Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Somewhere, sometime, the samurai called Flynn was having a dream. Soaring above the clouds as though propelled by an unknown force, voices of all kinds assaulted him--male and female, old and young, familiar and strange. In that dream, he received a name and a mission, he met his future friends and his destiny…

And just as soon as he had begun to unravel what he had been shown, he awoke on the cliff overlooking Lake Mikado, laid in a tousle at the foot of a dead tree. 

“Hoy…Hoy, wake up. If we’re not on our way soon, we’ll be late.”

He felt nudging on the back of his head, most likely with some part of a foot, and as he blearily opened his eyes, Flynn rolled around to see who had woken him. A young man with his brown hair pulled back in a messy ponytail loomed above with a grin on his face. 

“Are you awake? I admit, I fell asleep too…” The man looked out over the body of water as it shimmered in the sun. “We’ve spent so many days out here at Lake Mikado, after all. When I thought about this being our last nap here, I couldn’t bear to rouse myself. S-So, I don’t want to hear ‘You promised to wake me up, Issachar!’, eh?”

Rising to his feet, the youth known as Flynn simply stared in silence at his friend.

“Drat, but now’s not the time to argue. We must hurry to the Gauntlet Rite. Come on, then!” 

First gesturing, then practically dragging him by the wrist, the two boys--in fine fettle considering their social status--made the arduous trek to the Kingdom of Mikado’s administrative center, until they arrived in the castle town proper. Crenelated watchtowers towered overhead, guarding the path to yet further fortifications lining the mountain above, and red banners lined the streets. 

Issachar sighed. “Here at last. It’s such a long trip from the village. The city is so big, I don’t think I could even hazard a guess as to where they might hold the Rite…Ah, sir!” Not wanting to waste any time, the boy flagged down a passing citizen of the castle town. “Excuse me!” 

The man, dressed in regal clothes, sneered down at him. “What is it?”

“Well…Us two…We have come for the Rite, and…” he stammered.

“Hmph…a Casualry brat.” The man sniffed. “The Gauntlet Rite, you say? Seek it yourself. Though you may as well begin preparing now for your journey home! Hahahaha…” 

He simply strutted away laughing, leaving Issachar and Flynn baffled and a little insulted. “Um…Thank you…? Seems the tales I’d heard of the Luxurors’ snoot undershot the mark. But no matter,” Issachar said with a grin, “we’ll find someone else to ask.” 

From there, the two young men marched up and down the castle town asking questions and making conversation with the locals until, when they had just about given up their investigation, they spotted a large crowd that had gathered in the plaza in front of the castle beneath the statue of their legendary King Aquila. Issachar craned his neck. “Hm? There’s a crowd at the plaza. Could this be where the Rite is to take place? Hoy, Flynn. Should we have a closer look? Well…?”

Flynn simply nodded, and the two moved further in. There were a number of young men, many robust and more eager, lining themselves up in a queue being organized by older men in armor. One of them shouted, “Those who have come for the Gauntlet Rite, form up here. You must abide until your turn.”

“This is it…We’re finally here,” Issachar whispered to Flynn as they took their place. “Do you know, I heard a curious thing from the elders at our village. Those who pass the Rite and become Samurai must live in Mikado Castle…As I heard it, they can’t even go back to their hometown, unless it’s for a mission. This could be farewell for us, Flynn…”

The sterner boy just remained silent, watching as one of the youths who seemed to have failed the Rite trudged past, dejected. The man from earlier proclaimed, “Those who fail must leave at once.” 

“The gauntlet didn't shine for me…I know this Rite is a dog and pony show, but the Kingdom says to do it, so I go along,” the rejected youth murmured to Issachar and Flynn as he passed, slinking away back to whatever village he had come from. Sour grapes, perhaps.

It has only emboldened Issachar’s resolve, however. “I will become a Samurai…I’m definitely going to become a Samurai…” he chanted to himself as a means of bringing his desires into reality. “A Samurai and a Luxuror at that…”

Flynn raised an eyebrow at him. 

“Next candidate, step forth.”

“That’s my cue,” puffed Issachar with a nervous sigh. “Here I go to become a Samurai!” He looked back at Flynn and put two hands on his shoulders, smiling sadly. “Just know, Flynn…you’ll always be my friend.”

With that, he proceeded towards the center of the plaza, his strut both confident and deeply anxious. Time passed, and sooner or later, there was another call of “Next candidate, come forth!” 

Flynn looked around, then pointed to himself.

“I’m talking to you there,” the announcer reiterated, pointing at him. “Hurry up and head to the square.”

Seeing no other option, he did as he was instructed to do, and approached the center of the plaza. The gleaming statue of Aquila shone with the sun’s rays, and standing beneath it arranged in a line were a number of masked figures wearing the characteristic blue robes of the Samurai. All was silent. Flynn stepped forward, but before he could reach the line of initiators, he saw Issachar. The boy made a sound almost like he was going to speak, but then stopped as his face fell. He passed by Flynn without saying a word, his friend watching him go.

“What’s the matter?” an elder white-frocked Samurai with sharp and alert eyes who had been standing by said. “It’s your turn next, isn’t it? Go on.”

Shaking off Issachar’s failure, Flynn continued until he reached a white-robed monk. “Welcome, young man. Will the Gauntlet choose you to be a Samurai…?” the monk asked wistfully. “Let us begin the Rite. Present to me your left arm.”

Flynn extended his arm, and the monk slid the Gauntlet onto it. It was an odd thing of metal and latches and twitches, unlike anything Flynn would have experienced in his home village, and he watched with anticipation…

…As nothing happened. 

“It is not to be,” the monk murmured with a sigh, shaking his head. “What a shame. You looked like a fine young man to become a Samurai. Please go ahead and move along.” 

Apparently, that dream he had this morning was little more than that: a dream. Nothing more, nothing less. Flynn sighed through his nose and quietly, with more than a little disappointment, slunk back into the crowd where he met back up with Issachar. He was seated on one of the many stone steps running throughout the castle town, chin held in his hands. Flynn wordlessly sat down next to him.

“Huh…?” His eyes flitted down to his friend’s wrist. No gauntlet. He couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle. “So you didn't pass either, huh…? I guess that’s the way it goes. Casualry like us can’t hope to get a leg up in this world.” 

Flynn gave him a look, and Issachar ran a hand over his head. “No, no, I mean…I did want to become a Samurai. You heard me back there, I meant it. I really did. But some part of me was also thinking…’Even if I don’t become one, I hope Flynn at least does’. You know? That way at least one of us could go on to bigger, better things. A life to look forward to. Instead, all we have to look forward to is the long walk back to Kiccigiorgi…” He sighed and leaned back. “Which I, for one, am not looking forward to in the slightest. I volunteer we rest in town and at least see what sights we can before making the journey back. If nothing else, I heard there’s a former legendary Samurai in the area who runs a tavern. Perhaps a drink or two in celebration of our failure is in order. I know I’ll need something to try and forget this kind of disappointment…” 

Issachar hung his head low, but then felt a reassuring pat on the back. He looked up, and Flynn was the one doing the patting with a smile and a thumbs-up. 

“...With you, of course. I couldn’t forget about my best friend, after all. Come now, let’s see what we can find to eat with our meager allowances, eh?” 

~

“Next candidate, step forth!”

After Flynn had failed the test, coming up behind him was another young man. He was of the same age, only having turned 18 the previous summer, but his hair was long and curled into thick locks that would likely prove to be the bane of even the most sturdy of hairbrushes. Sleepy green eyes, a prominent nose, a scrawny build, and a bit of stubble around the chin were what set him apart from his fellows in burlap and leather rags. He marched forward with a grin, rubbing his hands together. 

“Soooo, my man!” he proclaimed, turning to the sharp-eyed elder Samurai from before. “Before I take this test, I have to ask: how good is the pay for a Samurai’s deeds? Would you say that it’s impressive? Doubly impressive? Enough to, say, pay for a castle and plenty of feasts for one such as I?” 

Hope’s expression curdled. “Just go to the monk, young man.” 

“Fine! Fine. I’ll get my answer soon enough, I’m sure,” he said flippantly as he walked, grinning. “After all, this is just one step on my journey to achieving all that and so much more! I’m destined for greatness, you know. Destined for greatness! My mother said as much!”

“Go quietly!”  

“Y-Yes sir,” he whimpered, stiffly speed-walking to the ritual monk.

This was Comus. Though he was born in abject poverty as a member of the Casualry, it had been his belief ever since he was young that he was destined for the big life of a Luxuror. A palace, a litany of servants and attendants, the most exquisite food served every day…he even went so far as to claim he was simply a Luxuror’s soul born in the wrong body, which didn't do him any favors among the village kids, who would throw rocks at him until he relented. His village was practically on the outskirts of Mikado, and he had come a long way for this opportunity mostly because he had such incredible confidence in what the result would be. His faith in himself was unshakable, which was both a very good thing and an awful thing depending on the situation. 

He stepped towards the monk, his fingers templed in front of his waist.

“Welcome, young man. Will the Gaun--”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, blah, blah, blah, put the thing on me already,” Comus interrupted, thrusting out his left arm so fast that he nearly socked the monk in the gut. After a small beat to show his discontent, the monk slid the gauntlet onto Comus’ arm. He looked down at the contraption like he was looking at a three-headed baby. “Eugh. Kind of a nasty piece of work, huh…? 

Then the hatches started opening up in sequence, revealing a slick black screen along its length. Comus’ eyes widened from beneath his thick eyebrows.

“Holy--wait, is this happening? Is this real?”

The monk sighed, then raised his hands.

“O God Almighty…If this young man in my sight is to receive the gift of becoming a Samurai…Please bestow Your light upon this mystic gauntlet.” He lowered his hands. “Now, young man, touch the gauntlet.”

He hated to admit it, but his finger was shaking. Swallowing through what felt like a desert in his throat, he lifted his hand and ever-so-gently tapped the screen with his index finger. A message appeared, reading ‘Engage’, and only a few moments after, indecipherable characters appeared in its place. Comus squinted at it. “What is that. I don’t know how to read that. Can somebody get me a, uh…is there such a thing as a word collection? Can someone make one?”

The people surrounding the ritual area were a mixture of shocked, impressed, and--oddly enough--frustrated. “T-The mystic script has appeared on the gauntlet…!” someone in the crowd murmured. “The gauntlet has accepted… this man as its owner?!”

“It has?!” Comus whipped around, his hair smacking the robed monk in the face. “Really?!” 

“...Er, Congratulations, Comus. You are now a Samurai.”

It took a second or two for reality to fully sink in. He was a Samurai? He was a Samurai. He was a Samurai who’d be living in the castle town and getting paid and being treated like a hero! “Yes! Woo-hoo!” He threw his fists in the air, punching around him and breaking out into an impromptu dance resembling the motions of the roosters from his home village. For someone who was so confident in the result, he seemed surprisingly happy nonetheless. He pointed at the other youths lined up. “Ha! In your faces , Casualry! Better luck next time, oh wait, there is no next time!”

The monk leaned in and whispered into Hope’s ear. “(Sir Hope, show him to the residence hall and quick, otherwise there may be riots. Abbot Hugo would be most displeased to see such a scene being made by our newest Samurai.)” 

“(Understood. I already get the feeling this one’s going to be a handful.)” Hope cleared his throat and tapped Comus on the shoulder, interrupting his celebrations. “Follow me.” 

“Where to?” 

“The residence halls. You’re going to be shown your living quarters.” 

Comus clapped, following Hope as he lead the overly eager young man away. “Faaaantastic! Do I get my own butler? Does he get a butler too? Please tell me I do, I’ve always wanted one…!”

“Please reserve all questions until after you arrive at your room, please…” Hope muttered under his breath.

~

“This place sucks,” Comus said, crossing his arms. “Brick walls? Seriously? And baskets? Pots? Where’s the stained glass? The suits of armor? The jewelry? I was promised a butler!” 

“No you were not,” Hope stated frankly. “Samurai do not receive butlers. They are expected to be self-sufficient, for the most part.” 

Comus dropped onto the bed, letting out an over-dramatic sigh. 

“Ahem. That being said, I am Hope, head of the Samurai. From today on, you will dwell in this room. As a member of our band, you will work on the behalf of this kingdom alongside the rest of we Samurai.” 

“Uh huh, uh huh,” Comus said, not listening.

“Though you’ve just been inducted, your practical training will begin tomorrow morning.”

“Uh huh, uh--wait, practical training?” 

“Yes. Combat and field experience, to be precise.”

“W-Wait, wait, combat? Nobody ever said anything about combat! Hold on, I’m not going to get hurt, am I? Right? You wouldn’t let that happen to me, right? What if my hair got injured? Where am I going to get a good hair doctor?”

Hope was already at the door, glowering at Comus.

“I suggest you rest early tonight. I’m aware you come from a very distant village. You’ll need all the rest you can get now, and you’ll get more details about the training tomorrow.”

“Wait!” Comus leapt off the bed, stumbling forwards. “What about my--” 

Hope slammed the door.

“...Great. Just great. You’ve really gotten yourself into it now, Commy…” He sat back on the bed, laying back until he faced the ceiling. It was stone. Not painted, not arched, not golden, just stone. Sigh. “Just remember. This is one step on the path to greatness. One more step towards feasts and palaces and servants and luxury…One step…that’s it, just…just…” He yawned deeply. Whether he liked it or not, it had been a very taxing journey for the young man, and he was utterly exhausted. Within only a few moments of resting his head, he was out like a light.

That night, he dreamt of sinking into a deep and smothering softness…

~

“Hoy, you awake?”

Comus woke up to the feeling of being slapped lightly on the cheek several times. “Whuh…?” he slurred, opening his eyes. 

He was face-to-face with who appeared to be another Samurai. This one had slightly tanned skin, wild hair, and a face that just screamed ‘charisma’. Not only that, but he was already in his Samurai outfit, complete with a snazzy blue ascot. This man stood up straight, hands on his hips. “Before you say anything, don’t worry: I’m no burglar.” 

“Not surprising,” Comus muttered, sitting up. “Nothing valuable enough to steal in here anyway. Who are you and what are you doing in my shabby little room?” 

“Pretty bold of you to call it shabby when it’s being provided for free, but whatever. I’m a newly-christened Samurai just like yourself, actually. Call me Walter. I heard you were a Casualry too, so I--”

“Ahhh, la la la, can’t hear you!” Comus covered his ears and sang. “I am only a temporarily embarrassed Luxuror. Maybe I was born a Casualry, to Casualry parents, in a Casualry home, in a Casualry village, but that doesn’t change the fact that I was and am destined to live in style!” 

Walter cringed. Not two of these guys on the same team…he might just go mental if he had to be put between them. “Whatever. Anyway, I mainly came in to tell you that you’re late.”

“Late?”

“Super late. To physical training. You know, that thing Sir Hope told you about before bed last night? Most of the recruits have already started. He sent me to go and ‘rouse the sleepy-head’. Which, I’m figuring, is you.”

Comus rubbed his eyes. “Can’t it wait? Go tell Hope to suck a lemon.”

“Tell him yourself. You haven’t even got your uniform on yet! You go sort yourself out, I’ll head back. Meet you at the entrance to Naraku, eh?” 

“Where is--” 

There was the sound of the door slamming shut. Already left. Was that a theme with Samurai? That they just gave you instructions and immediately left without elaborating? Comus groaned and hauled himself out of bed, knowing that he should be busting ass to get to PT but unable to muster anything but the slightest bit of energy.

…Did he even get a uniform…?

“Shit, it’s probably somewhere in the room. I should have asked! Why didn't Hope just tell me upfron-- why didn't Walter tell me?! Oh, he’s so going to pay for that, thinking he can get away with making me do all the hard work…”

Resolving to spend the rest of the morning ruminating on his revenge for Walter’s perceived slight, Comus began overturning pots and barrels in search of his uniform. 

~

By the time Comus had made it to Aquila Statue Plaza, his blue coat was rumpled, his pants weren’t unbuttoned, and his orange stole was hanging limply down from around his neck, but by God, he had made it , and that was the most important part. He nearly doubled over on his knees once he got there, and it was only while catching his breath that he noticed there was…nobody else there.

“C-Curses…did, hff, did they all leave without me?! Selfish, arrogant, little…I-I’m part of this team too! Whatever happened to unity?! To camaraderie?!”

“We have it,” answered Hope as he marched towards Comus. He bent at the waist, looming over the exhausted Casualry. “You simply declined to participate. You’re late. Very late.”

“Yeah, yeah, Walt told me as much, don’t get your knickers in a twist…” Comus hacked up a lung, sharply inhaled through his nose, clapped his hands, and puffed out a breath of air. “Alright! I’ve accepted my fate. Let’s do this. Where’s physical training? Where’s Naraku, I’m ready!”

“I would have preferred if you had been ready three hours ago…but seeing as you’re only one of five initiates from the Gauntlet Rite, I find my hands tied when it comes to dismissing you.”

Comus blinked. “Whuzzat? There’s others?”

“Yes. I’m sure you’ll meet them soon enough while out on your training mission. I already gave the others this explanation, so I’ll keep it brief.” He pointed towards a stone gate with an iron portcullis blocking the way. The interior seemed to be cave-like. “Henceforth, you and the rest will be making forays into Naraku.”

“What, there? In that stinky hole there?”

“...Yes. The dwelling-place of demons.” 

He raised an eyebrow. “Demons, you say? Are any of them…you know…” Comus made a gesture like he was outlining the shape of something curvaceous, but his hands were separated quite a bit more dramatically than they typically would be. 

Hope ignored him. “You will be vanquishing them. Today, you’ll be receiving your training as you battle demons in Naraku, and you’ll receive a small stipend beforehand to prepare yourself, as well as some common supplies.” Reaching into his bag, the elder Samurai retrieved a small handful of shiny gold coins marked with a unique symbol and dropped them into Comus’ hands. His eyes practically grew three times in size. 

“Money! More money than I’ve ever seen! I-I can’t believe it, I’m…I might cry. I am truly wealthy now…” he sniffled. Hope almost felt a little bad for him, that 300 macca was considered ‘more money than he’s ever seen’, but his greedy attitude quashed any hopes of sympathy. 

“Here, too.” Hope also handed over five vials of clear water. 

“What’s this? Drinks?”

“Healing water, to help with any wounds you may incur. Anything else you require, you can buy at the shops here in the square. Spend your money wisely , and then enter Naraku as soon as possible. I’ll update you with your first mission once you set foot inside.” 

“Say, I wouldn’t be able to get maybe…a hundred more macca? This stipend’s a bit puny, you know, and I really want to pick up some sturdier armor before I--”

“As soon as possible.”

