Chapter 5: The Rusty Pilgrim
The journey through deep space smelled of overheated metal, low-grade fuel, and the stale sweat of a dozen different species, all trapped together in the metallic belly of "The Rusty Pilgrim." It was not a passenger ship; it was a glorified freighter that accepted travelers in exchange for a few coins, a slow and tortuous route through the less-traveled sectors of the galaxy. For Kara Zor-El, it was perfect. Anonymous. Miserable. An external reflection of how she felt inside.
Weeks had passed since they left the red-bathed surface of Pyrr. Weeks of a constant hum from the engines, of the same dehydrated food, and of sharing living space with beings that seemed to have been pulled from the nightmares of a mad artist. Sitting on a hard metal seat, Kara was slumped, her head resting against the cold window that looked out onto an infinite sea of indifferent stars. She was sleeping. Or, at least, pretending to. Her sleep was loud, with her mouth slightly open and a deep, regular breath, a performance designed to ward off anyone who might want to start a conversation.
Beside her, Ruthye Marye Knoll watched her. The girl, wrapped in a threadbare blanket, looked at her strange new champion with a mixture of almost religious reverence and a slight, a very slight, annoyance at her snoring. She had spent her entire life on a rock farm, and in these few weeks, she had seen more of the universe than her brothers would ever dream of. She had seen this woman, this Supergirl, face down a thug with brutal ease, and now she watched her sleep like an exhausted child. They were two images her young mind struggled to reconcile.
(Kara POV)
'Just breathe,' Kara told herself, keeping her eyes closed. 'One heartbeat. The next. It's just a journey. A means to an end.'
The end. Krem of the Yellow Hills. The poison. Krypto.
The image of her dog, enveloped in a crimson light and disappearing into a silent portal, was an anchor in the storm of her thoughts. The shopkeeper's voice, Urahara Kisuke's, echoed in her memory. "You will owe me a favor. A very, very big one." She had accepted without hesitation. She would have sold her own soul for Krypto. The favor was a problem for the future. Saving her dog was the only problem of the present.
The smell of the shuttle was almost unbearable. It reminded her of the lower levels of Argo City, after the air recycling systems began to fail. The smell of fear and confined life. She focused on that memory, using it to feed the cold ember of anger that kept her moving. Anger was better than pain. Anger was a purpose.
A sudden movement pulled her from her feigned slumber. A bulky passenger, a being with slimy skin and small tentacles where eyebrows should be, had stood up and was looking down at Ruthye with disdain.
"Too much noise, little one," the creature growled, its voice a wet sound. "And you take up too much space. This seat is for one."
Kara tensed, her muscles ready to react. But before she could, Ruthye stood up on the seat, her small frame barely reaching the creature's chest.
"I have purchased passage on this experienced yet sturdy vessel," the girl recited, her voice that of a lawyer reading a contract, though it trembled slightly. "And it is my understanding that a certain amount of space is guaranteed with said purchase. Obviously, you are violating this guarantee."
The creature blinked, confused by the formality of her speech. Then, it let out a wet laugh. "Sit down, squirt, before I use you as a handkerchief."
Kara opened her eyes. That was enough.
She was about to say something, to move, but Ruthye was faster. The girl, with a bravery born of sheer desperation, looked the creature in the eyes. "I do not travel alone. I am accompanied on my quest for vengeance by a warrior whose renown echoes from one end of the universe to the other. The Maiden of Power, Supergirl. A challenge to me is a challenge to her, and therefore, a death blow for you, sir."
Kara froze, surprised by the girl's audacity. 'Maiden of Power...' she thought with a bitterness that tasted like ash. 'If only she knew...'
The slimy passenger looked at Kara, who was still slumped in her seat, her eyes half-closed with an air of exhaustion. He did not see a Maiden of Power. He saw a tired human. He laughed again, turned around, and went back to his seat, muttering something about girls with too much imagination.
