Blood Curse Academia - Orientation

Chapter LVII (57) - Jeri Co.

When Kizu awoke to find Anata, his half-monster niece, had gone missing, he had to squelch the immediate panic. She’d likely gone exploring, something she had spent years doing while trapped in the World Dungeon. Of course, back then it had only been her astral self-wandering the academy halls, never her physical body. Thankfully, the illusion he had overlaid on Anata’s clothing was still active and would continue to conceal her.

He quickly readied himself to search for her, deciding not to bother Basil or Mort. Both were fast asleep. With his translation earring’s enchantment broken, he wouldn’t be able to communicate with his roommate anyway - and the gods knew Mort would be irritated about being woken up early. Better to just handle this himself.

His scrying orb was still under his bed where he’d left it. Now that he no longer needed to worry about the academy tracking him, he dug it out.

As he left his dorm, Kizu considered dismissing his illusion. After a moment, he decided it was far better if Anata was discovered as a rogue enchanted potato sack rather than as a half-Blood Lord girl wandering the academy halls. One brought up significantly fewer questions than the other.

Thankfully, he still had an older prototype of his leg brace stashed in his closet. Using that, along with a cane, Kizu could traverse Shinzou Academy without too much trouble. Students were done with their classes for the day, many on their way to the library or heading down the mountain to Shinzou Town proper. Even with the leg brace, Kizu’s leg was aching fiercely when he finally found the potato sack in a secluded corridor. Only a few scattered students were walking nearby. Kizu counted himself lucky that none of them had thoroughly examined her with their spellsense. A cursory glance only revealed that the potato sack was obviously magical, but if someone took even a bit effort, they would realize it was an illusion, not an enchantment. Thankfully, most of his peers were desensitized to things like roaming potato sacks and gave the sight very little thought.

Checking over his shoulder to make certain no one was watching, he dismissed the illusion. Anata sat next to a stone pillar, leaning up against it. Her big heterochromic eyes, red and black, wouldn’t meet his.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, crouching down next to her.

She raised her hands and stared at them, but made no further response.

“You need to be careful, this isn’t like when you wandered as a spirit before. People will notice you now.”

She nodded ever so slightly, then put her hand against the stone pillar. She pushed against it. Nothing happened.

Kizu did his best to guess what was bothering her. “You can’t pass through walls when you’re awake,” he said. “It’s not like how you dreamed it.”

She looked up at him, surprise showing in her face.

“I understand a little, at least, what it’s like to be locked up and dreaming of a place for years. Nothing is quite the same as you imagined it would be.”

Anata nodded again, more vigorously this time.

“What did you leave for? I can show you around, but you shouldn’t just wander off alone.”

She pointed at her stomach, then licked the stone pillar. A mimicked imitation of how she’d survived while locked up.

Of course. She hadn’t eaten or had a drop to drink in at least a day.

“Come on,” he said. “I’m going to overlay your clothes with that illusion again. Follow close behind me, and we’ll go get some food.”

The cafeteria was full of students getting early dinners. Kizu spotted a few of his classmates sitting in groups, working on projects. Midterms, he realized. Those had completely slipped his mind.

He managed to find a small empty table in the back of the room and boosted Anata up onto the chair.

“What do you want?” he asked, only to realize how stupid the question was. Even if she could communicate, she definitely couldn’t read the Universal Script. Not only that, she’d also never had a proper meal in her entire life. What would she even ask for? Moldy moss?

He selected two bowls of noodles on the menu. They materialized in front of him, and he passed one over to her. Two small hands pierced the potato sack and snatched the bowl up. He was about to pass her the chopsticks to help her eat, but she was already shoveling the noodles into her mouth with her bare hands. Kizu winced at the loud, messy slurping sounds, interrupted only by her brief gasps for air. A minute later, the hands, now soaked in broth, reappeared and held out the empty bowl. Kizu took it and switched it out with his own untouched bowl.

He ordered a few wheat bread buns and passed one to her as well.

“Here,” he said. “Use this to soak up the soup when you’re finished with the noodles.”

He munched on his own bread while she ate, now at a slightly slower pace.

“Kizu!” someone said behind him, followed by a string of very incoherent words.

Turning, Kizu was surprised to see Gregor. It felt like it had been years since he last chatted with the Tainted drummer. And… it seemed like it would continue to stay that way for a bit longer.

“I don’t understand,” Kizu said, pointing at his ear where his translator should have been.

