The air in the Kamaten holding block was thick with the smell of stale sweat, cold stone, and the faint, ever-present tang of sulfur that seeped up from the island's gut. The corridor was a canyon hewn from the same grey, pumice-like rock that made up the Hitotsume's skull, lit by flickering lanterns that cast long, dancing shadows. From behind the rough-hewn corner of a support pillar, Marya watched.
Two Ogre guards, each sixty-six feet in height, flanked a door that looked less like an entrance and more like a section of fortress wall. Their skin was the color of dried clay, marked with patterns that spoke of lineage. They stood with a stillness that was neither lazy nor alert, but deeply ingrained, like the Jizo statues that dotted the island's surface. The only movement was the slow rise and fall of their massive chests and the occasional, sleepy blink of eyes that glimmered like dull coins in the low light. On the belt of the one leaning on a spear as tall as a mast, a ring of iron keys the size of Marya's head hung from a rusted chain.
On her shoulder, Jelly Squish wobbled, a small, azure-blue mound of gelatinous excitement. He was partially obscured her view, his body trembling with the effort of staying quiet. A tiny, glittery trail of harmless slime seeped from his underside onto her leather jacket. Marya's eyes, golden and sharp, didn't leave the keys. Her lips pressed into a thin line. Wonder if I'll need those? Her fingers closed around the cool hilt of the Kogatana at her neck. The familiar weight was a comfort.
She glanced sideways at the wobbling mass on her shoulder. "You ready?"
Jelly's whole body jiggled in a suppressed salute, his starry eyes squinting with determination. "Aye, sir! Stealthy-bloopy-mode, engaged!"
A faint smirk touched Marya's lips. Then, her form dissolved. It wasn't a dramatic puff of smoke, but a quiet, seamless unraveling into a stream of pale, vaporous mist that carried the faint, clean scent of high mountain air, so alien in this stale corridor. The mist, carrying the faint impression of a Heart Pirates' insignia, flowed silently along the stone floor, slipping through the narrow gap between the colossal door and its frame, past the unmoving boots of the guardians.
Inside, the cell was less a room and more a cavernous dormitory carved directly into the rock. The ceiling vanished into shadowy heights. Hammocks and cots the size of small ships were tethered to iron rings in the walls, holding sleeping forms that rumbled with deep, weary breaths. The air here was even heavier, laden with the scent of unwashed bodies, old straw, and a metallic hint she recognized as sea-stone residue.
Marya reformed silently, standing balanced on the thin iron railing of a bed frame like a seabird on a ship's line. Below her, a massive Ogre—a female with ram-like horns etched with tiny names—slept fitfully, her brow furrowed even in dreams. Marya's boots made no sound. Her eyes swept the room, adjusting to the deeper gloom.
"So big," Jelly whispered, his voice a vibrating squeak in her ear. His bioluminescent glow had dimmed to a soft, deep-sea blue pulse.
Marya raised a finger, pressing it first to her own lips, then gently bopping Jelly's wobbly head. He nodded, sealing his mouth shut with a cartoonish zipping motion.
She spotted her goal: three familiar-sized lumps under a rough-spun blanket on a cot that was, by Ogre standards, modest. Moving with a fluid grace that belied the precarious footing, she stepped from the railing onto the sagging fabric of the enormous bed. The sheet beneath her boots was coarse, worn thin in places. She found a sliver of reflected lantern light on a crease and followed it like a path.
She was five steps from the huddled forms when the middle lump vanished.
Aurélie Nakano Takeko was standing before her in a fluid, silent motion, a utensil held in a reverse grip aimed at Marya's throat. Her long silver hair was a tangled cascade, her usually crisp black tactical leathers stained and creased. In her hand was not Anathema, but a blunt, dull butter knife.
Marya didn't flinch. She crossed her arms and cocked a hip, her gaze traveling slowly from the weapon's tip to Aurélie's sharp-featured face. Her voice was a dry, low murmur. "What're you gonna do with that? Spread me real thin?"
