Chapter 6: The Price of a Bond
Sakura's question hung in the stale air of the hallway, heavy and insoluble. What happens to an Echo when their Master dies? The question stripped her of her warrior's stance, leaving her exposed, a soul adrift in an ocean of chaos. To Shinobu, it was a tactical variable. To Nami, a matter of asset depreciation. To Joey, it was the most terribly human question he had ever heard.
"We can't stay in the hallway," Nami's voice cut through the tension. It was practical, devoid of sentimentality. "Whatever you are," she said, looking at Sakura, "you're a security risk out here. Come to the Petersons' apartment. At least there we can close the door."
There was a tacit consent. Sakura, with nowhere else to go, followed them hesitantly into 3E. The aseptic normality of the vacation apartment served as a surreal backdrop for the unfolding existential crisis. While Nami and Nezuko finished collecting the water and cans, Shinobu watched Sakura with an unmoving intensity, like a praying mantis sizing up unknown prey.
Sakura, for her part, ignored everyone. She went to the window and stared out at the silent, ash-covered city, her reflection showing a face stained with tears and soot. The loneliness around her was palpable.
"The System," Joey said suddenly, the idea cutting through his fog of anxiety. "Maybe it can tell us."
All eyes turned to him. He took out his phone, the dark screen looking like a dormant oracle. He didn't know how to "ask" the System anything. He just focused, desperately, on Sakura's question, staring at the screen. What happens to an Orphaned Echo?
As if responding to his focus, the screen lit up, not with a shop or a reward, but with a page of cold, blue text, with a header that made his blood run cold.
[BOND FAILURE PROTOCOL: ORPHANED ECHO]
"It answered," Joey whispered. He began to read aloud, his voice trembling. "'A Bond Echo is a manifestation of the Master's soul, anchored to reality through their life force and connection to the System. In the event of the Master's death, the anchor is destroyed.'"
He paused, swallowing hard. Sakura turned slowly from the window, her body tense.
"'Without an anchor,'" Joey continued, "'the Echo's structural integrity will begin to degrade. The connection to this plane of existence will weaken, resulting in complete entropic dissipation. The Echo will cease to exist.'"
"Cease to exist?" Sakura's voice was a fragile whisper.
"How long?" Nami asked, her mind already calculating.
Joey scanned the screen. "Estimated time for total dissipation after Bond loss: 24 hours."
The information landed like an anvil in the room. Twenty-four hours. Sakura had an expiration date. She looked at her own hands, turning them over. For an instant, Joey thought he saw the tips of her fingers turn translucent, like smoke. Maybe it was just a trick of the light, but the terror in her eyes was real.
"This is unacceptable," said Nami, crossing her arms. Her voice was harsh, but directed at the problem, not the person. "We were all brought here to fight, to survive. Being eliminated by a contract failure is a colossal waste. Sakura," she turned to the pink-haired girl, "what are your skills? Before... you know. You dissipate. Can you fight? Do you have any useful knowledge?"
"Nami," Joey reprimanded her, shocked by her coldness.
"What?" Nami retorted. "We have 23 hours and change with a potential ally. I intend to use that time. She looks like a fighter, and her hands... I've seen hands like that before. They can heal."
Shinobu's eyes fixed on Sakura with a new interest. "A medic?"
Sakura rubbed her injured arm. "I can do more than heal," she said, a trace of her old pride in her voice. "But what's the point if I'm going to turn to dust?"
"An unstable entity is a danger," Shinobu said, her logic following a different but equally pragmatic path. "The 'dissipation' process could be passive, or it could be violent. It might attract unwanted attention. We cannot risk the group's safety for a..."
"For a person?" Joey interrupted her, and the sound of his own voice, loud and firm, surprised everyone, including himself. "She's not a 'deteriorating asset' or a 'security risk'! She's a person, like you! She was dragged into this hell, watched her Master die, and now the damn System says she's just going to... disappear? We are not just going to stand here and watch!"
The silence that followed his outburst was absolute. Nami looked shocked. Shinobu's smile faltered for a fraction of a second. Nezuko, who was quiet beside him, took a step forward and held the hem of his shirt, a silent gesture of support.
Joey, feeling everyone's gaze on him, felt the flush rise up his neck, but he didn't back down. For the first time, he wasn't thinking about his own anxiety, his own fear. He was thinking about the absolute injustice of Sakura's situation.
