“O-oh,” Hiya said, looking utterly crestfallen. She looked as though she’d break down sobbing right then and there.
“No, it’s okay,” Vir said. “I, uh… I know it’s a burden, but would you mind if I stayed here for the time being?” Vir said. “I’ll earn my keep, and then some.”
“Can he stay, Janani?” Hiya asked, bouncing with excitement. “Can he stay? Please?”
“I assumed he would,” Janani said, smiling at the girl’s antics. “There is no issue at all. If you are a friend of Greesha’s, you are our friend as well. Please, stay as long as you wish. And, well, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to get to know the kids if you are.”
“Yayyyy!” Hiya cheered, grabbing Vir’s hand and pulling him away.
“But before you do,” Janani said, “I’d recommend changing into more suitable clothing. It’s a wonder you haven’t been found out already.”
Vir looked himself over and realized she was right. Seric armor was no outfit for a Laborer Class Calling. Let alone for a Gargan indoctrinated Laborer. While he’d hidden it under his robe, it was obvious to anyone that he was wearing armor.
“Right.” He turned to Hiya. “Just gimme a sec, alright?”
“Alright!” the girl replied, giggling.
Vir’s new home was more of a closet with the barest, thinnest bed of straw he’d ever laid eyes on. It was attached to the other end of the classroom hall and had been intended as a utility closet. Filled with mops, brooms, and other cleaning paraphernalia, it was hardly fit for habitation. Nevertheless, it was a roof over his head, and it was safe. Vir would have given anything for such security in the Ash.
Shedding his armor didn’t mean giving up his weapons. While Vir was confident in his skills, he’d be a fool to leave his Artifact Chakram lying around. It hung off his back, hidden safely under the robe along with his katar.
“Lead the way,” he said after he’d finished removing his armor. His old robe, having weathered the Ash, blended perfectly with the rags everyone else wore.
The girl grabbed his hand and showed him to the playground where her friends were at. The ‘playground’ appeared to have once been a garden attached to the building. It’d long since been neglected and overrun with weeds, and the children’s continuous romping flattened it into an ideal play area.
“What do you think, Neel?” Bolin asked. Neel was, once again, one of the several aliases Vir had chosen. He’d thought long and hard about his fake identities, discussing it at length with Cirayus while in the Ash. Unlike the Human Realm, his goal wasn’t simply to remain hidden.
Vir wanted to create a name for himself. That way, when he did finally reveal his identity to the world, they’d recognize—and hopefully respect—his prior actions. Doing so would build trust with the clans.
It was also dangerous. It was one thing to stay completely hidden, and another entirely to build a reputation while keeping his true identity hidden.
Neel was the anonymous name. Vaak was the name demonkind would come to respect, trust, and fear. Or so he hoped.
“It’s very nice, Bolin,” Vir replied, scanning the junkyard. The children had taken refuse and turned it into castles and other structures to roleplay with.
The sight was a tragedy. Each and every boy and girl was skinny to the point of emaciation. All barefoot. Their clothes were rags, and none fit properly. Most were covered in tears.
These were the children Janani was able to help. What of all those who had to fend for themselves? How many starved? How many had perished in some back alley, neglected and forgotten? How many elderly? How many women?
Vir supposed the only blessing was Samar Patag’s temperate climate. Snow was nonexistent here, and while the temperature decreased in winter, with the sun dipping even lower on the horizon, there was little risk of freezing to death.
“C’mon, Neel! Let’s play tag! You’re it!”
They began to run circles around Vir, who pretended to be unable to catch them.
“Ack! Got me again!” Vir said, prompting a fit of giggles from the kids.
“You’re pretty bad at this, aren’t you Neel?” Hiya said, laughing.
Vir smiled. “I suppose I am.”
Even suppressing his powers, as strengthened as his body was, he could’ve grabbed them blindfolded in seconds.
Still, as the Akh Nara, he had his reputation to uphold. He couldn’t allow himself to lose so easily to a bunch of kids. After allowing them to become supremely confident in their victory, Vir turned the tables, catching them one by one.
Bolin and Ekta flopped onto the ground, exhausted.
“Liar! You weren’t bad at all! You were just pretending!”
“Actually, I just had some great teachers to show me how to play,” Vir said innocently.
“That’s right! It’s because of us that you got so good! Hehehe.”
“Y’know? I feel like you could be our friend, Neel! I dunno why.”
“Because he’s not a stuffy old adult!” another child said.
“Yeah! How old are you, Neel?”
Vir took a moment to respond.
“Seventeen,” he said. He was about to say sixteen, but seventeen was more accurate. Though less than a year had passed outside the Ash, he’d spent two years of his life in that desolate place.
“I’m nine!” Hiya said, raising her hand straight up. “You’re old!”
“I’m twelve,” Bolin said. “Seventeen’s not that much older, is it?”
It really wasn’t. Vir would’ve been five when Bolin was born.
Despite that, Vir felt well into his twenties. There was all the knowledge he’d gained from his predecessors, of course, but he also felt like he’d lived more in the three years since leaving Brij than he had his whole life before then. In all honesty, he related more to Janani—a woman in her thirties—far more than he did to these children.
“Eh. I still think you can be our friend,” Ekta said, holding out her pinky. “I’ll make an exceptation. Just this once.”
“Exception, Ekta,” Bolin corrected. “But I agree.”
The others thought hard, rubbing their chins. After what looked like a period of intense deliberation, they finally agreed.
Vir did his best not to laugh as he pinky-shaked with each of them.
I really hope no one saw that, Vir thought with embarrassment.
“So? What should we play next?” Hiya asked.
“I’m tired,” Bolin replied.
“I have an idea!” a new voice said. It was deeper and older, though not yet that of an adult.
A teenage boy turned the corner. Five of his friends followed, menacingly twirling wooden planks like makeshift bats.
Their sinister grins said it all.
“How about… punching bag?” the boy said with a vicious grin.
15DEMON GOD VAAK
Bolin moved forward, bravely shielding the other children from Svar and his gang. As the oldest, he wore the shoes of the orphans’ leader, and in Vir’s eyes, he filled them well.
A few other boys and a couple of girls crowded around him, facing off against the bullies. The orphans had the advantage of numbers, but Svar’s gang were older than them, and most wielded rudimentary weapons.
“Go away, Svar,” Bolin said. “You’re not welcome here.”
Svar raised a brow. “Not welcome?” His grin widened to theatrical proportions. “Not welcome, you say? Since when did we need permission to be here?”
The bully kicked over a pile of refuse the orphans had fashioned into a castle. It came tumbling down.
“All I see here is a garbage dump.”