“Y-Yes, sir.”

~

“What a rip-off! All the weapons and armor and stuff is way too expensive, even with this small fortune!” Comus complained, jingling his bag and savoring the sound of the coins within as he did so. “I could have bought a leaf , but like, what am I gonna do with a leaf? Stupid Hope, trying to get me to waste my hard-earned, valuable money…”

Only a few moments earlier, he had spoken with the Samurai at the gate to Naraku and explained that yes, he was supposed to be in training, yes, he was late, no, he doesn’t care, and yes, he needed to be let in. Yes, he was fully prepared. No, he didn't need a leaf. 

The entrance of Naraku itself was dark and dingy, just as he’d expected, and the stone bricks lining the walls were overrun with moss and overgrowth. It smelled wet, and musty, and kind of…coppery? That was odd. Nonetheless, he hated it. He passed straight by the posted sign, only giving it a cursory glance, before traveling down the circular stairs and heading into Naraku proper. He kept his shortsword close to his chest, clutching it in case anything…unsavory came to attack him.

“Ohhh, I hate this, I hate this…you know, I was excited when I heard demons were gonna be here, I love hearing the stories about them, but I’m suddenly not so excited. In fact I’m scared. Quite scared.” 

He approached a pair of wooden doors, and just as he was going to step through, his gauntlet suddenly lit up. “What the hell?” In the light, an image faded in…

It was a woman. Or at least it was a feminine figure, and the borders cut off everything but the space beneath her eyes and above her breasts. She was all white, and positioned against a dark grey background of passing squares. 

“Heya, human,” the woman said with a gruff, raspy voice.

“...Uh…heya?”

“I’m Burroughs, a navigational AI. So, you’re my user, eh?”

“I don’t know what AI or a user is.” 

“Ooh, we got a smart one. Nice meeting you, brainiac.”

“Now that isn’t very nice, you don’t even know my name!”

“Don’t need to. Your name’s Comus, you’re 5’8”, and you weigh 117 pounds.”

“...I’m both glad and a little worried you already know that much about me. Am I that famous already?”

“Hold on, another call’s comin’ in.”

An image of Hope appeared on-screen. “This is Hope speaking.” 

“Aw, not you again! I was talking to a lady, you know, and it’s quite impolite to interrupt!”

“That’s an AI, son, not a real lady. Though…” he rubbed his chin, frowning. “None of the others seem to be acting like yours. Theirs are very congenial and obedient. Your Burroughs AI looks to be malfunctioning.”

“Who’re you calling ‘malfunctioning’, gramps?” snipped Burroughs. “I’m doing everything I’m supposed to do. Look, you can tell where Einstein over here is in Naraku, and he’ll be able to do all the stuff he’s supposed to do with my interface, so what’s the problem?”

Hope groaned. “Never mind. We’ll deal with it later. For now, you need to know your first training exercise, Comus. You need to learn the basics of combat by battling demons with your sword there. Go inside and kill a demon, any one. It should be simple.”

“Pretty easy for you to say, sitting there in your cozy chair at home! I’d like to see you out here doing this!” 

“I spent four decades doing what you’re doing right now. Now it’s your turn. Burroughs will support you along the way.”

“Define ‘support’. Is razzing support? Is jeering support? Is calling him names like ‘ugly baby’ support? In which case, yes, I’m with you 100 percent.”

“I don’t like this gauntlet very much, can I trade with Walt or something?”

“Commence your training at once. Hope out.”

The video screen blipped out of existence and Comus covered his face. “Well, er…Burroughs, right?”

“Nah, nah, nah, nah, nah. Let me get one thing straight with you, pal. You don’t call me Burroughs. That’s a wimp name. That’s a book-reading kind of name. You call me Queen B, or if not that, just Queenie. Got it?”

“And what if I don’t?” Comus ventured.

“Then I’ll cut off the blood flow to your left arm and force it to be amputated.”

He defensively gripped his upper arm. “Queenie it is. Could I at least know how this...all these buttons and stuff work? I’ve never actually seen anything like this.”

“Since you’re so smart, I bet you can figure it out yourself. Now go ice some sucker demon for the boss. I’ve already got it marked down as a quest, so go take care of it.”

Comus lowered his gauntlet and began poking through the options as he shoved the doors open with the heel of his boot. “Skills, items, equip, status…I guess these are all pretty self-explanatory. Huh. She wasn’t lying, this is pretty intuitive. Hey, you know what? I bet this isn’t gonna be so bad! I’ve got a weapon, I’ve got a kind of rude computer woman in my arm, I’ve got…uh, five vials of bubbly water…maybe this will turn out better than I--”

He ended up bumping face-first into something and falling on his ass. Considering how bony said ass was, and how the ground was solid stone, it was not pleasant.

“Aaahhh, ow-ow-ow…F-For goodness’ sake, watch where you’re going, you…you, uh…” 

Floating above him was the spirit of a slain Scotsman, swords and axes running through his perpetually-bleeding chest as he thrust out a circular shield and his own sword. His wristbands melted down into dripping red energy, and beyond his tartan kilt, his legs faded into nothingness below the knee. 

“...H-Hello, sir.”

“Human…” he growled out with a Scottish lilt. “Ye never learn, do ye? Always eenjits, th’ lot of ye! Prepare t’ die at th’ hands of a demon!” 

The figure sliced at Comus, nicking him across the arm. “Agh--! Ow! Ow!” He reflexively placed a hand to the wound to cover it, and when he drew his hand back, he saw it was now stained red with blood. Oh dear. That wasn’t good. There was a real possibility he could die out here, wasn’t there…?

No way. No way he’d die out here before he achieved his dream. 

He skipped back and saw that Burroughs’ demon identification software (or whatever was allowing him to see those little tags that popped up beside the demons’ heads) was identifying two demons in the vicinity: the scary one he’d bumped into, Lham Dearg, and one much smaller and comparatively much less terrifying which was a melting heap of bone and blue sludge referred to as a Slime. It was attempting to hide behind the Lham Dearg, but since the other was transparent from the knees down, it wasn’t going so well. Better go for that one first. Pick your battles, win your fights!

He swung once, twice, and the sword cleaved through the muck without an issue. It dissolved away into nothing but a moist puddle on the stone.

“Hahh…hah…I hated swinging the sword, but actually, that felt…good? I killed it…I killed it! Aha!” Perhaps a little too giddy for someone who killed another (arguably) sentient being for the first time, Comus turned to the Lham Dearg with a wide grin. He leapt and swung, his own weapon dislodging a few that were already skewered into the Scottish ghost, and in return it clonked him on the nose with its shield. A trickle of blood traveled down from his nostrils, and when Comus saw it on his fingertips, he saw red.

“Motherf--oh, now you’re really gonna get it!” He thrusted forward with his sword, jabbing it into and retracting it from the ghost’s body, and was given another slash for his troubles--this time on the chest. Undeterred, he could see the Lham Dearg slumping, and after taking a few breaths to prepare, he charged forward to deliver one final blow. 

With a wide, sweeping slash accompanied by a great shout, he brought his blade down diagonally across the entire breadth of the Lham Dearg, and with a tortured moan, it vanished into aether. Exhausted and bleeding, he steadied himself on the tip of his blade.

He’d done it…he did it! But he was also bleeding profusely. 

“Buh…Burroughs…?” he whimpered.

No response.

“Burroooughs…?” he moaned.

Still nothing.

“...Queenie?” he finally said with more than a little consternation.

“Yeah-huh?”

“I-I’m, uh. I’m really hurt. What do I do?”

“Come on, man. The water! Drink the water! The boss gave you that stuff for a reason, use it!”

Fumbling with his hands, he opened his bag and produced a vial of healing water, pulling the cork out with his teeth and gulping the whole thing down. Even though the vial was no bigger than one of his fingers, the water tasted fresh and had a slight effervescence to it. It even somehow was still cold despite the humidity of Naraku. His nose was no longer bleeding and his arm had knit itself back together when he wasn’t looking, but his chest still hurt and bled badly. 

“Oh, be sure to grab those things the dead Scotsman dropped too. On the floor there.”

Comus bent down and picked them up. One of them was stiff and hard on the outside, being grey with a kind of white powder coating the exterior and a pale pink heart on the top. The other was small and gleamed jade. “The hell are these?”

“A revival bead and a life stone. Useful crap. Save the life stone, but go ahead and drink another water or two if you’re still complaining.”

“Will do,” he said, and pulled the cork off another, gulping it down. He let out a sigh of relief, and when he pulled away where his clothes had been slashed, there was no longer a weeping wound. “Wow. Modern alchemy sure is impressive!” 

“Ain’t it? And is it just me, or do your clothes fit a bit better now? They aren’t so baggy on you.”

“Are they?” Comus held out his bony arms and looked down at himself. “Huh. Maybe this physical training is actually boosting my physicality? I have always been hopelessly scrawny. I blame farm work and my avoidance thereof. Not that I’ll need it for my dream to become a reality, that is…”

“Yeah, yeah, feasts, palaces, servants, all that.”

“Wait, h-how did you know that?”

“Oop, don’t look now, here comes Hope.”

Hope appeared once more. “Hello, Comus. I see you’ve killed not one, but two demons. I have to say, I’m actually quite impressed. I thought you would have been reduced to a pile of meat the instant we put you in there.”

“Thanks for the encouragement,” he spat.

“I’ve deposited some more macca into your account as payment.”

“Thank you for the encouragement!” he chirped. 

“Now, your second assignment is to communicate with demons.” 

Comus blinked. “Communicate with them? Wait, but I just killed two…isn’t that…y’know, bad? Killing things that are living and can talk to you?”

“Demons are no living things, Samurai. They’re simply monsters that we can either make use of or must kill to maintain peace among our people. You would do well to remember that. You must recruit at least three into your team before I’ll consider you proficient. Burroughs should be providing an app that lets you scout demons to work for you.” 

“Already taken care of. Go take your mid-afternoon nap, gramps.”

Hope bristled and stopped the video feed. 

“So…now I just go and talk to a demon, and try to convince them to join my side? The side that’s trying to kill them?”

“Yep. You’d be surprised how often it works. Like, go on, try talking to that one over there.”

‘Over there’ was what appeared to be a disgustingly chiseled humanoid figure constructed entirely out of horse parts. Hooves for hands, horse legs for arms and legs, two opposing horse heads with unicorn horns for a head, and small wings protruding from the shoulders. It appeared to be flexing gently in a corner. Comus nearly passed out upon seeing it.

“D-Dear Lord, what in God’s name is that?! It’s a monster! It’s hideous, I don’t--Queenie, I do not want that thing on my team. I would rather kill myself. You can’t make me talk to it.”

“It’s either that or the old man's head on a bird’s body.”

He inhaled through his nose, straightened his back, and marched over to the thing Burroughs was identifying as a ‘Centaur’. Wait, centaur? Centaurs were supposed to be half-man half-horse, not all-man all-horse all-freak. There’s no way that was correct, but he couldn’t think about that now. He had to make conversation. Conversation. Conversation…!

“Uh…”

The centaur turned around and looked down at him.

“...H…Hey…?”

“Hey is for horses,” the centaur whinnied out in a masculine voice. “I like you already. What is your game, little human?” 

“My game?”

“What are you here for, I mean?” 

“Oh, uh…well, I was just wondering if I may…” he cleared his throat, “if you could, uh…did…do you want to join my team?” 

The centaur huffed, rubbing its dual chins with a hoof. “Hmmm. Not a bad offer. But I’ll only consider it if you give me something in return. Quid pro quo, you know?” 

“I d--I don’t.”

“Six dollars and I get to punch you in the arm.” 

“Is that it?”

“Hey, do you want me or not?”

Comus sighed and sucked it up. He retrieved six macca from his bag and placed it into the centaur’s hooves, then raised his shoulders and braced himself as best he could. “Brace yourself, child, this may hurt.” 

“I-I’m eighteen as of last year, sir!”

“Yes, and I am turning three thousand and thirty-four next summer. Now hold still.” 

Hooves hurt less than fists even when they’re traveling at the same speed, it turns out, and Comus gingerly rubbed at the spot on his sternum that he’d been knocked on. “You happy now?”

“Indeed I am,” the centaur said with a satisfied tone and bowed down low as a sign of respect. “You may call me Norgard. I shall follow you wherever you go.” 

“Wow, uh…thanks!” Comus raised his wrist. “Burro--er, Queenie, it worked! I got a friend!” 

“I can see that. I’m not blind.”

“Do you have a female trapped in your wrist box?” Norgard asked, leaning in close with a curious snort. “How peculiar…”

“Yeah, don’t touch me, Bojack. I don’t want those cloppers of yours breaking my screen.”

“That was so easy, though! Just for six bucks and a shot in the arm? Are all demons as friendly as you, Norgard?”

He huffed. “Oh, but I wish. I doubt the others shall be as forthcoming. You will have to sacrifice more and more, until you’re giving up lives simply to form contracts with others. Not to mention, there’s always the chance that they could simply take what you give them and run away, or…uh…”

Norgard watched as Comus ran towards a nearby demon waving his arms around. 

“Excuse me! Would you like to be friends with me? I’ll give you twelve dollars and allow you to stab me in the arm!”

~

Comus: 117 lb → 123 lb

Norgard (Centaur): 123 lb

~

The Samurai standing guard at the gate heard the sound of pounding on the portcullis behind him, and when he turned around, he saw the scrawny form of Comus holding onto the iron bars for dear life. Immediately, he opened the gate up, and Comus staggered back into town. He dropped to one of the steps with a groan. “That was bad. Really, really bad. I passed out like seven times. Perhaps eight. I think I lost count. Not to mention, now I don’t have any money, so I can’t even buy more medicine! Those bastard demons took every penny and just ran off with it…”

“They’re DEMONS, what did you expect, that you’d be showered in love and kisses?” Queenie spat from his gauntlet. “They’ll do that. That’s why you gotta be smart with how you approach things. Tell ‘em what they wanna hear.” 

“Okay…and what about what they want from me? Is there some way of knowing how much money or how many items I should give them, or when to cheat or pull back entirely?” 

“Nope.”

“Seriously?!”

“I’m an AI, kid, not a mind reader. You gotta feel that shit out on your own. Probably, you’ll lose plenty of money just trying to appease demons.” 

Comus groaned louder than before, dropping low enough for his hair to spread out against the step behind him. It then occurred to him how oddly quiet it was. “Hey, where did Norgard go? Don’t tell me he ran off with my spare underwear or something…”

“I digitized him and put him in my database.”

“I don’t, uh…”

“I mean that I…turned him into a ghost, and…ate him. Yeah. You know that guy only weighs about as much as you? And I won’t lie, you’re pretty much a beanpole right now. He must have cut a lot of weight to get that bodybuilding physique. He did seem kinda…insubstantial, compared to most bodybuilders I’ve seen. And veiny. Really veiny. He needs to hydrate more, methinks.”

“Is he alright? And also, why?”

“As alright as you can be being put in a digital box. And because if the drooling dumbasses who live up here saw a demon roaming the streets, they’d have a fit. Trust me, it’s better this way. More…convenient, for the proverbial ‘player’ who’d need to deal with this.”

Comus furrowed his brow, looking down at Queenie’s screen. “...I will admit, I’m having trouble processing what it is you’re talking about.”

“Just forget it. Look, you can talk to him through my screen. Check it out.”

The Burroughs display shifted to show a sprawling green plain under a cloudless blue sky, the trees surrounding where a number of collapsed marble ruins spotted the landscape. Norgard appeared to be doing some upside-down push-ups.

“He looks busy,” Comus said. 

“Yeah, well, he can hear what you’re saying, so be polite.”

“Didn't you call him overly veiny just a couple moments ago?”

“Young one? Box woman?” he said, lowering himself to the ground and swiveling his two heads about. “Where are you? I can hear your voices, but not see you…”

“O-Okay, turn it off, turn it off.” With a blip, the screen flicked back to Queenie. “That was oddly stressful. Whatever, it pains me to say it, but while I was digging through my bag, I did find this,” Comus said, and raised the revival bead up. “It’s either selling this or nothing. I’ll go take care of that, I suppose…”

“Yeah, you do that.” She muttered something else under her breath. “(Not like I haven’t been saving your ass every time you drop…)”

“Pardon?”

“I mean, you got this, chump--champ! Champ.”

~

Comus: 123 lb

Norgard (Centaur): 123 lb

~

One nap later, Comus and the re-summoned Norgard returned to Naraku in search of companions and experience alike. Comus leaned over the edge at the top of the spiral staircase going from the entrance into town down towards the entrance to deeper Naraku, sniffing. “Do you think a fall from this height could kill me?”

“I cannot say for sure. Humans are a precocious bunch. You could very well be fine.” 

“I’m gonna do it.”

“What are you, suicidal? Don’t do i--and there you go. Dumbass, I’m attached to you, if you die, what am I gonna do, boss around a corpse?!” 

Comus kept his eyes wrenched shut as he dropped, feeling the wind rush past him for all of three seconds before he felt a sudden stop. He was no longer moving. Cautiously, he opened his eyes, and he found that he was at the bottom of the stairs, unharmed. Norgard was quickly clip-clopping down the stairs to meet him. 

“Whoa, hey…I’m fine! Ha, what do you know? I suppose I must be stronger than I give myself credit for…”

“I wouldn’t quite say that,” Norgard said, gesturing with a hoof. “Look at what you’ve landed on.” 

He shot up and saw that, beneath him, there was a feminine figure with magenta tentacles for hair, her ‘wings’ being little more than collections of multicolored stratified spheres. Queenie seemed to recognize it as a Napaea. She groaned in pain, angling her head to look at Comus, and wheezed out “O-Ow…My arm, I-I think it’s broken…” 

“Oh! Oh, I am so sorry this happened, please forgive me!” He didn't seem the most genuine then, and what he said afterwards made it seem even less genuine. “But you know, we do have a couple of healing items. I can hand you a few vials of healing water if you’ll join my team.” 

The fairy was quiet. “...A-And if I don’t take it…?”

He glanced back at Norgard. “I guess we kill you.”

“...F-Fair deal…give me what you have…”

Promptly, Comus retrieved a bottle of healing water from the few he’d bought last time they swung by the store and poured it down her throat. In an instant, her arm was healed, and she sat up with a sigh. “Thanks for that. Pretty shrewd of you to withhold aid until I agreed to join your team.”

“Which, speaking oooof…?” He made an imploring gesture.

“Which I guess I am part of now,” she said with a shrug. “You can call me Jona.” 

