Yurui The Cursed One

I climb into the back and pull the door shut behind me. The interior is spotless, the dark upholstery still carrying that crisp, slightly plasticky smell of a new car. I settle into the soft seat, which gives beneath my weight, making me sink a good few inches into it, and pull the seat belt across myself and slot it into place with a satisfying click.

I find the button on the side of the door and press it. The window glides down without protest.

I press it again.

Up.

Then down.

Then halfway up.

I spend several seconds opening and closing the window like an idiot before noticing Miss Maevis watching me through the mirror.

“Making yourself comfortable back there?”

“Uh-huh. Just checking whether the windows work.”

Miss Maevis looks at me as though I am a mentally handicapped five year old. Her mouth opens, but whatever she was about to say apparently is not worth the effort. After holding my gaze for another moment, she looks away and starts the engine.

I watch the academy shrink in the rear window as we drive away. The last time I sat in a car headed for a Miracle Inc. facility, things did not end particularly well for me. Hopefully, this trip will be different.

Miss Maevis switches on the radio, listens for all of two seconds, then turns it off again, surrendering us to the silence.

We spent a good three or five minutes driving without anyone uttering a single word.

“How are you feeling?” she eventually asks me.

“Fine.”

“Being blessed doesn’t make you invincible. You’ve already lost a considerable amount of blood, and if you keep treating your body like it can endure anything, it will give out long before you realize how close you are to the edge. It is important that you take care of yourself.”

I let out a sound of agreement and look back to my side of the window.

“I’m not joking, Yurui. I have seen people with far stronger and better developed blessings than yours crash and burn over less than this. It gets harder to track your own state of health when you have a body like that”

I’m in no mood to argue, much less be lectured, so I nod and retreat into silence.

Nobody makes a peep for the next several minutes. This might be the most awkward situation I’ve ever found myself in. If one of the doors swung open right now, I’m not entirely sure I wouldn’t throw myself out just to escape this atmosphere.

I anxiously glance to my side.

Yashiro sits beside me with her shoulder turned toward the window, watching Miracle City slide past, her face looking as though she was personally offended by the view. I keep my eyes on the road ahead, or what little of it I can see between the front seats, and try my damnedest to memorize every turn.

Left below the monorail.

Straight through two intersections.

Right after the tower with the split holographic billboard. Then left towards a big cluster of buildings.

It is probably unnecessary. Miss Maevis has not locked the doors, restrained me, or given me any obvious reason to believe she is taking me anywhere other than Miracle Inc. Security Force headquarters.

Then again, the last people who put me in a car on Miracle Inc.’s behalf did not exactly have my best interests at heart. I see no reason to expect anything different this time. You know, as the saying goes: The one who expects the worst at all times shall never be disappointed.

I fold my arms tightly across my stomach, my fingers curling into the sleeves of the long black jacket Maevis gave me. It hangs past my knees, hiding most of what remains of my uniform. Every few minutes, the torn fabric underneath catches against one of the cuts along my stomach. The pain is not particularly bad. It is merely persistent, which makes it difficult to forget that less than an hour ago, Yashiro and I were trying to kill each other. Now we are sitting close enough that our sleeves touch whenever the car turns.

A perfectly ordinary afternoon.

Miss Maevis glances at us through the rearview mirror.

“Are you two doing okay? You’ve been awfully quiet.”

Yashiro continues staring out the window.

“Yes,” I say, because leaving her unanswered would somehow make the atmosphere even more unbearable.

Miss Maevis’s gaze shifts to Yashiro in the mirror. Apparently, my answer only covered for me.

Yashiro releases a quiet breath through her nose. “I was doing better before you asked.”

“There she is.”

Yashiro glares at her through the rearview mirror.

Maevis only smiles and turns her attention back to the road.

The silence settles back over us. It lasts until we pass beneath the monorail, where the light vanishes for several seconds, and the concrete supports make the car’s interior flicker between shadow and sun.

I press the window button yet again. The glass lowers a few inches with a soft mechanical hum, and warm air rushes through the gap, bringing a sharp whiff of exhaust followed by frying oil as we pass the food stalls beneath the tracks. After enjoying it for a few moments, I raise the window.

“Stop doing that,” Yashiro grumbles

“I like how it sounds when the glass moves”

She looks at me as if I had just slapped her.

“It is irritating.”

I lower it once more just for the hell of it, unable to suppress a small smirk. Yashiro returns her attention to the window without giving me the satisfaction of a reaction.

