The second day began with the grim acceptance that this was not a bad dream. The smell of wet hay and large mammals was now the scent of Kenji's workplace. He had developed a grudging respect for the elephants; they were calm, intelligent creatures who seemed to regard his thankless task with a sort of serene, philosophical pity. He, in turn, performed his duties with the stoic professionalism of an agent deep behind enemy lines, which, in a very real and deeply humiliating sense, he was.
He developed a rhythm, a grim, mechanical motion of scoop, lift, pivot, and dump. He tried to treat it like a training exercise, focusing on his posture, engaging his core, but there was no dignifying it. He was shoveling crap.
"You're holding the shovel wrong."
The voice was flat and devoid of judgment, a simple statement of fact. Kenji paused, his back already beginning to protest, and turned. Leaning against the enclosure fence was a man who looked to be in his late thirties, with a tired, deeply lined face and the perpetually unimpressed expression of someone who had seen it all and hadn't liked any of it. He wore the same generic, grey work clothes as the other ground crew.
"It's all in the legs, not the back," the man continued, taking a long drag from a cheap-looking cigarette. "You lift with your back, you'll be out of commission by lunchtime. You gotta squat. Like you're lifting a heavy truth you don't want to face".
Kenji adjusted his grip, adopting the posture the man suggested. It was immediately more efficient. "Thanks," he grunted.
"Don't mention it. Name's Haruto". The man gestured with his cigarette. "I'm on feed duty. You must be the new guy. Kenta, right? The wire-walker's... associate". He said the word 'associate' with a hint of cynical amusement, as if he knew exactly what it was code for.
"That's me," Kenji confirmed.
"Tough gig," Haruto said, not unkindly. "Being a glorified bag-carrier for one of the Spiders".
"Spiders?"
"The aerialists. The ones who live up in the air. They're a different breed. Don't really talk to us ground-pounders unless they need something". He took another drag. "Still, better than this." He gestured with his head toward the pile Kenji was working on. "Trust me, buddy, there are worse things in life than shoveling crap. At least here, the crap is honest. It doesn't pretend to be anything else".
The weary philosophy intrigued Kenji. "What's worse than this?"
Haruto let out a short, bitter laugh. "You ever had your whole life fall apart over a broken taillight?" Before Kenji could process the absurdly specific question, Haruto crushed his cigarette under his boot. "Anyway, lunch is at noon. The stew is questionable, but it's free. See you around, Kenta". He ambled off, leaving Kenji alone with the elephants and a very strange conversational hook.
He finished his work as the noon whistle blew, his muscles aching in ways they hadn't since basic training. As he turned to head back, his path once again took him past the big cat enclosures. Most of the animals were asleep, magnificent striped and spotted predators dozing in the midday sun.
But one was awake. A massive male lion, his mane a dark, magnificent corona, was lying with his paws crossed, his head up, watching the activity of the camp. As Kenji walked past, the lion's head turned. Its amber eyes, ancient and intelligent, locked directly onto his.
It wasn't the casual, unfocused gaze of a zoo animal. It was a look of assessment. Of recognition. The lion stared at him, unblinking, as he walked the entire length of the enclosure. Kenji felt a cold prickle on the back of his neck. It was the same feeling he got when he knew he was being watched by a sniper. The lion didn't roar or move. It just watched him, its gaze following him until he was out of sight.
Kenji shook his head, trying to dismiss the feeling. It was just a lion. A big, bored, possibly weird lion. Still, the encounter left him with a sense of profound unease that had nothing to do with his current duties. This circus, he was beginning to realize, had more secrets than just the ones he and Sato were here to uncover.
Lunchtime found him in the mess tent, a long, noisy canvas structure filled with the communal tables and boisterous energy of the ground crew. The stew was, as Haruto had warned, questionable. It was a brownish, viscous liquid with unidentifiable chunks of vegetable and meat floating in it like secrets in a murky pond. But it was hot, and it was free.
He found an empty spot and was about to start eating when he noticed the old woman. She moved through the chaos of the mess tent like a ghost, a small, stooped figure with a grey cloth and a bucket of soapy water. No one seemed to notice her, their eyes sliding right past her as if she were a part of the tent itself. As she worked her way to his end of the table, one of the riggers, a large man with a thick beard, stood up abruptly, knocking his half-empty bowl to the floor with a wet splat. He didn't even look down, just laughed at a joke and walked away, leaving the mess for her to deal with.
The woman sighed, a small, weary sound, and bent down with her cloth. Kenji, acting on an instinct he couldn't name, stood up. He grabbed a handful of napkins and knelt down, quickly sopping up the worst of the spilled stew.
She froze, looking at him with surprise, her eyes a clear, intelligent brown. "You do not have to do that," she said, her voice soft.
"It's no trouble," Kenji replied. "We ghosts have to stick together".
A faint, knowing smile touched her lips. "I have not seen you before. You are with the Spider-girl, yes?".
"The Spider-girl?" Kenji asked.
"The new aerialist," the woman clarified, gesturing towards the main top. "It is what we call them. The Spiders. Because they live in the air, in their webs. They do not touch the ground if they can help it". The rest of us," she added, a hint of wry humor in her voice, "we are the Grounders".
There it was. The circus's internal politics. A simple divide between the performers in the sky and the workers on the earth.
"My name is Kenta," Kenji said.
"I am Miyuki," she replied with a small, formal bow. "You have kind eyes. Not like many who come through here". She paused, then her gaze flickered towards the big cat enclosure. "Be careful around the lions. Their keeper is... quiet. She does not like strangers".
"The keeper?".
"Reika," Miyuki said, her voice dropping. "The Lion Whisperer. She is... different. Never speaks. Not a word. But the animals... they understand her. Especially the big one. The one they call Caesar".
The chatter of the ground crew quieted slightly. A group of four performers had entered, moving with an aura of effortless superiority. They were the Spiders. They walked directly to the front, where the cook immediately ladled out fresh bowls for them from a pot he had clearly been saving.
Sato—Sorina—was among them, the picture of aloof grace. Her eyes swept over the room once, a quick, dismissive scan, and passed right over Kenji without a flicker of recognition. It was a perfect performance.
The blonde man—the group's clear leader—leaned in and said something in a low voice. Kenji saw his hand make a small, almost imperceptible gesture—two fingers tapped twice on the table. It was a signal.
A moment later, one of the other aerialists, a young woman with a deceptively sweet smile, stood up. "I need to check my rigging," she announced. "The humidity is terrible for the tension". She walked away, but Kenji noticed she didn't head for the main top. She headed towards the administrative trailers. It was a deviation from the pattern. A crack in the facade.
He finished his stew, bussed his own bowl—an act that earned him a surprised, grateful look from Miyuki—and walked out of the mess tent. He had a job to do. He had secrets to uncover. But first, he had to go and shovel some more elephant crap. The investigation, he thought with a grim sense of irony, would have to wait.