Gregor tilted his head, then understanding seemed to come and his face lit up. He continued to talk, in a language that sounded incredibly guttural and raspy. Then he took a quill from his bag and wrote on a napkin in the Universal Script. He sketched a rough map on the back of the napkin before handing it over to Kizu.

Broke it, eh?

No worries. If you want another, there’s a shop in town that sells hand-me-downs from graduates.

Place is called Jeri Co. Across from the bar Utasuki.

I’d show you, but Tara and I have a study hall planned. Just supposed to be grabbing us food right now.

Kizu read the note twice, not believing his luck.

“Thanks,” he said, pocketing the napkin.

Gregor snatched up one of Kizu’s bread rolls and bit into it, then gave him a big grin and a wink as he walked away.

Kizu stood. If he left right now, he could get to the shop before it closed for the day, even with his gimp leg slowing him. But then he felt a tug at the back of his shirt. He looked back and saw Anata’s little hand pointing at the menu.

He sighed, then ordered a dozen of the dessert dango skewers. He took the platter with him as they left, passing her another skewer whenever she finished one. He helped himself to one as well. The last time he’d eaten the sticky dessert had been years ago, before the crone took him.

“Your mom loved these,” he reflected as they walked. “Whenever we went to a festival, she always ate too many and felt sick the next day.”

If Anata made any sort of response, he couldn’t see it under the illusion. Kizu decided to stop talking, just in case it drew any attention.

As they exited the academy grounds, a James, one of the wooden golems that moderated the academy, warned him that he’d need to return before curfew. Other than that, though, nobody commented on him and his roving potato sack. The road down to town proved more challenging, and not because of his aching leg either. Anata had to stop and catch her breath several times after just a few minutes. It was yet another reminder of the isolated life she’d been living up until now. He tried to be patient, but after the fourth stop he simply picked her up. Since they were outside Shinzou Academy’s campus, Kizu was able to start jumping large segments of the walk, rapidly transporting them to other positions in his line-of-sight. While his leg brace did protest, they moved significantly faster than waiting for her to muster up her stamina. He decided he needed to endure it if he wanted to get down to the shop before it closed for the day.

He could feel her clutch at his shirt, constantly fidgeting as they entered the town. It seemed like she wanted to look everywhere all at once. Not that there was much to see. It wasn’t a weekend, so most students had already retired for the night, and the majority of errand-runners had long since finished up their business for the day.

Kizu found the place without too much difficulty. The bar across the street was blaring harsh music and poor singing. Kizu wondered idly if the music was being performed live, or if they’d used an enchantment to record the instruments ahead of time. Probably the latter. Or maybe the instruments themselves were enchanted to play on command. He made a mental note to check it out some other time. He was willing to bet that the higher levels of the academy’s music classes discussed similar topics.

The Jeri Co. sign was weathered to the point of illegibility. If Gregor hadn’t specifically told him the shop’s name, he wouldn’t have been able to make it out at all.

He pushed open the door. It only opened about halfway before he hit resistance on the other side. Poking his head in, Kizu saw a pile of hundreds of cans blocking the door. He shuffled inside, holding Anata close to him, and let the door swing shut behind him.

The room was filled with odd objects. Jars with random things crammed inside them lined the shelves. Weirdly designed furniture was scattered throughout the shop, not arranged with any obvious rhyme or reason. Strips of cloth and glyph-marked papers hung in tangled clusters from the ceiling. There was a counter with a till not far from the door, a small island of order in the chaotic shop.

“Hello?” Kizu called, walking up to it.

Immediately a metal marble on the counter flashed a brilliant, white light, blinding Kizu and forcing him back a step.

A figure hopped up onto the counter and looked down at him.

“Hello, hello!” it said cheerfully.

Blinking rapidly, Kizu saw a man that was even shorter than Anata standing on the counter, only a meter at most. The top of his head was bald, only a thin crown of pink hair speckled with white remaining. He had a white beard that reached his toes.

“You’re a gnome,” Kizu said stupidly.

“Sure am,” the gnome confirmed with a smile. “New customer? Name’s Jeri. What can I getcha today? Something dramatic, like a dragonslaying pike? Or something convenient, like an invisible couch? Or perhaps just some sweets for your sister there?”

Kizu glanced down at Anata, confused. The illusion still held.

