Vomit

Kyro leans against the wall of his hut, arms crossed as he looks out into the distance. His sword stands with the tip buried in the dirt beside him, along with Ingen's Warhammer. The colorful trees in the south wave with the invisible pushes of the wind. Mount manifest stands with a daunting figure behind the forest, casting a dark shadow across the land.

Kyro pulls his eyes from the south, looking around at the huts and their despot residents. Quiet and depressing. It's always been like this. Men have difficulty enjoying life when they know death is around the corner. And for collectors, that corner is Kalar. Most teams return with one member, and that's if they return at all.

For these Rajin men, death has always been close. Every one of them was once on the battlefield, rushing forward against an army that held several times the numbers as their own. However, that death was honorable, welcomed even. Men must protect their homes.

While soldiers die to another man, Collectors meet their end to monsters, lava, and even their own blade. There are the trackers as well, but at least that death is quick. Kyro has seen many men die, and those that die to the trackers are the only ones he has not heard the screams of. Either way, there is no honor in the death of a Collector, no matter the cause.

Kyro shakes the thought from his head, watching as Ingen steps up. The violet-skinned man has always been bigger than those around him. Even when they were children, Ingen was already reaching the height of a full-grown Rajin man. He wears the same black leotard as every other Collector, the sleeves ripped at the shoulder to reveal his tree trunk arms.

Kyro nods to Ingen, and the gesture is returned, "How did it go?" Kyro asks as Ingen sits on the ground beside him with a sigh.

Ingen pauses, glancing up and meeting Kyro's gaze. He looks back out at the surrounding huts, "None of them believed me," he says.

Kyro sighs, "As expected," he responds, "I experienced it first hand and still find it hard to believe. A massor appearing on a planet is... it should be impossible." Kyro knew none of the others would believe such a ridiculous story. Even so, he felt that they should know of their certain death, even if the words fall on deaf ears.

Yoru will tell the Epochs of the event. They may not believe at first, but when they notice that none of the Collectors are returning from Kalar, that will change. What they will do when that happens, well... Kyro does not know. The Epochs have always worked from the shadows, at least for as long as Kyro has lived.

However, they will undoubtedly act if the supply of Rage Stones is threatened. Kyro does not agree with some of their methods of rule, but he knows they will not let Rajin society crumble. And crumble it will if something is not done about that Massor.

---

Cage's eyes snap open, and he leans up from his bed, black sheets falling from his chest. White marble walls surround him, a window to his left with bluish-white light slipping through the shudders. In front of him, a wooden door is there, a dresser in one corner, and a round table with three candles atop it in the other. The floor and ceiling are wooden, made up of long dark, almost black planks. Cool air slides through the window shudders and fills the room.

It is a larger room than Cage has ever slept in, so much so that even with the furniture, it feels empty. This will be his room for the time being, though Yoru had a solemn air to her when presenting it. And after Cage climbed into bed, he could hear sobbing coming from another room, muffled by the walls between. Yoru is the only other person in this place, so it is obvious where it came from.

Cage still holds that same sentiment, it is none of his business. He can guess that it is because of Mavyl's death, which Kyro mentioned is his nephew when they first met with Ingen. Kyro has not mentioned another sibling, so Mavyl must be Yoru's son.

She is strong, Cage thinks, if there is one thing he can remember from his first moments in that damning place, it is the overwhelming grief that plagued him for what must have been years. Even if he was alive and breathing in those long moments, he does not know if he would be able to stand. Yet Yoru has enough strength to care for others, even though her wound is still fresh.

Even with only knowing her for a day, Cage respects his teacher. Still, with every crack in Yoru's dignified facade, her moments of extreme melancholy, and now the lonely sobbing, he finds it harder and harder not to speak up. Should he?

After talking with Kyro about his brother in the branch, Cage had felt a weight lifted from his shoulders. Perhaps Yoru would feel the same?

