The Timebound

  “Hope he’ll be safe,” I add as I enter school.

  “He probably will be,” Velvet answers, putting a hand on my arm. “And if he isn’t, that hospital will severely regret it.” Of course... but their actions won’t change a thing. It won’t change the system that caused him to be hospitalized in the first place. Velvet then clutches their head: “Oh yes, I suppose I should switch now.”

  “Now I get to see Karma?” I laugh off.

  “Indeed,” Velvet answers. “The Almighty One of Death shouldn't be much of an issue.” With a blink, they transform once more, orange and yellow light turning black and white. The smell of salt pervades the air, making room for sea water as the light condenses into streams. It manifests into a kid adorned in black and white, along with fancy boots to match.

  “Karma Kutsuki,” one greets, hands shaking with a black-tipped spear, replacing Velvet’s scythe. “And uh, no pronouns. Though, they/them also-”

  “Oh come on,” I add, smirking as I put my hand to my hip. “You know my secrets -- stuff like this isn’t that new to me. Welcome, oh honored one,” I courtesy.

  “Ugh,” Karma complains, tugging the top hat on the head down in embarrassment. “I wish Velvet didn’t introduce me like that. I’d expect it to come from Aliza and Raibu.”

  “So, how old are you?” I absent-mindedly ask. I wonder if Karma’s the Little here.

  “No, I’m still the same age, despite how I seem,” Karma shivers. I go to reach a hand, before Karma steps back. “Me and Velvet, we... don’t like contact as much. Just bad memories, and-”

  “All good,” I interrupt. “You don’t have to tell me your story now, if you don’t want to. Just take your time.” The kid looks back into me, one eye black with a white iris, and the other its perfect inverse: a white eye with a black iris. “So, ‘Harbinger of Death’?” I ask, wondering if I got the theme right.

  “Is it too awkward?” Karma asks, seeking validation. Are they really the same age? All of Karma’s behavior seems akin to a Little alter, yet it wouldn’t be the first time my guess was wrong.

  “It’s cheesy,” I admit, “but it’s quite a fun nickname.” With that, the honored one fingers the buttons of Karma’s black and white suit, then the little knots in the hair. I start to reach in my pocket, pulling out a slime ball. “This helps with destressing,” I explain, just as Karma eagerly reaches for it and starts fidgeting, making all sorts of shapes.

  “Hehe!” As the harbinger smiles with the little toy and giggles, I start to wonder if Karma really is the little; Karma’s certainly acting like it. Karma doesn't seem to identify as being younger than the rest of the alters, but all kids can do that.

  Oof -- I bump into someone, then I’m shoved into the ground again.

  “Hey-” Karma starts, going to my side as my attacker looms over the two of us.

  She crosses her arms: “So, you’re the girl who broke Pony’s hand.” Pony... I know that name. Why do I know that name?

  “N-no,” Karma stammers, before I raise my hand.

  “Yes, that was me,” I lie. “The fuck do you want,” I groan, reminded of why my days suck: “Justice for a white woman?” It would be fair, if only these people “An apology letter and twenty dollars? Or the receipt for her medical bill?”

  “Nah,” she answers, picking me up by the shirt. I take a look at her mug -- she’s got smooth white skin, like really smooth -- it’s like someone painted her skin with metallic paint. I don’t get why they care so much about smooth skin. I think freckles look cool, even if I’m biased since I have some. Imperfections make us more beautiful than a pristine blank slate. I’m then shaken out of my train of thought -- “did you even listen to me?!”

  “Sorry,” I snark, grabbing at her hand. Why is it I’m the one picked up like a stick anyways? “I don’t think I’m...” I pause, time warping around me as I’m still suspended in the air.

  I’m held by the throat by one hand -- it’s the hand of a king, or in the words of the common people, a tyrant. “Shut up,” I start, already sweating as I struggle to hold onto life. “You’re nothing but uh-”

  *Crack*

  “AAH!” I scream, closing my eyes as the hand grips tighter, everything starting to go blurry. What was once the king is now a set of blurry red eyes, a look hard to focus on as my throat gets tighter. “you-” I start, still scared of the fear of death. I don’t want to be here, I don’t want to die again-

  “You deserve all of this,” I vaguely hear. “This is for the crime of inciting a rebellion against the monarchy.” A rebellion... hah... is that what they call a union strike?

  what’s going to happen to the union members? Will Lia be safe? Are they ok? Are they already caught?