“Ah, that was rude of me, eh?” Jeri smacked his head with a palm. “Didn’t mean to insult your spellcraft. Missus always berates me for talkin’ before I think. See me eye here?” He pointed at his right eye for emphasis. “Lost it a while back and had it replaced with one that sees through illusions. Always forget I can see things that other folks don’t. The Headmaster himself wouldn’t be able to slip something past me. Not using solely illusions, at least. With a combination of proper fields of study, my eye isn’t completely infallible. And certain levels of layering can also cause a proper headache.”

Kizu stared at him. Was something like that even possible? An object like that would be mind-boggling powerful. If what he said was true, it could even pierce an illusion created by the crone. In fact, the crone herself would have plucked out her own eyes for an enchanted prosthetic like that.

“Oh,” Kizu said, after an unnatural pause in the conversation. “I’m, um, looking for a replacement earring.”

“Broke it or pawned it? Wait, stop! Don’t tell me. Missus says I ask too many questions, see. I got a few different options. Looking for anything special, or just the standard model?”

“Just the standard,” Kizu said. While tempted to ask about the other versions, he wanted his to be discrete, like all the others used by the student body.

The gnome disappeared behind the counter, then reemerged with a handful of sparkling earrings.

“Favorite color?”

“Just the normal black, please.”

“Pity.” Jeri passed one over the counter to him. “Thought with your green hair you’d be a bit more adventurous. But don’t judge a book by its cover and all that. Your sister need one too?”

“She’s my niece,” Kizu said, dismissing the potato sack illusion. He looked down at her questioningly.

Anata shook her head.

“She doesn’t want one.”

“Hm. Well, here, take this at the very least.” Jeri again hopped off the counter and rummaged through a pile of clothes before tossing a small dress at Kizu. “On the house. No offense, but whatever that outfit used to be, it’s long past its expiration date.” Jeri paused, then yanked his beard violently. “Ah, of course you’ll take offense! Got to think! Think before speaking. My mistake.”

“No, you’re right,” Kizu said, taking the small dress. “Thank you.”

“Well now, an earring like that is 2,500 Yennies.”

“Ah, well,” Kizu fumbled, “I don’t really have any money on me right now. I was kind of hoping I might be able to pay you back in a day or two. My parents will hopefully send someone to pick up my niece and will be able to take care of any bills.”

Jeri tugged on his beard again, staring at him.

“If not that, I can help work it off on my weekends,” Kizu quickly suggested.

“What’d you say your name was?”

“Kaga Kizu.”

“One of the Kagas! I knew you looked familiar. I know your pa. Old business partner, see. He’s long since risen past the likes of yours truly, but I’m sure he’ll remember me when I come by to badger him for the coin. We’ll put it on your tab for now.”

It was Kizu’s turn to stare. He tried to wrap his mind around the image of his father interacting with someone like this at all, let alone acting as a business partner, and failed utterly. He knew better than to question his good fortune, though.

Kizu tried to recall his studies of Gnomish and said what he thought was a word of thanks in the language, but it came out in such a garbled mess that Jeri simply laughed and told him he was welcome back anytime.

Kizu next decided to go see if he could contact his parents. He remembered seeing an all-hours post office on one of his previous visits in town, so they headed in that direction next. Anata gaped at everything around them as they walked through the streets.

The post office was made of red clay bricks and it seemed to lean slightly, indicating either great age or shoddy construction.

The clerk at the front counter said something nonsensical to him in a monotone voice, not even bothering to look up from her book.

Kizu stared at her for a minute, then remembered his earring. He slid the stud in place. It stung and bled slightly, his ear having partially healed over since he broke the first translator.

“Sorry,” he said, wiping the bead of blood on his pants. “Can you repeat that one more time?”

Her eyes flickered up to him in irritation. “Sending or receiving?”

“Oh, sending.”

“Packages that size will have an additional cost.”

Packages? Then he looked down at Anata, once more concealed by his potato sack illusion.

“Sorry. This sack is unrelated. I just need to send a message to my parents. Do you have a piece of parchment or paper?”

She pointed across the room at a desk by the window, then went back to her book.

Kizu craned his neck to make out the book’s cover. He saw the words Glistering Gremlin, spelled out in sparkling green letters. Not a book he was familiar with. It must have been good, though, because the clerk was already completely refocused on the contents, even biting her lip in anticipation.

He walked over to the desk and set Anata down on one of the chairs. It took two failed drafts before he had a completed letter he felt satisfied with.