“Pleasure to have you be part of the team, Jona!” Comus put out his hand for a handshake, and Jona diplomatically took it. “Has anyone ever told you how pretty you are? You know, you could look even better with a little--” 

“Yes. Constantly. It becomes grating very quickly. It’s my policy to snap the neck of anyone who says that to me in their sleep.”

“Understood. How about we head back to the barracks and take another nap?”

“Another?” Queenie shouted. “You were in Naraku for like five minutes!”

“Five minutes too long, in my opinion. I need a break. Any objections? Yes? No? No? Alright, let’s go!”

~

Comus: 123 lb → 136 lb

Norgard (Centaur): 123 lb → 133 lb

Jona (Napaea): 111 lb

~

Another nap later, and it was decided that Norgard’s incredible aversion to being shocked was much too easy to be taken advantage of. Too many times they had had to deal with close calls, and too many times it was because of Norgard seizing up and falling flat on the ground, resulting in Jona and Comus having to drag him out of Naraku. Even despite that setback and a few dicey battles, he received a sudden surge of energy and felt the need to pull Comus aside. Tapping him on the shoulder, he leaned in close and whispered, “I feel this great need…young one, I must pass my knowledge onto you.”

“Your breath is very hot,” Comus said, leaning away, “but I’m intrigued by what you have to say. Do go on.”

It was through this process of demon whispering that Comus learned Bufu and Needle Shot, which he was glad to have. Now at least he won’t have to randomly swing his shortsword at enemies. 

While traversing through the first stratum of Naraku with Norgard at one side and Jona on the other, they continued on the search for more allies. Having a pretty attractive demon helped to engender some extra interest in others joining their side, but one look at the other two was enough to turn most away. 

“It’s not just about ‘making friends’,” Jona explained, sitting on one of the spheres that often encircled her while Comus and Norgard sat on a pile of rubble. “It’s about providing something that demons want. Something that would convince them that joining up with you is preferable to their current life. Sometimes you can find someone with simple needs, like Norgard there,” she gestured to the centaur. 

“I was more than happy to join simply for the thrill of it!” he proclaimed with a laugh, his wings flapping. “And I must say, the thrill is indeed satisfying. More so than wandering around this little cave all my life, at least.”

“Sometimes you need to be smart, like with me. I would have died if you hadn’t forced me to take your deal.”

“Haaa, that is true,” Comus said, practically radiating arrogance, “I am quite clever, aren’t I?” 

“And sometimes,” a masculine voice with an unidentifiable twang started, “a fella just wants to get to know some potential mates. And in the end, is there anythin’ so wrong with that?” 

“True, very true,” Norgard nodded along. Then he stopped. “Pardon me, who are you?”

“Who am I?” The speaker stood up and revealed himself to be a Mokoi--a short, stubby little green humanoid with blank white eyes, a frog-like mouth, and a boomerang being held in one trunk-like arm. “Who am I, my friends? I am your new mate Lok, that’s who I am. It’s a pleasure to meet you, a true pleasure,” he reiterated, and brought the centaur into a hug. Norgard stiffly reciprocated. 

“Are you my new commander, then?” Lok asked Comus.

“...Why, yes, I suppose I am. Quite a pleasure to meet you, and all tha--oh,” he interrupted himself, finding himself on the receiving end of another hug. “You’re, er, quite physical, aren’t you?”

“Best way to show my affection. And how about one for the sheila, eh?” He approached Jona with his little arms extended, intending to bring her in as well, but before he could get any closer, she grabbed him by the head and lifted him up. “Eh?” Silently, she turned him around so she was holding him by the legs. “Eh? Eh?” 

Then she shook him as hard as he could, and macca spilled from within the folds and pockets of his white loincloth. Comus’ macca. 

“Better keep an eye on this one. He pickpocketed you of everything you had.”

“C-Crikey! Can’t a guy show a little love around here without being given the criminal treatment?! By the way, horse-man, you ought to carry money on you. My nubblets are just full of sweat.” 

“Where would I put it?” Norgard asked with a startling degree of sincerity.

“Clothes! Wear clothes! Bloody hell, even I’ve got a loincloth to cover myself!” 

“Wait,” Jona said, “does that mean you have a--”

“Alright, everybody pipe down, will you?!” Queenie yelled, shutting them all up. “You got your three demons, the boss is coming in to congratulate you.”

Hope appeared once more on a video screen, his hands folded against his chin. It seemed patching himself in to speak to Comus was not one of his most anticipated events. “Comus, there you are. I’ve been monitoring your Burroughs, and it seems like you’ve recruited three demons.”

“Indeed I have! There’s Norgard,” he gestured to the centaur, who raised a hoof, “Jona,” he did the same to the Napaea, who crossed her arms defensively, “and…uh, what did you say your name was?”

“Lok, mate. You never told me yours, though, so chalk one up to your boss instead of you for manners.” 

“You…named them?” Hope said with no small amount of disgust, his face wrinkling. 

“I didn't name them, I’ll have you know! They were already named when I met them, as I assume is customary for sentient bein--”

“Samurai, you should know that demons are not to be treated in this way. You must not refer to them by their names. Otherwise, you’ll grow attached, and it will make it all the easier for them to betray you if you let them.”

Comus blinked, then looked back at his demons. “You all won’t betray me, will you?”

“Never,” Norgard said.

“Not unless I find a good reason,” admitted Jona.

“I might,” said Lok. Jona smacked him on the back of the head. “I-I mean, nooo, I would never do such a thing! Honest.” 

“Watch your back and exercise the greatest of caution, Samurai. As irritating as you may be, you’re still under my command, and I would hate to lose someone who was chosen by the Rite…for whatever reason,” he added under his breath. “Regardless, you did well on your assignment. Your next task will be to search the upper echelon of Naraku in order to recover a valuable item. It’ll be somewhere in the second stratum. Find it and return to Aquila Plaza, and you’ll have completed the quest. Understand?”

“Seems like busy work, mate,” Lok said with a nudge. “Isn’t there an easier way? Can’t you just nab it off some other poor bastard doing the same thing?”

“You,” Hope responded, “are the last one completing this particular assignment. There’s no chance of that happening. Go take care of it.”

And away he went. 

“We don’t even know what we’re looking for, do we?” Jona asked. 

“Yes, he…he has a tendency to just leave me hanging, I’m finding.”

~

Comus: 136 lb → 147 lb

Norgard (Centaur): 133 → 141 lb

Jona (Napaea): 111 lb → 119 lb

Lok (Mokoi): 120 lb → 130 lb

~

During the process of searching for whatever item it was that they had been tasked to find, Comus took the opportunity to go around searching for more allies. The more the merrier, after all, and considering how dangerous he’d seen Naraku to be first-hand, it was important to gather as much back-up as he could. 

Among the allies he’d gained was a limber Lham Dearg identifying himself as Royce who joined after Comus promised that he’d be able to try out all his jokes on them (a big mistake, considering the utterly lame puns he’d made upon first contact), a Fuxi--one of those ‘old man head on a bird body’ beasts Queenie had mentioned--named Ying who cared more about money and making it than even Comus seemed to, and a gryphon who simply stated his name, Alvertos, and stared until Comus relented and let him join. He felt strange about that last one, but there was no other choice they could make. He tried to even convince a slime to join the team, but the slime just growled at him, seemingly feral and without any faculties. He decided to leave them be. Lok had even proven his worth somewhat by teaching Comus Zio--an electric spell--and Dream Fist. 

Being that nobody could comfortably travel in a pack of seven together through the cramped caves of Naraku as Comus and his troupe now did, the demons not currently in use (all but Norgard, Jona, and Lok) were relegated to being stored within Queen B’s database. Queenie, oddly enough, had begun to complain of aches and pains in her circuitry, as though there was so much crowding her insides that it was starting to make it hard to function. Seeing as there was no other option, though, they had to make do. All the while, he and his allies searched Naraku high and low for the item they sought. 

Comus spent at least part of his time stuffing moss into his pockets in some vain hope that they were what Hope was looking for…or failing that, some kind of healing item. At one point, he’d even unearthed a chunk of unrefined copper ore, which he promptly sold on his next trip back up to Mikado for enough money to buy a sturdy wooden helmet. 

Now, as they make their way through the second stratum, Comus gets Norgard’s muscled form to try and help him up onto a ledge. Once one leg breached the edge, the other wasn’t far behind, and he sat back to catch his breath while Norgard helped Lok up. Jona simply rode a sphere up, her legs folded. 

“Is it just me,” she said, tilting her head at Comus, “or do you look a little…different, than before?” 

“Hff, hahh…what? How so?”

“I can’t quite put my finger on it, you just seem a tiny bit more…I don’t know…robust?” 

He sniffed. “Well, this is my first bit of proper physical activity in quite a long while…I guess it’d be natural that I’d start to form a bit of muscle, haha!”

“I don’t know about muscle, Coms, but you’re definitely starting to fill out that uniform...” 

He placed a hand on his midsection, finding that the space between his shirt and his stomach had shrunk somewhat. “That’s funny…”

“Pretty, uh…quick, ain’t it? I mean, when you activated me, you were just 117. It’s only been, what, a day? Two days? And you’re already up--”

“Oi! Lads, look over there!” Lok pointed a stubby limb down the rock hall, where at the end something small and golden shone against the torchlight. “How much would you wager that’s what we’ve been lookin’ all over for?”

“God, I hope so,” Comus muttered, rising to his feet. “I’m starting to get sick of this place.” 

It was only after the group had come within a few meters of the shining object that suddenly a cold wind blew through them all. Odd, considering they were underground where a draft would be impossible. The torches darkened, and through the walls, a veritable legion of ghostly huntsmen emerged carrying blue flames high, their horses neighing and whinnying as they clopped against the air. 

“Aw, crap, watch out!” Queenie shouted. “Disaster Horde, comin’ through!”

One of the huntsmen drew their bow and fired an arrow, hitting Lok straight in the middle of the head. He seemed to be only decently worse for wear, which was better than being dead. “Bloody ‘ell, that hurts!” 

“Jona, you heal Lok!” Comus ordered, raising his hands out and shooting out electricity while Norgard fired his own litany of needles from a spectral bow. Centaurs were always known for their archery skills, after all. Jona nodded and put out her hands, preparing to heal Lok, but not before roughly yanking the arrow out of his noggin with a splatter of greenish-white blood. 

One of the huntsmen clattered past and swung at Comus, delivering a severe gash to his chest. “S-Shit!” he coughed, specks of blood leaking from the corners of his mouth, but nonetheless he raised his hands and formed his own spectral bow, firing alongside his comrade. When he looked down, the wound was gone. He looked back at Jona, and she just gave him a smirk and a thumbs-up. He nodded back, sure that she had their back. 

In the end, it was a clean Dream Fist from Lok that finally drove the wild hunt away for good, and as they dissipated, Comus let out a sigh of relief. Thank goodness that's over with. He felt the heavy clap of hoof on his shoulder and turned around to see Norgard’s heads grinning a horsey smile. “Fantastic leadership, young one.” 

Jona shared the expression, though Lok was too busy dancing and celebrating his victory to commiserate. “Yeah, you keeping me on top of healing while you guys focused on attacking was a smart move. Maybe we might actually not betray you. You know, if we still feel like it down the line.” 

Comus blinked. Was he…was he actually inspiring them? He’d never done that before. To anyone. Not even the chickens back home. He felt a swell of emotion form in his chest, but before he could act on it, Queenie spoke up.

“Don’t forget to grab the thing!”

“O-Oh, yes, right.” He stumbled over and picked it up off the ground. It seemed to be a shiny copper ring with an inlaid green gem, designed for a woman’s slender finger. Just as soon as he’d picked it up off the ground and inspected it, though, Hope’s image appeared behind him.

“All units, this is Hope speaking. Now that Comus has found his ring, your training session has now officially come to an end.”

“It’s about time!” a petulant voice cut in, and appearing on another video screen was an obnoxious-looking Luxuror with his hair in a pompadour and a green necktie. “What caused you to dawdle so excessively? Not that I’m surprised that a Casualry such as yourself would linger like a lost child…”

“(Lookit that bloke’s hair!)” Lok whispered to Jona. “(Reminds me of one of those tropical birds. Voice’s similar too.)”

“Casualry?! Who said that?! Who called me that?! Don’t make me lay into you!” Comus protested, but unfortunately, this seemed to be a one-way communication: they couldn’t hear or respond to him.

“Lay off him, will you, Navarre?” Walter replied from another screen. “I’m sure he had a good reason for taking a while.” 

“You were quite late, though,” said a third voice, coming from another polite-looking man with fluffy hair and a yellow scarf. “Please do your best to take things a little more seriously in the future. The position of Samurai is one to fulfill with honor and pride, after all.” 

Closing each of their screens, Hope gave the final command: “Return to Aquila plaza at once.” And he vanished as well. 

Jona leaned in over Comus’ shoulder. “You wouldn’t happen to know who those people were, would you?” 

“I know Walter, and I rather dislike him for making me late to training. I dislike Navarre as he called me a Casualry, when in truth I am a temporarily embarrassed Luxuror. And the third guy I just don’t trust.”

She gave him a look. “Aren’t you pleasant to be around.”

“Indeed I am, thank you very much! Now come on, let’s head back up into town.”

~

Comus: 147 lb → 169 lb

Norgard (Centaur): 141 lb → 159 lb

Jona (Napaea): 119 lb → 128 lb

Lok (Mokoi): 130 lb → 148 lb

Royce (Lham Dearg): 123 lb → 141 lb

Ying (Fuxi): 101 lb → 110 lb

Alvertos (Gryphon): 146 lb → 155 lb

Chapter Text

Comus: 169 lb

Norgard (Centaur): 159 lb

Jona (Napaea): 128 lb

Lok (Mokoi): 148 lb

Royce (Lham Dearg): 141 lb

Ying (Fuxi): 110 lb

Alvertos (Gryphon): 155 lb

~

“So…you finished it,” Hope spoke, standing with his hands behind his back at Aquila Plaza in front of the five new Samurai. Walter, Navarre, the boy from earlier, a girl Comus hadn’t seen before, and Comus himself. “Regardless of how long it took, I’m glad you all made it out alive. Naraku is a dangerous place for anyone, even Samurai.”

“No thanks to this one,” Navarre quipped with a grin, nudging Comus on the shoulder. “And might I say, he’s already starting to look quite a bit…’unfit’ to be a Samurai. No wonder he took the longest, he probably had to stop every five minutes to catch his breath!” 

Regardless of how true or hurtful Navarre’s words were, Comus had now become noticeably rounder than he was before he set foot in Naraku. Not enough to be dramatic, and not enough to even really be worthy of pointing out, but it was enough to be obvious if you’d seen him earlier. Being that Walter and Hope were the only ones with that privilege, though, there was no way of knowing for Navarre and the others. His stomach now pressed against the belt across his middle ever so slightly.

Comus just glared at him. “Go suck a lemon.” 

Hope cleared his throat. “Comus, if you could return the ring to me.”

He really, really wanted to keep it. To sell it. To buy more inexplicably tasty healing items. But even with his pretensions, he couldn’t be dishonest to his boss, and he retrieved the ring with a sigh to hand it over. Hope pocketed it gingerly. “Looks like you’ve got what it takes to be a Samurai after all.”

“Congratulations, Comus,” the boy from earlier said, approaching him and extending a hand. “I’m Jonathan. I don’t believe we’ve met before, but it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Yeah, yeah…whatever. Thanks.” Comus shook his hand, though his gaze drifted back over to the woman with the red neckerchief. “Who’s the girl?”

“That’s Isabeau. Don’t worry about her--she informed me earlier that she had low estimations of you and, well…your poor performance must have cemented her first impression, I’m sorry to say.”

She glanced his way, though her expression was unreadable one way or the other.

“Perhaps in time, you’ll get to know her better just as you will with all of us?” Jonathan added hopefully.

“Yeah…yeah, maybe.”

“Alright, everyone, be sure to get some rest. You’re all dismissed.” Hope clapped twice and exited the plaza, leaving the Samurai to their own devices. 

“You there,” Navarre said, marching his way up to Comus. “What did Hope say your name was? Comma? I saw your little temper tantrum across the communications system, even if I couldn’t hear it. Walter is one thing, but I would wager that you’re an embarrassment even to the Casualry with your lethargy!”

“Huh?” Walter grunted at the mention of his name.

”And what did you tell me to do? ‘Suck a lemon’? I don’t suppose you think that’s funny, do you?”

“For your information, it wasn’t supposed to be funny. It was supposed to be insulting,” Comus said, crossing his arms. “Not to mention, you really should be kinder to me. I’m a Luxuror just like yourself in everything but status.”

Navarre blinked. “P…Pardon me?”

“Let me put this in a language you can understand. You see, I was born with a rich soul, but a poor body. A classy stomach, but poverty-stricken muscles. A noble spirit, but hands covered in chicken crap. There was some sort of error made when matching my soul up with my body, and it’s my duty to correct my path and place myself back on the path of a luxurious lifestyle!” Comus huffed. “If you can’t comprehend that, then maybe you are the one who is an embarrassment to the Luxurors, Navvy.”

For what it was worth, Navarre was simply too baffled to be insulted. His mouth hung open, struggling to come up with a way to respond to this man whose philosophy was completely foreign to him. 

Walter leaned in to Jonathan. “Do you get any of what this guy’s saying, Jonathan? As a Luxuror?”

“I suppose, when you think about it, there is no difference between a Luxuror such as myself believing they should be treated a certain way simply due to their status at birth, and a Casualry such as him thinking the same.” 

“I…don’t think I follow. But I certainly don’t mind watching someone stick it to Navarre and his smug attitude. Right, Isabeau?” 

Isabeau just looked at him. 

“...Okay. Good to know where you stand on the topic.”

Jonathan decided that enough was enough and stepped forward to part the two arguing men, putting his hands together. “You know, why don’t we all meet up on the rooftop? The breeze is veritably bracing up there, and the view of the Eastern Kingdom is unmatched when compared to anywhere else.” 

Walter raised his hand. “I’m game.”

Isabeau simply shrugged and waved a hand. “Count me out. I’ll be retiring to my room for the night, myself.”

Comus, who had been basically gripping Navarre’s shoulders with his own shoulders gripped and trying to wrestle him while in the same position as him, let go and brushed himself off. “I guess I wouldn’t mind.”

“Soooo, what, am I putting ‘Go to the Rooftop’ in as a quest? Guess I have to, otherwise you’re not gonna do it.” 

Navarre and Jonathan alike stepped back. 

“Was…was that your Burroughs?” Jonathan asked, shaken.

“Yeah, what’s up, fro-boy? I know I’m different, you got an issue?”

“She’s so…uncouth! I suppose it’s only right, though. A defective gauntlet for a defective Casualry,” Navarre said with a light chuckle. 

