The orphanage reeked of greed. It was a smell not of blood or death, but of something far more corrosive—the scent of souls sold for coin, of innocence bartered for profit. Kamina and Shmuel, their eyes now adjusted to the unsettling perfection of the hallway, stood as witnesses to a past they could not change. It was a cold, hard truth, as unyielding as the City itself.
Kamina, ever the one to search for an escape, noticed a glimmer of light at the end of the long hallway. Two small figures, one shining and one small, were climbing out of a window. The cowardly girl and her sister.
"Let's follow them,"
Shmuel didn't argue. When they reached the window, they looked out, their faces a mixture of confusion and shock. The window was not on a ground floor. It was in a high-rise building, impossibly high above the City's smog-filled streets. There was no way the girls could have survived that fall.
Shmuel, ever the pragmatist, had a theory ready. "We're in someone's memory. What we're experiencing is likely a distorted view of the past, a representation of what that person remembers or feels about something. This orphanage was probably only five stories tall, or less. The height is a metaphor, not a reality." He paused, looking at the sheer drop with a hint of vertigo. "We can't change the past, but we can bear witness to it. The rest... well, the rest is up to us."
Kamina looked at the impossibly long fall. He looked at the endless stairs that spiraled down into the abyss. He looked at Shmuel. His usual fiery bravado was replaced by a quiet calculation. "So... how do we get down?"
"We could take the stairs," Shmuel said, his voice as flat as the pavement below.
"That'll probably take all day with how many there are," Kamina muttered, shaking his head.
"Then do we even have a choice?"
Kamina's grin, the one that had split steel and felled monsters, returned. He didn't answer. He simply put one foot on the windowsill, took a deep breath, and jumped. He vanished, a streak of red against the sickly yellow light of the City. A second later, a faint thud echoed from the ground.
Shmuel stood at the window, his mind reeling. Kamina had tested his dumb luck, and it had worked. He had survived. With a sigh that was part relief and part exhaustion, Shmuel followed suit. There was no other choice.
The fall was an impossibility. A plunge that should have ended with a wet, grotesque splat on the pavement below. Instead, a sensation akin to a hand pushing through a thin membrane greeted them. Kamina landed with a soft thump directly on a slanted, shingled roof, which gave way beneath his weight with a protesting groan and a shower of splintered wood.
Shmuel, landing a moment later, came down directly on top of him. The air was knocked from both of their lungs as they slid down the ruined rooftop, scraping their bodies on the broken wood and cheap roofing material before coming to a stop in a heap.
Both men scrambled to their feet, brushing off the dust and grime from their clothes. The house they had just landed in was a mess of splintered wood, broken plaster, and dangling wires. It was a stark contrast to the sterile, perfect orphanage they had just left. The smell of dust and old books hung in the air.
That was when they noticed the sisters.
They had grown older. The timid girl, now a young woman, was meticulously helping the shining girl get dressed. She was no longer a child but still moved with that same hesitant, anxious energy. The shining girl, now a beautiful and confident teenager, stood tall and proud, her smile a brilliant flash of light in the dim room. She wore a strange, impractical outfit: a suit of polished chrome and what looked like a bizarre hat fashioned from a peacock's tail feathers.
"Pepe," the shining girl said, her voice clear and bright. "I need to look dashing to get my fixer certificate! And then I'll make sure to join a top office, or even an Association. We'll earn so much money, both of us will never have to go hungry again!"
The cowardly sister, Pepe, sighed. "Sis, aren't you working too hard just to afford this piece of clothing? It doesn't look practical in any way. And what's with this peacock hat?"
The shining girl just laughed.
Then, both sisters looked directly at Kamina and Shmuel. It was as if a curtain had been pulled back, revealing the audience to the actors. Kamina and Shmuel stood frozen in confusion. They weren't supposed to be seen. This was a memory, a past event.
Suddenly, a script fell from the darkness above and landed with a soft thump on Shmuel's head. He picked it up, his eyes scanning the flimsy paper. His gaze flickered from the script, to the girls, to Kamina, then back to the script again.
"Kamina," he said, his voice flat. "Do you know how to act?"
Kamina, still brushing dust from his hair, blinked. "Yeah?"
"We need to act as characters in the memory of the sisters," Shmuel explained, holding up the paper.
"Who will we act?" Kamina asked, his chest puffing out. "Someone awesome, as befitting the Great Kamina?"
Shmuel's expression was grim. "Unfortunately... someone way worse. The Landlord and his bodyguard."
Kamina's smile faltered. "What?"
He snatched the script from Shmuel's hand, his eyes scanning the words. He adjusted his sunglasses, a bizarre, misplaced accessory in this dim, ethereal memory, and began to read, his voice a dry, mocking monotone.
"'Well now, look at what we 'ave 'ere," Kamina drawled, affecting a terrible, nasally British accent. "'Two little bums, still thinkin' they've got a chance at the big time, eh? That shoddy getup won't fool anyone. Not even the third rated fixer office. They'll take one look at you and send you right back to the gutter where you belong. We've a right mind to confiscate that attire for our own purposes, don't we, mate?'" Kamina paused, his face a mask of disgust. He looked at Shmuel. "What kind of pathetic, self-absorbed wanker writes a line like that? I mean, who in their right mind talks like this?."