Ruthye sat down, her small victory leaving a flush of pride on her cheeks. Kara closed her eyes again, but a small, almost imperceptible smile touched her lips before vanishing.
'Maybe you're not so useless after all, kid.'
(Ruthye POV)
'I scared him away,' Ruthye thought with a surge of triumph. 'He didn't dare face Supergirl's reputation.'
She felt proud. And relieved. The journey was long and frightening. The passenger's foul smell and the constant hum of the ship kept her awake at night. To distract herself, she turned to her favorite fantasy. She closed her eyes and saw it. The image of Krem of the Yellow Hills, on his knees before her, his hands clasped, begging for mercy. Swearing that he would reform, that he would dedicate his life to good, all in the name of Ruthye's father. And after he was done with his pleas, she saw herself, calm and serene, driving her father's sword into the man's heart. The smell of the man's fear in her fantasy was much sweeter than the smell of sweat on the ship. It was the only thought that brought her comfort on this endless journey. It was the only reason she was here.
*****
(Urahara POV)
Light-years away, in a garden where the air was always pure, Urahara Kisuke watched a holographic screen. It showed a schematic representation of "The Rusty Pilgrim." A point of blue light (Kara) and a smaller, green one (Ruthye), moved across the galaxy.
'The bond is forming,' he thought, taking a sip of tea. 'The symbiosis has begun. Variable A (Ruthye) provides Variable B (Kara) with a purpose. Variable B provides protection. A simple and effective system.'
He looked down at his feet, where Krypto was sleeping in his stasis basket, a soft crimson glow surrounding him. 'But a purpose based solely on revenge is... unstable. They will need an external catalyst to force the next phase of evolution. And the universe, in its infinite generosity, is rarely slow to provide one.'
After what felt like several cycles of sleep and wakefulness, marked only by the changing of the crew's shifts and the declining quality of the food rations, "The Rusty Pilgrim" finally docked. The Nox space station was a notorious stopover, a hollowed-out asteroid converted into a black market and a rest area for travelers on the less-trafficked routes. It was a noisy place, filled with flickering neon lights, the smell of spilled fuel, and the murmur of a thousand shady deals.
"We'll stop here for a couple of hours," Kara said, stretching her stiff muscles. The ship's recycled air had left a metallic taste in her mouth. "We need to resupply. And I need something that doesn't taste like cardboard."
Ruthye nodded, her wide eyes taking in the chaotic crowd of aliens milling about the docking bays. She was holding the hilt of her sword so tightly that her knuckles were white, a small island of determination in an ocean of danger.
They found a food stall serving something resembling noodles in a thick, spicy broth. They sat in a corner, their backs to the wall, a lesson Kara had learned the hard way on planets like this. As they ate in a tense silence, Kara tried to explain to the girl the immensity of what they were doing.
"See those stars through the viewport?" she said, pointing with her spoon. "Every one of them is a sun. And most of those suns have planets. We are forty light-years from where we started. For a normal human, that journey would take generations. For us... it's just the beginning."
"The stars look the same as always," Ruthye replied, poking a piece of alien meat with her fork. "Distant."
Kara smiled, a tired smile. "Yeah. I guess they always are."
Their conversation was interrupted. A tall, burly figure stopped by their table, his shadow falling over them. He was a Khund, a race known for their brutality and love of war. He wore heavy armor and a jagged scar crossed his face. His small, piggy eyes fixed on Kara.
"I heard a rumor," the Khund growled, his voice like rocks grinding together. "That a Kryptonian was traveling on that scrap heap. You bear the mark of the House of El."
She wasn't wearing the suit, but the small family "S" emblem, a discreet pendant she wore under her shirt, must have become visible. A rookie mistake, born from exhaustion.
"What if I am?" Kara retorted, her tone cold, her hand moving slowly toward the edge of the table.
