Book 28: The Eden Conference

June 20, 2022 - 1:52pm

M.I.I. Campus, Abuja, Nigeria

Tamara walked the children onto a beautiful campus thrumming with life. The buildings were many and boasted gorgeous geometric designs; cubes here, domes there with cylinders in between. Soji and Kuro looked around them. They stood in the center of a vast courtyard encircled by the walls of the hexagonal beige building that they came through. Trees and potted plants grew everywhere, freshening the air. It hardly seemed like the Institute had anything to do with sin.

“I had no idea there was a campus even in Abuja!” Kuro exclaimed. He wore the same gray tracksuit as the day prior, except now he had his sheathed sword in a bag strapped to his back.

“Oh yes. Nigeria has one of the highest numbers of atma users in the world. Right next to Egypt, India, and Japan,” Monika sounded proud, “And it just so happens that those countries are where the First Families originate from.”

They followed after Tamara, gawping at every little thing their eyes could catch. The research facility that turned their lives upside down paled in comparison.

“Ugh, again with this First Family stuff. I’m just supposed to believe that you and Tamara are basically royalty in maestro society? You just want me to do your laundry!” Soji rolled his eyes.

“When did you brats stop calling me ‘Coach’?” Tamara kissed her teeth.

“Well, I don’t not want you to do my laundry. But I’m telling the truth. I’ll show you when we get to the library. My family is from Japan, the Cain family is from Egypt, and the Talia family originates from India.”

“Wait, if the Roses are from Japan, and Tamara’s family is from Egypt —” Soji began.

“Are you about to ask me why we’re black? You can’t just ask people why they’re black,” Monika side-eyed him.

“No…I’m not that stupid…”

“Although, you’d think such long-lived families would be super old fashioned, and fret about purity of bloodline or whatever,” Soji thought.

“I was gonna ask why all your last names are so…not traditional? Like why Rose and not, whatever Rose is in Japanese?”

“That’s actually a good question.” Monika raised her eyebrows, surprised, “It’s because names were once considered sacred by maestros. I don’t remember why, but in the spirit of that tradition, the Families keep their true names hidden, and go by something close to it.”

“Huh,” Kuro rubbed his chin, “That sort of makes sense. I remember you said something about the Families passing down abilities? Does every Rose have that explosion ability?”

“You can’t use ability and technique interchangeably when it comes to atma. Abilities are features, mutations that the body may develop in response to being able to control atma.”

“Everything is a lesson with you!” Soji groaned.

“Fine, die then,” Monika rolled her eyes before continuing, “My family has the ability to hear atma. We don’t have any passed down techniques.”

“What can you even do with that?” The bloom boy scoffed.

The girl produced a coin from her hoodie pocket and flicked it at the boy. It exploded with a tinny poof upon hitting his arm. He yelped.

Kuro intervened, lowering Soji’s rising fist.

“So, what can the other families do?”

“You’ll find out,” Tamara interjected before Monika could speak, “In due time, kiddos. We’re here.” They had unknowingly climbed up to the second floor of the hexagon building and stood in front of a rustic wooden door.

“Monika, you take the lead here. I’ve gotta pick up some stuff for Doc.” The woman turned to them and waved before falling through the floor.

“What the hell is that technique?” The boys thought in unison.

Monika pushed the library’s double doors open and ushered the boys to an expensive-looking computer; just one among a row of similar devices.

Grabbing seats next to her, the boys watched on in curiosity as she held down on the escape key of a keyboard and let atma flow into it.

“Monika…” Kuro mumbled, still searching for the correct words to frame his question, “If we're going to, you know, change the Institute’s current leadership, won't you have to remove your own family members?”

The girl thought about her answer for a second.

“My grandma? I guess I would, huh? It’s whatever, she tried to kill me first.” The girl shrugged as if it were a simple matter of getting back at someone for stealing her pencil, and not a heinous act of parricide.

“I see why she and Soji are starting to get along so well…killing as retribution seems…trivial; like the obvious choice.”

The machine before them whirred to life, its screen flickering on and body humming with power.

“Cool, right?” Monika smirked. “Now watch, as I show you the real internet.” She opened a search engine and began typing. Its homepage was a marvel on its own.

Hooligang Strikes Again! Bodyguards Needed - M.I.I. Certified Preferred! Bring Your Technique to the Next Level With One Neat Trick! To any passersby, the headlines might’ve looked like something out of a comic book. Finally, the girl pressed ENTER.

A warning popped up: WARNING: LEVEL 1 CANNOT BE ACCESSED FROM THIS LOCATION!

“Huh,” Soji said, “Looks like your dad is some big wig, Kuro.”

“I see…so we’ll have to get into the M.I.I. before I can find out anything else…I expected as much,” Kuro said with a sigh.