The black eye he picked up afterwards probably made him wish he hadn’t said that.

~

“Your Burroughs has quite a mouth on her, doesn’t she?” Walter said, lightly tapping the side of Comus’ gauntlet. “Quite unlike any woman I’ve seen. Except for Isabeau, perhaps, though I’d say she’s more ice than fire.” 

“Yeah, thanks. I feel really appreciated right now.”

Comus, Walter, and Jonathan now stood at the very peak of Mikado Castle, overlooking the whole kingdom. Jonathan wasn’t lying: the view was stunning, little buildings dotting the green countryside that sprawled out as far as the eye could see. White clouds rolled through the landscape, and the whole country seemed as though it was floating on one. It was regal and yet delicate, just like the royal house itself. The wind whipped around them, delivering a bit of a chill. 

Comus sighed with his hand on his hip. “So you’re telling me yours doesn’t act like this?”

“Not at all,” Jonathan answered. “Here, let me show you.” He activated his own gauntlet, and a similar image of Burroughs popped up. “Burroughs?”

“Hello, Master Jonathan. What do you need from me?” it said in an even-keeled voice.

“Don’t let that bimbo anywhere near me, will you? I don’t like associating with them. They freak me out. They’re like a bunch of high school girls, all dressing and acting the same and probably collectively banging the football team. Not to mention, ‘Master’? ‘Master’? What are we, a harem? I’m not calling Coms here ‘Master’ until he--” 

Comus turned his gauntlet off. 

“Thank you,” Jonathan sighed, turning his off as well. “I fear for the influence she may have over my Burroughs if the two were left to interact.” 

Walter snickered. “Hey, at least you’ve got some entertainment while you work, huh?” His gaze turned out to the sprawling grasslands before them. “I mean, me, battling demons is more than enough. I wasn’t expecting to be chosen, and afterwards, everything going so quickly…it’s been a lot to adjust to.”

“I concur,” admitted Jonathan. “The notion of abhorrent demons prowling about beneath our fair kingdom…I would have never thought such a thing was possible. If it were, I would have thought my father would have informed me. He works at the monastery, after all.”

“You’re telling me. I’m just glad I don’t have to linger back home and take up my father’s trade.” Walter shuddered. “I’m more than happy to fight demons. It’s like a sport, almost!”

“While I am glad you find joy in it, I prefer to think of it more as a sacred duty. After all, we’re protecting our fair kingdom from monsters who would see our villages burnt and our people decimated. We must maintain the peace, regardless of whether we find personal fulfillment in it or not.”

Comus crossed his arms, frowning. Both of them seemed to have no issues slaying demons, it seemed. What did that make him, then? He wondered what Walter and Jonathan would think if they knew that he called them by their names…actually, did they even have demons? Surely, they had to have recruited some themselves…though their teams were probably just the same as his own. There wasn’t much variety in the upper levels of Naraku, after all.

“Hoy,” Walter said, waving his hand in front of Comus’ face. “You in there?”

“Hm--?! Yes? What?”

“I asked what you thought, Comus. Are you with me, having fun putting demons in their place like you were born to, or do you just consider it a duty like Jonathan does?”

He opened his mouth and almost spoke what he thought--that his feelings were complicated to say the least, that he considered being a Samurai little more than a stepping stone, a requirement for achieving the lifestyle he desired, but that he was finding himself caring more for his demons day by day--but at the last moment, his mind changed. “I…suppose it comes naturally to me.”

“Haha, that’s what I thought!” He nudged Comus on the shoulder with his fist. “Us Casualry may be more alike than you think, eh?”

“What was that?!” Comus shouted. “What did you call me?! You know, Walt, I haven’t exactly forgiven you for waking me up late to head to training. I still owe you some proper punishment, like I gave to that ignorant fool from earlier!”

“W-Whoa, hey, hey, calm down, will you? It was just a joke, a joke!” He put his hands up and backed away.

“Comus, please,” Jonathan warned, “I’m sure he meant no ill will by it.”

“I am a Luxuror! A Luxuror! Anyone who says otherwise will have to answer physically, do you hear me?! Do you hear me?!”

Walter smirked. “If nothing else, you’re certainly starting to look like one. You look…somewhat rounder than you did when I first woke you.” 

Comus stopped. “...I am? Do…” With a slight blush, he looked down at his rounded midsection. “D-Do you really think it makes me look like a Luxuror? Honest-to-goodness?”

“If nothing else, you’re definitely starting to embody the idler nobles I’ve seen around the castle,” he added with a chuckle. “What did you say you were before you came here?” 

“I was, er…” No use in hiding it, he supposed. Plus, if Walter could see the beginnings of his transformation for what it was, then perhaps he wasn’t all bad.  “I was…a chicken farmer.” 

“Whoof. Tough work. No wonder you were so lean, eh? Maybe some meat on your bones isn’t all bad, heh.” 

Comus blushed a bit more and looked away, sheepish. 

“Walter,” Jonathan cut in, “don’t encourage him too much. Comus, you know, it’s important to pay attention to your health and your figure. As Samurai, it’s our job to be in peak physical condition in order to protect the Eastern Kingdom of Mikado and its people. I would advise not to let it get too out of hand.” 

“Ah, he’ll be fine, Jonathan. If it doesn’t get in the way of doing his Samurai duty, then I don’t see the harm in it. I just wonder how it’s been happening at all. Demon-slaying isn’t the least physical of activities.” 

Comus rubbed his cheek. “Maybe I’ve been eating too many healing items…”

“Pardon me?” Jonathan asked, leaning in. “You’ve been eating them?”

“Seriously?” Walter asked in turn, stifling a laugh.

“W-What else are you supposed to do with them?! They’re good, too! The life stones have this kind of powder on the outside, but they themselves have a gelatin-like interior with a sort of fruity filling, and the revival beads are sweet like crystal candy…” 

The two other Samurai just looked at each other. 

“No wonder he’s getting so big…” Walter murmured.

~

It took a little while, but as conversation petered out and the sun began to set, the decision was made for everyone to head to bed. 

That night, Comus had a strange dream. 

When he opened his eyes, he saw what seemed to be…a town? No, it wasn’t a town, the buildings were much too large and constructed with too much expertise to be human-made, their windows filled with fire and the solid black road beneath his feet being covered with rubble and carnage. The flames roared. Behind the flames, however, there were…other sounds. Sounds that sounded like heavy breathing. Sounds like great, rumbling, roars…no, not roars. Something deeper, wetter. And there were tons of them, all together in a cacophonic chorus. Where had he heard that sound before…? Not only that, but blurred and indistinct, visible along the roads and in the buildings, there were misshapen forms, some many times larger than Comus himself…

“Hoy,” a familiar voice echoed, and in front of him he saw a shadowy figure he could recognize as Walter. “You know what you want, don’t you? What we both want…come with me and change the world. Make it a paradise, an Eden of endless feasting and pleasure…” 

The scene dissolved. Then, slowly, it returned once again. Now Comus stood in an endless yellow desert, the air dry and full of sand that whipped about from the rolling breezes. Not a single living soul could be seen around them, the area seemingly having only ever been a desolate wasteland. To believe that anything else stood here once was unthinkable. In front of a huge stone face, half-buried in the dune, the figure of Jonathan stood with his hands behind his back. 

“Comus…you see the state of the people around you, don’t you? Fit, strong, ready and willing to protect their country and their people. There is no reason to give that all up for senseless pleasures. Fight, fight to preserve the health of the people…”

The scene dissolved once more…

“Hoy, Comus?”

Then Comus woke up in bed to the sound and sensation of Walter jostling him in bed. He groaned, covering his face. “If you woke me up late again for something, Walter, I swear, I’ll dash your skull against the steps of Mikado Castle…” 

He clicked his tongue. “Trust me, I don’t want to be your rooster-crower, but you’re one hell of a late riser. Maybe I should just let you be next time and see how far past noon you sleep, eh?” 

“Mrruuungh,” he grunted.

“You aren’t late for anything, Comus,” Jonathan clarified. This soon after waking up, that polite grin of his felt like acid in his chest. “Hope gave a call for all prentices to meet at K’s Tavern. We just wanted to let you know that we’ll meet you there.” 

“Yeah, sure, okay,” Comus grumbled, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. “Thanks, I suppose. Whatever.” 

There was no way Comus was facing his obligation once again without some breakfast, but the tavern probably held something he could pick up for himself. After all, demon fighting was hard work. Exhausting work, really. And as tasty as those healing items were, they weren’t exactly filling. Before he stopped by, though, he picked up some extra wooden torso and leg armor. Queenie noted that they looked to be built for Samurai who were on the fitter side, but as they covered all his vital points (namely, his heart and his crotch), Comus paid no mind and headed to K’s Tavern. 

The smell of fresh-cooked meat and drinks was like manna from heaven as he stepped into the bustling establishment. Standing behind the bar was K himself, the veteran samurai displaying his cool eyepatch and even cooler prosthetic arm. Hung up behind him on the wall was an enormous blackboard, a few workers being responsible for erasing and rewriting the text on it as was needed. 

“And so the overfed samurai is the straggler once again!” Navarre cracked, laughing as he leaned on the bar counter. He was holding a burlap satchel of ice over his left eye. “Not only that, defying all expectation, he seems even rounder than before! It shall be a sad day for all of Mikado when we finally have to start rolling one of our eminent samurai from building to building.” 

Comus snickered. “In the event it should come to that, you’ll be the first one I hire, Navarre. How’s that shiner treating you, by the by?” 

He recoiled at the thought, and that seemed to be enough to shut him up.

“Hoy, Comus. Glad to see you made it,” Walter said with a wave. 

“Yes. Hello, Walt. Jon,” he nodded to Jonathan, who judging by the change in his face didn't appreciate the casual regard. Then he turned to Isabeau. 

Isabeau…he’d never actually gotten to introduce himself to her, had he? According to Jonathan’s statement from earlier, she already didn't think much of him, and his lateness pretty much proved her right. Was that true? Perhaps he should make an effort to introduce himself to her…though, if she isn’t making the effort herself, maybe she has no interest. At the very least, they ought to be acquainted as fellow samurai though, right? He was just about to take a step towards her when K spoke up.

“Is this everyone? Great,” he chortled in a raspy tone, “now I can begin the explanation. Hope instructed me to call it a ‘lesson’, but…well, I’d say it’s more than that. This is the key to making life as a Samurai fun for you all. This blackboard behind me is…” 

K went into a detailed and helpful explanation about the process of challenge quests, accepting them, and the leaderboard rankings. Comus didn't pay much attention though, as he was too busy requesting a breakfast of toast and chipped beef, but when he came back, the mention of the real reward for completing these quests being the praise and renown one receives had passed his ears. He took a bite of his creamed chipped toast, positioning himself between Walter and Jonathan. “Praise? Renown? Ptuh. I don’t see the point of either of those things.” 

“Is that so?” Walter asked, intrigued.

“Naturally. Praise and respect come from people, which are fickle and temporary. Someone who claims to call you their hero could always decide the next day that they would kill you for five macca. The only thing you can reliably count on in this world is yourself.” He took another bite, gesturing with the toast and dripping some sauce onto the floor. “That’s why I instead strive to improve myself and my standing through any means necessary. And why it pains me so that I was cursed to be born in such an unbefitting social standing rather than my true one…”

He sniffed. He thought they’d be able to get along a bit better since they were both Casualry, but maybe this is as friendly as they were going to get. “You’re certainly an interesting one, if nothing else. But you should know, you also get monetary prizes and items as rewards for completing challenge quests.”

“Really? Well now, I suppose that’s alright then.”

“Hey, bozo. Hold up your gauntlet so I can register the quests.”

“Oh, yes, of course,” he said, raising his hand. 

“And at least cover me with a napkin or something so you don’t get sauce on me, for Pete’s sake!” 

“So, fellow prentices…” Navarre cleared his throat, turning to Walter and Comus with a scheming grin. “In the interest of building our camaraderie through some friendly competition, why don’t we hold a contest? Whoever can complete these three quests the fastest will be the victor. Naturally, I expect that I should be coming in first, but…consider it a test of comparison between a Luxuror, a Casualry, and…whatever you think you are.” 

Comus growled at Navarre, but before he could start another fight, Walter put his hand out. “You mean the three that we just got from the blackboard? I’ll take you up on it.”

“The first one, of course, is to gather three talons from the dreadful gryphons in Naraku and deliver them here to Mr. K. Those beasts are fearsome to a level that even seasoned Samurai fear them (or so I hear), so I highly doubt that--”

“Wait, gryphon talons? Hold on,” Comus interrupted, holding up a finger as he held his toast in his mouth and dug into his bag with his other hand. He approached the counter and dropped a handful of ivory talons onto the bartop with a clatter. “There you are. I think there should be five or six in there.”

K happily took them while the other Samurai looked on with mixed reactions. Navarre seemed both shocked and outraged, Jonathan and Walter alike looked impressed, and Isabeau seemed…intrigued. Comus looked back. “What’s next?”

Navarre blinked. “Er…y-yes. Yes! The quest after that is to collect some deep green moss from the walls of Naraku and--” 

Comus turned over his bag and a pile of moss fell out onto the counter. 

He gave Navarre a shit-eating grin.

“Oh, come on!” Navarre shouted, stamping his feet. “You must have known these quests’ content beforehand, surely! There was no way you could have known to gather these meaningless items otherwise! Simply no way!” 

“Hahaha! You have to admit, Navarre, he’s got us both beat already. We’d better pick up the pace if we want to beat him to the punch, don’t we?” 

“Curses--! You’ll see, you…you Luxuror wannabe!” He pointed at Comus, who now leaned on the bartop. “A gluttonous pretender like yourself has no place among us Samurai or us Luxurors! Mark my words! The last quest won’t prove to be so simple!” He lingered for a few seconds more, trying to find something to do to cap off his taunt, but he ended up just making a sound like ‘mneehh’ and hurrying out the door. 

Walter turned and gave a two-fingered salute, shouting “Best of luck to you!” as he followed Navarre out. 

“Oh me…I hope they don’t strain themselves trying to best you, Comus. I’d better take up the quests too and watch after them.” 

“You go do that, Jonny. I’ve already got a pretty good head start on them anyways, so I don’t mind,” Comus said with a snicker, watching Jonathan exit as well. He sighed and finished up his toast, licking his fingers clean as he did so. This samurai stuff is proving to be both harder and easier than he’d initially thought. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all. 

“You are Comus, yes?” a female voice asked from his side, and when he turned, his eyes met Isabeau’s. 

“Er, y-yes. You’re Isabeau, aren’t you?” 

“Yes.” She looked him over, lingering on his middle for a bit longer than usual. “...Regardless of how you may present yourself, you seem to be quite the capable Samurai. I’ll be interested in seeing how you fare in the future.” 

“Thank you?” he asked, unsure, and watched her exit as well. Once she’d passed by, he pocketed the ‘holy fruit’ he’d been given as a reward for the moss quest--odd red bulb-like things with a protrusion at the top--and activated his gauntlet. “Queenie, what do you think that was about?”

“What’s there to talk about? She thought you were a slacker before she met you, she thought you were a slacker after she met you, and now she’s starting to change her mind. Don’t go proving her first impressions right again.”

“I’ll try…what was the last quest Navarre gave me, anyway?” 

~

To defeat the beast Orthrus in the second stratum of Naraku was his next task. Apparently, it had been causing some trouble for some of the roving samurai as of late and needed to be taken care of. 

Venturing back down into the depths of the second stratum in search of the demon in question, Comus returned to his old tricks: that is to say, he sought out more demons to recruit. One of them, an odd little yellow hedgehog-like thing Queenie called a ‘Chagrin’, nearly scratched Comus’ face off but was easily swayed to his side with a life stone. She called herself Hipodil. Then, shortly after switching out the ability to shoot needles with the ability to shoot gusts of wind (Zan replacing Needle Shot), an off-putting lion-ant hybrid called a myrmecolion approached him. Its furred limbs were almost as thin as its insectoid ones, and it joined simply with the promise of something to eat. 

“Don’t fret, Rhayader,” Comus comforted the odd beast with a pet of its mane, “you’ll get plenty to eat under my wing.” 

“Rrrrr, good, good…I’m starving…” it murmured, dissolving into data as it was stored within Queenie’s system. Which, speaking of, she popped onto the screen immediately thereafter.

“Comus. We gotta talk.”  

“I know. Have you been noticing how oddly…thin, a number of the demons are around here? Hipodil joined just for one life stone, and Rhayader joined just because I promised it we’d get it some food. Do they not eat each other down here? I suppose that’d explain the numbers…”

“No! No. Not that. It is about your demons, though.”

“What about them?”

“There’s too goddamn many of them!” she shouted. A few paces away, Norgard and Jona, who were keeping watch, and Lok, who was searching for relics, looked up. Comus gestured for them to return to their duties. “It’s slowing down my circuitry keeping all these demons inside me. I’m just a wrist thing, not a smartphone, you get me?”

“No. What is a phone?”

“Ugh. Look. From here on? No more demons from Naraku. Even if you try to recruit one, I’m not taking it in. I physically cannot, I’m already lagging. You try to put one more in, I’m liable to spew them all out at once. Look, try to open the equipment menu.”

Comus prodded the ‘equip’ button. There was a full three-second delay between the contact and the menu actually opening. “Oh. I see what you mean. But, well, can’t I buy an upgrade to increase my stock? I can see the option here in the ‘app store’...”

“Yeah, no way. I’m not letting you buy that.” 

“Wh--why not?! I have enough points! I’m certain that if you had more space, it would be less uncomfortable for you.”

“If ifs and buts were candy and nuts, we’d all have a Merry fuckin’ Christmas, wouldn’t we? Just trust me on this, it’s not gonna work.” 

“Oh, fine,” Comus huffed. “I suppose I have eight demons already anyways. That feels like quite enough.”

“That’s the spirit. You’re right though, a lot of these demons seem like they haven’t had a bite in years. Yours are looking healthier by the day, though. Maybe a little too much so. I think I can see Norgard’s muscles softening a little, Jona’s stomach is starting to curve out from her midriff suit thing, and Lok is resembling a watermelon more than a cucumber at this point. Actually, I don’t even know what he’s supposed to be. A root, maybe?” 

“Screw you too, Queenie,” Lok replied from afar, raising a trunk-hand in what was supposed to be a middle finger. 

“Quiet, root boy. Also, don’t look now, but I think that’s Orthrus over there to the east.”