"Superman," the Khund spat, the word a curse. "That 'hero' threw my two brothers, Scart and Bard, into a phantom prison for a simple misunderstanding over the sovereignty of a mining planetoid. I swore to get my revenge on him and his family from that day on."
He leaned in, his breath stinking of something sour. "And you, little girl, are his family."
(Kara POV)
'Great,' Kara thought with a weariness that went beyond the physical. 'Not even in the ass-end of the universe can I escape his shadow. I'm always 'Superman's cousin.' Not a person. An appendage. A secondary target.'
She saw the Khund move his hand toward the blaster at his hip. She saw Ruthye tense up beside her. She saw the other patrons in the bar moving away, eager to watch the fight, but with no intention of intervening. The universe was a schoolyard, and the bully had just found a new target.
"Listen, pal," Kara said, her voice calm, almost bored. "You've had a bad day. I get it. But I assure you, if you pull that weapon, your day is about to get a whole lot worse."
The Khund laughed. "A Kryptonian girl far from her yellow sun. What are you going to do? Cry?"
She didn't give him time to react. Kara's movement was a blur. She didn't use superhuman strength; she didn't need it. With a side kick, she struck the chair the Khund was about to lean on. The chair shot out, and the warrior, caught by surprise, lost his balance for a crucial instant. In that instant, Kara was already on her feet. Her fist slammed into the Khund's solar plexus. The air rushed out of his lungs with a hiss. Before he could recover, she grabbed his head with both hands and slammed it into the metal table.
The sound was a dull, metallic "CLANG!" The Khund collapsed to the floor, unconscious.
The fight had lasted three seconds. It hadn't been a great battle. It had been a nuisance, an interruption to her meal.
She sat back down, picked up her noodles, and continued eating as if nothing had happened. Ruthye stared at her, her eyes a mixture of awe and fear.
"Finish your food," Kara told her without looking at her. "We're leaving in five minutes."
As they walked away from the station, leaving the Khund snoring on the bar floor, Kara reflected. Clark's legacy was both a shield and a magnet for trouble. A shield that intimidated small-time thugs. And a magnet for those who, like that Khund, had a score to settle with the Man of Steel.
'I'm not him,' she thought with a renewed wave of frustration. 'I don't want to be him. I just want to find a man, save my dog, and be left alone.'
But she knew, deep in her heart, that would never happen. The "S" was not just an emblem. It was a brand. And she would carry it with her until the end of time.
*****
The monotonous hum of "The Rusty Pilgrim's" engines had become the only background sound in Kara and Ruthye's lives. It was a constant reminder of their slow, arduous progress through the infinite blackness. The weeks had blurred into a routine of restless sleep, bland food, and stops at space stations that smelled of desperation.
They were in the small passenger compartment, Kara trying to read a datapad on xeno-metallurgy, Ruthye watching the distant stars through the window, when a blaring alarm shattered the monotony. A flashing red light bathed the corridor, making the shadows dance like demons.
The other passengers, a mix of merchants and fugitives, began to mutter and shift nervously. The pilot's voice, an avian being with a sharp squawk, came over the speakers, filled with a panic that did nothing to calm the nerves.
"Attention, passengers! We have... we have a situation! An unidentified anomaly is approaching rapidly! I repeat, an anomaly... oh, by the moons of Cygnus... it's a Karapne Dragon!"
A deathly silence fell over the passengers, followed by an outburst of screams and pleas. Kara felt a knot of ice in her stomach. She knew the stories. The Karapne Dragons were legends, terrors of deep space, ancient biomechanical beasts that patrolled the Western Galaxies, devouring entire ships for their metal. They weren't supposed to be here, in the quiet, forgotten routes of the East.
"Supergirl!" the pilot's voice squawked, this time directly through her compartment's internal comm. "Get to the bridge! Now! For the love of the gods, we need your help!"
Kara stood up, her face a mask of frustration. "Stay here," she told Ruthye, her voice a firm command.
