Clock Heart (Ryo/Junno, NC-17) [1/3]
Jul. 19th, 2012 10:53 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
maayacolabackupTitle: Clock Heart
Pairing/Group: Ryo/ Junno
Rating/Warnings: NC-17, Steampunk/pulp AU, manly men in dresses against their will.
Word Count: 25-26k or thereabouts
Summary: North River City is a well-oiled machine, and when the engine suddenly ceases to run, the city just...stops.
Notes: written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
beltenebra at ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
je_fqfest, with the admirable help of a lot of people who helped me finish in 37 hours with no sleep, and a beta who did an amazing job catching most of my terrible typos in only two hours. LOVE <3
And this is for listening:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-wfboKtXdUo
#
“Well don’t you look fetching,” Yoko said, raising one eyebrow, and Ryo narrowed his eyes with rage.
“I hate you more than I hate anyone else, ever,” Ryo said, and he distastefully lifted a bit of ruffle down the front of his blouse as if it might be poisoned. “Why am I always the damsel?”
“Because you look so pretty in a dress,” Ohkura said, looking a bit jealous. Ryo knitted his eyebrows together and frowned. “And I would do it, but I’m just too tall.” Ohkura seemed wistful. “You’re exactly on trend right now, except for the boots.” He smoothed the wrinkles in Ryo’s skirt with a delicate hand.
“But plenty of the guys are small!” Ryo dug the toe of his leather boot into the floor, and Yoko punched him in the arm.
“Don’t you dare scuff that,” Yoko hissed, and Ryo glowered though the bangs of his wig. “Not ladylike at all, Nishikido.”
“Because, obviously, clearly, I am not a lady!” Ryo crossed his arms across his chest, and looked down. The corset, as tight as it was laced, didn’t really do much to aid him in terms of figure. The thought made his frown deepen, because if he had to play the part of a lady, the least he could do is be an attractive lady.
Ryo reached into his waistcoat pocket, suitably trimmed in a delicate, lady-like silk, and pulled out his watch to check the time. The gold timepiece had come into his possession when he’d turned sixteen, a gift, well before Ryo’s father had realized Ryo’d be spending his life on the stage as an actor instead of joining the family business. He tucked the watch back in his pocket, and didn’t think about his father’s disapproving face. There were only ten minutes or so before the first act was set to begin, and in North River, everything always started exactly on time.
“The life of an actor,” Maruyama piped up, from where he was adjusting his trousers, “can often be thankless, my friend.” He sighed dramatically, and then smiled, revealing a charming smile that often had the ladies in the audience swooning. “But it’s the price we pay to share the arts.”
“I don’t see you ‘sharing the arts’ from beneath five layers of skirts,” Ryo said, but he knew a lost battle when he saw one… And he’d lost this battle approximately seventeen times since summer’s end, so really, Ryo wasn’t sure why he kept fighting it. His silk stocking had fallen, gathering around his ankle. “Blasted things won’t stay up.”
“Perhaps if you stopped standing like one of the street patrolmen your stockings would have less of a battle…” Yoko suggested, looking gallant in his frockcoat, the big shiny buttons gleaming in the oil light. Ryo could tell he had recently pressed his cravat, because it lay smooth until it disappeared into his vest.
Ryo looked down at his own attire in dismay. “I look like a fool,” he said miserably, and Yasu, who was actually attired as a fool, patted him on the shoulder sympathetically. “No offense,” Ryo added, moments too late for efficacy.
“None taken!” Yasu cheerfully made the bells on his shoes jingle, and Ryo returned to considering the bustle in the back. “I should probably change, though. No jesters in our show.” He seemed disappointed. “But I did drum up patrons! This one tall man stopped in the street to juggle with me!”
“Good,” Yoko said. “Now change, while I finish bedecking our princess.”
“I hope you know that I have never loathed a person more in my entire life than I loathe you right now,” Ryo said flatly, and Yoko laughed and picked up a startlingly indigo coloured hat, with a long matching feather seeming to sprout from the back, and set it on the top, toward the front, of Ryo’s wigged head. “So much loathing I don’t know what to do with myself.”
“You look lovely, mademoiselle.” Yoko flashed him a victory sign, lips quirked mockingly all the while.
“Shut up.”
“Are you ready for the last performance of the night?” Ohkura asked around a mouthful of fried fish that had appeared, Ryo thought, out of nowhere, as Subaru, sulking in the corner with his mandolin, looked at him in distaste.
“Chew with your mouth closed,” Subaru said, before he returned his gaze to the floor, absently running his thumb along his instrument.
“Yes,” Ryo said fervently. “So ready to be done for today.” His dress was sticking uncomfortably to his back. “I cannot wait to take this contraption off. I have new admiration for women.”
“No you don’t,” Maruyama said. “You and Uchi will be down at the pub tonight saying inappropriate things before your supper is even digested.”
Ryo shrugged, because Maruyama had a point, and then they all looked toward the door as it started to rattle, louder than the usual hum of the city, the gears turning to lift the heavy steel door, the giant JE signifying it’s maker disappearing up into the ceiling.
It opened to reveal Hina, whose eyes were alight with both excitement and the glow of the gaslights. He looked far more comfortable in his dress. Not a grimace to be found.
“There are aristocrats in the audience tonight,” Hina said, and his crooked teeth gleamed in the lamplight.
“Well,” Yoko said, rubbing his hands together quickly before pulling on his gloves. “We might not be the absolute best in West Quadrant theater, but we’ll show them a good time!”
“Funding would be nice,” Subaru said. “Then we could hire a woman.” He looked distastefully at Ryo, as if Ryo were leaving much to be desired as ‘Mrs. Lovetown’. Ryo agreed—the only actor Ryo knew who was really suited for the accoutrements of lady-hood was Tegoshi, back with his old troupe, who seemed to revel in his skirts, even when Koyama, their leader, had fretted and tried to repair the hems. Ryo missed them a lot, despite the fact that there hadn’t been enough hours in the day for Ryo to sleep when he’d been part of two troupes.
“I will give the performance of a lifetime to avoid ever putting on this damn dress again,” Ryo vowed, and his hat fell forward into his face. “Help?”
“Perhaps we should just hire an alchemist, instead,” Yoko said. “And make Ryo’s disguise a little more permanent.”
“Has anyone ever told you,” Ryo asked conversationally, as he fingered his watch once more, running his thumb over the firebird etched on the lid, for luck, “that you’re a horrible human being?” Then he patted it softly, making sure i’s heavy tick was sufficiently muffled by the fabric of his waistcoat, and dropped his arms to his sides.
“You tell me every day,” Yoko replied, and pinched Ryo’s cheek. He checked his gloves and smirked. “But I know you never mean it, sweetheart.” He chuckled. “You might want to fix your make-up.”
The clock, high in the clock tower at the center of the city, chimed the hour.
#
The stage was so bright Ryo could barely make out the audience. The bright and eager faces nearest the stage were easy enough, but the two aristocrats were impossible to see. Ryo couldn’t spend too long looking up into the upper levels or his hat would fall off.
The Adelphi Theatre held over fifteen hundred people, though, so Ryo wasn’t remotely surprised that he couldn’t make out two arbitrary faces in a crowd while also simultaneously trying to keep his stupid hat from taking a tumble and remember the often excessively long lines of Dickensian dialogue. Plus, Ryo had to project, louder than the evening watch trudging along outside on patrol, officers making as much racket as the automatons.
Honestly, Ryo thought, there just wasn’t enough respect for the theater. Ryo was onstage, in a dress, performing in this uncomfortable dress, wig so hot on his head rivulets of sweat dripped down his back, and they were outside clunking about as they pleased and it just made Ryo so mad-
And it was Ryo’s line.
“ I am sensible of your kindness, Mr. Limbury,” he says, making his voice high and shrill, “and believe me most grateful for it. I am fully prepared to hear what you have to say.” He fluttered his hands senselessly while he stared at Yasu, meeting his gaze. There was a twinkle of amusement there that Yasu could never seem to contain, even when doing a serious role, and it made Ryo want to laugh, too.
“It is hardly necessary for me, I presume, to say, Mrs. Lovetown, that I have accidentally discovered the whole secret.” Yasu said, pitching his voice as low as he could.
“The whole secret, sir?”
Ryo waited for Yoko’s line (“Whole secret? What secret?”), but there was nothing, and when Ryo broke role to turn and look, Yoko was still, seemingly frozen in place, mouth half open as if in the middle of starting to speak. Ryo whipped his head back, to look at Yasu, to see what he made of it, but Yasu, too, was motionless, stiff like a doll, or an automaton left for garbage at the outskirts of the city, lacking the steam to move, or perhaps missing its geared belly after being gutted for parts.
Then, Ryo noticed the horrifying silence.
The city of North River was constantly alive with sound. It was one of the things Ryo loved and hated about North River—the way the city seemed to constantly thrum, like a train engine, twenty four hours a day and seven days a week, a ceaseless purr that was simultaneously annoying and comforting. It was because of the city’s heart, buried far below the ground, Ryo knew, and the noise was a constant reminder of the efficiency and technology of North River, a city entirely powered by steam.
But now, it was silence. The slow and steady hum that had followed Ryo his whole life had… disappeared. He looked out into the audience, and there were faces frozen in rapt attention, fists clenched as they waited for the secret to be revealed, and Ryo wasn’t quite sure what was more horrifying; the silence or the grim marionettes that seem to have replaced everyone but him.
Ryo gulped, and swallowed, but his throat felt dry, and he could distinctly feel the prickle of drying perspiration on his skin.
