Pruned Trees Re-Sprout!! ~ Ragazza Volpe Magica ~

“This sucks.”

Shouri sat alone in the hotel room. The door opened and Miro came in with food for the two of them.

“Here.” Miro handed off a tray of food to the Maestro.

“Thanks.” Shouri slowly nodded.

The Fox Natural took a seat on the couch and partook of his meal. Shouri remained on the bed and slowly did the same.

“What we do now?” Miro spoke up.

“Tomorrow we go to the northern cave,” Shouri spoke quietly. “Then depending on how long it takes us to get through there we can go to Alspo.”

Miro considered that thought for a moment before he voiced his opinion. “I think there is an issue with getting to town,” he replied. “I will get us map so we know where we’re going.”

A slow nod of agreement from Shouri. “Probably a good idea,” he mumbled.

“Are you okay?” Miro asked.

“…discordant willpower,” Shouri’s head was lowered. “Discordia is a series of conditions that are characterized by extremely weak staves.” His eyes glowed with yellow rhythm.

Thankfully, Miro was sharp enough to figure out the rest. “That Resonator was keeping your Willpower strong.” The Natural nodded. “I will do my best to keep you motivated,” Miro said.

Shouri managed to crack a smile. “Thanks,” the Maestro muttered.

The pair resumed eating their respective meals in silence.

“There is one thing I need to do tomorrow night,” Miro spoke up.

“What’s that?” Shouri questioned.

“Tomorrow is Saturday, I must be attending temple service,” the Natural informed the Maestro.

“Temple… service?” The Maestro questioned, raising a brow.

Miro returned Shouri’s confusion with some of his own. “Do you not have temple service on Saturdays?” the fox questioned.

Shouri shook his head. “No, what even is it?”

Once more, Miro was baffled by the lack of knowledge on Shouri’s part about what was done during temple service. “Do you not worship your human gods?” he inquired.

The human in question hummed and frowned. “…Not really, no. The sages are well known, but if anything, they’re treated more like villains than objects of reverence,” Shouri informed the Natural.

Natural met Maestro eyes, both glowing yellow with curious rhythm.

How very… fascinating.

“The Seven Sages represent different aspects of physicality and spirit. Each sage carries a weapon that embodies their concept known as a Muse,” Shouri began.

It was Saturday and the pair was making their way through Central Subterris. Given it was a weekend day the foot traffic around the city was far thinner than during the weekday. There was still the odd Natural here and there wandering around, but for the most part, the crowds were limited to those passing through the central hub.

“Lanvi, Marovo, and Cielto represent the Land, Sea, and Sky of Riterra respectively. They’re less villainized than the other four, but more feared for the planetary processes they control, such as earthquakes being attributed to Lanvi or whirlpools to Marovo,” Shouri continued his explanation.

Miro nodded, taking this all in. The pair had agreed last night to pass the time today explaining their respective culture’s mythos to each other. Forcing Shouri to draw on his knowledge-strong rhythm would be a cheeky way to keep himself motivated and distract from the crippling depression.

Or so they hoped.

“Then there’s the essences of spirit – Sahji, Seres, Kitori, and Luca. Desire, Time, Victory, Life.”

The second group was strange to the Fox Natural. “Those words, seem like a strange gathering.” The Earth element noted.

“Yeah, they’re the assholes,” Shouri rolled his eyes. He took a breath and outlined them for Miro’s edification.

“Sahji messes with humans for his own sick amusement, granting people a wish, should they survive killing themselves.”

“Seres finishes your sentences for you and directly manipulates events to find favorable timelines for himself.”

“Kitori is an actual warmonger and instigates conflict specifically to create ‘winners’.”

“And Luca is not just the embodiment of Life, but also death itself. He’s probably the least assholish of the four, but does pick favorites.”

Miro chuckled. “The human gods really are demons, aren’t they?”

Shouri scoffed. “Yeah, you all got that one down pat.”

They stopped at a small café to have a bite to eat. Miro took care of ordering the food as one, the waitress seemed fearful of Shouri but also two, she didn’t speak a lick of Maelish.

“I have a question,” Shouri spoke up once their waitress scampered away to put in their order. “Are there Natural Ethereals? I’ve never heard of one before.”