He continued, "'We are going to make sure your career as a fixer is over before it even starts,'" Kamina read, now affecting a deeper, more brutish voice for the bodyguard. "'Unless, of course, you pay us a small fee. A little taste, you see. For our time and troubles. Just a thousand Ahn, and we'll be on our way.'" He scoffed. "A thousand Ahn? What, is this some kind of bad joke? Who would fall for such a shoddy threat?"
Kamina flipped the page. He looked at Shmuel. "And you know what the worst part is? They have a monologue on how their actions are right and just, how they are teaching these two girls a lesson about the cruel world."
He shook his head, a mixture of disbelief and fury in his eyes. He raised his voice, a biting imitation of the script's words.
"'Every virtue has its price, you see. And sometimes, it takes a firm hand to teach a lesson to a pair of girls who would rather chase after a pipe dream than accept their lot in life. You're trying to escape your station, and we, the great pillars of this City's foundations, are here to remind you that your place is at the bottom. It's a cruel lesson, but a necessary one. Now, if you'll just hand over your valuables and that hideous coat, we can get on with our day.'"
He lowered the script, his hands trembling. He had never been so close to spitting fire at a piece of paper. Shmuel, for his part, could only stare in a mix of surprise and silence.
"Who the hell would want someone else to get hung up by those two guys who tried to crush someone else's life?" Kamina's voice was a joyous roar. "And why would somebody, namely Kamina, be on this stage with such awful taste in words? Why the hell would I remind someone else of their awful past?" He laughed, a booming sound that shook the very air. He ripped the script in half and threw it on the floor. "This script is a piece of trash. A filthy, unvirtuous, cowardly piece of garbage. We're not doing this."
The memory of the sisters shattered like a broken mirror, the image of their shared hope dissolving into a blinding flash of golden light. When Kamina and Shmuel opened their eyes, the world had been replaced by a new, more terrible reality.
They were in a vault. Not a small, cramped room, but a cavernous space. It was a cathedral of avarice, the walls, floor, and ceiling all made of polished, glittering gold coins, stacked in columns that reached into the limitless blackness above.
At the very center of this mountain of wealth stood a single figure, a monstrous totem of greed. It was José, or what was left of her. Her body, now a shifting, grotesque mass of gold coins, seemed to consume the piles around her, her form growing larger and more bloated with every passing second.
"I think I have a glimpse of what she wants for both herself and Valerie. Her case of Distortion is based on her wholehearted pursuit of her own wishes. But her longing... it's tied to money. She decided to become a person who strives to accomplish what they sincerely desire, unburdened by any obstacles, to ensure her own happiness and her sister's."
Kamina, meanwhile, simply stared at the grotesque figure, a scowl of pure disgust on his face. His usual fiery rage was replaced by a cold, righteous anger. "Stop hoarding the gold, damn it!" he roared, his voice echoing through the silent vault.
José's golden head, which had been hungrily devouring the coins around it, snapped up. Her single, bloodshot eye, now a dull, metallic orange, focused on Kamina. With a sound like a thousand coins clattering together, she charged, a sack of gold coins in each hand, her makeshift weapons a parody of the promise of wealth.
Kamina met the attack head-on. He braced his katana and blocked the onslaught of the heavy sacks. The impact was immense, the force of a battering ram, and Kamina was pushed back, his feet skidding across the slippery, golden floor. He grunted, his arms straining against the weight. "I will have to beat some sense into you for you to understand happiness can't be bought with money!"
As José prepared to swing again, a blur of motion appeared on her left side. Shmuel, his mechanical hand delivered a brutal, arcing punch to José's side. The blow sent her flying, her body a tumbling, golden projectile.
José, in mid-flight, sprouted wings of pure gold coins from her back. She soared into the air, her face contorted in a silent, golden rage, and smashed her two sacks down at Shmuel. The sacks tore open, and a torrent of golden coins splattered everywhere.
Shmuel, barely managing to block the attack with his good arm, grunted as the coins hit him like a hail of bullets, the force knocking him back. As José prepared to strike again, Kamina was a flash of motion. He vaulted into the air, his katana aimed at José's body, the blade gleaming with a new, terrifying light. He brought it down in a series of slashes, the metal blade scraping against the hard, metallic flesh. It was a glancing blow, enough to damage her but not enough to put her down.
José, now fully enraged, flew up high into the air, her wings catching the light. She looked down at the two fixers, a silent scream on her face as she threw down more sacks of coins, her face contorted with a silent, avaricious rage. She was a rain of gold, and they were caught in the middle.
Kamina looked up at the golden, winged terror raining down sacks of coins, his face a mix of unbridled fury and theatrical incredulity. He didn't just raise his voice; he unhinged it, letting out a bellow that seemed to tear through the very fabric of the memory itself.
"YOU DUMB GIRL! STOP HOARDING ALL THAT SHINY JUNK! DO YOU THINK HAPPINESS IS A CURRENCY YOU CAN COLLECT IN A BAG? IT'S NOT SOMETHING YOU BUY! IT'S SOMETHING YOU BUILD! YOU'RE SO BLINDED BY ALL THIS GOLD THAT YOU CAN'T EVEN SEE THE PERSON WHO LOVES YOU MOST!"