Then there was movement from the audience. “Oh dear!” said a voice, strangely high pitched. “It seems that the world has stopped.”
“What’s happening?” Ryo shouted, and he winced when his words echoed through the theater, as there was no noise to drown his voice.
“Curious,” said the voice.
‘What’s curious?” Ryo asked, and there was a waver to his voice that slightly embarrassed him, but at least no one, he thought, could hear him except the mysterious stranger on the… upper balcony? Yes, the upper balcony, Ryo decided, as his eyes caught a flicker of movement.
“That you’re still moving,” the voice said, and there was a bit of laughter in the voice, but Ryo didn’t think it sounded much like malicious amusement. It was more like someone who’d discovered a new toy.
“Why can’t I see you?” Ryo queried, lowering his voice. It still lanced across the theater, but it was less jarring.
“Probably because the lights are dim,” was the reply, and the voice was closer now, and a figure, tall and slim, emerged from the darkness and walked up onto the stage. “It is very curious that the world has stopped, but you are still moving.”
The man was blonde and slim. He had a sweet face; a kind face, Ryo thought, and he looked rather dashing in his long frockcoat, cane in his left hand and pocket-watch in his right.
“Well, so are you,” Ryo said, at a loss for any other words. The man smiled, and it was big and silly, and the dashing image was a bit ruined, but Ryo suddenly felt a little more at ease.
“Yes,” the man says, suddenly looking down at his pocket watch distractedly. “But I never expected to stop. It’s not possible that I would stop.”
“Why did everyone else stop,” and he shuddered, ”then? Do you know?” Ryo exasperatedly tugged on a long piece of his wig hair that had fallen loose against his cheek, and his hat went tumbling to the floor, feather and all. He scowled and tore the wig off, too, tossing it aside. “Fucking hat,” he mumbled.
“Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it?” the man said, his smile growing larger and, Ryo noticed with growing irritation, more obnoxious. “Listen. What do you hear?”
“Nothing,” Ryo said frustratedly. “Nothing at all!”
“Exactly!” the man said, snapping his watch shut and tucking it into his trousers. “The city’s heart has ceased to, well, beat, metaphorically speaking.” He seemed proud of himself for his explanation, like a child who thought he deserved a pat on the head from an overindulgent parent, and Ryo clenched his hands into fists.
“But why…”
“Hmmm.” The man taps his cane twice. “I really don’t have the time to linger-“
“Then stop wasting time and give me straight answers, since it’s all so obvious,” Ryo said, crossing his arms and trying to ignore how creepy it was that his friends and hundreds of people were all… staring at him, still as corpses, bodies awkwardly holding in strange positions. Ryo just tried not to think about it. He could think about it… later, when a source of information wasn’t standing in front of him looking entirely too self-satisfied for Ryo to tolerate.
“Well, you know how they say North River is a well-oiled machine,” the man says. “Of course when the engine breaks down, the machine stops running.”
“Is that a metaphor?”
“No,” the man said. “That’s engineering.” He tipped his hat at Ryo, and spun around lightly on one foot, spry like a dancer, as if to leave, and Ryo panicked.
“Where are you going?” He shrieked, and it was humiliating, but Ryo was far less worried about appearances than usual, and far more worried about being left behind.
“To start the engine again, my lady,” he said, and even though Ryo couldn’t see his face, he could feel the silly grin. Ryo fidgeted, suddenly reminded of the uncomfortable boning that dug into his ribs, and the heavy weight of his skirt. “I hope you’re armed.”
Of course Ryo was armed. No one went around North River without a weapon, especially at night. But it seemed to Ryo that there’d be no danger from a frozen world.
“The Night Creatures, of course, haven’t… stopped,” the man continued. Now he was rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet, looking like he had too much energy for conversation. “Not like the people. And you know they prefer prey that runs.”
Ryo gulped, and lifted his skirt, pulling his tiny revolver out from where he kept it against his thigh when he was on stage. It was loaded; Ryo always kept it loaded, but he wasn’t sure how far six bullets would take him versus the entire Creature population of West North River.
“Why haven’t the Night Creatures… stopped?” The word ‘stopped’ tasted funny on his tongue, sort of thick and unwieldy, and yet Ryo was certain, for some reason, that it was the right word.
“They don’t have hearts,” the man replied, and of course they didn’t, Ryo thought. Night creatures weren’t alive, not like the people of North River. Night creatures just stole lives… devoured them for sport. “It’s not like they’re beating in time with the city.” He coughs into a gloved hand. “Well, I’m off.” The man’s blond hair shimmered in the lamplight, and Ryo could see the black at the roots. Not a natural hair color, then. “I’ve got a job to do.”
His words caught up with Ryo, and Ryo’s hand tightened around the handle of his gun. His fingers traced across the engraving in the handle. Johnny’s Enterprises.
“You can’t just… go! What am I supposed to do?” The audience’s vacant eyes were beginning to terrify Ryo, and at this point, even sticking with the silly tall man seemed a better option than waiting here for heaven’s knew how long for the world to return to motion.
“Well, if you’re going to throw a tantrum,” the man said, “you might as well come along.” His back was still to Ryo, as if he trusted Ryo not to shoot him, and started to walk down the stairs and off of the stage, black shiny shoes clicking on the wood. “You’ll have to keep up.”
“Is that a short joke?” Ryo bit his lip. “Because if it is, clown feet, I-“
The man laughed, loud and raucous, and it made Ryo want to hit the man, because this was no time for laughter. “Hurry, hurry,” the man said, and Ryo eyed him suspiciously. Was the man insane?
Ryo huffed and lifted his skirts, sliding his tiny revolver back into his thigh holster. “What if I don’t want to come along?” Ryo said. “What if I want to shoot you in the back?”
“Then you would be left here to the Creatures, and the world might possibly spin all the way back to nothingness while you wait.” The man laughed, and it was obnoxious, and Ryo gritted his teeth and took a step closer, not wanting the man to walk into the shadows and out of his sight. “Besides, you’ve already put your gun away, so I assumed you’d already decided?”
Ryo growled in a distinctly unladylike fashion, and bit his waxy lip. “I just want to know what’s going on,” Ryo declared, hurrying until he was walking side by side with the tall man in his expensive suit, who was looking none-too-bothered by anything at all.
“Excellent,” the man said. “Because that is exactly what I plan on finding out.” He tapped his chin thoughtfully, and despite the way his smile was almost too large for his face, and mildly unnerving in the remnants of the stage lights, Ryo thought he kind-of, maybe, looked a little handsome.
Ryo tried not to shiver as they walked past the crowd, restraining a scream as an audience member’s outstretched hands brushed and caught in his waistcoat, and the man casually put his arm on Ryo’s waist, resting against that godforsaken bustle, to hurry him forward. The hand was warm, and, as much as Ryo hated to admit it, comforting, palm flat against Ryo’s spine. “For all that you walk unrepentantly like a man in a dress, you’re going to be quite the damsel in distress, aren’t you?”
“My boot is going to distress your ass,” Ryo snapped, and the man turned to look down at him, delighted. “And I’m perfectly talented at walking in a dress.” Ryo hoisted his skirt, revealing his knees, and stomped a little ahead of the man as they approached the main theater entrance, before he remembered that he had no idea where he was going.
“This will be fun,” the man said, with that same damned cheerfulness, and Ryo wondered if it was too late to choose the Night Creatures.
#
The streets were wet, and Ryo could smell the oil in the air, rising from the streets the way it always did in the summer.
The tall man’s shoes clacked loudly on the cobblestoned street, and Ryo jolted at the sound. He licked his lips, and tried not to shiver at the oppressive silence. The usual clock and gear sounds were traumatic in their absence.
There were a two frozen watchmen standing with their backs to them in the dimly lit street, a massive automaton on each side with the etched JE on the right arm that declared their maker.
“The new Johnny models have gotten bigger,” the man said. “They’re a little scary, right?” He said it with a pout, and Ryo couldn’t believe the man was so calm. The whole world had paused, and Ryo hadn’t even known it was possible that could happen, and this man was going on about the automatons?
“Where are we going?” Ryo’s boots were slippery on the slick stones… Ryo wasn’t sure he’d ever worn his costume shoes outside before. The hem of his dress dragged as he walked, as well, and Yoko was going to kill him.
If Yoko was ever able to kill him. Ryo shook his head, and tried not to think about the dull, lifeless sheen in Yoko’s eyes, mouth slack and open mid-thought, and he lifted his skirts up, and tried not to fall as he hurried to follow.
“My home,” was the response. “There are tools I need.”
“I see,” Ryo said, before he promptly tripped over his own shoelace.
“You’re a really ungraceful lady,” the man said, and Ryo looked up at him out of the corner of his eye. The man was grinning, but Ryo thought he might be paying more attention to his surroundings than Ryo’s trouble walking in heels.
“I’m not a girl,” Ryo hissed. “I’m not used to, you know, living in these clothes. I just wear them on an enclosed stage for short periods of time.”
“Fair enough,” the man replied, still sounding far too much like he was laughing, and Ryo opened his mouth to rage, but then the man’s hand grabbed a tight hold on Ryo’s arm, right above the elbow, and he lifted his cane and held it in front of them. “We’re being followed.”
There was a dry chuckle from the darkness, and Ryo fervently wished the gaslamps burned just a little bit brighter in the West End. Ryo could barely make out the outline of a figure, but the shape was uncertain, shifting and moving in the shadows, amorphous and vague.