No matter how he looks at it, Yoru, Kyro, and Ingen have helped him in every way possible. Cage would undoubtedly be dead on Kalar if it were not for them. The thought spikes an urge in him, to return the favor in any way he can. Right now, he has an opportunity to do that by helping Yoru. She will probably not accept help from a stranger, but how will Cage know if he never makes an attempt?

With a decision made, Cage gets out of bed and dresses, which is becoming easier as he gets used to missing a limb. A shower last night has him feeling fresh, and the loose robe is a welcomed comfort. The sandals will still take some getting used to though. Yoru insisted that he wear them. Something about standing out a bit too much.

Now that he thinks about it, every single Rajin man, woman, and child he saw while walking through Yellen all wore footwear. Only Collectors choose to go barefooted. Though with what he already knows about how Collectors are treated, Cage wonders if they have a choice.

Cage exits the room, and after a short trip through a painting-studded hallway, he descends a set of stairs, shiny marble and dark wood still surrounding him everywhere he goes. He looks out a window as he walks, and sees the sun rising over Betor's statue atop that mountain. It's early, but according to his schedule, this early start will become a regular thing in the coming days.

Yoru fixed it up for him in minutes, though she mentioned there will be days when he can not do some things. It is nearly a full schedule, which pleases Cage a great deal. Idle time always brings unsavory thoughts to his mind, which is something he wishes to avoid if possible.

The schedule is something like this; wake up at sunrise, head outside the city to train with Kyro for the morning, return to the city to be taught by Yoru until the afternoon, self-study until sundown, and then Cage is free to do as he wishes until he heads to sleep. He already has an idea of what to do with that time, and it is not more self-study.

Cage arrives in the kitchen after two flights of stairs, the savory smell of home-cooked food wafting in his nostrils. The first floor of the home is more marble and wood, and the kitchen is connected to what seems to be a living room. A low table sits in the middle of that room, a white rug under it surrounded by four cushions on each side.

In the kitchen, a marble island stands in the center, a counter against the wall with strangely shaped pots hanging above them. Yoru stands with an apron tied over silk sleepwear, facing the island, ladle in hand, scooping soup from a large pot, which sits on a raised stone platform with a hole in the middle for the pot to sit. Underneath the contraption, a square hole in the marble has coals inside that burn, the flame reaching for the pot above.

Yoru glances at Cage as she scoops more of the soup into a second bowl, "Right on time. Did you sleep well?" she asks.

"I did," Cage responds, hands on the counter. A lie. Despite the fact that he feels fine, he must have slept for no more than an hour before waking. Then he just laid there, eyes closed until the sun rose. It seems that he doesn't need sleep anymore. He is thankful for that. Cage never wants to experience that dream again.

"Good. I believe I passed out from exhaustion. I woke up still dressed from yesterday," she says, handing Cage a bowl, "Here, eat."

"Thank you," Cage takes the bowl, smiling. Has no one else seen through her facade? Do they simply not care? He can feel the sorrow in her trying to force its way through. And one thing is obvious to him, that melancholy has increased since he met her, but it has been there for some time before then. Maybe years.

Yoru hands Cage a wooden spoon and begins to eat from the bowl with her own. Cage looks down at the bowl, something rising in his throat at the sight. The soup is a golden brown broth with some kind of white meat and different vegetables floating around in it. He scoops a bit with the spoon, slurping a piece of meat and vegetable with the broth.

The broth warms the inside of his mouth as he chews the meat and vegetables. It's good, really good. So why does Cage feel like vomiting? He eats more, slurping, chewing, "It's great," Cage says after swallowing chewed meat, holding the vomit back with every fiber of his being.

Yoru smiles, looking at Cage, "Thank you. I haven't cooked for anyone in over two years, so I was worried that I've just been telling myself it was good," she says, sounding genuinely pleased.

Cage smiles and nods, struggling inside. However, he made his decision already. He will try, even with his stomach threatening to burst from him. Cage gazes at Yoru as she finishes chewing, the smile gone from his lips, "Who is Mavyl to you?" he asks.