Comus looked up and prepared his sword, facing east and watching the hallway by one of the doors. Norgard and Jona took their positions beside him, followed by Lok waddling up behind them. “Prepare yourselves,” he warned them. “This beast could be dangerous. He could kill one or all of you. Or me. Just know what to expect: sharp teeth, razor claws, powerful magic…”

“Exposed ribs,” Jona added.

“Exposed ribs, yes…no, what?”

“Over there,” Norgard said, gesturing with a hoof towards the hallway. “I believe that is the Orthrus we seek?”

Padding slowly around the corner with its heads hung low was the fire-breathing canid beast known as Orthrus. It seemed heavily emaciated, its ribs visible even beneath its thinning turquoise mane. Lok covered his mouth. “Crikey, it looks…it looks sick. Shouldn’t we take it to a doctor or something? Jona, do some healing magic on it!”

“Healing magic is for wounds, not starvation,” Jona replied with a sigh. “Good idea, though. Zeus, look at that thing…”

Norgard looked down at his master. “Young one, what are our commands?”

Comus thought for a minute or two, his hand over his mouth with his eyes closed, and though it pained him, he had to come up with an answer. “I don’t think there’s anything to be done. We’ll have to put it down humanely. Norgard, you and I will use ice spells. Jona, you send a shot of wind, and Lok, you use Dream Fist. Do your best to aim for the vitals to make it as quick as possible.” 

Following their master’s instructions to a tee, they took care of the Orthrus quickly and without issue. 

“Jeez, you, uh…you really buckled down there, didn't you? Don’t think I’ve ever seen you like that.”

Comus sighed. “There’s nothing worse than being underfed, whether it should be human, animal, or demon. It’s denying the body the most basic of pleasures, not to mention the requirement for living. I had to put down a number of chickens back home when they wouldn’t eat, to keep them from wasting away.”

“Sheesh. Rough stuff. Either way, you completed the mission, so it’d probably be a good idea to head back up to Mikado.” 

“Yes, I think you’re right,” he mused, putting a hand over his abdomen. 

“I could use a good meal right about now.”

~

Comus: 169 lb → 185 lb

Norgard (Centaur): 159 lb → 167 lb

Jona (Napaea): 128 lb → 137 lb

Lok (Mokoi): 148 lb → 157 lb

Royce (Lham Dearg): 141 lb → 150 lb

Ying (Fuxi): 110 lb → 119 lb

Alvertos (Gryphon): 155 lb 

Hipodil (Chagrin): 148 lb

Rhayader (Myrmecolion): 146 lb

Chapter Text

Comus: 185 lb

Norgard (Centaur): 167 lb

Jona (Napaea): 137 lb

Lok (Mokoi): 157 lb

Royce (Lham Dearg): 150 lb

Ying (Fuxi): 119 lb

Alvertos (Gryphon): 155 lb 

Hipodil (Chagrin): 148 lb

Rhayader (Myrmecolion): 146 lb

~

Comus slid another couple gryphon talons across the counter to K, ripping apart a small leg of mutton as he did so. K performed the typical duties of a tavern owner--cleaning the same empty glass with a dirty rag--and gathered up the talons. “Nope, can’t say I’ve ever seen a demon that scrawny that wasn’t supposed to look that way.” 

“Strange,” he replied, taking another bite. 

“But, you know, Naraku really is just a cave. Nothing but moss grows down there. I say, if they die out, Mikado will be all the better for it. Maybe then we could put in some extra housing there for the Casualry, heh,” he chuckled. “I’m sure it’d probably be a bit more comfortable than baking in the sun while working in mud pits for some people.”

He doubted whether that would be a good thing or not. The sad, desperate look in that Orthrus’ eyes had stuck with him long after it had passed on. He knew that look, and had seen it all too often…not only in the eyes of animals, but in the eyes of people, the sick and the hungry wishing only for the smallest morsel of food to allow their continued existence. It made him sick. 

“Pardon me,” someone said behind Comus. It was a male samurai he didn't recognize. “Are you one of the new prentices?”

“Yes, what of it?” 

The samurai looked him over. Comus’ size was now enough to set him apart from all the others, and if nothing else, he now truly resembled a Luxuror in shape. A small pooch belly was clearly straining the midsection of his newly-bought knight’s plate armor, and the start of a slight double chin could be seen…though admittedly, it did complement his dark curled hair and also newly-bought red earring. His expression even seemed a bit more serious than it had been a few days ago. He was really coming into his own as a samurai, it seemed.

“Well…I wanted to come to ask you something. You see, Navarre has gone missing, and he was last seen in Naraku. Do you think you could…go and find him?”

Comus raised his eyebrow. “And why, exactly, should I go out of my way and put myself on the line, for someone like him?”

“Now, Comus,” K cut in with a chuckle, leaning on the bartop, “that isn’t the attitude to have. As a Samurai, you’re supposed to have each other’s backs. No matter your personal squabbles, it’s all of your duties to combat the demon menace and protect the people of Mikado. It’s a responsibility. If I stopped serving everyone I didn't like, I’d lose half my customers, hahaha!” He busted out laughing, earning himself a few looks of ire from the folks in the tavern.

“Mmmm. What about Walt, or Jon, or Izzy? Can’t they do it?” 

“I tried looking for them, but I don’t have a clue where they are, and Naraku is dangerous enough as is…please, could you?”

He groaned and flopped back dramatically enough to demonstrate how much of a hassle it was for him. “Uuuugh, fine. But I won’t like it.”

“T-Thank you. And, if possible, could you be…discreet about this? Navarre treasures his reputation more than anything else, and if word were to get out that he had to be saved by a…” he stopped himself, remembering the rumors that had already spread, and cleared his throat. “One he views as a ‘lesser Luxuror’, he may very well choose death over the humiliation suffered.”

Well, no matter how he felt about Navarre, he certainly didn't want that. Comus sighed. 

“Alright. I’ll take care of it. Where was he last seen?” 

~

It was thankfully a short trip only marred by a few pesky demon encounters, though by now, Comus and his group were more than capable enough to take them on. He even passed by Isabeau at one point, though by the time he’d caught up to where she was, she’d already vanished. So much for ‘I couldn’t find them anywhere’. That samurai probably just wanted to foist his own work onto Comus. Typical. 

Norgard looked over at his master, keeping pace well. “Young one, who are we searching for, again?”

“His name is Navarre. Look for a human--like me--with a green neckerchief and a silly haircut that kind of makes him look like a rooster.” Comus gestured with his hands, trying to get across the shape of a cock’s comb. “If he annoys you within ten seconds of meeting him, you’ve got the right guy.”

“Wait up, you lot, will ya?!” Lok called after the others, toddling along on his stubby little limbs. “I’ve only got so much tread t’ work with, here!” 

“It isn’t our fault that you weren’t blessed with longer legs,” Jona added, floating through the air past him with a shrug. “Some demons are just built differently, I suppose.”

“Right, well, I’m not built for walking long distances, you know? I’m built for pickpocketing! This is perfect thievery height! …Not so good for anything else, though.”

She crossed her arms, floating backwards and looking down at him. “How many demons do you find here that even have pockets? The Lham Deargs around here wear kilts, and centaurs like Norgard don’t have any clothing to speak of.”

“It’s true,” the centaur conceded, “I have no use for the invention known as ‘pockets’. I carry nothing with me.” 

“What about that five macca I gave you?” Comus asked from over his shoulder. “Don’t tell me you…”

He laughed loudly. “Far from it, young one! I gave it to the less fortunate among us.”

“Bloody hell, what are you, a charity worker?! Besides, it’s not the demons I take from, it’s the samurai!” Lok leaned towards Jona and whispered, his odd slit-like mouth curved into a sly grin. “Ones like that one over there.” 

“Why haven’t you taken what you wanted and escaped, then?” Jona asked, unimpressed.

“W-Well, y’know…why waste my energy trying to pinch macca off of random samurai to use for food when I can just get an easy source from this poor sap? It’s a matter of practicality. You’re all about that, aren’t ya, Jonie?” 

“Don’t call me that, but I suppose you are correct…”

“Wait,” Comus said, putting out his hand to stop the others. 

Just as they were about to pass the threshold into the third stratum proper, a figure in a robe with a hood covering their face stepped out. Even with his facial features hidden, the tone of his voice revealed a mocking sneer. “Hmph, the Casualry slob with pretensions of glory…I’ll show you there are fundamental limits to life that--”

“Navarre, if that’s you, I swear, I’ll split you in half vertically.”

The hooded man stopped, shaken by the threat. “...No, I’m…I’m not him.”

“It’s not? So you’re just here to gloat to my face. Listen, I’m looking for Navarre, so if you see Isabeau or Jonathan…actually, I just saw Jonny, he’s in that room upstairs. Just kind of standing around. Not helping.” Comus sniffed. “Leaving me to do all the work. As per usual.”

“Enough! You Casualry will know your place regardless of who’s doing the sentencing!” the figure shouted, thrusting out his arm and using his gauntlet to summon two figures. 

Nagas were what Queenie’s ID software called them, gaunt merman-like humanoids wielding spears and with flowing white hagoromo shawls. They clanged their spears together in a show of strength, and then prepared themselves for battle.

“Alright,” Comus puffed out a short exhale and shook out his hands, drawing his sword. “If that’s the way it’s going to be, then I suppose I’ll try to make this quick.” 

The battle plan was simple: Comus would focus on dealing as much damage to one naga--the one on the left with the narrower face--as possible with his Zan wind spell, Lok would keep up the barrage with his Dream Fist technique, and Norgard would fire needles, while Jona would keep an eye on healing. The goal was to knock out one naga as soon as possible so as to keep from being barraged with attacks. The nagas seemed to favor quick jabs with their spears, and Norgard got clipped in the arm with one of them, making him dissolve the bow he was using for his needle shots. “Ma Dia--!” 

“On it!” Jona clutched one of her spheres, holding it to her forehead, then tossed it to Norgard. In an instant, the puncture had healed over. 

Both his heads whinnied, turning their attention to her. “Not quite the Dia I meant, Jona, but it is appreciated.”

“Norgard!” Comus called, delivering blast after blast of wind to the same naga. The slithering motion made it difficult to achieve more than a glancing blow, surface-level cuts from the wind. It was nonetheless undeterred, and drove forward with its spear gripped tightly in both hands. “Turn around!” 

Norgard turned around just in time for the seemingly scrawny naga to deliver a full body check right into the centaur’s ribcage, sending him flying with its unexpected might. He hit the staircase behind them hard, sliding down a few steps as blood forced its way out of both his mouths. 

“Shite!” Lok cursed, narrowly dodging another couple jabs from the enemy nagas’ spears. “Ho ho, so you like playing dirty, do you, you cheeky cunts? Then I--”

Unfortunately for him, he made the same mistake that Norgard did: that brief lapse in situational awareness that has proven to be the death of so many commanders, warriors, and armies throughout history.

He took his eyes off the enemy. 

The other naga--with a rounder face and a ponytail--made full use of the brief window of opportunity he’d been granted and smirked cruelly just before delivering the very same kind of lunge to Lok. Norgard was tall and burly, the tallest of the group, and he had already built up enough muscle to withstand a blow like that. Lok was no fighter. He barely even came up to Comus’ waist. He was a petty thief, and that was all he’d really ever wanted to be. 

The impact sent Lok flying through the air, zipping past Comus and hitting the steps hard enough to leave a small impact crater. His head hung down, his arms splayed out, and a thin black shadow-like liquid seemed out from his wounds. 

“Lok!” Comus screamed, dropping his sword and turning on his heel. He dropped to his knees, taking hold of the mokoi’s shoulders and shaking him fiercely. “Lok, speak to me! Damn it, are you alright?! Hold on, I should have some life stones and a revival bead in my bag, I-I can fix this--” 

He forced open Lok’s mouth and jammed the revival bead in with his thumb. 

Nothing happened. 

“Comus, what in Hades are you doing?!” Jona yelled from beside him, already sending another healing sphere into Norgard’s chest. “Get back in the fight or they’ll get you too!” 

“But, but--” He looked over his shoulder. The hooded man was standing there, smiling with his arms crossed. “You! W-Whoever you are, call off the fight! My demon, Lok, he’s very badly hurt! I need to get him medical attention!” 

That seemed to make him take pause. The nagas even faltered in their attacks, positioning their spears but no longer thrusting them. Then he stifled a laugh. “Are you seriously concerned about the welfare of a demon, Casualry? Are you that starved for companionship that you expect me to stop this fight just because one of those monsters is injured?”

“Y-You…” he smoldered, standing back up. 

“I can guarantee he wouldn’t have thought twice had you been the one to die. He even very well would have rifled through the pockets of your corpse just to scrape together whatever loose change you had on you. Now,” he said with a little mocking laugh, “forget that waste of space and fight, or my demons and I shall kill you all the easier!” 

Queenie’s LED screen lit up. “You gotta keep going, kid. I’m…I’m sure he’ll be fine. You’re in the middle of a fight, you can’t give up now, otherwise you and your demons’ll end up just like him! Do you want that?! Huh?!”

Comus looked down at his gauntlet with a haunting expression of despair and rage. In the display, Queenie visibly stepped back a bit from the screen with her hands up. “...Sorry. I guess that was a bit much. Still, you--oh shit, watch out, watch out!”

One of the nagas was charging forward once again. Acting on reflex, Comus reached for his sword, and realized only too late that he had dropped it when he saw Lok mortally wounded. He wrenched his eyes shut, anticipating a fatal blow of his own…

“Eat needles, dirtworm!” a squeaky voice rang out, along with the sound of shooting needles quickly followed by a guttural scream. When Comus opened his eyes, he saw that the demon who had saved him was the chagrin he’d recruited earlier in the day.

“H…Hipodil?”

She stared up at him with her beady blue eyes and shouted, “You owe me big-time for only bringing me out to save your butt, face-stuffer! Life stones! And tons of them! And a full meal from that tavern place!” 

“I…” He looked back at the body of Lok, wincing at the sight of the fallen mokoi, and as much as he so badly wanted to just run away, he knew he wouldn’t ever forgive himself if he let this man go free after what he’d done. His resolve renewed, he nodded. “You’ll get all you want and more if we win this fight!”

“Hells yeah!” Hipodil cheered.

The first priority was retrieving his weapon, above all else. Comus took three short breaths, then sprinted full throttle into the fray, making a bee-line to where he’d left his sword. Norgard rose, attempting to support his master, but one of the nagas slammed into him once again and he only barely managed to remain on his hooves. Jona remained on healing duty, whispering to Norgard, “Keep your distance. Focus on attacking without getting too close to them. You got that?”

“I only take orders from the young one,” he murmured with some uncertainty.

“Then consider it a suggestion,” she replied, “just so I don’t run out of magic healing you.”

Comus himself weaved past the naga that had charged Norgard, coming within a few paces of the sword when the other naga--the narrow-faced one from before that they had been focusing their attacks on--launched itself into him with its serpentine lower half, sending the samurai tumbling across the stone floor and scraping himself up something fierce. Left on his knees and elbows, he struggled to raise his head and saw the naga responsible looming over him. It drew its thumb across its neck.

He grinned, gritting his teeth. “As you wish…!” Then, like sending out a whip, he shot out his hand with a sudden gust of razor-sharp gale force that found its target. The naga’s throat had been slit to the point where its head bobbed on its shoulders, a fountain of blood spewing from the gash. It dropped to the floor. Off to the side, the hooded man fell back in shock.

Comus grabbed his sword and staggered back to where the other naga was battling his demons. 

“Jona,” he started, but she was on him before he could even request assistance. 

“No need to say anything,” she said, producing another healing sphere. From a distance, he watched as Norgard and Hipodil circled the remaining naga, Norgard firing phantom arrows from his ephemeral bow like the Sagittarius he embodied and Hipodil shooting out her quills, accompanying each with a short celebration and insult. The naga was looking like a certified pincushion at this point, and each desperate lunge it tried to make was deftly dodged by the two of them. Eventually, it found that its current strategy wasn’t working, and when it turned to address its fellow, it only found a corpse. Its face twisted in rage, and it broke free from Norgard and Hipodil’s circle to charge Comus, who was facing away from it. 

Jona floated back, her hands out in front of her. “Comus, be careful, I did just heal you but--”

“It’s alright, Jona,” he said with a tone that she hadn’t heard from him before. It was a very stoic, committed tone. Not the sort of thing one would typically hear from someone who claimed to only want the sensual pleasures in life. 

“If there’s one thing I’ve learned from this ordeal,” he began, and just as the naga’s spear was about to come into contact with his back, he whipped around and shoved his palm into its nose, sending a shock of Zan magic through its head. Its brains leaked out of a cavern in the back of its scalp, and it fell with a heavy thud. 

“It’s to always keep an eye on your enemy.” 

Norgard and Hipodil regrouped with the others, the little hedgehog bouncing up and down while waving her arms. “Hey! You know, this horse-filth isn’t so bad! I typically piss on horses and make them sick, but maybe I’ll spare this one!” 

The centaur let out a heavy sigh, all four of his eyes focusing behind Comus. “Don’t celebrate just yet. I believe there is one more enemy that must be addressed.” 

All four of them turned to glare at the hooded Luxuror, who scooted back a few feet and was shaking so badly he could hardly keep sitting up. He couldn’t even utter a single complete word, not before scrambling to his feet and running screaming deeper into Naraku. 

“Halt!” Norgard shouted, summoning his bow once more. “Come back, you coward!”

“Let him go.”

Jona put a hand on Comus’ shoulder. “Comus…?”

He looked back towards the stairs, facing Lok’s corpse.

“We need to take care of him first.”

~

Comus: 185 lb → 217 lb

Norgard (Centaur): 167 lb 

Jona (Napaea): 137 lb → 146 lb

Lok (Mokoi): 157 lb → X

Royce (Lham Dearg): 150 lb 

Ying (Fuxi): 119 lb → 128 lb

Alvertos (Gryphon): 155 lb → 164 lb

Hipodil (Chagrin): 148 lb → 157 lb

Rhayader (Myrmecolion): 146 lb → 155 lb

~

At first, Comus wanted to give Lok a proper funeral and bury him in the woods outside of the Mikado castle town, but Queen B dissuaded him from doing so. After all, the people of Mikado didn't look kindly on demons, whether they were dead or alive. What baffled her, though she said nothing, was the demon’s refusal to revive. Typically, a demon could be brought back after dying with an item, or even just a good rest, but it seemed that nothing they did worked. Lok’s corpse simply remained as it was. Left with no other option, Comus exited the castle town and stood beneath one of the trees beside the lake as the wind flowed through his hair. He looked to his left, then to his right, and once he’d made sure that there was no one close by watching, he summoned Norgard, Jona, and Hipodil. 

