Omega sat down at a shoddy wooden table, feeling each splinter of the wood in the holes in his clothing. The house seemed very old, and shoddy as a whole, but the smell was completely new. The young man went to the kitchen and a mass of clacking wood ensued.
Omega looked down at his hands in sizzling discomfort. They tightened as a flash of Steele crossed his mind. He clenched his lips, halting his breath.
"These...are for you." The man showed back up with a t-shirt and shorts in his hand, both of which were mediocre in quality.
Omega grabbed the clothes out of his hand without looking up, "Thank you."
"Thank you..." The man repeated curiosly, "I am sorry, I am still learning. It's my affinity, to learn languages from others."
Omega's eyelids lowered as he clutched the clothes in his hands.
"Are you okay? You need food, maybe. Break...fast?" The man ran back to the kitchen.
Omega jerked his body up out of the chair. His breathing grew fast and heavy and his body shook in place. A groan in his throat erupted in a complete cry. With a thud, his knee knocked the table over as he stormed out of the house. His feet, still red and scarred, slapped against the mud as he clawed away at his hair. He ran through the meadow and into a forest, ripping strands of his hair as he cried. Blinded by his tears, Omega ran into a tree and fell on the grass.
He sprawled his body out and kicked his legs, "Yama..! Yama..!" Blood poured down his scalp as he tried to stop the pain in his head.
"I'm sorry! I—I hate this! Myself! I hate my—"
QUIET!
Omega's body froze and blood dripped from his hair. He felt a wave of unease in his head. Omega widened his eyes and thought, What was..?
He sat up, the grass rustled quietly. He put his hand on his head, This static...why am I hearing it?
Then he put his hand on his chest, It feels...full. No, whole. Am I—Did I do it? Is this... he squeezed his chest and his brows furrowed, who I really am?
"This is the real me?" He whispered as he watched the blood drip from his hair. Then his eyes went down to his ragged body.
"That's what it took?" His mind flashed back to Uyama, but everything afterwards was blurry, and only Steele was in focus. He went back further.
It's time to wake up? Did Ael...know? Why didn't he—why didn't he do anything about it?
...Maybe I didn't try hard enough. I'm sure there was a way.
Omega let his body fall into the dirty grass. If that—this...is the real me, then...
I don't want to be real anymore.
Omega laid there for hours, letting insects crawl over his body and fallen leaves cover his face. The wet smell from a recent rain carried like a mist. He stared up at the rising moon, his mouth agape. Finally, when the moon hit its peak, he closed his eyes and loosened his body.
I found it. A real forest, Uyama. I'm here. I think I'll stay here—just for a while.
He took a deep breath and let himself go.
———
"I'd like to personally welcome you to our rehabilitation center." A doctor greeted Enjō and Omari at the front door of the Shacian Military Rehabilitation Facility. "We heard of your effort against the terrorists."
Enjō looked up at the doctor with a blank face, which he returned with a fake smile.
"Well," the doctor clasped his hands together, "now that you've recovered from the operation, we can now move into the real habilitation: training the rest of that arm of yours. Then you'll be ready for your prosthetic! Does that sound good to you?" The doctor glanced at both of them excitedly.
"Yeah." Enjō murmured and walked past him with Omari.
With that, Enjo's rehabilitation began.
"Do you feel any painful sensations in your stump?" The doctor asked.
"Yeah, I do."
"On a scale of one through ten? That is to gauge your progress of course."
"Eight."
"I see," The doctor wrote something down on his paper.
"Has it been higher than that? Or is it a growing pain?"
"It's growing."
"Those anesthetics didn't do much did they..." He tapped his pen on his lip, "Let's get started on your treatment then."
A while later, Omari and Enjō returned to Omari's home in the evening.
I hope Auntie doesn't come here, man, Enjō thought as he sat down on his dusty bed. Almost immediately, Omari appeared at his door.
"Not a great idea to sit there, Enjō. All that dust could—" Omari stuck his fingers out like an explosion, "you know. One spark's all it takes." He tapped a vacuum cleaner beside him.
"Why not chill outside while I clean?"
As Enjō closed the door behind him, a buzz came from his pocket. I forgot I kept his phone...
When he pulled out, he saw it was only spam. Just as he put his thumb on the power button, he stared at the Notes app again. He grimaced, I can't...but he might've left something. I'll just...
Enjō opened the app and was greeted by a section called, "For Enjō and Omega". He perked up, and his body shivered. He really did leave something.
He read.