  “MOM!” Karma screams, appearing in my field of vision. Karma, who’s that, they’re not from here-

  They’re not from here. Karma’s not in this time. I look up, gasping as the sun glares into my eyes, but I can hardly notice it. I look away as Karma covers me with the cape on the harbinger’s back.

  “Please say you’re ok,” Karma cries as I keep breathing, still leaning over my face. I slow down, trying to refocus. I had another episode. It’s been a while, and I can never expect it when it happens. PTSD really is a bitch sometimes... and all I can do is joke about it. “I can’t lose you,” Karma bemoans, as I put my hand in the kid’s hair, feeling like I’m scratching against salt grains.

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  “It’s fine,” I laugh off. “I’ll be fine.” Karma then hugs me, and in a moment of surprise, I hug back. It’s... really been a while since I’ve hugged someone back. How long has it been since I’ve loved someone? Lia, they’re... they’re gone already, but I can help Karma now. I can help Aliza, Raibu, and Velvet. I can make a stand again. (I just hope Karma doesn’t realize I used the wrong pronouns earlier, but at least it was just in my head.)

  I get on my feet, brushing myself off. I turn, seeing the girl formerly holding my throat now standing a foot away. Karma starts to stand in front of me, before I take the step. “I got this,” I answer, pulling out my bandages and wrapping my fists. With a nod, Karma stands back, the God in a Spirit’s body deciding to let me handle this.

  “Finally fighting on your own?” she laughs.

  “No,” I answer. “Just preparing. Now, let’s just get through the day.”

  “Hah! This world, don’t you get it? It’s kill,” she starts, pulling out a knife, “or be killed.” God, I hate that phrase. It’s the type of thing a genocidal maniac would say.

  “And why would that be?” I ponder aloud, putting my hands in my pocket. “Because people like you make it so? Because you little shits don’t make this system easy to change? Believe me, it’s all flowers and roses until you get shit on for being an ‘other’. Like you. Right now, you’re just the hero attempting to avenge a person you don’t even know? But you know what’s always true?” I approach, unafraid of the consequences. “You’re just a bully who takes any excuse for power.” The crowd murmurs at my ‘savage beatdown’, which pisses me off.

  I turn to the crowd as the bully pauses.

  “And I haven’t forgotten about you vultures,” I shout. “People who thrive on the drama, who flip sides as quickly as a dime. Honestly, you all are sometimes worse: say what you will about a tyrant, but at least they’re able to pick a side.” I stroll past, only for the bully to block with her arm. I sigh: “I am not in the mood,” I groan. I take the knife and press it against my chest. “Go on,” I taunt.

  “Wha-” she starts, before I lean in.

  “DO IT!” I yell as she flinches. “It’s just one thrust. You just need to stab forward. Here, let me make it easier.” I move the knife so it’s suspended above my heart. “It’s just one push, then that’s it. So do it. Kill me. It’s that easy, right?” She pauses, for a millisecond, then a second -- then ten. I sigh, throwing the knife away. “Of course you don’t have the heart.” I take a moment to read over her ability with my bandages: her skill was ‘knife wielding, huh? Poor kid: everyone’s going to push her to be good at combat. She’s probably going to be a serial killer in her own spare time, all because she didn’t have any good role models. What a joke. “Let’s go Karma.”

  “Roger!” The kid follows behind me as the school looks on in awe: the 5’3’’ girl just handled someone at least half a foot taller. Who knew being the quiet kid had its intimidation perks? I see some glances look away, which gets a snicker out of me. This world can fear me all it wants. “Oh, was today the prophecy day?” Karma suddenly remembers.

  “Oh right,” I agree. “Let’s head to the gymnasium then.” We both head over, strolling along as the crowd makes way for the two of us. As we enter, we see the obvious: most sitting down, but others goofing around. Some created a magical platform, being used to block the view for others. How childish. “Of course there’s no good seats,” I groan.