Aurélie blinked, her steel-grey eyes struggling to focus in the dimness. The tension in her shoulders didn't ease, but recognition flickered. "…Marya."
"It's good to see you haven't lost your edge," Marya said, stepping closer. The smirk was back. "Even if it is a little dull."
Aurélie's expression remained flat, but she lowered the butter knife, tossing it aside onto the giant's cot where it landed with a soft thump. Marya stepped up, the Kogatana flashing in her hand. With two deft clicks, the heavy sea-stone monacle locked around Aurélie's wrist sprang open and clattered to the bed. Aurélie let out a sharp breath, rubbing the raw, red skin of her wrists.
"Ow!" A hiss came from the left lump. Charlie Leonard Wooley shoved himself upright, his vintage pith helmet askew, round glasses fogged. "What in the blazes…?" He fumbled for his glasses, polished them on his grimy khaki shirt, and shoved them back on his nose. His eyes widened. "MARYA!"
He scrambled out from the covers, tripping over the blanket in his haste. Marya caught him by the strap of his overloaded satchel before he could face-plant. "It's good to see you too, Charlie."
The third lump stirred. Ember "The Pyre" pushed back the covers, rubbing eyes that were one icy blue, one artificial gold. Her neon-pink space buns were deflated, streaked with grime. She saw Marya, then the cheerful, wobbly blue wave from Jelly. A slow, tired smile touched her lips. "You came."
Marya gave a single nod, already moving to Charlie's restrained wrist. "Yeah, I came. And now we're going to leave. Quietly." The lock on his monocle gave way with a satisfying snick. "Bianca's waiting. Our ride's on its way."
Charlie shook his newly freed hand, wincing. "But we can't leave yet!"
"Yes," Marya said, turning to Ember's restraints, her tone leaving no room for debate. "We can."
"We have to help the Jitan Revolutionaries!" Charlie insisted, his voice rising with a scholar's insistence on a corrected fact.
Aurélie interjected, her voice a controlled whisper. "We also have to retrieve our weapons."
"Weapons should be easy enough," Marya muttered, working on Ember's lock. "But the revolution isn't our problem."
Charlie's brow furrowed, his back going rod-straight, fists balling at his sides. "WE HAVE TO HELP THEM."
Aurélie placed a firm hand on his shoulder. "Calm yourself. You will draw attention." She then turned her level gaze to Marya, who stood with arms crossed, a picture of impatient resolve. "We committed ourselves to their cause in exchange for their assistance with escaping."
Marya raised a brow. "Well, now you don't have to. We can escape on our own."
Jelly, unable to contain himself any longer, hopped down from Marya's shoulder. He hit the blanket with a soft splurch and bounced gently. "Freedom-bounce!"
A deep, rumbling groan echoed from a nearby cot. A colossal form shifted. "What is… all the racket?" Juni Vexwell, the flamboyant Ogre commander, pushed himself up on an elbow, rubbing his face. His vibrant plume-like hair was matted, but his eyes, adjusting to the low light, quickly found the small group. "Hey, who is—"
Charlie bounced on the balls of his feet, gesturing wildly. "It's our companion! She's here to help us!"
Marya closed her eyes and let out a long, slow groan through her nose. Her hand drifted to the hilt of Nisshoku on her back.
Aurélie moved between Marya and the waking Ogres. "It is alright. They are allies."
Marya's gold eyes locked onto Aurélie's greys. "We should go."
"And we will," Aurélie replied evenly. "After."
Marya's jaw flexed. The noise was stirring the other massive shapes. Roco Vultion's tiger-striped shoulders tensed as he woke. Maki Nazigai Wicklock's soulful eyes opened, immediately seeking the source of the disturbance. Amira Kestrel Wevits sat up with a medic's alertness.
"Dammit," Marya breathed.
"Did Bianca receive our transmission?" Aurélie asked, her voice cutting through the growing tension.
"Yes."
"Did she tell you the—"
"I changed the plan," Marya cut her off, her voice final. "Your plan is Plan B. My plan is to get the hell out of here as quietly as possible."
