The Restoration Protocol

26 || in the snow

Soleil doesn't waste any time. As eager to leave the temple as anyone else, she explains upfront about needing Pyra's key, and that she wouldn't be leaving the temple without it. No matter the argument. Pyra's illogical, selfish desire to hold on to it as no more than another accessory amounts to nothing. Soleil admits she isn't above taking it by force if necessary. Pyra could scoff and sneer and argue her importance as a rightful Keyholder all she wants, but she's earned herself no sympathy among her unwanted guests, whom she is unquestionably at the mercy of.

Even so, the kitsune woman shows no fear in their presence. Proud and arrogant even in the face of a blatant threat. She acts as though knowing that, even if Soleil were driven to use force to pry the key from her fingers, Mono would be the one to jump in to rescue her.

It feels wrong. Even though they walk away from the temple with the key, the last key, hanging about Mariko's neck, it doesn't feel like they've won. As if with the mere fact of Mono still being with them, they really did come away from it all empty-handed. The sun has begun to set. From this high up on the beautiful, snowy mountain, it should be a breathtaking sight. But a bitter and colder night than they've ever seen seems to lurk in the shadows.

"Well, that's...five, right?" To break the uncomfortable silence that swiftly settles in the still air, Sebastian clears his throat, counting heads just to be reassured no one stayed behind before the temple doors shut. He counts six. Everyone is here. Yet no one responds. "Alright... so that's something, uhm... ah—hold on, where you goin', man?"

The sound of crunching snow draws Mariko's eyes away from the key she was staring at. Mono is walking away. Back the way they came to get here. She calls out to him, too. He stops, but doesn't turn around.

"I...have to take you back down the mountain..."

If the wind had raised its own voice right then, Mono's would have been drowned out. He stands still for a moment between two of the unlit torches lining the walkway. His hands are limp at his sides, lacking but the strength to clench in anger. No one can really say if he is angry, after all. There seems to be no emotion at all. No drive. Mono walked into that temple a heart bursting with renewed hope and vigor, and he walked out as nothing more than the hollow ribcage that once cradled it. And it all happened so quickly, so without mercy.

"Mono-"

He cuts Mariko off. "I haven't finished," he says, "returning... the favor. I take you down the mountain... back to the station... we don't break. We... we go forward."

She wishes she could be inspired by his dedication. But it's hard to watch. Hard to bear, knowing the first she saw of Mono was him beaten and scarred and chained up in a prison chamber, and that this is all he has to show for it. Nothing. Nothing at all. He took the blame for a heinous crime that didn't even occur, and he comes away with nothing. It's more than just a bitter taste on Mariko's tongue. She can't stand it. She can't stand the way it makes her sick to her stomach, how her still-boiling blood makes her warm enough that she almost wants to take off her coat and throw it off the side of the mountain. It wasn't supposed to be like this. They were supposed to be able to celebrate. Even Mono, he was supposed to...

Mariko feels a hand tug at her arm. She began to walk towards Mono with a certain look ablaze in her eyes, unaware of it herself, until Soleil stops her — not from following after Mono, but with the intent of changing her mind from its course to dissuade the kitsune from his decision. Soleil must have gathered that it would be a fruitless effort. Or perhaps, Mariko considers, that it would only make matters worse.

She has no choice. Everyone comes to the same conclusion. Mono wants to go. So for now, they go. At least it's a downhill climb. It would be easier on his legs. Though Mariko is sure they must still ache, if not from the journey here, then everything that led up to it. All that time, however long it may have been, and whatever extent those ignorant, misled guards abused him. His arms are bare. Scars and bruises visible thanks to the torn off sleeves of his coat.