“Really?” Soji asked.

“Tamara’s reaction to my dad’s name was weird… There’s something to uncover there…” He rested his head in his hands. It was only then that he noticed that passing maestros were staring at the trio. Their expressions ranged from the furrowed brows of confusion to the scrunched noses of disgust.

“Is it just me, or…”

“Yeah,” Monika agreed, “people are staring…at Soji.”

“Just ignore them,” Soji waved away the intensity, “this is normal for us celebrities.” Kuro and Monika rolled their eyes. With how often every member of the trio did so, it almost seemed like it was a prerequisite to be made privy to the world of maestros.

“While we’re here,” he continued, “I want to see stuff about the Cain Family.” He shot a quick look at Kuro whose mouth turned up in a small grin before returning to neutrality.

“Yeah, so do I!” The silver-haired boy added, pushing Monika to just sigh before crudely typing in the words ‘Cain Family.’

Kuro grabbed the mouse before she could, and clicked the first link that he saw: Cain: A History. The article, anonymously written, had a yellow checkmark next to it. Quickly hovering over that checkmark, Kuro saw that it was indicative of the fact that the veracity of its contents had been approved by the M.I.I.. It was short, with much of its contents censored with lines upon lines of black. It was only when they got to ‘1996’ that five words were permitted to be seen; ‘the birth of Tamara Cain’, followed by more rows of black.

“What the hell?!”

“Yeah, I thought she’d be older. She really is more like a big sister.” Soji missed the point entirely, already coming up with machinations to annoy Tamara now that he believed it to be age appropriate.

Kuro was irritated. After getting so close to some answers about Tamara, and more about this family of hers, his lead was lost. It was only when he came to the end of the file, that there was a glimpse of a paragraph that could finally be read.

In conclusion, the Cain Family has long-consisted of dangerous, power-hungry individuals who, if their alliances changed, would pose a threat to the Institute and its various allies. Their Family’s ocular ability to [REDACTED] has granted them a power that, when paired with [REDACTED], makes each and every one an insurmountable powerhouse. Perhaps it was these powers, and their conniving nature that led to the unfortunate occurrence of the Cain Massacre of 2012. To this day, only two members of the Family remain: [REDACTED] ‘Red Saint’ Cain, and the current heir, [REDACTED] Cain.

“Whoa,” Soji gasped. “She’s always wearing that metallic visor thing…I wonder if it has to do with this ‘ocular ability’.”

“That’s…a lot,” Kuro finished.

“This massacre probably has to do with why she wants to take down the M.I.I.. Even if my mother did tell me to trust her, that description of Tamara’s family makes it hard to.”

“Yep. You see why Big Sis doesn’t talk about her past much? All that stuff is morbid and archaic. When we’re done with that plan, the old M.I.I. will be left behind and we’ll build a world where everyone can use atma to better their lives.”

“Are you kidding me? That’s your plan?” Soji asked.

“Well, maybe not Tamara’s. But it’s always been my dream to see atma shared around the world. You haven’t seen how the First Families are. They’re the absolute worst, concerned only with themselves. But when I’m in charge of mine, we’re going to focus our efforts on making proper Instruments to inflict real change,” the girl couldn’t help but smile. With Tamara on her side, it felt real. It felt achievable.

“Wait, so why doesn’t Tamara just take care of the whole bloom situation?” Soji asked, “No blooms means the M.I.I. has to focus on something else right?”

“Because,” she began typing furiously, “of this.” She pointed at the screen where a picture of an enormous garden of dark trees and darker leaves was shown from the top view.

“The Garden…” Kuro read, “what is that?”

“It’s the largest bloom domain to ever exist. Well, technically, it’s not a domain, since that’s how we refer to areas where blooms congregate. The Garden is where blooms come from. And the entity responsible for their creation is the Devil's Spine.” She explained, pointing at a huge, spine-shaped tree in the center of the Garden.

“Spine…I thought you said blooms come from emotions and stuff?” Soji rubbed his head.

“They do…but this tree, somehow, facilitates that process. And to make it worse, it disrupts the atma techniques of anyone that enters its Garden. Even if you could make it past all the blooms with just reinforcement, there’s nothing that could be done to the tree with just that.”

The boys took a moment to process the boatload of information that was just dumped on them.

“Hey, I wonder if I have a file,” Soji thought out loud.

“That’s…” Monika started, “not implausible, actually.” She searched for Soji’s name, but only a series of unrelated individuals came up.

“Interesting,” Kuro mused, “I thought you’d have a classified file at least.”

“The Board must be trying to keep his existence quiet…” Monika explained. Ironically, it was at that moment that a big, burly boy suddenly loomed over them.