On the bridge, the avian crew was running around in a disorganized panic. On the main screen, the image was apocalyptic. A serpentine creature, larger than the ship itself, was closing in. Its scales were of a dark, iridescent metal, and its maw opened to reveal a furnace of crackling energy.
"It shouldn't be here!" the pilot shrieked, his feathers ruffled with fear. "You have to do something! Save the day! You're a Kryptonian!"
Kara looked at the creature on the screen, then at the terrified pilot. Helplessness was a bitter taste in her mouth.
"Listen," she said, her voice tense. "I spent too long under the wrong sun. I haven't been near a yellow star long enough yet. My energy reserve is critically low. I can't fly out there and fight... that. I'm strong, yes. But I'm not invincible."
"But... but you're Supergirl!" the pilot stammered, his faith in legends clashing with harsh reality.
'No,' Kara thought. 'I'm just Kara Zor-El. And I'm trapped in a tin can about to be devoured.'
Her mind raced, searching for a solution, any solution. Brute force was not an option. Escape was impossible. She needed... an edge. A chaotic and dangerous edge.
She ran back to the passenger compartment. The scene was one of total panic. She ignored the screams and prayers. She climbed onto one of the tables, her tall, determined figure commanding a momentary silence.
"LISTEN UP!" she shouted, her voice resonating with an authority she didn't know she possessed. "I know some of you are carrying contraband! I don't care! But right now, the only thing that can save this ship is a drug! I'm looking for 'Reds'! Red Pills!"
Most of the passengers looked at her with confusion, but she saw a flash of recognition in the eyes of a few, followed by a guilty fear.
"Don't be shy!" she continued, her voice growing more desperate. "I know someone here has them! This is a slow shuttle to the West, the cheapest way around the cosmos! Everyone gets bored, everyone needs to pass the time! Come on, be brave! There's a damn space dragon out there, and this is our only shot! And to be honest, it's not a very good one!"
A small, rodent-like being, hiding in a corner, raised a trembling hand. "I... I have some. They're... legal. I have a prescription for galactic travel. They help with my anxiety."
"Well," Kara said, jumping down from the table and approaching him. "Now they're going to help with mine."
She took the small box from the rodent's trembling hands. Inside, there was a single, intensely bright red pill. Red Kryptonite, encapsulated in soluble lead. A chemical Russian roulette.
Ruthye came closer, her eyes full of worry. "Is it safe?"
"No," Kara answered with brutal honesty, looking at the pill in her palm. "Sometimes you turn into a horrible monster. Sometimes your hair grows too long. But it's safer than being eaten by a dragon. On average."
Without further hesitation, she swallowed the pill.
*****
The effect was instantaneous and violent. The moment the soluble lead capsule dissolved in her system, a torrent of chaotic energy coursed through every Kryptonian cell in Kara's body. It was not the warm, controlled sensation of a yellow sun's radiation; it was a wildfire. A choked cry escaped her lips as she fell to her knees, her body convulsing.
"Kara!" Ruthye shouted, running to her side, but the heat emanating from her was so intense it forced the girl back.
Kara's eyes snapped open. They were no longer blue. They were two furious red suns, burning with a pure, unrefined power. Her normally pale skin glowed with an internal light, and her blonde hair seemed to catch fire, floating around her like a crown of solar flame. She rose slowly, her body no longer that of a woman, but that of an avatar of energy. A vaguely humanoid form of golden and crimson plasma, with wings of fire extending from her back, forming the silhouette of a cosmic bird of prey.
The other passengers recoiled, screaming in terror. They weren't sure if they had just been saved or if they had simply traded one monster for another.
The new Kara did not speak. She turned, not towards the door, but towards the ship's hull. With a wave of her fiery hand, the metal melted like wax, creating an opening to the vacuum of space. A force field generated by her own energy prevented the compartment's air from escaping. And then, with the grace of a comet, she shot out into the darkness.