“Good to see you’re still sharp, Junno, even if you are consorting with stranger company than usual.” A figure stepped out of the shadows, dressed all in black. His skin was icy pale, and his eyes seemed to look through Ryo more than at him. “The streets aren’t safe tonight.”
“You don’t think I know that?” the man, Junno, said, lowering his cane. “Kamenashi, you scared me!”
“Who is your friend?”
“I’m Ryo,” Ryo said.
“Ryo,” Junno said, and Ryo realized that the other man had probably been wondering about Ryo’s name as much as Ryo had been wondering about his.
“There is more evil than usual afoot on this most curious of nights. I will escort you home.” Now Ryo could see that it was a man, dressed in a long coat, with pale skin and gleaming eyes. Another person who was moving, despite the stillness of North River. “I would hate for you to meet your end at the hands of a Night Creature, my Lord.”
Night Creatures, Ryo thought with a gulp. He’d never seen one himself, but he’d heard the legends.
“That would be a shame,” Junno, or maybe Lord Junno, said, and he scratched his nose, before looking down exasperatedly at his glove, lips curling down as he thought about the minor annoyance. “I bet my toys would be lonely.”
“Aren’t you a bit old for toys?” Ryo said, and when both the man from the shadows and Junno turned to look at him, he tugged imperiously on the hem of his waistcoat. “I mean, toys?”
“My toys are a bit different than other people’s toys,” Junno said, and he looked down. Ryo followed his gaze, and realized Junno’s hand was still wrapped around his upper arm, tight enough to bruise. Junno immediately pulled back his hand, and Ryo thought maybe there was a bit of a flush across the taller man’s cheeks.
“Are they really?” Ryo asked, and his throat was too dry, so it came out a little less assured than he would have liked.
“I’m sure he’ll show you,” the man said, smirking, and Ryo sucked his lower lip into his mouth. “Let’s go.”
The walked a little too fast, and Ryo’s skirts, despite his best efforts, dragged along the streets, catching on wayward shoes, and Ryo felt like his heart would stop every time he caught a pair of wide, frozen eyes.
“Keep up!” Kamenashi said, and Ryo’d like to see him get around in high-heeled boots that were half a size too small for Ryo’s feet, in a situation he was woefully unprepared for.
“Are you all right?” Junno whispered, as Ryo stifled a scream as he felt something move near his shin. “You look awfully pale.”
“Oh, no, this is quite the exciting quest,” Ryo snapped. “I feel like I’ve been waiting my whole life to be in a life-threatening situation with a clown and a vampire, all the while wondering why I am the lucky person who has to sit and worry about whether my family and friends will spend the rest of their lives as unmoving dolls!” Ryo was trying to not to raise his voice, as there was still the fear of the Night Creatures, despite the fact that Junno had relaxed considerably since Kamenashi had joined them.
“They won’t,” Junno said, and awkwardly patted Ryo on the shoulder. “I’m going to fix the engine-clock, you see.”
“The engine?” Junno’s hand was warm, even through Ryo’s jacket. Something about Junno, Ryo thought, was just comforting, despite everything.
“The engine,” Junno said, and he looked so eager Ryo almost felt bad disappointing him with his incomprehension.
“Sorry,” Ryo said. “I don’t get it.”
Kamenashi came to a halt in front of them. “Get inside,” he said, and Junno pulled a large brass ring from… well, Ryo’s not sure from whence the ring came, but it had seven very large, oversized keys. Junno selected the third one, and stuck it into the lock as Kamenashi watched right and left, eyes scanning the streets. There was a strange sheen to his eyes, Ryo thought; almost like they were glowing. It was kind of creepy.
“Welcome to my home,” Junno said, gesturing largely, and Ryo gulped, grabbed two fistfuls of his skirt, and walked inside the large towne home.
The foyer was bright. Almost too bright, and Ryo couldn’t help but look around in awe at the walls lined with books. There were countless weird gadgets with unfathomable purposes all along the shelves, from what Ryo could see in his first cursory glances, and there was a thick layer of dust on anything that wasn’t mechanical.
“Sorry for the mess,” Junno said. “I hadn’t planned on company after the show.”
“Right,” Ryo said, and Junno beamed at him. Now that they were in good light, Ryo could really see his face, and he was a bit surprised at how young the man looked, face full of delightful smoothness and eyes just as bright as Ryo’d thought they might be. When he smiled, his teeth were pretty and white and straight, and Ryo assumed that he wasn’t a smoker. “Do you have… Can I have water?”
“Oh!” Junno said, and he clapped his hands once, twice, and rolled forward and back on the balls of his feet. “Yes, you can.” He furrowed his brow. “Ueda!”
There was a gentle whirring sound, a comforting one that was only a shadow of the noise Ryo is used to; the sound of North River thrumming beneath and around him, but the familiar clink of gears and brass was like a balm for his nerves, at least until a tiny metal object appeared suddenly in front of his face, buzzing loudly. It had long wings, like a dragonfly, and they moved so fast Ryo’s eyes could barely keep up.
“You’ve brought home an exceptionally ugly woman,” it said, and Ryo squeaked and stepped backwards, away from it.
“Is it an automaton?” Ryo asked. “Why is it still moving?”
“Ueda is on one of my toys. He has a bit of a temper, and a fierce right hook, so I would try and stay on his good side.” Junno’s hat and jacket found a home on the coat hanger, and Ryo felt almost like he was expected to take off his coat and join this strange man for tea.
Only that would be ridiculous, because the world outside was full of people who no longer moved, and Ryo wasn’t a goddamned girl.
“But it still moves,” Ryo said. “The automatons outside don’t move. Nothing moves. And yet, here in your home, everything is still moving.” As Ryo said it, he realized it was true. The things Ryo took for granted in his everyday life- the slightly shifting chains and clinking gears… everything in Junno’s house, which somehow seemed even larger on the inside than it had on the outside, despite the clutter, was still in motion.
“My toys,” Junno said, and then he paused, as if trying to figure out how to phrase it. “They’re not connected to the city. It’s better to say that…” He coughed. “That the city doesn’t particularly know about them.”
In some quarters, Ryo knew, that would be code for illegal weapons development. On the brink of war, that was the sort of thing that got one in trouble with the law. Only there wasn’t any law to tell right now, and Ryo’d never been a tattle tale.
“Okay then,” Ryo said, and shrugged, and Ueda flew even closer to him, and Ryo could make out a tiny, pretty face. “Are you a boy or a girl?”
The fairy hit Ryo, and he winced, and reached up to make sure he wasn’t bleeding. “Little bastard.”
“I told you to stay on his good side,” Junno said, and Kamenashi snorted. “Ueda, could you get water for our guest, and Kamenashi a glass of that port he likes?” Ryo watched as the man licked his lips before looking up at something behind Ryo’s head. “We’re running out of time,” Junno said, and he spun on his heel and bolted up the wooden steps, leaving Ryo and Kamenashi in the foyer.
A glass of water appeared in front of Ryo, on a tray next to Kamenashi’s glass of port, and the tiny little mechanical fairy was huffing and puffing beneath it. Ryo quickly snagged his glass of water, and the crystal it was in was nicer than anything Ryo’d ever held before. “Thank you,” he mumbled, and the little clockwork toy gave him a measured look, before it hesitantly accepted that Ryo was being sincere.
Junno’s toys were more alive than any mechanical creature Ryo had ever seen. “It’s like magic,” Ryo said, and Kamenashi had lifted one arched eyebrow.
“Yes, a little,” he replied, and Ryo took a large gulp of water, which washed the last of his lipstick away. “Junno is a bit eccentric,” Kamenashi said after a few moments, cradling his own glass carefully. In the flickering light, Ryo could see the rouge brushed dark across his ice-pale cheeks, and the deep red paint on his lips. He looked less than human, or maybe more than human, Ryo thought. And definitely peculiar.
“Right,” Ryo drawled, because Kamenashi seemed far too eccentric himself to be commenting on someone else’s behavior. Still Ryo was standing in the entranceway to what was possibly a Lord’s home wearing a dress and women’s make-up, so maybe Ryo was a bit eccentric, too. Ryo was not sure if this entire situation was any worse than his acting troupe, anyway. Only that made Ryo think about his acting troupe, and he closed his eyes. “I’m sure he’s much stranger than you are.”
Kamenashi laughed at Ryo’s response, and it was a nasal sound, almost pleasant to listen to if you liked that sort of voice, and then set his glass down on the mantle.
“Not like I am,” Kamenashi said teasingly. “He’s an… inventor, of sorts.”
“An inventor?” Ryo queried, curiosity piqued. “What kind of… inventor?”
“Well, you’re about to go up to his workshop.” Kamenashi turned, dropping his top hat on his head. Ryo fought the urge to reply with ”I am?” and watched Ueda flit up to the mantle and retrieve the abandoned glass. Ryo gripped his a little tighter.
Kamenashi’s tailcoat, perfect for an evening at the theatre, swirled about him as he paused at the door. “Try not to get roped into anything… dangerous.”
“You mean, like being one of three people left even moving as the city goes still?” Ryo snorted. “I’m not sure how this gets more dangerous for me, honestly. I’m afraid that ship has sailed.”
“Well, suppose you try not to let Junno get you killed,” Kamenashi said. “He can get… enthusiastic about things, so use common sense.”
“I’ll give that objective my utmost,” Ryo said dryly, and Kamenashi raised both perfectly manicured brows as he observed Ryo one last time.