Mother and Father,

Hope this letter finds you well. I recently came into contact with someone who knew Anna during her school days. I know this will come as a surprise, but I discovered he and she had a child together. Now, unfortunately, I find myself in custody of Anna’s daughter. Her father is no longer alive. I did some tests, just to be certain of her heritage, and it proved to be the truth. How should I proceed? Any guidance or help would be appreciated.

Your Son,

Kaga Kizu

Kizu looked over the third draft, still a bit uncertain. He assumed his parents would help regardless of how he phrased things, but he still didn’t want to come off as too pushy or demanding. The problem was, he just didn’t know his parents well enough to know how to approach them. What he ended up with felt polite and safe, but maybe that wasn’t the right approach. Should he appeal to their obligation as grandparents instead?

He sighed, realizing he wasn’t likely to come up with anything better even if he did switch his tone up. Better to stick to a safe script.

“Do you do pay-on-delivery?” he asked the clerk.

“Depends on the recipient.” She didn’t look up from her book.

“My parents.”

“Yeah, we get those a lot.”

She held out her hand for the letter.

Kizu looked down at the folded piece of paper.

“Do I need to write their names on it?”

The lady glanced up from her book, eyes narrowing as she looked at the paper. She withdrew her hand.

“Yes,” she said with distaste. “Name, address, date. Written on an envelope.”

Kizu glanced back at the desk. Sure enough, there was a stack of blank envelopes. He apologized and retreated.

He quickly scrawled on the envelope his parents’ names, their home address, and what he thought the date was. Passing it to the lady, he retreated with Anata in hand, not trusting himself to say another word without coming out of the exchange looking even dumber.

Setting Anata down outside, Kizu began to wander through the streets. As it was, he just needed to kill time in hopes that his parents would respond tonight. He recalled from his parents' discussions that messages could be transported exceptionally quickly between authorized cities using spatial spells and enchantments. Since their home was set into trading networks, it was simply a matter of whether or not his parents checked their mail for the night.

Anata tailed after him. His pace was slow enough that she could keep up without too much of an issue.

It felt surreal walking through the town casually again, after all that had happened. As if everything that he had experienced down in the World Dungeon was nothing more than a strange dream he’d just woken up from that morning. More than that, it was as if his decade with the crone had simply been a long nightmare. He felt almost transported back in time, to the days when he’d followed Anna around this same town, the same way her daughter now followed him.

Kizu found himself walking past the old lady’s home where he had faced the first bloodspawn. It felt like years ago, when it had only been a couple months. Cheesewhiskers the cat lounged in the windowsill, lazily looking down at them.

“Anywhere you want to go?” Kizu asked Anata.

She nodded enthusiastically and tugged on his hand. Kizu let her guide him down to the beach. The sun was setting over the sea, showing off a magnificent spread of pastel oranges and reds on the horizon. Anata had picked a gorgeous spot.

Kizu found a nice driftwood log half-submerged in the sand and plopped down on it. Unfortunately, Anata appeared uninterested in resting. Instead, she walked right into the breaking waves.

She yelped as the water rammed into her legs, knocking her off balance and sending her tumbling into the water. Despite being just a few feet from dry land, she flailed madly about in the shallow waters, submerging beneath the waves.

Leaping up from where he sat, Kizu dashed down to the shoreline. He waded into the waves about waist-deep and snatched Anata up choking and gasping from the water. Holding her close, he brought her out of the sea.

She clung to him, shaking madly with her eyes bugged out of her head as she gave the ocean the side eye. She looked betrayed.

“You need to learn how to swim first,” Kizu explained. “You’re not just projecting your spirit anymore. The world is a lot more dangerous when you approach it in person.”

Kizu got the new dress out and tried giving it to Anata to change into. Of course, she didn’t know what to do with it. Rubbing his temples, Kizu sighed. The sooner his parents contacted him the better. He helped her change and discarded the old clothes. She really was little more than skin and bone. It was both sickening and infuriating. The crone had been a horrible parental figure to him, but at least she’d kept him fed. How could anyone treat their own child like this? It revolted him.

Anata looked a bit happier in the new outfit, but she was still shaken by her brush with the sea. Kizu considered gathering up the smelly old rags, but decided they were better off letting the tide take them. Instead he kicked back and did his best to enjoy the waning sunset. He had a hundred different worries and concerns, but he let them fade away, swallowed up by the scent of the sea and the sound of rolling waves.