The Karapne Dragon, which was preparing to take its first bite of "The Rusty Pilgrim," halted its advance. It sensed a new source of energy, one that was not technological, but primordial. It saw the small, fiery figure approaching at an impossible speed.
The battle was a spectacle of beautiful and terrifying violence. The dragon, a beast the size of a small moon, spat a torrent of superheated plasma. Kara, in her phoenix form, did not dodge it. She flew right through it, absorbing the energy and becoming even brighter. She didn't fight with the technique of a trained warrior, but with the instinct of a force of nature. She was a sentient solar storm.
She swirled around the dragon's metallic body, her wings of fire leaving trails of energy that sliced through the hardened scales as if they were tin foil. The dragon roared in pain and fury, trying to catch her in its asteroid-sized claws, but she was too fast, too ethereal.
From the ship's bridge, the pilot and his crew watched, speechless. On the screen, the battle looked like a dance between a star and an obsidian serpent.
Kara rose above the dragon's head. She brought her hands together, and between them formed a sphere of pure energy, a miniature sun pulsing with unstable power. With a cry that was both a roar of triumph and a wail of agony, she launched the sphere.
It impacted directly on the Karapne's skull. There was no massive explosion. Instead, the energy expanded, enveloping the beast in a web of crackling fire. The creature's scales began to melt, not from the heat, but because the chaotic energy of the Red Kryptonite was rewriting its physical properties, turning metal to dust, fury to fear.
The Karapne Dragon, a creature that had terrorized galaxies, let out a groan that echoed in the void. It turned and fled, disappearing into the blackness of deep space, leaving behind only the echo of its defeat.
Back on the ship, Kara floated in the passenger compartment. The fiery aura around her began to dim. The phoenix form dissolved, and her body returned to normal. The pill's effect had vanished as quickly as it had arrived. She fell to her knees, completely exhausted, her energy reserve not just empty, but in the negative. She breathed heavily, sweat beading on her forehead.
She was weak, vulnerable, but she had saved the day.
Ruthye ran to her side, helping her up. The other passengers, who moments before had looked at her with fear, now watched her with reverential awe. They had witnessed a miracle.
"Are you okay?" Ruthye asked, her voice full of concern.
Kara nodded, too tired to speak. She leaned on the girl as they walked back to their seat. As she slumped onto the cold metal, her last glance was at the window. The stars were still there. Distant. Indifferent.
She had unleashed the power of a god, but in that moment, she felt more human, and more alone, than ever before.
*****
Days passed. The monotonous hum of "The Rusty Pilgrim's" engines once again became the backdrop of their existence. The victory over the Karapne Dragon brought no celebrations. It brought a respectful silence from the other passengers, a distance born of fear and awe that isolated Kara and Ruthye even more in their small, lonely corner of the ship. Kara spent most of the time sleeping, her Kryptonian body struggling to recover from the extreme exhaustion and the residual effects of the Red Kryptonite.
One afternoon, as the ship glided through a soft, lavender-colored nebula that painted the interior of the compartment with an ethereal light, Kara woke up feeling a little more human. She saw Ruthye sitting in front of a small hand mirror she had taken from her bag, trying to wipe the grime of the journey from her face with the rough sleeve of her tunic. She was doing a terrible job, simply spreading the dirt around.
An impulse, one she didn't fully understand, a distant echo of a life where she was the older, responsible one, made her get up.
"Come here," she said softly, her voice still a bit hoarse from sleep.
She led the girl to the ship's small, cramped communal washroom. It was a cold metal cubicle that smelled of disinfectant and the metallic tang of recycled water. Kara turned on the tap, and a stream of warm water, a luxury on these ships, filled the small sink.
"Okay, do this. Always," Kara said, her tone that of an older sister, patient but firm. "You've got to put some water, or whatever liquid they offer, in your palms. Just get them wet."
Ruthye imitated her, her small hands cupped under the faucet, the water feeling strangely comforting.