“Gyah! The sun! Big dumb hot-ball!” Hipodil hissed, covering her eyes and rolling around on the floor. “Turn it down, already! I hate it!” 

Jona and Norgard were similarly disoriented, having not seen the sun in…well, ever, considering Naraku was entirely underground. Norgard shielded his hands with his hooves, while Jona did the same with a squint. 

“You sure this is safe, Coms? If someone spots you, you’ll have to have a pretty damn good explanation queued up,” Queenie warned.

“Yes, it will only take a moment.”

Blinking hard, Jona rubbed her eyes. “What are we even out here for, anyway?” 

Comus reached up and plucked a leaf from the tree above him, broad and a vibrant green. 

“Back at the farm where I grew up, whenever one of our farm animals died prematurely, it always affected me quite badly. My mother taught me how to pay respects to them in the same way that she always had, and it’s always made me feel a little better.” 

“Like funeral rites?” Norgard asked, squatting on the grass beside him. 

“I suppose so, yes. You write the name of the fallen on a leaf with your finger, speak their name, and send it out into the wind. That way, their soul will return to nature.” 

“I don’t get it,” Hipodil huffed, sitting back up with her stubby tail whipping about. “Demons die and come back all the time! The cucumber guy should be fine, right? Plus, you kill demons all the time! Who cares?” 

“She does kind of have a point. It seems kind of strange to do all this just because you happened to know one demon’s name and get to kind of like them before they died,” Jona concurred.

Comus didn't respond, and wasn’t planning on doing so as he couldn’t justify it himself, but Norgard spoke for him. 

“The young one does this for the same reason one mourns their fallen comrades in a war rather than the enemy soldiers. Nothing more needs to be said.”

They both seemed to understand.

Comus traced Lok’s name out on the leaf with his finger. 

He lifted it to his lips and said “Lok,” closing his eyes. 

Then, he clasped it between his hands in a small prayer. The others followed suit.

“May you find peace and great riches wherever you go.”

And the leaf floated away in the wind.

~

Comus: 217 lb

Norgard (Centaur): 167 lb 

Jona (Napaea): 146 lb

Royce (Lham Dearg): 150 lb 

Ying (Fuxi): 128 lb

Alvertos (Gryphon): 164 lb

Hipodil (Chagrin): 157 lb

Rhayader (Myrmecolion): 155 lb

Chapter Text

Comus: 217 lb

Norgard (Centaur): 167 lb 

Jona (Napaea): 146 lb

Royce (Lham Dearg): 150 lb 

Ying (Fuxi): 128 lb

Alvertos (Gryphon): 164 lb

Hipodil (Chagrin): 157 lb

Rhayader (Myrmecolion): 155 lb

~

“You’re saying it wouldn’t revive? No matter what you did?” K asked incredulously, leaning over the counter. “I find that hard to believe, Samurai. Demons are like the worst of pests, you couldn’t keep them down even if you physically tied them down. You mentioned you tried using one of those revival beads demons sometimes spit up as well, already?”

“I did,” Comus sighed, shaking his head, “and it was no good. I’m surprised to hear they’re supposed to be able to be revived so easily, frankly.”

“It’s true. That’s what makes them a pain. They grow back like grass, haha!” 

He winced at the laughter, but said nothing else. It wasn’t like he could confess what it felt like to have one of the demons he’d spent time with and who had protected him die under his watch with K, after all. He’d once led many battalions of samurai, true, but he’d also slaughtered countless demons. Would he understand thinking of the demons as your own kin? Would Jonathan, or Walter, or Isabeau? Does he even understand it, himself? Who knows. Comus just stabbed a grilled potato with a metal fork, trying to focus more on the taste and filling his stomach rather than the lingering feelings of grief he was dealing with. The tavern food, while not exceptional by any means and even considered quite subpar by the Luxurors, was better than anything Comus had had before ever coming to the castle town, and he found it one of his favorite perks of samurai life. 

That isn’t to say it hadn’t affected his figure quite a bit, mind you. Between ingesting the healing items (which K was shocked to hear as well, trying to explain that you were just supposed to have your demons absorb them--’is it not the same thing?’ he had replied, and was unable to understand any further) and his frequent meals taken at K’s Tavern, Comus had grown quite a bit. His stomach now was only kept from encroaching onto his lap by the torso armor he wore, which compressed his body tightly with its steel plates…though even those seemed to be jutting out a bit more than usual these days. He’d bought a pair of pants to accompany it, but the blacksmith warned him that the armor wasn’t exactly made for samurai of his…ahem, stature. Comus still insisted on taking it, though now he was facing the reality that his widened thighs pressed against the backs of the thigh and calf plates enough that any puncture through them would probably draw blood. His arms had grown softer, stretching the dark fabric that ran beneath the armor and gauntlets he wore, and a true double chin had developed, albeit one that was somewhat small. 

“Well…either way, thank you for the meal, K. Your chefs are very skilled.” 

He laughed. “I’ll let them know. It’s the least I can do for a fellow samurai. Just be sure not to overindulge, you hear? Otherwise, I’ll have to cut you off like I do my drinkers.”

Comus muttered something about it being ‘his right to overindulge’, but he lacked the energy to fight K on the matter of his desires. Instead, he opted to finish his food, dreading the return to Naraku. 

He still had to find that bastard Navarre, after all.

~

Comus: 217 → 225 lb

Norgard (Centaur): 167 lb 

Jona (Napaea): 146 lb

Royce (Lham Dearg): 150 lb 

Ying (Fuxi): 128 lb

Alvertos (Gryphon): 164 lb

Hipodil (Chagrin): 157 lb

Rhayader (Myrmecolion): 155 lb

~

The march back down into Naraku was quite the contrast from what it had been before. Norgard, Jona, and Hipodil walked in a group behind Comus, scaling the steps as he did so, and not a minute passed by where he didn't look over his shoulder at them to ensure that they were all still following. He didn't say a word. Not only that, but after battles, even if they had only been given a surface-level scratch, he would force them to chow down on life stones. 

“What’s up with the soft dirt-man? He isn’t opening his putrid human mouth!” Hipodil squeaked through a mouthful of life stone jelly, the nearly-spherical hedgehog riding on Norgard’s shoulder. 

“You know what I think?” Jona responded, chewing on one herself. “I think he’s trying to distance himself from us. Losing Lok hurt him a lot, after all, and we’re outlasting him. Imagine how he might feel if one of us dies. It’s sad, but it makes sense.” 

Norgard whinnied. “Give the young one some lenience, you two. This is an odd situation for all of us. Even among my fellows, I’ve seen centaurs drop and return. It is a product of, I believe, the unique status of us as demons. Perhaps it is for that same reason why the box woman is able to transport us to her miniature comfort worlds.” 

“Maybe,” she said, swallowing her mouthful. “Is yours also an open field surrounded by trees with some column ruins in the middle?” 

“Why, yes, it is.”

“What?!” Hipodil shouted, grabbing one of Norgard’s ears. “Mine’s all sand! Sand and ruins! You tell that filthy box-woman to put me in a nice field next time! Preferably one with lots of food!” 

Jona licked her fingers clean. “I wonder, though, does that mean what happened to him will happen to us, too? Will we be unable to be revived? If he’s cursed, then--”

“People!” Comus yelled, turning around. “Please, pay attention and stay alert. Try not to talk amongst yourselves too much. I don’t want…” he trailed off, crossing his arms. “I don’t want you all being ‘off your game’, as it were.”

“Oh, be honest with them, will you? It’s the least you could do if you’re gonna make a scene like that in case what happened with Lok happens again,” Queenie chimed in, and Comus promptly turned her off. 

She turned herself back on. “Don’t you turn me off, asshole!” 

“Let me access my quests!” 

“Fuck off, why’d you turn me off then?!” 

“Shush!” He turned her back off. She turned herself back on. 

They continued to bicker even as one of Norgard’s four ears perked up, and he turned around. A shadow--no, a mass of shadows was closing in on them from the way they’d come. He opened his mouths to speak, but Jona noticed the same thing just as quick and nodded. Hipodil blinked. “What is wrong with you two, smell-horse and pink-worm?” 

“Young one,” Norgard said, “stop fighting with the box woman and look around you!” 

“Norgard, look, I’m sorry, but I’m really trying to…to…” he did as he was told to and looked around. “...Oh, shoot.” 

Crowded around them was a horde of the corpses of fallen samurai, now having risen from their impromptu graves. Each one of them was rotting, falling apart at the seams with putrid green skin and mouths stained with red blood--the blood of the living. They groaned and gurgled in unison as they staggered forward, their hands desperately grasping for flesh to devour. 

Before he could react, Comus felt teeth sinking into his thick neck. “Gah--!” he croaked, socking the zombie who’d bit into him over his shoulder and knocking its head clean off. Its teeth remained stuck in his neck, however, and he stumbled to one knee. Jona flew over. “Comus! How are you? Do you need healing?”

“I-It should be fine, it was just a shallow b--” he coughed. “A shallow bi--” he coughed again, doubling over. Then he dropped to his palms and vomited up his meal from the tavern. “I-I may be sick. I think I have a Dis-Poison in my bag, could you get that for me before I start retrieving yesterday’s food too?” 

She threw open his bag, rummaging through until she retrieved a small vial of yellowish liquid, being labeled as ‘Dis-Poison’ according to a slip of paper glued to the side. Suspicious, but the least of her concerns at the moment as she uncorked it and administered it to him.

“No need to worry!” Norgard boomed, taking up a defensive stance beside Comus and putting out his hooves. Small clouds of icy mist swirled around them. “I and Hipodil will make quick work of these undead. Isn’t that right?”

“As long as I get some life stones out of this! Alright, you nasty dirt-fiends,” Hipodil said with a snicker, turning around and preparing her spines, “get ready for a taste of--huh?!” 

One of the zombified samurai had picked her up with his bare hands, unable to feel the pain due to his nerves having died ages ago. She wriggled and thrashed, jabbing his hands and filling his front with needles, but she was simply too small to escape.

“L-Let me go! Let me go, you ugly, stinky, nasty, piece of--”

The undead samurai, caring not for the numerous perforations it resulted in throughout his neck and chest, brought Hipodil to his mouth, bit down on her neck, and wrenched off her head. Her writhing stopped immediately. 

Norgard grit his teeth, cursing himself for not acting sooner. He put out a hoof and, with a single attack, froze three or four undead samurai in one fell swoop, delivering a sweeping kick to shatter the lot. “Young one!” he called back behind him. “Summon another demon, now!” 

“A-Another one?” Comus asked, staggering to his feet. At least now his stomach didn't feel like it was exploding. “But I have three demons out already, don’t I?”

He didn't reply, just looking at Comus as the small wings on his shoulder blades flapped. Comus met his gaze. Then he looked back at Jona, who was just as concerned. Then it registered with him, and he winced as though he’d been stabbed.

“Damn it…” he grumbled, raising his gauntlet. “Uh, er, okay, who, who should I send out…Rrrrgh, you’ll have to do!” 

In a flash of light and pixels, there was the piercing cry of an eagle and the flap of huge, heavy wings. The burgundy-furred gryphon wasted no time with introductions, instead lunging forward with another cry that echoed off the walls of Naraku, his iron talons out and ready to kill. 

And kill he did. The gryphon ripped and tore through the undead samurai, sending fetid half-rotten guts splattering not just over the cave walls, but over Comus and the other demons as well. One had their throat sliced and went down, the other was cut in half and fell into a pile of her own intestines, yet others had their heads chopped off, some being thrown into a pile against the wall where they were mashed against one another in a heap. Jona and Norgard were frozen, not wanting to get in the way of the slaughter, and Comus just watched in shock. 

When the massacre was over and the rapidly-decaying corpses littered the cave floor, the gryphon flapped his wings once more and descended in front of Comus, sitting in much the same manner as a lion would, his blood-soaked talons placed together before his spread furry hind legs. He bowed his head.

“The dead have been returned to their true, final resting place, Master. Shall I kill any more?” 

Comus blinked, shaking his hands to try and get some of the zombie blood off of him. He would have to bathe when he returned to Mikado, certainly. “Er, no, you did good. Thank you…uh…?”

“Alvertos. I swear to serve you until my dying day, Master.” 

“I see,” he replied, sighing as he stepped towards one of the frozen samurai corpses. It was holding a small, spiky body in its grasp. Comus reached out with a hand, intending to take it from the corpse, but even brushing his hand against the needles made them crack and fall off. He stood back up straight. 

“...Should, uh…should we head back to Mikado, then?” Queenie asked gingerly.

“No. We’ll keep moving,” he decided, looking back at his demons. “Good work, everyone. Keep an eye out for more hordes like that and don’t get taken by surprise.”

There was the sound of footsteps a short ways away.

Suddenly, Alvertos straightened. “A straggler. He shall face the same fate as the rest of them. Pardon me, Master.” His slit-pupiled eyes dilated to black circles, and he launched himself off the ground with enough force to send some rubble flying, barreling towards the staggering figure. The torches’ flames flickered with the gust he generated, and he extended his claws out, ready to tear this final zombie limb from limb…

“Stop!” Comus shouted, and with impressive control, Alvertos immediately put out his wings and halted, dropping to the floor. He and the others ran over, and what they found was not a remaining undead samurai, but rather a very much living (if quite injured) samurai.

“Walter?” 

He seemed to be bleeding from his arm and nose, and limped past Alvertos with a wary eye. “Hoy, nnrgh--! Comus…you’re lucky my demons and I happen to be indisposed at the moment, or else I might have cut this one down.”

“You would have failed,” Alvertos said with no intonation. “No man can kill that which does not live.” 

“Okay. Creepy. I assume he and those two beside you are your demons, then?”

Comus helped support him. “T-They are, yes. How did you know?”

“I figured as much. They seem a bit healthier than the wild ones that roam Naraku.” 

He looked back at his demons. Norgard was still substantially muscular, much moreso than either of the humans before him, but he had gone from being lean and vascular to now having a healthier build meant for strength. His torso was no longer an inverted triangle, but was now closer to a rectangle with an inverted trapezoid on top for his chest. His muscles had lost a bit of definition, but he still was impressively built. Jona was by no means fat, but she had certainly thickened a bit, her stomach pushing out of the gap in her outfit with some softness and her thighs now touching with her feet together. Alvertos was indistinguishable from the other gryphons in the area for the most part, but he certainly seemed sturdier just by virtue of how he held himself. 

Jona crossed her arms, blushing. “I don’t appreciate being ogled, just so you know.”

Comus looked back at Walter. “I suppose I can see it, somewhat. What happened to you, though? Did you also get attacked by that band of zombies?”

Walter winced. “N-No, thankfully not. Though, maybe it would have been better if I had been. I was ambushed by some bastard in a robe who sent out stronger demons than I was expecting and, well…you can see where that got me. I was actually just about to head back to Mikado to rest and lick my wounds.” He spat out a bit of blood. “That Navarre fop owes me for going through all this trouble to find him!”

“Bastard in a robe…” Comus growled, mostly to himself. 

“You’re searching for that rooster-headed boy as well, Walter?”

“What?” Walter looked up at Norgard. Then he looked back at Comus with a suspicious squint in his eyes that the pudgier samurai took to mean ‘why is your demon addressing me instead of you’. “...Yes, I suppose I am.” 

“We got stuck with the same mission,” Jona added. “Any luck?”

“No, none so far. I’d wager that hooded blackguard is pretty suspicious, though--nngh!” He winced from his wounds and staggered, Comus catching him before he dropped to his knees. “T-Thanks. I need to head back up to Mikado, though I should be fine on my own. If you’re heading further in, be wary: there’s poison gas filling some of the lower chambers that can prove mighty dangerous.” 

Comus stated he appreciated the advice and watched as Walter lurched past him. Once the other samurai had made his exit, he gestured for Norgard, Jona, and Alvertos to follow him as they waded through the sea of bodies and continued through the third stratum of Naraku. 

Sure enough, Walter hadn’t been lying. Only a turn or two later, a magenta haze filled the air, warping and distorting the flames on the walls and disorienting the party. Comus covered his nose with his orange stole as best he could, but his demons weren’t so lucky. Norgard’s hooves couldn’t mold around both his noses at once, Jona was forced to cup her hands over her nose and mouth, and Alvertos…Alvertos actually didn't seem to be bothered by the poison at all. He just walked with that stoic expression through the halls, though Comus wondered if the reason he was making no effort to shield himself was because his talons simply couldn’t reach his beak. Occasionally, a zombie or two would lurch out from the miasma, but Alvertos would always make quick work of it. It was unpleasant, that much was obvious, especially since Comus had only packed the single Dis-Poison. 

There was one bright spot, though: at the end of a short hallway culminating in a dead end, the skeleton of a long-dead samurai, their clothes now nothing but stained tatters, was clutching onto a gleaming zweihander longsword. The grip was inscribed with the words ‘Dies Irae’. After prying it from the poor bastard’s bony grasp, Comus weighed it in his hands and found that it was extremely heavy--in fact, he could barely lift it. It would do plenty of damage to any enemy that crossed his path, but that's only if he could hit them. Considering he was relying more and more on magic anyway, though, he took it with him anyway.

Eventually, they had nearly reached the end of the corridor, and Comus looked back with his stole covering his mouth. 

“Okay,” he started, coughing and hacking, “okay, sound off. Who’s poisoned? I’ll start.” He raised his hand. “I-I am definitely poisoned. My eyes and nose and throat burn like fire, and I feel very cold.”

Norgard raised a hoof, groaning. 

Alvertos swiveled his eyes to Norgard, then back to Comus, and raised his talon. “That which courses through me seeps through my veins like acid.” 

“I guess that’s a yes,” he said with a wheeze. “Jona?”

“I think I’m good, actually,” she murmured from behind her hands. “I’ve been doing my best to try and think of dells, glens, and grottoes with clean, fresh air. Maybe that’s what’s helping?” 

Comus shuddered. “Well. Unfortunately, I don’t think we have anyone with,” cough cough, “with an antidote spell, so we may have to--” 

Before he could finish the sentence, someone clonked into him face-first. Were he the hundred pounds lighter that he was before ever becoming a samurai, he would have fallen back, but this time it was the other person who lost their footing. Comus rubbed his nose. “Agh! Do watch where you’re going, will you?! You never know who…” he trailed off.

On the ground before him was a hooded figure.

“You,” he growled and struggled to lift his sword, intending to bring it down onto the hooded man’s head. On account of the poison, he was weakened and couldn’t do much other than strain. 

