortly after his father
had concealed it in their basement, he'd disappeared.
Not every tank and vessel was capable of storing lightning fuel safely. Koushi's father had used a cylindrical glass bottle made of a specialty material that was manufactured in certain villages around the capital to store the secret lightning fuel. Koushi knew a little about the Fallen Beasts, lightning fuel and the materials that could be used to store it from reading books, but the knowledge in books was limited--truncated, almost, like someone was trying to keep all of this information hidden.
Still, Koushi understood the general differences between fire fuel and lightning fuel. He thought he understood what Yuoshichi was asking by investigating different storage vessels, too. Yuoshichi had to know that there was only one material that could contain lightning fuel safely, which meant that his research was into materials that could hold it... unsafely. Temporarily.
The only obvious reason for that was to use lightning fuel to create weapons. Bombs. Destruction... Such things had been used extensively in ancient wars.
Theoretically, it was possible--even easy--to make weapons using lightning fuel. But why would Koushi research that? Even if it was true that the nation was in imminent danger, creating weapons of destruction on such a scale would only make the problems that the capital was facing worse.
Koushi felt cold through. Did he have a choice? The Okibi Estate was an opportunity that had fallen into his lap. It would be one thing to walk away for his own reasons, but could he really do that to Hinako? He could make use of the lightning fuel that his father had left behind. He was responsible for it now, since his father and mother were gone. Even Kanata was gone--Kanata, who Hinako had been so attached to.
Koushi's heart pounded in his ears, loud. He remembered Hinako calling out for the dog in her sleep. He remembered standing in the cemetery by the sea... over his mother's grave. Those dark memories could overwhelm him, but they didn't have to. If Hinako had good medical care, she wouldn't die.
The Okibi Estate could be their lifeline. Koushi felt a lump rise in his throat and thought, Help. Help us. Please. His choices were to languish on the streets alone, hoping and praying that he'd be sufficient to save his sister on his own--or to come here, to safety, where his sister's well-being was more or less guaranteed.
It wasn't a choice.
"May I ask you something?" Koushi asked. At Yuoshichi nod, he said. "Wouldn't it be better to have someone more knowledgable and experienced to handle the lightning fuel? It's extremely dangerous, and I'm just an academy student. What knowledge I have is limited to what I've read in books. If you agree to help my sister, I'll do my best with the lightning fuel that my father left behind, but..."
Yuoshichi shook his head. "There is no one more qualified than you. Consider our arrangement set. You're smart, and your talents would be wasted working in a factory. Deepening our knowledge of lightning fuel here would be a valuable boon to many people. We need young people like you here. I swear to provide your sister with the best possible care."
Koushi sighed. He wished that his mother were still alive. He wished Yuoshichi could have saved her. She would have been overjoyed to secure a good doctor for Hinako.
It was ironic that his mother's death led to her children's salvation.
"I understand," Koushi said. "Thank you so much for your kindness. We are in your care." Koushi stood up from the chair and bowed from the waist.
Yuoshichi lowered his heavy head in acceptance, the scent of his cologne filling the air.
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