"There's usually soap," Kara continued, pointing to a dispenser that dripped a blue, gelatinous liquid. "I was on a planet where they used acid because the people there grew a lot of skin, so I'm telling you to check and make sure it's soap. But usually, you're fine."
She put a little of the soap in Ruthye's hands. "Now, rub it all together. You've got to get all the nooks and crannies."
She guided the girl's hands, showing her how to interlace her fingers.
"...how to rub your thumbs and your fingertips against your palm," Kara continued, her voice a soft, rhythmic murmur. "My mother used to make me count to her 'Z' out loud, at least." A shadow of a memory crossed her face, so fast it was almost imperceptible. "Kryptonians are clean. Were clean. I still think about my mother... She was tough, you know? Strict about washing and a lot of things. But that's neither here nor there."
She shook off the memory as if it were dust. "So, when you're done, just rinse again. Get all the soap off. Like that. Great."
Ruthye contemplated her now-clean hands under the running water. It was a strangely satisfying feeling, a small point of order in the chaos of their journey. She dried her hands on a rough towel. As she did, she looked up at Kara, who was watching her with an expression Ruthye couldn't decipher.
"How does that feel?" Kara asked, her voice genuinely curious.
Ruthye didn't answer the question. Instead, in that rare moment of intimacy and calm, a question that had been simmering in her mind finally found its voice.
"After the tragedy," Ruthye began quietly, "...the destruction of your planet... did you also seek to avenge the death of your family?"
The question hung in the cold air of the washroom, heavier than any space dragon. Kara stood completely still. Her gaze was lost in the distorted reflection of the metal wall. The memory was not an image; it was an avalanche. The trembling of the ground beneath her feet in Argo City. The smell of ozone and burnt rock. Her father's face, aged by fear, as he pushed her toward the escape ship. The sound of the dome's crystal shattering. The silent scream of the void.
"No," she finally answered, and her voice was a whisper so fragile that Ruthye could barely hear it. "I didn't."
In that simple denial, Ruthye did not hear the strength of a heroine who had chosen a nobler path. She heard a lifetime of regret. The tone of her voice held the weight of a child who had been too scared, too broken to do anything but run. And in that instant, Ruthye's mission of vengeance, which had once seemed so just and so clear, suddenly felt... a little more childish. A little more empty.
*****
(Urahara POV)
Light-years away, in a garden where the air was always pure, Urahara Kisuke watched a holographic screen. It did not show a battle. It showed the quiet scene in the washroom, the audio amplified to capture every word.
'Fascinating,' he thought, taking a sip of tea. 'The Red Kryptonite doesn't give her power; it unlocks potential chaotically. The Phoenix manifestation... an externalization of her own repressed rage and pain. The system is self-regulating, turning her trauma into a weapon.'
His gaze shifted to another screen, which was analyzing Ruthye's brainwaves. 'And the girl... the seed of doubt has been planted. The Kryptonian's vulnerability, her honesty, is a stronger catalyst than I expected. The story's trajectory is becoming... increasingly interesting.'
He petted Krypto behind the ears. The dog, sleeping in his stasis basket, sighed in his sleep.
"Soon, little one," Urahara whispered. "Your owner is learning to be a hero. Not through her victories, but through her scars. And good stories... always require a little patience."
Omake
Scene: Limbo Town - A Place That Shouldn't Exist
The sky was plaid. The buildings bent at impossible angles, and rivers of strawberry soda flowed from the sewers. In the town square, a group of lampposts were playing poker. This was Limbo Town, a small fiefdom of Chaos anchored to the earthly plane.
And in the middle of the square, completely unfazed by the surrounding madness, stood Urahara Kisuke. He held a small device that hummed softly as he scanned a soda fountain that was weeping tears of caramel. He wore his usual shopkeeper's smile, as if he were at a local farmer's market.
A burst of red lightning and shrill laughter announced his arrival.