“See that you do,” Kamenashi said, stepping out the door and onto the rain-wet streets. “After all, I’d hate for the Adelphi Theater to lose its best leading lady.”
Ryo considered kicking the man in the shin, but he had more important things to worry about than jokes concerning his attire. “I would hate that, too,” Ryo says. “As, over the past twenty-seven years, I’ve grown rather fond of myself.”
“And… look after Junno, too, all right? He’s different from other people.” There was something layered in Kamenashi’s voice, a mild sort of affection that Ryo hadn’t been expecting.
And then Lord Kamenashi was gone, disappearing into the night like a vampire from a grim storybook, and Ryo was left alone in the hallway of Junno’s North River towne-home with only the dusty steps and family portraits for company.
“Well, there’s no time like the present,” Ryo murmured to himself, and then he began his slow ascent up the stairs.
The creaking sound made Ryo anxious. As he continued up the stairs, he could start to hear more clunking noises, and loud footsteps.
At the top of the stairs, Ryo could see a string of rooms, but the one closest to the stairs was open, and light poured out onto the dim landing from inside. Ryo peeked his head in, and saw Junno bent over a leather bag, hand reaching in and pulling something out.
“Don’t need this,” he mumbled to himself, and Ryo smiled, because it reminded him of the way Shige mumbled to himself when he was working on plays, crossing out lines as he went along. “Come in,” Junno said, and it took Ryo a moment to realize Junno was talking to him.
The first thing Ryo noticed, when he walked fully into the room, was that it was covered in clocks. The eastern wall had maps of North River pinned up, but the rest of the wall space was filled with either clocks or pieces of clocks. Along the shelves were tiny samurai made of brass, and every once in a while one of them would move, dragging Ryo’s eyes back to it before he could continue perusing the strange room.
There was a pile of overripe apples sitting on the desk, and that smell, mixed with the scent of burning oil from the lamps, left a strange but not unpleasant scent in the air.
“Do you like clocks,” Ryo says, not really saying it like a question, and Junno looked up.
“I like samurai,” Junno said. “I like making clocks. And fixing them.”
“I see,” Ryo said, walking closer to Junno, careful not to catch his skirts on any of the weird odds and ends sticking out from the tables. There was no place to sit down, so Ryo stood helplessly in the center of the room, feeling a bit like an unexpected guest.
“I’m just getting repair tools,” Junno says. “Do you see that map?”
Ryo turned back to the eastern side of the room, stepping over a pile of books to look a little closer.
It was North River, but underground. Ryo could see long lines, tiny circles connecting at street corners like joints. “What’s this?”
“It’s the infrastructure of North River,” Junno said, and Ryo’s eyes widened. “It’s the buzz of the city, if you will.”
“Why do you have this?” Ryo said, tracing his finger along the lines in the map, trying to find the center. But there was a gap there, with no lines, where Ryo thought the control must be.
“My father built it,” Junno said. “After he built the test system.”
“The test system?”
“This house,” Junno says. “That’s why it still runs. It’s got it’s own ‘engine’, if you will, to run it.” He turned to look at Ryo. “Can’t you feel it humming?”
“Yes,” Ryo said. “The city is terrifying without the hum.”
“Until twenty-five years ago,” Junno said, “apparently the city was always quiet. Before we were forced to make a city that could survive a war.” Junno reaches up and puts his hand to his chest. “My heart beats to the rhythm of this house, not to the rhythm of the city. That’s why I didn’t stop like everyone else did.”
“Then why didn’t I stop?” Ryo asked, and Junno shrugged.
“I have no idea. It’s most curious.”
There was a long silence, as Ryo contemplated Junno, who had shed his tailcoat, and wore only his blouse and vest as he contemplated his tools.
“How in the world did he create something like this?” Ryo asked, eyes venturing back to the map. The other maps showed the joints in detail. “Is it all steam powered?”
“Steam powered,” Junno agreed, “but metered by clockwork.” Junno frowned down at his bag, as if he was unsure he had what he needed. “As to the idea… I’m not sure. He always said he had gotten the idea from a much smaller project. And that he wanted the city to run almost like a person. All the energy flowing from the heart.”
“The heart,” Ryo repeated, reaching up and touching fingers to his own He fingered the scar there. “So North River has a heart.”
“One that isn’t beating,” Junno replied. “Or ticking, as it were.”
“So we’re going to go fix it?” Ryo asked, before he realized that he’d included himself in this mad scheme.
“I’m going to go fix it. You’re going to wait here-“
There was a crashing noise, and then two large machines barreled into the room, crashing into Ryo’s shins and causing him to grunt in pain as he tried to get out of the way.
They ran up to Junno and circled around him, curving between his legs and looking up at him with eyes that glowed blue. They looked like dogs, Ryo thought, but not like any dogs he had ever seen.
“Are those… automatons?” Ryo asked, and Junno tapped his chin thoughtfully.
“Sort of,” he said. “This is Koki,” and he gestured to the black machine, which had big eyes and expressively waving many-jointed tail. “And this is Nakamaru.” The Nakamaru-machine had a large nose, and seemed much calmer.
“Are they-“
“Not like Ueda,” Junno said. “They play nice with strangers.”
“That’s a relief,” Ryo said.
“They can protect you while I’m gone. I mean, the house will protect you, too, but Nakamaru and Koki can at least keep you company.”
“I’m coming with you.” The stupid part of Ryo’s brain seemed to be in control of his mouth.
“Eh?” Junno tilted his head at Ryo, blonde hair falling to the side. It looked rather soft, Ryo though, hanging just a bit in his face like that. He liked the way the ends of it seemed to curl just a little. “It’s very dangerous.”
“I’m a grown-up,” Ryo said, his pride unwilling to let him back down now that he’d declared his intention to go. “And I don’t know if I trust the entire future of North River being solely in your hands.”
As Ryo spoke, Junno started to juggle the apples that sat on his desk, and Ryo wondered if Junno even liked to eat apples, or if he kept them up here for precisely that purpose.
“I’m very good with my hands, though,” Junno said, and Ryo almost laughed, but he bit it back because he didn’t want to encourage him.
“My family and my friends… this whole city is frozen. If I can help…” Ryo dragged off, before clenching his hands into fists at his side. “If I can help, I’d like to. I’m fairly good at fixing things, myself.”
“Are you?” Junno asked, and Ryo thought, for a moment, that Junno was going to say no, but then a strange look flicked in Junno’s eyes, before it was gone, as quickly as it had come. “I guess…”
“You guess, what?” Ryo said. “You’re not my father. I can go where I please.” Ryo spoke strongly, but he kept his eyes on the floor. Junno was rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. He still hadn’t stopped juggling, and he’d yet to drop an apple. He was, Ryo thought, good with his hands.
“I guess you never know when an extra pair of hands will come in handy,” Junno said, and he wasn’t looking at Ryo as he spoke.
“It’s settled then,” Ryo said, and tried not to shiver at the thought of going back out into the night, this time without their escort. “
“We’ll have to be careful of the Night Creatures without Kamenashi,” Junno said, echoing Ryo’s thoughts. Ryo kicked at his skirt hem anxiously.
“What makes him so useful against Night Creatures, anyway?”
Junno was buckling his bag closed, and pulling goggles over his head until they hung around his neck. He swung the bag across his shoulder and looked up in surprise at Ryo.
“Well, he is one, of course,” Junno said, like it was something obvious that Ryo should have known.
“What?!” It was high, and squeaky, and Koki clearly didn’t like the sound, butting Ryo’s knee with his head, hard enough that Ryo didn’t keep yelling but soft enough that it didn’t really hurt. “What are you doing hanging around with Night Creatures?” Ryo hissed in a lower tone. “See? This is why you need a chaperone.”
“Kamenashi is nice,” Junno said, adjusting the bag on his shoulder to redistribute the weight. “Don’t be so prejudiced.” Junno smiled, and Ryo really liked Junno’s smile, he thought; especially the way Junno’s eyes developed laugh lines that made him look even more innocent than he looked when he wasn’t grinning freely. “He can be a bit… pretentious, but so can some of my cousins, and really, it’s not-“
“Night Creatures are dangerous,” Ryo said, incredulously, thinking back to the almost predatory way Kamenashi had smiled. “They eat people’s hearts!”
“Well, some of them do,” Junno said. “Not all of them, though.” He shrugged. “I rather like Kamenashi. He’s kind.”
Ryo thought about Kamenashi’s quiet request that he look after Junno, and maybe Junno was right.
“Kamenashi wasn’t so bad,” Ryo admitted, pressing his lips together and scratching at the side of his face.
“There you go,” Junno said. “Now, let’s get a move on.”
“Yes,” Ryo said, even as his stomach plummeted at the thought of going outside. But then he remembered the glassy look in Yoko’s eyes, and the way Yasu’s normally expressive face had frozen, like he was nothing more than a statue in a museum, and he gathered his courage as well as his skirts. “Let’s go.”
Part II
Pairing/Group: Ryo/ Junno
Rating/Warnings: NC-17, Steampunk/pulp AU, manly men in dresses against their will.
Word Count: 25-26k or thereabouts
Summary: North River City is a well-oiled machine, and when the engine suddenly ceases to run, the city just...stops.
Notes: written for
beltenebra at je_fqfest, with the admirable help of a lot of people who helped me finish in 37 hours with no sleep, and a beta who did an amazing job catching most of my terrible typos in only two hours. LOVE <3And this is for listening:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-wfboKtXdUo
“Well don’t you look fetching,” Yoko said, raising one eyebrow, and Ryo narrowed his eyes with rage.