In the mirror, I catch Miss Maevis smiling, but thankfully, she doesn’t try to start another conversation.

The road widens, and the squat concrete buildings give way to towering structures of glass, their windows reflecting the glow of advertisements and passing traffic. My brief amusement fades when the first Miracle Inc. logo passes the window—a silver hand cradling a star. Then another appears above a clinic, and then slowly it begins appearing everywhere. Normally, just seeing one would be enough to make me spit over my shoulder. Now, each new logo is strangely reassuring. I may not know exactly where Maevis is taking me, but we are at least entering Miracle Inc. territory, which is where she claimed we were going.

I suppose plastering their stupid symbol over everything has its uses after all.

I sit a little straighter.

Miracle Inc. Security headquarters is supposed to be somewhere in the Central District. I have never been there, but everyone knows what it looks like: a massive central building encircled by a ring of towers.

Nothing even remotely resembling it rises ahead of us.

I tell myself Maevis has simply taken a different route. Security forces might conduct their agent interviews in another building. Right, an organization this large must own hundreds of them. If anything, it wouldn’t make much sense if they conducted all their interviews in a single building when they have offices scattered all over the city.

The explanation almost reassures me. Then I realize I have been worrying about the wrong thing all along.

Maevis could very well be taking me to the Security force, just not for the reason I was led to believe I was going.

My thumb returns to the window switch.

Miss Maevis reaches up and adjusts the rearview mirror. Her eyes settle on me for a moment before shifting to Yashiro.

“So,” she says, “do the two of you get along at school?”

Of all the questions she could have asked, she chooses the one most likely to end with somebody being thrown out of a moving vehicle.

Yashiro gives no indication that she intends to answer.

After our interaction in the hallway the other day, Miss Maevis must already know Yashiro, and I are not exactly the best of friends. She is probably only trying to make conversation, though, so I decide to be polite and play along.

“We spend time together,” I say, then realize far too late how that sounds. Yashiro turns from the window to stare at me, but I keep my attention fixed firmly on the back of Maevis’s seat. Technically, I have not lied. She has devoted an impressive amount of time to making my life miserable.

“No,” Yashiro says.

Miss Maevis glances between our reflections. “No?”

“We do not get along.”

“I see.”

“She follows me around.”

My head snaps toward her. “I do not.”

“You keep watching me. Did you really think I wouldn’t notice?” She gives me a hard look.

Fuck. So much for being discreet. Heat creeps into my cheeks as I realize she has known all along.

“I only keep track of where you are so I can avoid you.”

“Well then, you are not very good at it.” She doesn’t look too happy with my observational capabilities.

“You’re the one who keeps turning up wherever I am.”

Yashiro considers that for a moment before turning back to the window. “Maybe you should find somewhere better to hide.”

“I wouldn’t have to if you stopped harassing me.” Despite my best efforts, anger creeps into my voice.

Yashiro scoffs. “When have I ever harassed you?”

The sheer fucking gall of this bitch.

“Two days ago. It was literally two days ago. You ordered me to kneel in the hallway, then made me throw myself into a garbage container after class.” I stare at her in disbelief. “Are you seriously gonna pretend that you’ve forgotten already?”

Maevis’s eyebrows rise.

Yashiro’s expression does not change. “That happened once.”

“Oh, good. I must have imagined everything else.”

“You said we spent time together.”

“We did.”

“And now you are complaining about how we spent it.” She shoots me a dirty look. What did you want me to do, pet your hair or something instead? You know, you should be really grateful I even bothered interacting with someone like you.’’

I open my mouth, but nothing useful comes out.

There is no winning an argument with someone who treats reality as an inconvenience to be negotiated away.

Miss Maevis continues smiling in the mirror.

"That's no good, you need to get along with your friends. We'll need to do something about that attitude later on.”

I could see Yashiro go stiff as she gripped her hands together.

Maevis’s smile widened.

“I’ve got a feeling the two of you are going to be great friends."

I don’t know why, but for some reason that sounded very ominous. Which was concerning, considering that was pretty much what I had hoped for all along.

I shoot a glance towards Yashiro, who is still sitting with her hands clasped together, looking stiff as a corpse, then I return my attention to the road. We are still heading toward the Central District, but Maevis eases into the rightmost lane as the next junction approaches. Three routes split off ahead, and none of them lead anywhere we were supposed to be going.

Sweat prickles along the back of my neck as the turn signal begins to click.

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