The four awakened Ogres exchanged a look that spoke volumes of shared defeat and hardened resolve. Roco's gravelly voice, softened to a rumble, broke the silence. "The lass is right. You should go. This is our fight. Not yours."
Charlie marched over, trying to puff his chest out to appear taller before the giants. "NO! We committed ourselves to your cause!"
Marya's voice sliced through, cold and clear. "No. You didn't. You committed me to their cause. I'm not interested."
Aurélie sighed, a rare admission of strain. "I, too, agreed."
As the debate swirled—Charlie's passionate sputtering, Marya's icy rebuttals, Aurélie's stoic interjections—no one noticed Ember slip away. Drawn by the solid, imposing presence of the cell door, she padded across the blanket on silent feet, and hopped to the floor. She placed both palms flat against the weathered wood, her head tilting as if listening to a secret.
Maki was the first to sense it. Her head snapped around, her deep violet eyes widening. "What the—?"
Ember giggled, a sound that was both childlike and chilling. "I hope you're ready!"
The door didn't just break. It illuminated from within, glowing a fierce, angry red for a split second before the world dissolved into sound and fury. A thunderous BOOM shattered the careful quiet of Kamaten. The massive door exploded inward, not into splinters, but into a storm of superheated shrapnel and spinning, burning chunks of wood.
The two Ogre guards on the other side were lifted off their feet and slammed into the far wall of the corridor, slumping into unconsciousness before they hit the ground.
Everyone in the cell ducked—Charlie yelping and diving behind Aurélie, the Ogres throwing up massive arms. Marya simply stood there. The deadly cloud of debris passed through her dissolving mist-form, a storm of solid matter she became intangible to. As the smoke began to clear, reforming, she cursed under her breath. "So that's her power."
In the new, gaping doorway, wreathed in acrid smoke and drifting dust, stood Ember. She spun on the spot, beaming, her pink hair catching the lantern light from the hall. "Ready to get out of here?!"
Juni Vexwell was the first to react. He leaped to his feet, a wild grin splitting his face. "Hell yeah, girl!" he crowed, flicking his wrist with a dramatic flourish. "Who knew you had such an explosive personality?"
Roco was already moving, a blur of ochre-red muscle. He surged past the dazed group to the fallen guards, snatching the giant key ring with a grunt of satisfaction. "No time for gawking!"
Aurélie turned from shielding Charlie, her silver hair coated in a fine grey powder. She looked at Marya, who was reforming fully, her expression unreadable but her eyes sharp. "We get our weapons," Aurélie stated, not asked. "And we all get off this island."
Charlie stood, brushing futilely at the dust now ground into his khakis. "We'll need that distraction from Bianca!"
Marya let out a sigh that carried the weight of the entire grey island. "Make that a last resort," she said, her voice tight. "Let's try stealth first."
Charlie opened his mouth to protest, the word "Ahem!" poised on his lips.
But Aurélie nodded. "Agreed. We try your way. But…"
Marya finished for her, the ghost of a resigned smirk touching her lips. "Plan B."
As the last of the Ogre's monocles clanked to the stone floor, Juni bounded to the smoldering doorway, peering out with a theatrical caution. "Alright then, my gorgeous comrades-in-arms! Let's get the hell out of this dreary cupboard."
Roco hefted his newly acquired Kanabo, Hanketsu, which had been leaning against the wall. His voice was a grim promise. "Right. The armory is this way. Stay close, and for the love of the Collective, try not to wake the whole mountain."
Marya glanced at Jelly, who had reformed into a bouncing, excited puddle by her boots. She then looked at her rescued companions—the pedantic scholar, the silent swordswoman, the unstable grenade of a girl—and then at the four revolutionary giants who now looked at her not as a rescuer, but as a sudden, chaotic variable in their own desperate plan.
Stealth was already a memory. The eerie chiku-taku, chiku-taku of the island's spinning gears outside hesitant, stutter for a beat, as if the Hitotsume itself stirred at the sound. The real escape had just begun, and it was going to be anything but quiet.
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