“I hate you more than I hate anyone else, ever,” Ryo said, and he distastefully lifted a bit of ruffle down the front of his blouse as if it might be poisoned. “Why am I always the damsel?”
“Because you look so pretty in a dress,” Ohkura said, looking a bit jealous. Ryo knitted his eyebrows together and frowned. “And I would do it, but I’m just too tall.” Ohkura seemed wistful. “You’re exactly on trend right now, except for the boots.” He smoothed the wrinkles in Ryo’s skirt with a delicate hand.
“But plenty of the guys are small!” Ryo dug the toe of his leather boot into the floor, and Yoko punched him in the arm.
“Don’t you dare scuff that,” Yoko hissed, and Ryo glowered though the bangs of his wig. “Not ladylike at all, Nishikido.”
“Because, obviously, clearly, I am not a lady!” Ryo crossed his arms across his chest, and looked down. The corset, as tight as it was laced, didn’t really do much to aid him in terms of figure. The thought made his frown deepen, because if he had to play the part of a lady, the least he could do is be an attractive lady.
Ryo reached into his waistcoat pocket, suitably trimmed in a delicate, lady-like silk, and pulled out his watch to check the time. The gold timepiece had come into his possession when he’d turned sixteen, a gift, well before Ryo’s father had realized Ryo’d be spending his life on the stage as an actor instead of joining the family business. He tucked the watch back in his pocket, and didn’t think about his father’s disapproving face. There were only ten minutes or so before the first act was set to begin, and in North River, everything always started exactly on time.
“The life of an actor,” Maruyama piped up, from where he was adjusting his trousers, “can often be thankless, my friend.” He sighed dramatically, and then smiled, revealing a charming smile that often had the ladies in the audience swooning. “But it’s the price we pay to share the arts.”
“I don’t see you ‘sharing the arts’ from beneath five layers of skirts,” Ryo said, but he knew a lost battle when he saw one… And he’d lost this battle approximately seventeen times since summer’s end, so really, Ryo wasn’t sure why he kept fighting it. His silk stocking had fallen, gathering around his ankle. “Blasted things won’t stay up.”
“Perhaps if you stopped standing like one of the street patrolmen your stockings would have less of a battle…” Yoko suggested, looking gallant in his frockcoat, the big shiny buttons gleaming in the oil light. Ryo could tell he had recently pressed his cravat, because it lay smooth until it disappeared into his vest.
Ryo looked down at his own attire in dismay. “I look like a fool,” he said miserably, and Yasu, who was actually attired as a fool, patted him on the shoulder sympathetically. “No offense,” Ryo added, moments too late for efficacy.
“None taken!” Yasu cheerfully made the bells on his shoes jingle, and Ryo returned to considering the bustle in the back. “I should probably change, though. No jesters in our show.” He seemed disappointed. “But I did drum up patrons! This one tall man stopped in the street to juggle with me!”
“Good,” Yoko said. “Now change, while I finish bedecking our princess.”
“I hope you know that I have never loathed a person more in my entire life than I loathe you right now,” Ryo said flatly, and Yoko laughed and picked up a startlingly indigo coloured hat, with a long matching feather seeming to sprout from the back, and set it on the top, toward the front, of Ryo’s wigged head. “So much loathing I don’t know what to do with myself.”
“You look lovely, mademoiselle.” Yoko flashed him a victory sign, lips quirked mockingly all the while.
“Shut up.”
“Are you ready for the last performance of the night?” Ohkura asked around a mouthful of fried fish that had appeared, Ryo thought, out of nowhere, as Subaru, sulking in the corner with his mandolin, looked at him in distaste.
“Chew with your mouth closed,” Subaru said, before he returned his gaze to the floor, absently running his thumb along his instrument.
“Yes,” Ryo said fervently. “So ready to be done for today.” His dress was sticking uncomfortably to his back. “I cannot wait to take this contraption off. I have new admiration for women.”
“No you don’t,” Maruyama said. “You and Uchi will be down at the pub tonight saying inappropriate things before your supper is even digested.”
Ryo shrugged, because Maruyama had a point, and then they all looked toward the door as it started to rattle, louder than the usual hum of the city, the gears turning to lift the heavy steel door, the giant JE signifying it’s maker disappearing up into the ceiling.
It opened to reveal Hina, whose eyes were alight with both excitement and the glow of the gaslights. He looked far more comfortable in his dress. Not a grimace to be found.
“There are aristocrats in the audience tonight,” Hina said, and his crooked teeth gleamed in the lamplight.
“Well,” Yoko said, rubbing his hands together quickly before pulling on his gloves. “We might not be the absolute best in West Quadrant theater, but we’ll show them a good time!”
“Funding would be nice,” Subaru said. “Then we could hire a woman.” He looked distastefully at Ryo, as if Ryo were leaving much to be desired as ‘Mrs. Lovetown’. Ryo agreed—the only actor Ryo knew who was really suited for the accoutrements of lady-hood was Tegoshi, back with his old troupe, who seemed to revel in his skirts, even when Koyama, their leader, had fretted and tried to repair the hems. Ryo missed them a lot, despite the fact that there hadn’t been enough hours in the day for Ryo to sleep when he’d been part of two troupes.
“I will give the performance of a lifetime to avoid ever putting on this damn dress again,” Ryo vowed, and his hat fell forward into his face. “Help?”
“Perhaps we should just hire an alchemist, instead,” Yoko said. “And make Ryo’s disguise a little more permanent.”
“Has anyone ever told you,” Ryo asked conversationally, as he fingered his watch once more, running his thumb over the firebird etched on the lid, for luck, “that you’re a horrible human being?” Then he patted it softly, making sure i’s heavy tick was sufficiently muffled by the fabric of his waistcoat, and dropped his arms to his sides.
“You tell me every day,” Yoko replied, and pinched Ryo’s cheek. He checked his gloves and smirked. “But I know you never mean it, sweetheart.” He chuckled. “You might want to fix your make-up.”
The clock, high in the clock tower at the center of the city, chimed the hour.
The stage was so bright Ryo could barely make out the audience. The bright and eager faces nearest the stage were easy enough, but the two aristocrats were impossible to see. Ryo couldn’t spend too long looking up into the upper levels or his hat would fall off.
The Adelphi Theatre held over fifteen hundred people, though, so Ryo wasn’t remotely surprised that he couldn’t make out two arbitrary faces in a crowd while also simultaneously trying to keep his stupid hat from taking a tumble and remember the often excessively long lines of Dickensian dialogue. Plus, Ryo had to project, louder than the evening watch trudging along outside on patrol, officers making as much racket as the automatons.
Honestly, Ryo thought, there just wasn’t enough respect for the theater. Ryo was onstage, in a dress, performing in this uncomfortable dress, wig so hot on his head rivulets of sweat dripped down his back, and they were outside clunking about as they pleased and it just made Ryo so mad-
And it was Ryo’s line.
“ I am sensible of your kindness, Mr. Limbury,” he says, making his voice high and shrill, “and believe me most grateful for it. I am fully prepared to hear what you have to say.” He fluttered his hands senselessly while he stared at Yasu, meeting his gaze. There was a twinkle of amusement there that Yasu could never seem to contain, even when doing a serious role, and it made Ryo want to laugh, too.
“It is hardly necessary for me, I presume, to say, Mrs. Lovetown, that I have accidentally discovered the whole secret.” Yasu said, pitching his voice as low as he could.
“The whole secret, sir?”
Ryo waited for Yoko’s line (“Whole secret? What secret?”), but there was nothing, and when Ryo broke role to turn and look, Yoko was still, seemingly frozen in place, mouth half open as if in the middle of starting to speak. Ryo whipped his head back, to look at Yasu, to see what he made of it, but Yasu, too, was motionless, stiff like a doll, or an automaton left for garbage at the outskirts of the city, lacking the steam to move, or perhaps missing its geared belly after being gutted for parts.
Then, Ryo noticed the horrifying silence.
The city of North River was constantly alive with sound. It was one of the things Ryo loved and hated about North River—the way the city seemed to constantly thrum, like a train engine, twenty four hours a day and seven days a week, a ceaseless purr that was simultaneously annoying and comforting. It was because of the city’s heart, buried far below the ground, Ryo knew, and the noise was a constant reminder of the efficiency and technology of North River, a city entirely powered by steam.
But now, it was silence. The slow and steady hum that had followed Ryo his whole life had… disappeared. He looked out into the audience, and there were faces frozen in rapt attention, fists clenched as they waited for the secret to be revealed, and Ryo wasn’t quite sure what was more horrifying; the silence or the grim marionettes that seem to have replaced everyone but him.
Ryo gulped, and swallowed, but his throat felt dry, and he could distinctly feel the prickle of drying perspiration on his skin.
Then there was movement from the audience. “Oh dear!” said a voice, strangely high pitched. “It seems that the world has stopped.”
“What’s happening?” Ryo shouted, and he winced when his words echoed through the theater, as there was no noise to drown his voice.
“Curious,” said the voice.
‘What’s curious?” Ryo asked, and there was a waver to his voice that slightly embarrassed him, but at least no one, he thought, could hear him except the mysterious stranger on the… upper balcony? Yes, the upper balcony, Ryo decided, as his eyes caught a flicker of movement.
“That you’re still moving,” the voice said, and there was a bit of laughter in the voice, but Ryo didn’t think it sounded much like malicious amusement. It was more like someone who’d discovered a new toy.
“Why can’t I see you?” Ryo queried, lowering his voice. It still lanced across the theater, but it was less jarring.