He took a running leap, a red-and-blue blur of pure, unadulterated passion, a figure of pure absurdity and unyielding spirit. He vaulted onto one of the golden pillars of coins, his feet finding purchase on the slick metal, and began to climb.
"AND WHAT'S WITH ALL THE SILENCE?! YOU'RE YELLING AT ME WITH YOUR COINS, BUT YOU CAN'T EVEN BE MAN ENOUGH TO TALK TO YOUR OWN SISTER?! YOU WANNA BE FREE?! YOU WANNA BE HAPPY?! THEN OPEN YOUR MOUTH AND YELL AT HER! YOU'RE HER SISTER! SHE'S YOURS! YOUR SPIRITS ARE TWO HALVES OF A SINGLE DRILL! YOU'RE MEANT TO BE TOGETHER!"
He continued to climb, a tiny figure against the colossal backdrop of golden avarice. "YOU CAN'T GO TO WAR WITH YOURSELF! YOU CAN'T FIGHT THE PERSON WHO WANTS TO SAVE YOU! YOU SHOULD HAVE SAID 'I'M SCARED, SIS!' OR 'I WANT TO BE HAPPY WITH YOU!' BUT NO! YOU DIDN'T SAY ANYTHING! AND THAT'S WHAT'S REALLY UGLY! NOT THE GOLD, NOT THE GRIME, BUT THE SILENCE BETWEEN YOU! SO YELL! SCREAM! CRY! BUT FOR THE LOVE OF EVERYTHING THAT IS RIGHT AND GOOD AND HOLY, TALK TO YOUR SISTER, YOU DUMB GIRL!"
Shmuel, who was still on the ground, had to duck as another sack of coins flew past his head, but his eyes were wide.
José then charged, but now she was crying. Tears of gold, a molten, shimmering sorrow, streamed down her face.
"That's more like it!" Kamina roared, a triumphant grin splitting his face. "Now we're talking!"
He didn't dodge the attack. He simply let it pass by him, a wild, sobbing, and ultimately aimless assault. The sack of coins she had thrown flew past his head, harmlessly splashing against the golden wall behind him. The rage and pain that had fueled her attack were now replaced by a grief so profound it rendered her a clumsy, flailing mess.
Kamina didn't even use his katana. He simply grabbed onto José's golden form, a hand on her back, another on her shoulder, and used the hilt of his sword to slam her down toward where Shmuel was standing.
She hit the ground with a soft, thudding sound, her body still trembling with sobs. Then, a blur of motion appeared over her. Shmuel, his mechanical hand raised, delivered a single, upward punch. The blow was clean.
José's body, a shifting monument of gold, began to dissolve. The coins fell away, clattering against the ground, revealing her human form beneath. She was no longer a monster, but a young woman, her face streaked with tears, lying unconscious on the cold, hard gold.
And lying next to her, as if she had been there all along, was her sister, Valerie. She, too, was unconscious, her body now free from the golden embrace that had consumed her.
José's eyes snapped open, a brilliant, crystalline blue replacing the hollow, golden stare from before. She reached out, a trembling hand grasping for her sister. Valerie, still unconscious, was pulled into a tight embrace as José's body began to shimmer and dissolve, the golden coins around them clattering to the floor.
"Thank you," she said, her voice a broken whisper, looking directly at Kamina. "You... you made me remember that I didn't want the money. I just wanted to be with her. I loved being with my sister."
From the pocket of her lab coat, she pulled out a single, golden coin—the original, the one that started it all. She threw it at Kamina, who snatched it from the air with his left hand, the coin still warm from her body heat.
"That's the original golden coin I created," she said, a sad smile on her face. "It can enhance a person's luck by a hundredfold. And at the same time, it can enhance a person's unluck by a hundredfold after they've swallowed it. You must be after it, aren't you?"
Shmuel spoke up, the words a cold, hard reminder of their reality. "We're here to ensure you're alive until the raid to the Ring is completed and you're handled to J Corp. Your creation could be made into a copyrighted pattern, which will strip your ownership of the gold coin away."
Kamina's grin, a wide and dangerous thing, returned. He looked from José to Shmuel, then back to the coin in his hand. "You have a better option than that."
Before he could elaborate, the world began to crumple. The walls of the vault folded inward, the golden coins shimmering and vanishing like so much smoke. The air filled with a sound like tearing paper and cracking glass, and then, in a blink, they were back in the laboratory, the remnants of the battle were scattered around them.
Kamina saw the nearest Concept Incinerator, a large, cylindrical furnace with an open maw that hummed with a low, hungry energy.
Kamina saw the nearest Concept Incinerator, a dark, humming furnace used to permanently erase technology. Without a word, he tossed the coin into the air, took a wild swing with his katana, and sent the golden disk soaring through the air like a home run, directly into the glowing maw of the incinerator.
"HOMERUNNNNNNNNN!" he bellowed, a triumphant roar that echoed through the now-silent room. The golden coin vanished.