“You!” the man replied, quickly getting to his feet and shuffling back. “You Casualries simply keep coming, d-don’t you?! You and that man from earlier, you don’t know when to quit!” Despite his blustering words, the quiver in his voice gave away how afraid he was. It seemed word had spread from the last one. “‘Tis that ignorance that marks you both as Casualries! If you should need a drubbing to finally get it through your thick skulls, then I…I’ll happily provide it!” 

He raised his gauntlet and, in a flash of light, an enormous hulking creature now loomed over the party. Its head scraped against the ceiling of the cave, and it was forced to stoop to accommodate its height. It was a Wendigo as Queenie’s sensors called it, the wretched sable-skinned ape-like thing’s limbs covered in dense white fur and its beady red eyes staring down at Comus and his demons with idiotic hunger. Its wide froggish mouth slavered.

“Shoot, I wasn’t expecting a fight when we’re all like this…Norgard, Jona, Alvertos! Focus on not dying!” 

“Would we focus on anything else?” Jona retorted, putting out her hands to send out a gust of Zan wind, and Comus did the same. The sharp gusts sent some snow-white hairs falling to the floor of Naraku, but otherwise only made surface-level scratches. 

Alvertos looked to Comus. “Permission to kill, Master?” 

“Yes, yes, go already!” he shouted in response, and like a rocket, Alvertos shot off the cave floor and lunged for the wendigo, baring his talons and circling around it in the air, slashing at its lank limbs. It let out a low ugly roar and sluggishly swung its arms, trying to knock it down like a gargantuan ape on top of a skyscraper batting away planes…not that Comus would know what either of those things are. He delivered two or three deep cuts to the beast’s chest, causing it to groan in pain, and all the while Norgard formed his bow and fired needle shot after needle shot into its midsection. It must have noticed the volley, as its attention turned from the gryphon to the centaur and it delivered a fierce slam with both its fists. 

“Gah--!” Norgard choked out, nearly staggering to his knees before Jona stopped him. She pushed another Dia sphere into his chest. 

“Don’t worry. I’ve got your back.”

“M-Much appreciated. If only this poison was not so severe,” he admitted with a grunt, a bit of blood seeping from his dual lips. “My arms grow weak, too weak to nock and fire as I have…”

“You just keep fighting. I may not be able to curse poison, but I’ll heal you as many times as I need to.”

Unfortunately, Jona focusing on Norgard led the wendigo--acting smarter than they thought possible--to direct its attacks towards Comus instead. It hit the samurai with a fierce back-handed sweep, sending Comus bouncing and skidding across the floor until he hit a wall. His sword dropped from his hands, blood bubbled up from his mouth, and once she’d made certain that Norgard was back in fine fettle, Jona broke from him to make haste for Comus. Even with his injuries, though, he still raised his hand to send out sickles of air towards the hulking being. Norgard continued firing his bow, and Alvertos remained circling about like a fly with razor blades attached to its hands. Even so, the poison was taking its toll: the gryphon’s attacks were slowing, specks of blood able to be seen trailing after him as they trickled from his beak, and Norgard was struggling to continue raising his arms, dropping to one knee as he heaved and shuddered.

Not to be outdone, the wendigo straightened its back as much as it could, inhaled deep enough that its chest expanded outwards and its cheeks puffed, and sent out a wave of icy mist that engulfed the entire party. Comus let out a breath and found, with horror, that he could see it in front of him. Not only that, but his fingers and hands stung from the cold and were quickly growing numb. Jona shivered as well, trying to keep her hands grasping and moving to keep the blood circulating beneath a layer of frost that had formed on her, and Norgard had to fully stop his assault to collect himself.

“You would pit icicles against an angel of death?” Alvertos responded between ragged breaths. “Blood. Blood and guts and an endless nothingness thereafter is the only recourse. Death! Death!” 

Seemingly incensed by the freezing breath, the gryphon screeched once again and latched onto the wendigo’s face, clawing the hulking beast’s face like a furious cat until he’d gouged its eyes out and scratched its nose off. Going into shock, it dropped to the ground like a huge tree being chopped down, kicking up a cloud of dust upon impact. 

Alvertos landed, his chest rising and falling, and immediately started coughing up more and more blood, his feathers loosening from his skin and littering the ground. He staggered a few steps towards Comus and Norgard, who had pulled himself nearer to his master. The samurai groaned, rubbing his face. “A-Alright. That was miserable. Come, gather around, gather around, life stones for everyone…” 

“C-Could I get one too?” Jona asked. “I can’t feel my fingers.”

“That’s alright, me neither…” he hacked and coughed. “Hooded bastard…!”

Norgard spotted something out of the corner of his eye.

“Young one, look!” 

The hooded man was laughing, his arms outstretched. To Comus and the rest’s horror, a swarm of wendigo had begun to descend upon them from behind him, all grunting and muttering to themselves as they swayed and lumbered forwards. Not only that, visible snaking between the hulking figures were several nagas as well.  “Ha ha ha! If it took you that much effort to take down one demon, then how about twenty?! Grovel and beg for your life before me!” 

“Shit…” Comus whispered under his breath. 

Then, a familiar male voice echoed from behind them.

“Hold it right there!” 

Sprinting in was Jonathan, who circled around Comus and his demons and raised his sword in defense. “I can’t help but feel we have arrived at just the right time. Are you alright, Comus?”

The gall. The audacity! Comus sputtered, “A-Alright?! Do I look like I’m alright, Jonathan?! I’m poisoned and half-dead and so are all my demons! Might I say, thank you for taking your sweet time in coming down here!” 

“Do calm yourself,” added another voice, Isabeau strutting in and producing her own sword. “We have other duties to attend to as samurai, after all, though perhaps we did drag our feet a little. Nevertheless, we’re here to assist you.” She pointed it at the hooded man. “If you should unfairly try to overpower one of our own with the strength of numbers, then it is only fair that we counter with our own numbers!” 

“W-What?! But…” the robed figure sputtered, “you…you are both Luxurors..! Why…?!”

“Fellow Luxurors,” Comus started with a weak grin, placing a hand on both their shoulders, “I appreciate the help. I really, really do. But you are two samurai added to me and three demons going up against twenty at the same time. We are not matching their numbers by any means.” 

Isabeau brushed his hand off, wrinkling her nose. “Jonathan, I’ll go after that cloaked figure. You stay here and assist Comus.”

“Of course,” he said, and Isabeau broke off to pursue the robed figure, who immediately turned tail and disappeared into the crowd once it registered that he was being pursued. 

Comus furrowed his brow, producing some green powdered medicine from his bag and pouring it down his mouth. He shuddered at the bitter taste, but it definitely made him feel a bit better…even if he was still poisoned. “You see? Now we’re without her, as well. I hope you’re worth as much as 16 demons, Jonny.” 

“I should hope so,” he replied, “and I request that you please not call me Jonny. Jonathan is quite alright.”

Jona healed herself, watching as the frost melted away. “Same strategy as before?”

“I suppose we have no choice,” Comus sighed, shaking out his hands and raising them once again. “Let’s make this quick.” 

The horde let out a collective cry and advanced on the five of them. It was an utter skirmish, demons coming at each of them from all angles, and it seemed that everywhere there wasn’t a weapon flying or magic being casted, there was blood being shed. Alvertos screeched and cried out like an eagle as he ripped out throats and slashed his foes in half, renewed by his own bloodlust, and Norgard found that due to the proximity of all his targets, he didn't have to send his shots nearly as far and could fire off needle shots twice as fast. Comus shot out blasts of wind where he could, slicing up the wendigos and nagas that encroached upon him.

Jonathan was holding his own with impressive skill, dodging swings and jabs while inflicting numerous fatal blows on the demons that made up the horde. One wendigo got a lucky shot, however, and gripped his head, bringing him in close and opening his mouth wide. A foul-smelling fog wafted out from within as it breathed toxic gas onto Jonathan’s face. He simply held his breath, and when the air had cleared, he frowned. “Your breath is simply foul.” 

He flipped his sword in his hand, gripping it underhanded, and plunged it into the wendigo’s midsection, drawing it to the side and allowing its guts to spill. Immediately, it let him go and dropped dead. “Might I suggest chewing a sprig of mint in the morning?” 

Alvertos swiped at another naga, intending to practically rip its arm off, but his claws caught on the being’s armor. With the quick turn and jabs it made, his iron talons--already weakened from repeated use and the poison breaking down his body--simply broke off. He screeched and swiped at the naga’s face with his broken talons in order to escape, returning to Comus. The samurai was continually sending out Zan waves, but more demons just kept coming. 

“Master, my instruments of destruction have fallen. I can only strike now.”

He doubled over coughing, looking paler by the minute. “T-Thank you for sharing, Alvertos…j-just keep striking however you can.” 

“This should cut you all down to size,” Jonathan shouted, putting out his hand. “Take this! Bufu!”

Bufu, Comus thought. Wasn’t that an ice spell? And hadn’t he seen the wendigo from earlier send out a wave of icy air? Was that going to work? …Wait, he might have seen that, but Jonathan hadn’t. He had no clue. “Wait--!” 

His warning was answered by, after Jonathan had shot out a couple of icicles, the wendigo he was targeting lumbering forward on all fours, balling its fist, and knocking Jonathan directly in the sternum. He flew backwards and dropped to the ground, unconscious. 

“Jonathan, you moron!” Comus shouted, watching the wendigo beat its chest and howl. The rest followed suit. He tried his best to keep sending out Zans, and Jona cycled her healing spells between the three demons, but it was clear that their energy was waning. The fight had gone on for over fifteen minutes now, after all, and Alvertos being sent out to strike with his talons rather than his claws was doing less to the enemies and doing more to him. His strikes grew weak, and his movements sloppy as more feathers fell from his form. 

Norgard doubled over, shuddering like he was drenched in ice, and attempted to raise his hooves to once more generate his bow. Nothing. He groaned, “Y-Young one…I can no longer perform magic.”

Comus looked back at him, out of breath and exhausted. He looked back at Alvertos, dragging himself forward. He looked at Jonathan, limp on the ground. There was no coming back from this, was there? At least, no way he could see. He almost gave the order to run away, but then he remembered that a hallway of toxic gas stood between them and the way out regardless. There was no way out. 

No way out…would this be where he died? How he died? 

What a rotten way to go that would be…

“Young one?” Norgard asked. “What…what should we do?” 

“Keep fighting,” he replied after a long pause. “We keep fighting.”

Alvertos struggled to keep his head held up, swaying where he had planted himself…and though it seemed as though he had found the strength to keep fighting, it was only a brief second wind--a final opportunity to fulfill his orders. To kill. 

“Your…b-blood…shall fill these halls…on behalf of my Master…! For the dark moon below! For…for death and destruction!” he forced out, sprinting towards a naga and rearing up in order to swipe at it with broken talons. 

The naga dodged and sent out its spear as quick as lightning, driving it all the way through Alvertos’ chest. A deluge of blood poured out from his beak, and only seconds later, he went limp. 

Comus shouted, “No!” Not another one. Not another one so soon! He hadn’t even mourned Hipodil yet, and now another one was dead! He dropped to his knees from grief and weakness.

“Monsters! Cowardly monsters!” Norgard boomed, leaping forward to grapple with the naga that had slain Alvertos. With his weapon lodged firmly within the gryphon’s heart, it was no longer usable, and it was left to lock arms with the centaur that loomed over it. Norgard huffed and puffed through his nostrils, both mouths gritting their teeths with ferocity. “You feel this is fair, do you?! Attacking us in such numbers?! You are feckless, and you will rue the day you crossed my master!” he proclaimed. Though his words were strong, his body was weak, and he struggled to overpower the naga. 

“N-Norgard, stop! Fall back, I command you!” Comus ordered, trying to rise to his feet but unable to stay standing. 

“Norgard, stop it, you’ll be killed! Come back!” Jona pleaded as well. “Your body is too weak to keep fighting like that!”

“Nrrrghh…I-I can…still…!” the centaur groaned, the naga in front of him bringing him to one knee, then two, then climbing on top of him. It grinned wickedly, relishing in keeping him pinned. 

“I’m going to get him. At the very least, I need to heal him,” Jona said with resolute determination, and flew through the air on one of her spheres to where the two were fighting. 

“Jona, no, get back here! Please, don’t go!” Comus begged, now down to his hands and knees. 

The Napaea floated over to Norgard and the naga, putting out her hands and preparing a Dia spell as quickly as she could. 

“Jonaaaa!” 

She was so focused on preparing it, however, that she didn't hear Comus. From behind her, one of the last remaining wendigos lifted its fists, roughshod fingers clasped together, and brought it down onto her head. The instant it made contact, the light went out in her eyes, and she dropped to the ground with an unceremonious thud. Her pink hair turned red, deepening as time went on. 

Comus felt tears welling up. 

“Y-Young one…listen to me.” 

It was Norgard’s voice. One of his heads’ eyes kept themselves trained on Comus, and they seemed calm. His voice, though strained, was level and understanding. The wendigo carelessly shoved Jona’s body aside, now lurching towards where Norgard lay. 

“Do not worry about us. No matter if--hrrngh, we should fall…there will be other demons. There will, there will be others to take our place, and…e-even if you feel we cannot be replaced…there will be more connections to--grrgh, t-to be made…! As you said! K-Keep fighting…! No matter what! Do you understand me?!” 

“Norgard…” he whimpered. 

“It was…n-nice, to know a human who would use my name, and who would treat me as he would any other…” 

The wendigo above him raised its foot.

Norgard smiled. 

“...Y-You will make many demons very happy, I am sure of it…”

His smile disappeared underneath a big black heel, a wet crack accompanying it. 

“Ah…ah…” Comus could do nothing but moan weakly, tears blurring his vision as his mind and heart swirled. Dead. They were all dead. And they weren’t coming back. Not like other demons, of course, not like other demons who could die and revive and die and revive and never even experience what it felt like to truly be gone. They would return. His wouldn’t. He was special.

God, why did he have to want to be special so bad…? 

“C-Comus…!” someone croaked out. From behind him, Jonathan had come to and was gripping his chest as he brought himself to a kneeling position with his sword. He pointed towards the remaining stragglers of the horde, only three nagas and a wendigo remaining. “Keep fighting…!”

Keep fighting. 

Of course, keep fighting…he had to keep fighting…!

Even though he could barely see his gauntlet’s UI through the tears, he mashed his bloody fingers against the screen in an attempt to summon someone, anyone, to fight on his behalf. 

A light shone, and now standing in front of Comus was a Lham Dearg. The humanoid demon’s long hair flowed, the numerous weapons sticking out of his torso glinting by torchlight, and he extended his arms--one holding a sword and the other a shield. He took a deep breath…then turned around with a jump, grinning from ear to ear. “Ayyy, what’s the craic, lads?! Great t’ be here, ‘s aboot time ye brought me out, Royce ‘ere was goin’ stir crazy in th’ highlands I was left in! As empty as me mam’s spice rack, it was! I tell ye, I…eh…” 

He looked down at Comus, sniffling and shivering, then to Jonathan, trying to stand, and then he turned around and saw four angry demons charging his way. His smile dropped immediately. “Eek! I-I dinnae ken what th’ hell’s goin’ on, but…” 

Royce tightened his grip on his sword, widened his stance, and delivered a sweeping horizontal swing with his blade. It sent out a wave of magical energy that radiated out in a cone from his position, slicing straight through two of the nagas and sending their dismembered bodies falling to the cave floor. 

He swiped past his nose with his thumb. “Nobody’s layin’ a finger on these two bairns so long as I’m around. Yer gonna have to get past--wh--hey, hey, hey!”

While he was making his cool one-liner, the remaining naga and wendigo split and went different ways around him. The wendigo let out a roar and swung its fist at Jonathan, burying his head in rubble. The naga jabbed with its spear, and it sink deep into Comus’ belly, dropping him as well. 

Royce’s mouth hung open for a moment before he stamped his foot.

“What did I just say?!” he shouted, gripping his sword once again and sending out another critical wave. This final attack cut down the two final stragglers, the enemies falling in heaps beside their targets.

The Lham Dearg let out a sigh and sheathed his sword, lowering his shield and looking around. Corpses surrounded him, though the oldest ones were already fading away. When a demon--a typical demon, that is--was killed, the corpses disappeared rapidly, dissolving into energy that vanished into the ether. Three unique bodies, those of a gryphon, a Napaea, and a centaur, lay among the sea of wendigo and naga, and since Jonathan and Comus were incapacitated, Royce was the only one left standing.

He puffed out his cheeks. “Och. What a bloodbath. A bloody bloodbath, even! Ha ha!” he laughed to no one in particular, trailing as he realized how pathetic he must look in doing so. “Ha ha. Ah…” 

“Jonathan? Comus?” Isabeau called, returning with the hooded man kept trapped beneath her shoulder. Though she typically put on a quite icy exterior, even she reared back in shock at the scene of carnage before her. Then she noticed Royce and drew her sword. “Did you…?”

“Erk--m-me?! Aye, I mean, nay! Nay, nay!” he insisted, shaking his head and hands. “In fact, I’m th’ last survivor around! I’m, ehh…” Royce pointed back at Comus’ body with his thumb, “that bairn’s demon. Comus’. Is that frizzy-haired bairn over there your mate, too?” 

She scanned the results of the battle with shock, the hooded man under her watch grunting and trying to escape to no avail as she waded through the bodies and reached Jonathan. “Jonathan, can you hear me?” She looked over at Comus. “Comus, are you there?” 

“I dinnae think they can hear ye, lass,” Royce sighed. 

“Hoy!” someone said from behind them.

“Who’s hoyin’ over there, eh?” 

Walter, now appearing quite patched up, strolled in with his bandanna over his nose and mouth, raising a hand. It was only when he exited the fog that he saw the extent of what had happened. “Holy--! Is this all from…” Then he spotted the hooded man and immediately drew his sword. 

“Walter?” Isabeau asked, surprised.

“Eep!” the robed figure took the moment of surprise as an opportunity to slip from his captor’s grasp, stumbling back. “T-Those two boys…they defeated my horde on their own?! Impossible! And to think, Isabeau, you and Jonathan are Luxurors! Why do you fight on the behalf of a delusional pig such as him?!” 

“We are samurai,” Isabeau responded, “but we are also all human. It’s natural to care for our fellows’ safety. And I can never abide preying on others unfairly like this…especially when it comes from within our own ranks,” she sniped knowingly, and that seemed to affect the figure. 

“Is that what happened…?” Walter said with a scowl, drawing his sword and approaching the robed figure. “Then perhaps, if you find such joy in calling people pigs, you wouldn’t mind having your head thrown to them and devoured like an apple!”

“Eek! D-Don’t blame me, I’m only following orders! If you have such an issue with my behavior, blame Navarre further in, but do not--ack!” Walter sliced at him, and the cowardly hooded samurai turned tail and fled without another word. 