“Probably because the lights are dim,” was the reply, and the voice was closer now, and a figure, tall and slim, emerged from the darkness and walked up onto the stage. “It is very curious that the world has stopped, but you are still moving.”
The man was blonde and slim. He had a sweet face; a kind face, Ryo thought, and he looked rather dashing in his long frockcoat, cane in his left hand and pocket-watch in his right.
“Well, so are you,” Ryo said, at a loss for any other words. The man smiled, and it was big and silly, and the dashing image was a bit ruined, but Ryo suddenly felt a little more at ease.
“Yes,” the man says, suddenly looking down at his pocket watch distractedly. “But I never expected to stop. It’s not possible that I would stop.”
“Why did everyone else stop,” and he shuddered, ”then? Do you know?” Ryo exasperatedly tugged on a long piece of his wig hair that had fallen loose against his cheek, and his hat went tumbling to the floor, feather and all. He scowled and tore the wig off, too, tossing it aside. “Fucking hat,” he mumbled.
“Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it?” the man said, his smile growing larger and, Ryo noticed with growing irritation, more obnoxious. “Listen. What do you hear?”
“Nothing,” Ryo said frustratedly. “Nothing at all!”
“Exactly!” the man said, snapping his watch shut and tucking it into his trousers. “The city’s heart has ceased to, well, beat, metaphorically speaking.” He seemed proud of himself for his explanation, like a child who thought he deserved a pat on the head from an overindulgent parent, and Ryo clenched his hands into fists.
“But why…”
“Hmmm.” The man taps his cane twice. “I really don’t have the time to linger-“
“Then stop wasting time and give me straight answers, since it’s all so obvious,” Ryo said, crossing his arms and trying to ignore how creepy it was that his friends and hundreds of people were all… staring at him, still as corpses, bodies awkwardly holding in strange positions. Ryo just tried not to think about it. He could think about it… later, when a source of information wasn’t standing in front of him looking entirely too self-satisfied for Ryo to tolerate.
“Well, you know how they say North River is a well-oiled machine,” the man says. “Of course when the engine breaks down, the machine stops running.”
“Is that a metaphor?”
“No,” the man said. “That’s engineering.” He tipped his hat at Ryo, and spun around lightly on one foot, spry like a dancer, as if to leave, and Ryo panicked.
“Where are you going?” He shrieked, and it was humiliating, but Ryo was far less worried about appearances than usual, and far more worried about being left behind.
“To start the engine again, my lady,” he said, and even though Ryo couldn’t see his face, he could feel the silly grin. Ryo fidgeted, suddenly reminded of the uncomfortable boning that dug into his ribs, and the heavy weight of his skirt. “I hope you’re armed.”
Of course Ryo was armed. No one went around North River without a weapon, especially at night. But it seemed to Ryo that there’d be no danger from a frozen world.
“The Night Creatures, of course, haven’t… stopped,” the man continued. Now he was rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet, looking like he had too much energy for conversation. “Not like the people. And you know they prefer prey that runs.”
Ryo gulped, and lifted his skirt, pulling his tiny revolver out from where he kept it against his thigh when he was on stage. It was loaded; Ryo always kept it loaded, but he wasn’t sure how far six bullets would take him versus the entire Creature population of West North River.
“Why haven’t the Night Creatures… stopped?” The word ‘stopped’ tasted funny on his tongue, sort of thick and unwieldy, and yet Ryo was certain, for some reason, that it was the right word.
“They don’t have hearts,” the man replied, and of course they didn’t, Ryo thought. Night creatures weren’t alive, not like the people of North River. Night creatures just stole lives… devoured them for sport. “It’s not like they’re beating in time with the city.” He coughs into a gloved hand. “Well, I’m off.” The man’s blond hair shimmered in the lamplight, and Ryo could see the black at the roots. Not a natural hair color, then. “I’ve got a job to do.”
His words caught up with Ryo, and Ryo’s hand tightened around the handle of his gun. His fingers traced across the engraving in the handle. Johnny’s Enterprises.
“You can’t just… go! What am I supposed to do?” The audience’s vacant eyes were beginning to terrify Ryo, and at this point, even sticking with the silly tall man seemed a better option than waiting here for heaven’s knew how long for the world to return to motion.
“Well, if you’re going to throw a tantrum,” the man said, “you might as well come along.” His back was still to Ryo, as if he trusted Ryo not to shoot him, and started to walk down the stairs and off of the stage, black shiny shoes clicking on the wood. “You’ll have to keep up.”
“Is that a short joke?” Ryo bit his lip. “Because if it is, clown feet, I-“
The man laughed, loud and raucous, and it made Ryo want to hit the man, because this was no time for laughter. “Hurry, hurry,” the man said, and Ryo eyed him suspiciously. Was the man insane?
Ryo huffed and lifted his skirts, sliding his tiny revolver back into his thigh holster. “What if I don’t want to come along?” Ryo said. “What if I want to shoot you in the back?”
“Then you would be left here to the Creatures, and the world might possibly spin all the way back to nothingness while you wait.” The man laughed, and it was obnoxious, and Ryo gritted his teeth and took a step closer, not wanting the man to walk into the shadows and out of his sight. “Besides, you’ve already put your gun away, so I assumed you’d already decided?”
Ryo growled in a distinctly unladylike fashion, and bit his waxy lip. “I just want to know what’s going on,” Ryo declared, hurrying until he was walking side by side with the tall man in his expensive suit, who was looking none-too-bothered by anything at all.
“Excellent,” the man said. “Because that is exactly what I plan on finding out.” He tapped his chin thoughtfully, and despite the way his smile was almost too large for his face, and mildly unnerving in the remnants of the stage lights, Ryo thought he kind-of, maybe, looked a little handsome.
Ryo tried not to shiver as they walked past the crowd, restraining a scream as an audience member’s outstretched hands brushed and caught in his waistcoat, and the man casually put his arm on Ryo’s waist, resting against that godforsaken bustle, to hurry him forward. The hand was warm, and, as much as Ryo hated to admit it, comforting, palm flat against Ryo’s spine. “For all that you walk unrepentantly like a man in a dress, you’re going to be quite the damsel in distress, aren’t you?”
“My boot is going to distress your ass,” Ryo snapped, and the man turned to look down at him, delighted. “And I’m perfectly talented at walking in a dress.” Ryo hoisted his skirt, revealing his knees, and stomped a little ahead of the man as they approached the main theater entrance, before he remembered that he had no idea where he was going.
“This will be fun,” the man said, with that same damned cheerfulness, and Ryo wondered if it was too late to choose the Night Creatures.
The streets were wet, and Ryo could smell the oil in the air, rising from the streets the way it always did in the summer.
The tall man’s shoes clacked loudly on the cobblestoned street, and Ryo jolted at the sound. He licked his lips, and tried not to shiver at the oppressive silence. The usual clock and gear sounds were traumatic in their absence.
There were a two frozen watchmen standing with their backs to them in the dimly lit street, a massive automaton on each side with the etched JE on the right arm that declared their maker.
“The new Johnny models have gotten bigger,” the man said. “They’re a little scary, right?” He said it with a pout, and Ryo couldn’t believe the man was so calm. The whole world had paused, and Ryo hadn’t even known it was possible that could happen, and this man was going on about the automatons?
“Where are we going?” Ryo’s boots were slippery on the slick stones… Ryo wasn’t sure he’d ever worn his costume shoes outside before. The hem of his dress dragged as he walked, as well, and Yoko was going to kill him.
If Yoko was ever able to kill him. Ryo shook his head, and tried not to think about the dull, lifeless sheen in Yoko’s eyes, mouth slack and open mid-thought, and he lifted his skirts up, and tried not to fall as he hurried to follow.
“My home,” was the response. “There are tools I need.”
“I see,” Ryo said, before he promptly tripped over his own shoelace.
“You’re a really ungraceful lady,” the man said, and Ryo looked up at him out of the corner of his eye. The man was grinning, but Ryo thought he might be paying more attention to his surroundings than Ryo’s trouble walking in heels.
“I’m not a girl,” Ryo hissed. “I’m not used to, you know, living in these clothes. I just wear them on an enclosed stage for short periods of time.”
“Fair enough,” the man replied, still sounding far too much like he was laughing, and Ryo opened his mouth to rage, but then the man’s hand grabbed a tight hold on Ryo’s arm, right above the elbow, and he lifted his cane and held it in front of them. “We’re being followed.”
There was a dry chuckle from the darkness, and Ryo fervently wished the gaslamps burned just a little bit brighter in the West End. Ryo could barely make out the outline of a figure, but the shape was uncertain, shifting and moving in the shadows, amorphous and vague.
“Good to see you’re still sharp, Junno, even if you are consorting with stranger company than usual.” A figure stepped out of the shadows, dressed all in black. His skin was icy pale, and his eyes seemed to look through Ryo more than at him. “The streets aren’t safe tonight.”
“You don’t think I know that?” the man, Junno, said, lowering his cane. “Kamenashi, you scared me!”
“Who is your friend?”
“I’m Ryo,” Ryo said.
“Ryo,” Junno said, and Ryo realized that the other man had probably been wondering about Ryo’s name as much as Ryo had been wondering about his.
“There is more evil than usual afoot on this most curious of nights. I will escort you home.” Now Ryo could see that it was a man, dressed in a long coat, with pale skin and gleaming eyes. Another person who was moving, despite the stillness of North River. “I would hate for you to meet your end at the hands of a Night Creature, my Lord.”