“Il defunto non è stato quello di guidare i vivi – The dead should not lead the living,” Miro waxed poetic. “It would be a sin to accept immortal life as an Ethereal,” he clarified.

Shouri slowly nodded. It wasn’t entirely well understood even in academic circles how Etherealism worked. All that was known was that people of “great merit” were chosen posthumously to be granted immortal bodies and live on as Ethereals.

It was a very strange aspect of their world now that Shouri gave it some thought. Who exactly was making these decisions?

“What kinds of Ethereals are there?” Miro queried.

With that line of thought secured, Shouri pondered the Natural’s inquiry.

“Well, you got groups like the Orchestra of Heaven, which are said to be parts of the ‘great machine’ used to construct the world,” Shouri began with the most well-known group. “Then the Three Noble Swords.” He paused, realizing where he was. “I would imagine you’re familiar with them,” Shouri mumbled.

“Y-yes…‘Portatori di Morte’, they are called,” Miro shuddered.

Shouri nodded slowly. Miro’s reaction tracked. While the Noble Swords in human society were seen as Heroes of the Great War, they were generals who were directly responsible for the decline of Naturals as a species. It only made sense that Naturals would view them as harbingers of death. Even more so since they had immortal bodies and nobody knew their whereabouts.

“There are other groups of Ethereals running around like the Six Aspects of Nature, representing different parts of the climatological year. And then there are solo acts like Rose, who invented the modern tuner,” Shouri told the Natural Fox.

Hearing about other Ethereals that weren’t directly responsible for the mass loss of life brought some calm to Miro.

“There is no temple service for any of these Ethereals or Sages? No worship?” asked the curious fox.

“There might be some people who look up to certain Ethereals, but no, formal religion isn’t really a thing.” Shouri pondered that thought for a moment. “They taught it in school as an old practice that kinda just went away,” he offered.

Miro hummed, stroking his maw in thought. “Very weird,” he decided.

“I wouldn’t want to worship someone like Sahji anyway. Fuck that guy,” Shouri grumbled bitterly.

The Fox couldn’t help but laugh. Getting perspective on how humans view their gods was enlightening in more ways than one. Now perhaps Shouri would enjoy education on the deities Naturals believed in.

The night Shouri Tomoshibi left home, he knew his life would change forever, to travel down a road unknown. But never could he have imagined ending up here.

Northern Subterris was pretty similar to its southern counterpart. Lots of homes and industrial sector buildings. Businesses mixed with personal homes, meaning the citizens never had to travel far for their goods or other services.

This included the temples at which they conducted worship.

Many eyes bored through the foreign element in the sacred hall. It didn’t take having an incredible social sense like Pacifica did for Shouri to pick up on the fact that he was an unwanted presence.

“Va tutto bene.” Miro patted the Maestro’s back reassuringly. “Just follow my lead.” The fox motioned for Shouri to follow.

Temple service began with a meal, Shouri learned. Miro quietly instructed the foreigner on proper etiquette, passing food between himself and the people next to him. Before anyone ate there was a small prayer led by the head priest.

Miro summarized the contents, boiling down to thanking the Divine of the Hunt, Julius as well as his wife, the Divine of Agriculture, Juniper.

When the prayer was complete, they were allowed to eat. The food was good, plentiful, filling. There were a lot of staples Shouri was used to, just in local varieties – beans, vegetables, and various breads all freshly harvested and prepared just for today’s feast.

“This is a weekly thing?” Shouri questioned Miro.

“Si!” The Fox nodded.

It was intriguing. Today wasn’t anything special – it was just Saturday. Back home, this spread of food, both in quantity and quality, was reserved for holidays or similar major gatherings.

As Shouri partook in the food like everyone else, the wariness of the Naturals began to wane. Eventually, some braved talking with the Maestro.

“Da dove viene?” a snake-woman asked.

“She is asking where you from,” Miro translated.

Shouri sat for a moment, dumbfounded about how to answer such a simple question. He didn’t expect anyone to try and converse with him. Glancing over at Miro, he was waiting and ready to act as interpreter. With nothing to lose, the Maestro took in a breath and replied: “I’m from the Lyberteran West Coast, Riva Solare if you know it.”