  “Well, I can always make some,” Karma proposes. With that, the harbinger puts his hands together to call out a name: “Raibu?” In a moment, vines start to grow along the wall, forming a small platform some ways up. “Alright, hold on,” Karma asks, grabbing my hand. I do as the kid asks, which is when he makes the decision to stick the spear in the wall, then use it like an acrobat’s stick to fly upwards, managing to land perfectly on the fibery platform. With a snap, the spear returns to Karma’s hands. “Yippee!” Karma applauds oneself, as I add to it with my own clapping. Karma further beams, starting to look away abashedly.

  “Attention!” the presentation starts. “It has come to our attention that our student body is engaging in violent acts.” Oh geez, I wonder why. It surely isn’t because half of our day is spent in self-defense classes and we’re told to believe in an unknown and ambiguous threat. “That being said, we ask you all to set a good example. We cannot be mindless and savage brutes: we are meant to be better than that. We are superior.” Uhh...

  Karma pulls down the top hat atop one’s head, which is when I decide to tear off one of the vines and use my bandages to create a pseudo bubble-wrap that I start popping, easing Karma’s senses. The previously oily scent Karma was giving off now returns to that of calm sea water.

  “They just reminded me of... the bad people,” Karma explains. “People who thought they were always right, and...” After some hesitation, Karma pulls up one of the sleeves of the suit, revealing a long gash. It went from the back of the hand to what was presumably the shoulder, a scar likely made when Karma was at a young age. “They hated me for this,” gesturing to the skin. “I don’t like them, and I don’t like him.”

  “Same here,” I agree. “About that apocalypse, how much do you rememb-”

  “It’s only me who remembers the emotions,” Karma admits. “They remember the events, but... I’m too pathetic that I can only remember the pain.”

  “Kid,” I start, before biting myself. “Karma, it’s not pathetic.” I pause, thinking about which memory would work for relating to the experience. “There was a Spirit I loved -- Coriana.”

  Karma just nods. Future me must have told the alters.

  “Coriana was a bit selfish -- much like the rest of you -- but she was a ray of sunshine who wanted to change. Despite being non-human, she cared so much about her society that she wanted to learn from us so she could take what worked back to her own country. Even if I was a mere human, I agreed to follow her and develop the plans. We had... wild ideas,” I admit, laughing it off. I sigh, remembering what happened next.

  Karma takes my hand, wanting me to continue, but not if it caused pain. I proceed.

  “She was crucified for being a heretic,” I answer. “She questioned too much, and ‘paid the price’. I never forgave the people for that, hence why I was killed next. At times, I still remember the fire burning me, boiling my eyes out, slowly losing blood and starving as no one did anything for me.”

  “I’m-”

  “It’s not about feeling sorry,” I interrupt. “It’s that pain is inevitable, and it’s brave to let it out so others know how you feel. And besides,” I laugh. “You seem like a fun kid.” I go to touch Karma’s hair, and Karma accepts, taking off the top hat. I go through the braids, deciding to fix them up and readjust them so they’re uniform size. “Next time, get one of your other alters to do this,” I suggest.

  “Mhm!” Karma hums, continuing to rest against my chest and enjoying this small moment between this. Haha... children never change.

  “And now,” the announcer interrupts, “For our prophecy. The chosen one will be...” He motions to a giant orb, filled with a... murky liquid? They should be pristine, normally. Has no one noticed it?

  There are some murmurs from the crowd, and a nervous glance from some teachers, but ignored as the presenter continues. “And the chosen one will be...”

  The water in the orb bubbles -- before it fizzes and explodes. Most of the stadium is protected by the sudden conjuring of magical barriers, while me and Karma remained safe on the vines.

  “Damn,” I comment at this disaster. “Guess we’ll find out next time.” I glance over at Karma, noticing the shrapnel from the blast hovering in front of the kid. Karma looks over to me, then smiles -- the broken glass promptly falls to the ground, but not before being cut apart by the wind.

  “I guess I never showed off my magic properly, did I?” Karma realizes.

  “We’ve got all the time,” I answer. “While they repair that, let’s get to know each other this week.”