Night Creatures, Ryo thought with a gulp. He’d never seen one himself, but he’d heard the legends.
“That would be a shame,” Junno, or maybe Lord Junno, said, and he scratched his nose, before looking down exasperatedly at his glove, lips curling down as he thought about the minor annoyance. “I bet my toys would be lonely.”
“Aren’t you a bit old for toys?” Ryo said, and when both the man from the shadows and Junno turned to look at him, he tugged imperiously on the hem of his waistcoat. “I mean, toys?”
“My toys are a bit different than other people’s toys,” Junno said, and he looked down. Ryo followed his gaze, and realized Junno’s hand was still wrapped around his upper arm, tight enough to bruise. Junno immediately pulled back his hand, and Ryo thought maybe there was a bit of a flush across the taller man’s cheeks.
“Are they really?” Ryo asked, and his throat was too dry, so it came out a little less assured than he would have liked.
“I’m sure he’ll show you,” the man said, smirking, and Ryo sucked his lower lip into his mouth. “Let’s go.”
The walked a little too fast, and Ryo’s skirts, despite his best efforts, dragged along the streets, catching on wayward shoes, and Ryo felt like his heart would stop every time he caught a pair of wide, frozen eyes.
“Keep up!” Kamenashi said, and Ryo’d like to see him get around in high-heeled boots that were half a size too small for Ryo’s feet, in a situation he was woefully unprepared for.
“Are you all right?” Junno whispered, as Ryo stifled a scream as he felt something move near his shin. “You look awfully pale.”
“Oh, no, this is quite the exciting quest,” Ryo snapped. “I feel like I’ve been waiting my whole life to be in a life-threatening situation with a clown and a vampire, all the while wondering why I am the lucky person who has to sit and worry about whether my family and friends will spend the rest of their lives as unmoving dolls!” Ryo was trying to not to raise his voice, as there was still the fear of the Night Creatures, despite the fact that Junno had relaxed considerably since Kamenashi had joined them.
“They won’t,” Junno said, and awkwardly patted Ryo on the shoulder. “I’m going to fix the engine-clock, you see.”
“The engine?” Junno’s hand was warm, even through Ryo’s jacket. Something about Junno, Ryo thought, was just comforting, despite everything.
“The engine,” Junno said, and he looked so eager Ryo almost felt bad disappointing him with his incomprehension.
“Sorry,” Ryo said. “I don’t get it.”
Kamenashi came to a halt in front of them. “Get inside,” he said, and Junno pulled a large brass ring from… well, Ryo’s not sure from whence the ring came, but it had seven very large, oversized keys. Junno selected the third one, and stuck it into the lock as Kamenashi watched right and left, eyes scanning the streets. There was a strange sheen to his eyes, Ryo thought; almost like they were glowing. It was kind of creepy.
“Welcome to my home,” Junno said, gesturing largely, and Ryo gulped, grabbed two fistfuls of his skirt, and walked inside the large towne home.
The foyer was bright. Almost too bright, and Ryo couldn’t help but look around in awe at the walls lined with books. There were countless weird gadgets with unfathomable purposes all along the shelves, from what Ryo could see in his first cursory glances, and there was a thick layer of dust on anything that wasn’t mechanical.
“Sorry for the mess,” Junno said. “I hadn’t planned on company after the show.”
“Right,” Ryo said, and Junno beamed at him. Now that they were in good light, Ryo could really see his face, and he was a bit surprised at how young the man looked, face full of delightful smoothness and eyes just as bright as Ryo’d thought they might be. When he smiled, his teeth were pretty and white and straight, and Ryo assumed that he wasn’t a smoker. “Do you have… Can I have water?”
“Oh!” Junno said, and he clapped his hands once, twice, and rolled forward and back on the balls of his feet. “Yes, you can.” He furrowed his brow. “Ueda!”
There was a gentle whirring sound, a comforting one that was only a shadow of the noise Ryo is used to; the sound of North River thrumming beneath and around him, but the familiar clink of gears and brass was like a balm for his nerves, at least until a tiny metal object appeared suddenly in front of his face, buzzing loudly. It had long wings, like a dragonfly, and they moved so fast Ryo’s eyes could barely keep up.
“You’ve brought home an exceptionally ugly woman,” it said, and Ryo squeaked and stepped backwards, away from it.
“Is it an automaton?” Ryo asked. “Why is it still moving?”
“Ueda is on one of my toys. He has a bit of a temper, and a fierce right hook, so I would try and stay on his good side.” Junno’s hat and jacket found a home on the coat hanger, and Ryo felt almost like he was expected to take off his coat and join this strange man for tea.
Only that would be ridiculous, because the world outside was full of people who no longer moved, and Ryo wasn’t a goddamned girl.
“But it still moves,” Ryo said. “The automatons outside don’t move. Nothing moves. And yet, here in your home, everything is still moving.” As Ryo said it, he realized it was true. The things Ryo took for granted in his everyday life- the slightly shifting chains and clinking gears… everything in Junno’s house, which somehow seemed even larger on the inside than it had on the outside, despite the clutter, was still in motion.
“My toys,” Junno said, and then he paused, as if trying to figure out how to phrase it. “They’re not connected to the city. It’s better to say that…” He coughed. “That the city doesn’t particularly know about them.”
In some quarters, Ryo knew, that would be code for illegal weapons development. On the brink of war, that was the sort of thing that got one in trouble with the law. Only there wasn’t any law to tell right now, and Ryo’d never been a tattle tale.
“Okay then,” Ryo said, and shrugged, and Ueda flew even closer to him, and Ryo could make out a tiny, pretty face. “Are you a boy or a girl?”
The fairy hit Ryo, and he winced, and reached up to make sure he wasn’t bleeding. “Little bastard.”
“I told you to stay on his good side,” Junno said, and Kamenashi snorted. “Ueda, could you get water for our guest, and Kamenashi a glass of that port he likes?” Ryo watched as the man licked his lips before looking up at something behind Ryo’s head. “We’re running out of time,” Junno said, and he spun on his heel and bolted up the wooden steps, leaving Ryo and Kamenashi in the foyer.
A glass of water appeared in front of Ryo, on a tray next to Kamenashi’s glass of port, and the tiny little mechanical fairy was huffing and puffing beneath it. Ryo quickly snagged his glass of water, and the crystal it was in was nicer than anything Ryo’d ever held before. “Thank you,” he mumbled, and the little clockwork toy gave him a measured look, before it hesitantly accepted that Ryo was being sincere.
Junno’s toys were more alive than any mechanical creature Ryo had ever seen. “It’s like magic,” Ryo said, and Kamenashi had lifted one arched eyebrow.
“Yes, a little,” he replied, and Ryo took a large gulp of water, which washed the last of his lipstick away. “Junno is a bit eccentric,” Kamenashi said after a few moments, cradling his own glass carefully. In the flickering light, Ryo could see the rouge brushed dark across his ice-pale cheeks, and the deep red paint on his lips. He looked less than human, or maybe more than human, Ryo thought. And definitely peculiar.
“Right,” Ryo drawled, because Kamenashi seemed far too eccentric himself to be commenting on someone else’s behavior. Still Ryo was standing in the entranceway to what was possibly a Lord’s home wearing a dress and women’s make-up, so maybe Ryo was a bit eccentric, too. Ryo was not sure if this entire situation was any worse than his acting troupe, anyway. Only that made Ryo think about his acting troupe, and he closed his eyes. “I’m sure he’s much stranger than you are.”
Kamenashi laughed at Ryo’s response, and it was a nasal sound, almost pleasant to listen to if you liked that sort of voice, and then set his glass down on the mantle.
“Not like I am,” Kamenashi said teasingly. “He’s an… inventor, of sorts.”
“An inventor?” Ryo queried, curiosity piqued. “What kind of… inventor?”
“Well, you’re about to go up to his workshop.” Kamenashi turned, dropping his top hat on his head. Ryo fought the urge to reply with ”I am?” and watched Ueda flit up to the mantle and retrieve the abandoned glass. Ryo gripped his a little tighter.
Kamenashi’s tailcoat, perfect for an evening at the theatre, swirled about him as he paused at the door. “Try not to get roped into anything… dangerous.”
“You mean, like being one of three people left even moving as the city goes still?” Ryo snorted. “I’m not sure how this gets more dangerous for me, honestly. I’m afraid that ship has sailed.”
“Well, suppose you try not to let Junno get you killed,” Kamenashi said. “He can get… enthusiastic about things, so use common sense.”
“I’ll give that objective my utmost,” Ryo said dryly, and Kamenashi raised both perfectly manicured brows as he observed Ryo one last time.
“See that you do,” Kamenashi said, stepping out the door and onto the rain-wet streets. “After all, I’d hate for the Adelphi Theater to lose its best leading lady.”
Ryo considered kicking the man in the shin, but he had more important things to worry about than jokes concerning his attire. “I would hate that, too,” Ryo says. “As, over the past twenty-seven years, I’ve grown rather fond of myself.”
“And… look after Junno, too, all right? He’s different from other people.” There was something layered in Kamenashi’s voice, a mild sort of affection that Ryo hadn’t been expecting.
And then Lord Kamenashi was gone, disappearing into the night like a vampire from a grim storybook, and Ryo was left alone in the hallway of Junno’s North River towne-home with only the dusty steps and family portraits for company.
“Well, there’s no time like the present,” Ryo murmured to himself, and then he began his slow ascent up the stairs.