"Hey! Hey! Look what the cat dragged in!" shouted a childish, piercing voice.
Klarion the Witch-Boy appeared, floating upside down in the air, with his horned hair, puritan-style suit, and a malicious grin. His cat familiar, Teekl, hissed from his shoulder, fur on end.
"A new toy in my town," Klarion said, spinning around. "And he didn't ask for permission! That's rude! Teekl says we should turn his bones into rattles."
Urahara lowered his device and began to fan himself. "My apologies, Klarion-san. I'm new to the neighborhood. I'm just doing a bit of research on the spontaneous crystallization of sucrose under extra-dimensional pressure. It's fascinating."
"Boringgg!" Klarion whined. "We don't do research here! We break things! Like you!"
With a wave of his hand, the ground beneath Urahara's feet turned into licorice quicksand. Urahara, however, did not sink. He simply took an effortless step onto the sticky surface as if it were solid ground.
'Hadō #4. Byakurai, modified for pinpoint solidification instead of piercing. Primitive, but effective,' he thought.
"An interesting party trick," Urahara commented aloud. "But the execution is a bit... sticky."
Klarion's face contorted into a childish pout. "It's not a trick! It's CHAOS! And now you're gonna be a part of it!"
He waved his arms, and the nearby buildings came to life, their windows becoming hungry eyes and their doors toothed maws. They lunged at Urahara.
Urahara sighed, the sigh of a patient teacher with a particularly slow student.
"Bakudō #61. Rikujōkōrō."
Six beams of yellow light erupted around him, not to attack, but to form a perfect cage. The monster-buildings crashed against the beams and crumbled into piles of brick and dust, their chaotic animation undone by the pure logic of the binding spell.
"Very... exuberant," Urahara said. "But lacking finesse. True chaos, my young friend, isn't simply about destroying. It's about altering the system in unexpected ways. For instance..."
Klarion, now furious, screamed and began to gather a massive, crackling ball of red energy above his head. "I'm tired of you, hat man! I'm gonna erase you!"
Urahara didn't move to counter the energy ball. His gaze shifted for a fraction of a second to Klarion's shoulder. To the cat.
"Bakudō #1. Sai."
It was a whisper. A single beam of light, no thicker than a thread, shot out. It wasn't aimed at Klarion, nor at his devastating spell. It wrapped gently around Teekl.
The cat was unharmed, but it was completely immobilized, encased in a loop of spiritual energy that conceptually separated it from its master.
The ball of chaotic energy above Klarion's head flickered. His power fluctuated violently. For an instant, his physical form turned translucent; his connection to this reality, his anchor, had been compromised. Genuine panic flashed in his eyes.
As quickly as it appeared, the binding on Teekl vanished. The cat meowed, confused.
Klarion dissipated his attack, now floating cautiously, his bravado replaced by a fearful suspicion.
"You cheated," he said, sounding like a child who had a toy taken away.
"I did not," Urahara replied kindly. "I simply identified the critical component of your system and demonstrated a vulnerability. I had no intention of harming you or your lovely familiar."
He put his fan away.
"I am here only as an observer. I have no interest in your 'playground'. So, I propose a mutual non-aggression pact," Urahara said. "I won't interfere with your... 'fun', and you won't interfere with my research. It's the most logical arrangement, don't you think?"
Klarion stared at him with a scowl, pouting. He had lost, and he knew it. Worse, he had lost to someone who had treated him like a science experiment, not a fearsome Lord of Chaos.
"Whatever," he muttered, and with a final hiss from Teekl, he vanished in another burst of red lightning.
Urahara adjusted his hat and took out his scanning device again, pointing it back at the weeping soda fountain.
'Now, where were we? Ah, yes. The relationship between fabricated emotions and sucrose resonance. Fascinating.'
- - - - -
Hey everyone,
Just a quick note! I'm officially out of college for a bit, so I have some free time on my hands. This means I'll be focusing more on this novel for now!
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