And, as if sensing the focus of his will, the phone's screen changed once more.
[Crisis conditions detected. Conflict between System logic and Master's will anomaly.] [Accessing secondary protocol...] [BOND TRANSFER PROTOCOL AVAILABLE.]
Joey read the text, his heart pounding wildly. "Wait... there's more."
He read aloud: "'A Master with a compatible Soul and a stable Bond can offer a new anchor to an Orphaned Echo.'"
A spark of hope lit up in Sakura's eyes.
"'Requirements for transfer,'" Joey continued, "'Mutual consent of the Master and the Echo. Cost: establishment of a permanent Soul Bond between the two.'"
"What's the catch?" Nami asked, suspicious. "There's never anything for free."
Joey found the next line, printed in a subtle red. He read it in a low voice. "'Warning: A Master's soul is finite. Anchoring a new Echo will overload the Master's life force. Side effects may include, but are not limited to: chronic exhaustion, heightened psychic sensitivity, emotional vulnerability, and a decreased life expectancy. Willpower is essential to mitigate the effects. The protocol is irreversible.'"
The room grew cold. The cost wasn't in Survival Points. The cost was Joey himself. His health. His life.
"Absolutely not," Nami said immediately. "You are our only link to the System. You are the most important asset we have. We will not risk damaging you for a newcomer, no matter how useful she is. It's a bad trade."
"Nami's logic is correct," Shinobu agreed, though her gaze on Joey was more complex. "Your stability is the foundation of our survival. Introducing so many unknown factors into your condition is an unacceptable tactical risk."
They were right. From a logical standpoint, it was madness. It was risking the certain for the uncertain. Sacrificing the king to save a pawn.
But Joey looked at Sakura. He saw the brief flash of hope on her face be extinguished by the cold logic of his companions. He saw her accept her fate, straightening her shoulders as if to face a firing squad. And he knew what he had to do. His entire life had been governed by fear, by the logic of self-preservation that kept him locked in his apartment, slowly withering away. This was no different. The walls were just bigger.
"I'll do it," he said.
"Master, be reasonable," Shinobu began.
"No," Joey said, looking at Nami and Shinobu. "You two told me the rules of this new world. Shinobu, you said hesitating is death. Nami, you said we need to accumulate assets. Well, the greatest asset we can have are people we can trust. People who will fight for each other. If we let Sakura die when we can save her, what kind of team are we? We just become like Mr. Henderson, willing to let someone die for our own resources. I won't do that."
He turned to Sakura. "I don't know who you are. But you don't deserve this. If you want it... I offer the bond."
Sakura stared at him, her green eyes shining with unshed tears. For all that she was—a powerful ninja, a skilled medic—in that moment, she was just a lost, frightened girl being offered a hand in the dark. She nodded slowly. "I... accept."
On Joey's phone screen, a glowing button appeared: [INITIATE BOND TRANSFER PROTOCOL].
With one last look at his shocked companions, he pressed the button.
There was no explosion of light. Instead, a sharp, cold pain pierced the center of Joey's chest, as if an icy hook had latched onto his soul. He gasped, falling to his knees. From the invisible wound in his chest, a thin thread of golden light emerged, snaking through the air toward Sakura. The thread connected to her chest, and she gasped too, her knees buckling.
For a moment, their minds touched. Joey felt a whirlwind of emotions that weren't his: the dust of a training village, the smell of antiseptics, the bitterness of unrequited love, the terror of war, the fierce loyalty to her friends. Sakura, in turn, felt the crushing weight of Joey's loneliness, years of silence, the suffocating panic, the constant fear of the outside world.
Then, the thread of light shone brightly and was absorbed by them both. The pain in Joey's chest subsided, replaced by an overwhelming exhaustion, a weariness that felt like it had settled in his bone marrow. He felt... heavier. Connected to something new.
Sakura, on the other hand, took a deep breath, and the translucence in her hands vanished. The color returned to her face. She was solid. Real. Anchored. She looked at Joey, who was pale and sweating on the floor, and in her eyes was a new kind of light: a debt, a promise.
He had done it. He had saved a life. But as Nami and Shinobu rushed to help him up, he felt the weight of his decision. He now had three souls, not just his, to carry. And he had no idea if he would be strong enough to bear the burden.
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