The creaking sound made Ryo anxious. As he continued up the stairs, he could start to hear more clunking noises, and loud footsteps.
At the top of the stairs, Ryo could see a string of rooms, but the one closest to the stairs was open, and light poured out onto the dim landing from inside. Ryo peeked his head in, and saw Junno bent over a leather bag, hand reaching in and pulling something out.
“Don’t need this,” he mumbled to himself, and Ryo smiled, because it reminded him of the way Shige mumbled to himself when he was working on plays, crossing out lines as he went along. “Come in,” Junno said, and it took Ryo a moment to realize Junno was talking to him.
The first thing Ryo noticed, when he walked fully into the room, was that it was covered in clocks. The eastern wall had maps of North River pinned up, but the rest of the wall space was filled with either clocks or pieces of clocks. Along the shelves were tiny samurai made of brass, and every once in a while one of them would move, dragging Ryo’s eyes back to it before he could continue perusing the strange room.
There was a pile of overripe apples sitting on the desk, and that smell, mixed with the scent of burning oil from the lamps, left a strange but not unpleasant scent in the air.
“Do you like clocks,” Ryo says, not really saying it like a question, and Junno looked up.
“I like samurai,” Junno said. “I like making clocks. And fixing them.”
“I see,” Ryo said, walking closer to Junno, careful not to catch his skirts on any of the weird odds and ends sticking out from the tables. There was no place to sit down, so Ryo stood helplessly in the center of the room, feeling a bit like an unexpected guest.
“I’m just getting repair tools,” Junno says. “Do you see that map?”
Ryo turned back to the eastern side of the room, stepping over a pile of books to look a little closer.
It was North River, but underground. Ryo could see long lines, tiny circles connecting at street corners like joints. “What’s this?”
“It’s the infrastructure of North River,” Junno said, and Ryo’s eyes widened. “It’s the buzz of the city, if you will.”
“Why do you have this?” Ryo said, tracing his finger along the lines in the map, trying to find the center. But there was a gap there, with no lines, where Ryo thought the control must be.
“My father built it,” Junno said. “After he built the test system.”
“The test system?”
“This house,” Junno says. “That’s why it still runs. It’s got it’s own ‘engine’, if you will, to run it.” He turned to look at Ryo. “Can’t you feel it humming?”
“Yes,” Ryo said. “The city is terrifying without the hum.”
“Until twenty-five years ago,” Junno said, “apparently the city was always quiet. Before we were forced to make a city that could survive a war.” Junno reaches up and puts his hand to his chest. “My heart beats to the rhythm of this house, not to the rhythm of the city. That’s why I didn’t stop like everyone else did.”
“Then why didn’t I stop?” Ryo asked, and Junno shrugged.
“I have no idea. It’s most curious.”
There was a long silence, as Ryo contemplated Junno, who had shed his tailcoat, and wore only his blouse and vest as he contemplated his tools.
“How in the world did he create something like this?” Ryo asked, eyes venturing back to the map. The other maps showed the joints in detail. “Is it all steam powered?”
“Steam powered,” Junno agreed, “but metered by clockwork.” Junno frowned down at his bag, as if he was unsure he had what he needed. “As to the idea… I’m not sure. He always said he had gotten the idea from a much smaller project. And that he wanted the city to run almost like a person. All the energy flowing from the heart.”
“The heart,” Ryo repeated, reaching up and touching fingers to his own He fingered the scar there. “So North River has a heart.”
“One that isn’t beating,” Junno replied. “Or ticking, as it were.”
“So we’re going to go fix it?” Ryo asked, before he realized that he’d included himself in this mad scheme.
“I’m going to go fix it. You’re going to wait here-“
There was a crashing noise, and then two large machines barreled into the room, crashing into Ryo’s shins and causing him to grunt in pain as he tried to get out of the way.
They ran up to Junno and circled around him, curving between his legs and looking up at him with eyes that glowed blue. They looked like dogs, Ryo thought, but not like any dogs he had ever seen.
“Are those… automatons?” Ryo asked, and Junno tapped his chin thoughtfully.
“Sort of,” he said. “This is Koki,” and he gestured to the black machine, which had big eyes and expressively waving many-jointed tail. “And this is Nakamaru.” The Nakamaru-machine had a large nose, and seemed much calmer.
“Are they-“
“Not like Ueda,” Junno said. “They play nice with strangers.”
“That’s a relief,” Ryo said.
“They can protect you while I’m gone. I mean, the house will protect you, too, but Nakamaru and Koki can at least keep you company.”
“I’m coming with you.” The stupid part of Ryo’s brain seemed to be in control of his mouth.
“Eh?” Junno tilted his head at Ryo, blonde hair falling to the side. It looked rather soft, Ryo though, hanging just a bit in his face like that. He liked the way the ends of it seemed to curl just a little. “It’s very dangerous.”
“I’m a grown-up,” Ryo said, his pride unwilling to let him back down now that he’d declared his intention to go. “And I don’t know if I trust the entire future of North River being solely in your hands.”
As Ryo spoke, Junno started to juggle the apples that sat on his desk, and Ryo wondered if Junno even liked to eat apples, or if he kept them up here for precisely that purpose.
“I’m very good with my hands, though,” Junno said, and Ryo almost laughed, but he bit it back because he didn’t want to encourage him.
“My family and my friends… this whole city is frozen. If I can help…” Ryo dragged off, before clenching his hands into fists at his side. “If I can help, I’d like to. I’m fairly good at fixing things, myself.”
“Are you?” Junno asked, and Ryo thought, for a moment, that Junno was going to say no, but then a strange look flicked in Junno’s eyes, before it was gone, as quickly as it had come. “I guess…”
“You guess, what?” Ryo said. “You’re not my father. I can go where I please.” Ryo spoke strongly, but he kept his eyes on the floor. Junno was rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. He still hadn’t stopped juggling, and he’d yet to drop an apple. He was, Ryo thought, good with his hands.
“I guess you never know when an extra pair of hands will come in handy,” Junno said, and he wasn’t looking at Ryo as he spoke.
“It’s settled then,” Ryo said, and tried not to shiver at the thought of going back out into the night, this time without their escort. “
“We’ll have to be careful of the Night Creatures without Kamenashi,” Junno said, echoing Ryo’s thoughts. Ryo kicked at his skirt hem anxiously.
“What makes him so useful against Night Creatures, anyway?”
Junno was buckling his bag closed, and pulling goggles over his head until they hung around his neck. He swung the bag across his shoulder and looked up in surprise at Ryo.
“Well, he is one, of course,” Junno said, like it was something obvious that Ryo should have known.
“What?!” It was high, and squeaky, and Koki clearly didn’t like the sound, butting Ryo’s knee with his head, hard enough that Ryo didn’t keep yelling but soft enough that it didn’t really hurt. “What are you doing hanging around with Night Creatures?” Ryo hissed in a lower tone. “See? This is why you need a chaperone.”
“Kamenashi is nice,” Junno said, adjusting the bag on his shoulder to redistribute the weight. “Don’t be so prejudiced.” Junno smiled, and Ryo really liked Junno’s smile, he thought; especially the way Junno’s eyes developed laugh lines that made him look even more innocent than he looked when he wasn’t grinning freely. “He can be a bit… pretentious, but so can some of my cousins, and really, it’s not-“
“Night Creatures are dangerous,” Ryo said, incredulously, thinking back to the almost predatory way Kamenashi had smiled. “They eat people’s hearts!”
“Well, some of them do,” Junno said. “Not all of them, though.” He shrugged. “I rather like Kamenashi. He’s kind.”
Ryo thought about Kamenashi’s quiet request that he look after Junno, and maybe Junno was right.
“Kamenashi wasn’t so bad,” Ryo admitted, pressing his lips together and scratching at the side of his face.
“There you go,” Junno said. “Now, let’s get a move on.”
“Yes,” Ryo said, even as his stomach plummeted at the thought of going outside. But then he remembered the glassy look in Yoko’s eyes, and the way Yasu’s normally expressive face had frozen, like he was nothing more than a statue in a museum, and he gathered his courage as well as his skirts. “Let’s go.”
Part II
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Date: 2012-07-19 08:28 pm (UTC)Too many favorite things...
“Ryo looked down at his own attire in dismay. “I look like a fool,” he said miserably, and Yasu, who was actually attired as a fool, patted him on the shoulder sympathetically. “No offense,” Ryo added, moments too late for efficacy.”
“For all that you walk unrepentantly like a man in a dress, you’re going to be quite the damsel in distress, aren’t you?” “My boot is going to distress your ass,” Ryo snapped, and the man turned to look down at him, delighted. “And I’m perfectly talented at walking in a dress.” Ryo hoisted his skirt, revealing his knees, and stomped a little ahead of the man as they approached the main theater entrance, before he remembered that he had no idea where he was going. Hilarious.
“Keep up!” Kamenashi said, and Ryo’d like to see him get around in high-heeled boots that are half a size too small for Ryo’s feet, in a situation he was woefully unprepared for. Ah, Ryo, if you only knew.
“You’ve brought home an exceptionally ugly woman,” it said, and Ryo squeaked and stepped backwards, away from it. Ueda, the steampunk fairy. Teehee.
“Are those… automatons?” Ryo asked, and Junno tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Sort of,” he said. “This is Koki,” and he gestured to the black machine, which had big eyes and expressively waving many-jointed tail. “And this is Nakamaru.” The Nakamaru-machine had a large nose, and seemed much calmer.
“Not like Ueda,” Junno said. “They play nice with strangers.”
Sooooo excited.