“You must be that half-bloom thing I heard about,” the air quotes around the term ‘half-bloom’ made evident his disdain to make such a distinction, “They say that a doe like you is cursed by the devil. That you can hear the voices of all the people you’ve killed…is it true?” The boy crossed his arms as a cruel smile spread across his face.

“Did he just call me a doe? Like a female deer, doe?” Soji looked confused, and quickly shot a look at Monika.

“Doe as in D-O. Stands for Devil’s Own,” she explained, “That’s a term mostly used by the religious fanatics of the Institute.”

“Oh,” the boy replied sadly then turned to his attempted tormentor, “But it’s true that I hear voices. Specifically, your mother calling me back to bed!”

Monika snorted, unable to hold back her laughter. Even Kuro cracked a smile, though his rising anger did not fade.

“You little devil shit!” The boy’s hand shot out, meaning to grab Soji’s face. The half-bloom slapped it away. Kuro shot up, enraged, but Soji put a hand on his shoulder to sit him down as rose slowly. Walking around the computers to meet the boy, he chuckled. Monika did the same, silently creeping the other way round.

Unnerved, the larger boy took a step back. He’d been expecting a bereaved orphan lamenting over ill-gotten gains; an easy target. Instead, Soji cracked jokes, laughed, and now stared him down. It didn’t feel like there was a size difference between them. No, with the darkness in Soji’s eyes, it felt like they’d been swallowed up by the night and were the last two living creatures in the world. One predator, and one prey. With each passing moment, it became clearer who was who.

Before the boy could speak, Soji aggressively shoved him into Monika who had huddled into a ball behind him, tripping him. He hit the ground with a THUD drawing glares from some of the other library users, and snickers from others. Kuro rushed up to him and stepped on the guy’s crotch before Monika joined in. Soji smirked.

“Eat shit!” She yelled amidst a chorus of shushes.

“Yo!” Tamara suddenly called out, surprising the kids. They all looked up at her with expressions like they had been caught midnight snacking. She raised her hands, mouthing the words, ‘what the fuck?’. Kuro stood at attention immediately, following the woman out of the library, and clearing his throat while Soji and Monika cackled behind him.

Back in Tamara’s car, with Monika and Soji kicking at each other for space in the backseat, the kids’ guardian looked over at a brooding Kuro.

“I take it you didn’t find the answers you were looking for?”

“No,” he looked out of the window forlornly.

“No worries, kiddo. You guys will start training for the Orchestra tomorrow. The event is the first week of August, so you’ve got a few weeks to get stronger. If it were anyone else, that wouldn’t be enough,” She rubbed her nose smugly, “But since it’s me, working with such prime material, you’ll be battle ready in no time. And after that, you’ll find everything you’re looking for.”

“Battle ready… I have to be,” Kuro thought.

“Kiddo? You’re only 26!” Soji said, “You’re like a cool rich older sister. But kiddo?”

“Who told you that? Monika?” The woman turned around to smack her.

The drive continued by an area surrounded by trees, just outside of Abuja, and surprisingly empty. Tamara perked up suddenly.

“On second thought, your training,” the woman backpedaled, “starts right now!” She slammed on the brakes as a whole tree rocketed through the car’s left side. Both Soji and Kuro watched in amazement as the tree harmlessly flew through them then crashed into the forest on the other side.

“It’s that technique again!”

Soji shook his head, opening the car door in unison with Monika.

“Is it every day?” He muttered.

“I should apologize.” Tamara stretched in anticipation, “This world I brought you into…conflict is its very nature.” Kuro brought his Instrument out of its bag. They all stood on edge as three figures nonchalantly strolled out of the shadows of the forest.

Lucia walked in front of the group, clad in attire clearly meant for battle. She was dressed in black from head to toe, with lighter gray armor plates barely distinguishable from the folds and pockets on her legs and sleeves. Her pretty face was covered by what looked like a heavy-duty ski mask with perfectly round industrial goggles sewn into it. The glass glinted wickedly in the hot sun.

On her left side, Tobias was significantly underdressed for the occasion. He wore nothing but a designer tracksuit, pairing the beige outfit with bright white slides. The man, looking to be in his mid twenties, rubbed his shaven head before returning his ring-adorned hand to his jacket pocket.

“I can’t believe I missed that shot.” He lamented with a thick, Saudi accent.

“Oh, you didn’t miss,” Kyriaki assured him, “That’s just that weird technique of hers, right?”

She skipped happily behind Lucia, wearing her brightly-colored purple and blue oversized zip-up hoodie and matching sweatpants. Lucia ignored her. She hated redundant questions.

“Tsk,” Tobias frowned, irritated, “this is why I hate fighting strong people.”

“Alright students,” Tamara drew her kids’ attention, “Today’s lesson will be a short presentation.”

The kids nodded. Monika and Soji vibrated with excitement.

“There’s only one thing that you need to know.”