I'll probably forget to clear this thing out at some point, but if this is still here, then I'm most likely dead. Don't worry, I saw it coming. And if only Enjō is reading this, I can guess why. I already assumed my death would complete Omega's soul, because he'd already experienced everything but true sadness and anger. I also assume that he left for a while, and that you, Enjō, are feeling worried. If that's the case, then there's not much to worry about, really. Just find him I guess. P.S, if this isn't true, PLEASE ignore this PLEASE PLEASE. That would be embarrassing.
However things went, I'm sure you're all having a pretty rough time, but it's nothing you can't handle. There are so many things I wish I could've told you, but you'll know them eventually. So many buts, heh—right? No? M'kay. Seriously though, Enjō, if you're ever in trouble, look deep inside you and figure out what it is you want to do—then do it. Thats how I've been doing life, and I ended up pretty happy, didn't I?
That was the end of that note.
Enjō sat down at the patio and threw his head back with a sigh. "That's real easy to say." He heard the vacuum cleaner from inside and murmured under his breath, "Theres no food at home. Guess I should get groceries."
Enjō looked down at his stub as he got up and grimaced. "Even somethin' that simple. So simple—but I don't know if I can do it..." A tight, strangling feeling attacked his throat.
Things would be better if I had just stayed home then.
What if I just...never met—
He stopped himself and put his hand over his heart, What? I cant do that—I can't, I... Why did I think that? What's wrong with me?
As his breath got faster, Enjō reached his left arm to grab the rail of the patio. He somehow felt his hand again, touching the rail, but as he put weight on it he slipped down the stairs and into the muddy grass. On his back, he looked up at the sky. The pain in his stub grew and crawled out, crawled out to an arm that didn't exist.
Heh. So this is how it had to happen, Enjō thought as he chuckled.
I don't even know what's real anymore.
———
Corian's hand reached out to his canvas and felt the dry, gritty paint.
No...this is not right...
He stood from his chair and grabbed the canvas, nearly pushing his thumbs through the paper. I can't seem to find it. Blood pumped through his arms as he squeezed the canvas.
"Yo," A voice came from the door with a knock, "Alamonte~."
Corian froze with a tight grip as the door opened.
"It's Falan." A mischievous smile spread on his face, "I just wanted to thank ya, for saving me."
Corian turned his head but not his body to say, "I'm still not sure if that was a good idea. Don't thank me."
"But you agreed! We turned Shacia into a piece of art! Like the uh—the thing you draw on."
Corian groaned, "A canvas."
"Right, but why stop there? Think about it."
Corian set the canvas down to the side, picked up a fresh one, and placed it on the pedestal. "I am thinking."
"Well, even if you don't wanna, I'm gonna keep going."
A stiff silence permeated the room.
"...What do you mean?"
"I'm goin' to the second capital. Then JanuEri, maybe. I'm gonna be an artist, just like you." He chuckled under his breath.
Corian remained silent, and began painting on the canvas with his finger.
"Like, I really don't get it, but after I woke up—" He clenched his fists, "—I felt somethin'. I don't know what, but I felt good. I wanna feel it again."
"You do know what would happen, right?"
"Doesn't matter. If some idiot tries to stop me, then I'll kill them."
"There's been plenty of times that you didn't take your opponent seriously."
Falan sucked his teeth, "And you're actin' like you didn't do the same. Anyway, this isn't about the people I fight. It's about me."
Corian continued to paint, occasionally stirring his finger into a red cup of water.
"I wanna be more. I wanna have more."
"...Then, you take everything." Corian murmured as Falan started to see the paint past his back. "If souls are strengthened by desire, then humans should be strongest. Us Artificials were simply born and educated, while humans were fed, given attention, played with, things of that nature. They were born to be selfish."
Falan was silent for a while, and the strokes of Corian's fingers hastened.
So much red and orange. Is he not crazy?
"Well, looks like I'm going in the right direction then. Good t'know. What're you—uh— painting again?"
Corian turned around, his half-opened bloodshot eyes looked at Falan.
"So...what is it?" Falan asked as he touched the painting of dark fire, feeling actual heat radiating from it.
Corian said with grit in his voice, "I had never seen fire like it before. It looks like some Artificials are exceptions to the rule."
"Pfft, by the time I'm done, that kid won't even compare. Just leave it to me." Falan smirked as he left the room. As the door closed, Corian turned back to his painting, the heat emanating from it made his face swelter. He slowly leaned towards it, his nose was only inches from touching the wet paint, the heat grew intense.
"It's nowhere close. Even at my best, I can't replicate it." He sighed and leaned back, closed his eyes and nodded to himself.
Yes...that would be good.
———