Miro went ahead and translated back.

“Ho familiarità! Mia sorella vive sulle Loggia montagne, con suo figlio,” she replied cheerily.

“She says she has a sister who lives in the Loggia Mountains with her son,” Miro relayed to Shouri.

“Oh, that’s interesting, I didn’t realize any Naturals lived up there,” Shouri noted.

A bull-man decided to jump into the conversation. “Qual è il tuo lavoro?” the gruff Natural asked of the Maestro.

“He wants to know what you do for a living,” Miro translated instantly.

Another simple question. “I’m a hunter,” Shouri started with a simple response. After a second of thought though, he surmised they probably didn’t know what that meant within the context of human society. “Me and my Resonators deal with Scherzando extermination,” the Maestro elaborated. “And recently a little bit of law enforcement,” he mumbled the last bit with some trepidation.

Another quick translation by the bi-lingual fox, though this time it hushed the Naturals surrounding them. Shouri’s heart stopped, fearing he had just made some kind of social faux pas. No, Miro would have stopped him or translated around it, right?

The Bull-man suddenly began laughing, slamming the table. “È una buona professione! Dimmi di più dei tuoi caccia!” he demanded. The others sitting around nodded in agreement with the request.

“He thinks it’s a good job, and wants to know more,” Miro chuckled.

Shouri too managed to crack a smile. “Let me know if I’m speaking too fast,” the Maestro told his translator.

Miro took up his drink to prepare his vocal cords for the workout they were about to get. “Si! Go ahead.”

After the feast, the head priest began preaching for the evening.

Miro was allowed to have a jug of water and a cup to drink from (something normally frowned upon) as he would be translating the lecture for Shouri.

The sermon itself was interesting. Today was the continuation of a series on the Divine Julius, a Solar element horse Natural. In particular, a tale about a hunt that had gone wrong and how it was through Julius’ wisdom that the hunters were able to return safely.

Shouri sat in awe as he listened to the entire sermon. It wasn’t the content itself that drew him in, but how he sat among the Naturals with no one paying him any mind. The previous anxiety his presence brought these people had entirely left. He had been welcomed into this community. Even upon the conclusion of the service they were sent on their way like any other Natural – with wishes of health and safe travels.

By the time Shouri and Miro left the temple, night had fallen – the natural light coming in from the holes in the cave ceiling had waned and only the dim glow of the Rubato Crystals remained.

“What did you think?” Miro inquired of the Maestro as they made their way down to a hotel recommended by one of the templegoers.

“I’m not a religious person, but I wouldn’t mind listening to more stories like that in the future,” Shouri replied.

“I am glad.” The small fox boy smiled warmly.

Arriving at their lodgings for the night, the pair went their separate ways. Miro’s room was much closer to the entrance, leaving Shouri to wander down the hallways alone.

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” a voice spoke out of nowhere. A voice Shouri recognized – the mystery benefactor that “freed” him from the plane with its sudden untimely meeting with the ground.

“Vii?” he questioned.

“Smart boy,” though she was unmasked, her physical form didn’t appear.

“Your powers let you turn invisible too?” His eyes glowed with curious yellow rhythm, anything to stave off a panic attack.

“Indeed they do, how do you think I gathered so much information on you and your Resonators?”

Shouri grunted, his gaze shifting to a glare. He held himself and shuddered. “How long have you been stalking us?”

“Hmmm…” she mused invisibly. “Roughly about a month now. When you were assigned to Colette Severine.”

“You were at the conference?” he asked.

“Yes. I had to keep an eye on Whistler and Vail, and I guess Ilea,” Vii replied.

“Hrmph. Well, it’s not my problem.” Shouri walked around where he thought she was, continuing towards his room.

“Yes, it is.”

The Maestro stopped.

“Have you already forgotten why you’re in this situation in the first place? They kidnapped you to dissect you, to find out what makes you tick. You’re a person of interest to them.”

Shouri remained rooted in place, his gaze falling.

“You need me to survive this. And frankly, I want you to survive,” Vii stated.

“…I’ll be the judge of that,” and with that timid declaration, Shouri hastily walked away.

“…how is a discordant will so stubborn? You’re so fascinating my little Maestro,” Vii tittered to herself.