Royce blinked. “Navarre’s that pompous waffinger wit’ th’ hair like a chookie, right?” 

“Excuse me?” Walter replied, hands on his hips. “I can hardly understand you. If you’re speaking some sort of demon language, I’m sorry to say I can’t comprehend.” Royce just went ‘bah’ and swatted him away. “Either way, it looks like there was carnage out here. I recognize those demons of his from earli--huh?” He moved to point at the three distinct corpses, but two seemed to have vanished. Only the centaur remained. When he looked back to the others, the only sign anything was off was that Comus’ gauntlet had flickered slightly. “Where did they go? I swear, his demons were just there…”

“Curious indeed, but not something we can dwell on until we’ve reached safety,” Isabeau said. “We must bring them back to Mikado.”

“Right you are. You carry Jonathan, and I’ll carry Comus here,” Walter proposed, squatting over his body. “Since…well, no offense, but I don’t think it fair that a fair maiden such as yourself should be forced to lug such a heavy load around,” he added with a snicker.

“...I’ll carry him,” Isabeau responded.

“Seriously?!” 

“Och, lassie, that in’t a good idea, trust me. Ye’ll blow yer back out! Or noo, wait, I think I’ve got th’ wrong turn o’ phrase…”

“It will be fine. Besides, you need the lighter load to assist in fending off demons.”

Walter rolled his eyes, putting his hands up as Isabeau pulled the spear out of Comus’ belly and started trying to heft his 230-pound form over her back. “Alright, if you say so. Just know you’ve relinquished the right to complain about the burden.” 

“I-I need no sympathy from you,” she responded, hunching over and starting to trudge forward with Comus’ front pressing against her back and his arms being wrapped around her shoulders. She glanced back every now and then, but apart from the extra weight, she seemed to carry him fine. 

Walter effortlessly hefted the waifish Jonathan up over his shoulder and marched alongside her. 

Royce watched them go, sighing and rubbing his nose. 

“Aye, thas’ th’ mark o’ true companionship, so it is. I’m sure they’ll be plenty…wh--hey! Hey! Ye’re leavin’ me behind?! I’m ‘is demon, I deserve to at least be noticed! Wait up, lad, lassie! Waaaait!”

~

Comus: 225 lb → 236 lb

Norgard (Centaur): 167 lb → X

Jona (Napaea): 146 lb → 155 lb X

Royce (Lham Dearg): 150 lb → 159 lb

Ying (Fuxi): 128 lb → 137 lb

Alvertos (Gryphon): 164 lb → 173 lb X

Hipodil (Chagrin): 157 lb → X

Rhayader (Myrmecolion): 155 lb → 164 lb

Chapter Text

Comus: 236 lb

Royce (Lham Dearg): 159 lb

Ying (Fuxi): 137 lb

Rhayader (Myrmecolion): 164 lb

~

“Hoy, I think he’s coming to.”

Comus groaned, his eyes fluttering open to meet a stone ceiling. There was the sound of birds outside, and judging from how ungodly bright it was, he must be back in Mikado. Walter was standing over him, his palm resting on his sword. 

“How are you feeling? That was one nasty quarrel you found yourself in down in Naraku. I don’t envy you, that’s for certain.”

“I…” Still only half lucid, he looked down at himself. Apart from having his armor stripped off revealing just how much weight he’d packed on, now having a bonafide belly that curved out beneath his tunic and apparently made for an easy target, he seemed fine. That assumption was proven faulty when he moved to sit up and found that his whole body was sore. He winced and resumed laying down.

“Please,” Jonathan, who he hadn’t even noticed standing beside Walter, warned, “try not to move too suddenly. You were incapacitated for quite a while with that spear in your midsection.” 

“Dead is more like it,” Walter corrected. 

“I was dead…?”

“Only somewhat,” Jonathan corrected back. “Our gauntlets are able to maintain the processes that keep us alive, though only barely. I was in much the same situation, myself. Quite unbecoming of a prentice samurai, I admit…though it seems, in the end, we were able to drive off that hooded assailant.” 

“Barely. The truth is, Comus, one of your demons was the one who managed to save you and Jonathan in the nick of time. It was a Lham Dearg, though he seemed not to speak much of our language.” 

“R-Royce,” Comus croaked out. “Royce is his name.”

It still caught them off-guard hearing him refer to his demons by name, but while Jonathan only wrinkled his brow and said nothing, Walter had an odd expression flash across his face before he continued.

“...Royce, then. You have him to thank. Not to mention Isabeau, who opted to carry you rather than letting me do it. For what reason, I can’t fathom, but then again, who knows what goes on in that iron priss’ mind?” he added with a chuckle. 

“Yes, speaking of, where is Isabeau?” Jonathan asked, looking around. “She had already vanished by the time I came to.”

“I tried to convince her to wait for Comus to awaken with me, but she said ‘I have more important matters to tend to’, and that was that.” 

“My demons…” 

At the mention of the hooded man a minute or two earlier, the events of what must have been last night began to flood back into his mind, and he remembered all of what he saw, seared into his vision. Alvertos ran through with a spear, Jona having her skull cracked, Norgard being crushed…

He sniffled and covered his face with a soft arm. “...t-they aren’t…coming back…”

Jonathan frowned, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Whatever do you mean, ‘they are not coming back’? Are they not in your gauntlet? Your Burroughs, crude as she may be, should be able to revive them given a few hours of rest, or even a revival leaf from the local apothecary…”

Comus just kept weeping. His gauntlet screen lit up, and the image of Queenie appeared on it. “Maybe I should, uh, explain to you guys what the deal is with his demons and all.” 

She explained to Walter and Jonathan the curious quality of Comus’ demons: their inability to be revived if they remained dead for longer than a couple of minutes. She had them in her stock, yes, but they were inactive data, unable to be resuscitated no matter what she tried. 

“I don’t have a god-damn clue what’s causing it, but it’s definitely out of the ordinary. Besides, you can see the kid obviously cares for them, so it’s gonna be all the tougher if you keep prodding him about ‘why’s and ‘why not’s, alright? Lay off him.” 

“Now that’s strange,” Walter admitted, thinking over what he’d been told with his arms crossed, “though it clears some things up. No wonder their bodies seemed odd to me.”

Jonathan sighed. “I admit, I struggle to understand having such great sympathy for the monsters we only learned existed only a scant week or two hence…but I suppose the only thing for it would be to continue recruiting plenty of demons to fill out his ranks.” 

“Yeaaah…yeah, you’re right.” Comus burbled something through his tears, and even though it was incomprehensible, Queenie seemed to understand. “I think it’d be best for you guys to give the guy some space for now. I have something I wanna discuss with him myself anyway.” 

“That sounds reasonable,” Walter said with a sigh. “We’ll leave you to it then, Comus. Get some rest, and…well, give my regards to your remaining demons, I guess.” 

He exited, and Jonathan followed, but not before stopping short of the door and looking back at the samurai on the bed and stating “You have my condolences as well. Convalesce, take what time you need, and return to Naraku posthaste. Navarre still must be tracked down, after all.” 

Comus was now alone in his room. Queen B didn't say anything for quite a long time, letting him sob and weep and let out his feelings, but when his crying had diminished to just the occasional sniffle, she finally took the time to speak.

“Coms. You there?”

“What do you want?” he asked brusquely. 

“Okay, ignoring the rude tone ‘cause I know you’re hurting, I have something I want to show you that maybe might make you feel a bit better, or something.”

Comus wiped his eyes, raising the gauntlet to meet his gaze. “Or something? What in this world could you possibly show me that would make me feel better? My demons, my…my friends, they’re…”

“I know. Just bear with me and press that new button that showed up, alright? It’s gonna help out a lot.”

“...” He didn't respond, looking away.

“...Ugh. Listen, I’m not…good at this kind of emotional crap. I’m an AI, after all, not Dr. Katz. But are you gonna lay around moping on your fat behind being too scared of losing people to get out there and fight, or are you gonna keep on keepin’ on? Like Norgard told you to?”

Comus’ lip quivered, his hair hiding his facial expression, but it was clear that her words were having an effect on him. 

“The guy was right. There’ll be other demons. You’ll get your chance to make plenty of other friends and meet plenty of other folks, so long as you keep movin’ forward. You can do your funeral thing before you head back into Naraku. You get me?”

He took a deep breath, sniffed deep, and then looked back at the gauntlet with a renewed expression of determination.

“Which button was it, then?”

“It’s that one with the hexagram icon.”

“Errr…”

She sighed. “The six-pointed star.”

“Oh. Y-Yes, I knew that.” 

He pressed the button, and in an instant, the menu vanished into darkness…and in this dark space, blue wireframes creating the shape of a raised platform and two columns revolving around it formed. The voxel-made visage of an old man with a long white beard wearing dark glasses and a blue skullcap swung into frame, disconnected from any kind of body. 

“Welcome to the Cathedral of Shadows, where demons gather!” he boomed in a bit-crushed voice, grinning from ear to ear. “Oh my, a new user? Congratulations on activating this application! My name is Mido, the master of the Cathedral of Shadows app. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“O-Oh, uh…hello there, Mido,” Comus awkwardly waved at the screen, though he regretted it as he winced from the pain. “I am Comus.”

“Comus! That’s the same name as a god of revelry and merrymaking, you know. You certainly seem to be the indulgent type, if you don’t mind me saying, hoho!”

He blushed.

“Not that it’s a bad thing, not at all! Regardless…if you opened this app, you must be interested in Demon Fusion, yes? Would you like me to go through the basics?”

‘Demon Fusion’? That sounded nauseating. Comus imagined a lot of stitching and flesh melding into flesh. Nonetheless, he nodded, and Mido went into his animate explanation of the process of fusing two demons to create a new, stronger demon. He went into exhaustive detail--really, more detail than he’d ever needed or wanted--but there was one aspect he’d neglected to cover which Comus wanted to ask about.

“Do…do the, er, minds and memories of the ‘ingredient’ demons get retained in the result? Like, oh, h-hypothetically, if they happened to have garnered some respect for me…?” 

“Hmmmf…I don’t believe so! The only element that’s retained, I’d say, would be their loyalty to you as their commander.” Mido saw Comus’ expression fall and leaned in. “Now that’s interesting. I don’t think I’ve seen a summoner such as yourself care for your demons quite as much as you seem to. Not since…oh, but I’m getting ahead of myself! Let it be known, though, that my sympathies are with you. I will also make mention that if you should fuse two…let’s say ‘fallen’ demons, the result will be very much alive.”

That perked him up. “Really?”

“Certainly! Why don’t we try it? Please, take your pick and we can fuse them together,” he offered, bringing up a view of Comus’ stock. It stung a bit seeing the icons of his deceased demons greyed out, but he had to make his choice. Though Norgard wasn’t present, the fact that he didn't remember unsummoning the others meant that Queenie probably did it for him. He would need to thank her for that sometime later. 

“Jona,” he said picking the Napaea, “and Alvertos,” he added, choosing the gryphon.

“Ahh, you name them as well?”

“I use the names they gave me,” Comus replied. “It’s only common courtesy.”

Mido practically squealed upon seeing that this young man seemed to love demons as much as he did, but just as quickly, he cleared his throat and centered himself. “Excellent! Then we shall commence the fusion.”

His head moved away, and in one column, the figure of Jona appeared with her eyes closed and her arms outwards. Thankfully, her injuries appear to have not carried over, this form appearing to be more of a representation of her existence rather than her true body, and just as soon as it appeared, it dissolved into bits and bytes of data. In the other column, Alvertos sat with his wings extended before dissolving just the same. The data flowed through channels beneath the tubes into a space beneath the center platform, and as the view spun, sparks of data congregated in the middle…and then there was a flash of light as a pure-white glowing silhouette emerged from the screen of Comus’ gauntlet.

“A-Ah--!” he stammered, pressing himself back into his bed as he watched the figure turn and sway in the air, circling above him, before coming to a standing rest beside his bed.

It was a magenta-skinned female humanoid, her head terminating in an auburn pine cone-like ‘shell’ rather than hair and her ears being pointed. Rather than arms, two large wings--familiar wings with brown and wine-red feathers--cloaked her naked body, and she stood on talons. The being was a bit on the softer side too, her slightly soft stomach flowing smoothly into her hips and thighs to create a bottom-heavy figure.

She opened her eyes, and within the yellow cat-like pupils was surprising wisdom. “I am the harpy Minerva,” she said with a measured tone, bowing her head. “It’s good to meet you, Master. I’ll follow you wherever you may go.”

“I…” Comus blinked, momentarily flabbergasted, but collected himself as he slowly brought himself to a sitting position. “...Minerva. I’m Comus. Do you remember meeting me at all before? Or any memories from before you appeared here?”

Minerva pressed her wings together. “Sadly, no. I only know that I am in your service, Master…though to say I do not already sense a fondness for you would be a lie.” 

“...I understand,” he said with a smile. “Though you really do not have to call me Master. That’ll be for the servants fixing our meals someday, hahah. Comus is fine.”

“Very well, Comus it is.” She smiled back, and was unsummoned in a flash of pixels, returning to the gauntlet’s stock. 

Mido appeared on-screen once again. “Well? How is fusion?” 

“It’s…both a little more and a little less painful than I expected it would be.”

“For one such as you who cares for demons so greatly, trust me, I knew it would be for you. You and I, we are kindred spirits! If you ever want to discuss demonkind with me, please don’t hesitate to ask: I’ve dedicated my life and very soul to these wondrous beings, after all, hoho!” 

“Thank you, Mido. I’ll certainly keep you in mind.”

“And do say hello to Queen B for me, will you? We’ve been chatting while you’ve been busy performing your samurai duties, and she’s quite the firecracker!” 

“Why would you need me to say hello to her if you speak so frequently?”

“Why not?”

“Fair point,” he said with a chuckle as he exited the fusion menu. 

It felt…good, knowing that his fallen demons would live on through their fusion results. In a way, they would be able to continue existing in one form or another, and he would still be able to grow closer to them. 

That being said, not all demons could be so lucky, and he required one last stop before returning to Naraku. 

Standing beneath the tree at Lake Mikado, Comus looked out over its placid surface. Minerva perched on a branch above his head, taking in the landscape, while beside him Royce stood with his arms crossed. Rhayader the myrmecolion, who hadn’t been brought out ever since he was first recruited, laid with his paws folded over one another as he chewed on grass. 

The samurai reached up and plucked four leaves off the tree, holding them out in front of him. 

“Hipodil,” he said as he traced the chagrin’s name on the leaf, “you weren’t with us long, but I wish you could have stuck around longer.”

“Alvertos,” he continued, tracing the gryphon’s name, “you might have unsettled me, but you were a strong warrior who fought until his dying breath.”

“Jona,” he sighed, doing the same on another leaf, “you helped us make it through so many battles, and even if you were always the practical one, it was your compassion that was your end.”

“May I have the honor?” Minerva asked, flapping down beside Comus. “I may not have ever known them, but as they live on through me, I feel it’s appropriate that I should be the one to send them away.”

“O-Oh, of course. Yes, here you go,” he stammered, handing the two leaves over to Minerva for her to grasp in her wings. He looked down at the last leaf and sighed deeply. 

“...Norgard. My first demon friend. Level-headed, strong-willed, and loyal until the end…I think I’ll miss you the most. You will always be remembered.” 

He clasped his hands together around the leaf in a silent prayer, and Minerva did the same. Royce closed his eyes, uncomfortable with the solemn mood but unwilling to spoil it, and Rhayader coughed up a flower. 

Then he and Minerva let them go, the leaves being whisked away in the wind.

Returning to the entrance of Naraku, Comus was surprised to find Jonathan, Walter, and Isabeau all standing outside the portcullis. 

“There you are,” Walter said with a smile, “I was starting to think you needed an extra day or two. I was sincerely hoping you wouldn’t expect me to keep waking you up, as that seems to be becoming a trend.” 

“Don’t worry, Walt. I wouldn’t want you waking me anyway, seeing as you’re quite poor at doing so on time,” Comus replied with a wry grin, and Walter laughed back.

“Hahaha, then we are in agreement!” 

Isabeau stepped forward, standing before Comus. This was the first time the two of them had really sized each other up since that brief meeting in the tavern, and it was impossible to tell which of them was more uncomfortable. Isabeau couldn’t seem to pry her eyes off of him, scanning every inch of his softened body, and Comus was trying to look everywhere but her.

“It’s good to see that you’re in fine fettle again,” she suddenly said, concluding the awkward silence. “Walter and Jonathan explained the situation with your demons.” She nodded. “I’m sorry to hear.”

“I-It’s really alright…I’ve made peace with it now, I think. Why are you all standing around here, anyways?” 

“Between your unique situation and the propensity of our foes to play dirty, we decided that we’d be accompanying you from now on,” she gestured to herself and the others, Jonathan smiling politely and Walter puffing out his chest. 

“After all,” Jonathan added, “what is a samurai’s duty if not to protect his fellow man? We are all united under a common goal.”

“That goal being to get that bastard Navarre back for what he’s done,” Walter snarled.

“Well, yes, that, but I meant more in the sense of our mission statement…” 

“So you do not deny you want to get him back as well, huh? Maybe there’s some sense of vindictiveness underneath that pretty-boy exterior after all, ha!”

Isabeau groaned and shook her head. “Men are such a hassle…”

“Walt, Jon, Izzy,” Comus addressed each of them, “I really appreciate the offer, and I will certainly take you up on it…but, uh, I don’t know if this is going to work with how I usually do my navigation. Why don’t we try this…?”

~

Comus: 236 lb

Royce (Lham Dearg): 159 lb

Ying (Fuxi): 137 lb

Rhayader (Myrmecolion): 164 lb

Minerva (Harpy): 175 lb

~

Since having Walter, Jonathan, Isabeau and Comus walking alongside Royce, Rhayader, and Minerva in the cramped cave walls wasn’t exactly the most comfortable arrangement for their traveling party, the four samurai agreed to a compromise: only one of Comus’ demons would be out at a time so long as they traveled together. As such, while delving back down into Naraku, Minerva stuck close to Comus’ side while the others accompanied him. Upon encountering demons, the rest of his party would come out, and one of the other samurai would aid him in battle. 

As convenient as it was, it was still clear that Comus was the odd one out amongst them. Speaking to his demons as equals, calling them by their names, and arguing with his Burroughs navigator, not to mention his steadily-increasing waistline…there was something strange about the samurai’s whole life that was starting to become unignorable. He was even speaking with his crude AI as they passed through the third stratum and shielded their noses and mouths from the toxic gas.

“You know, when I said you could only recruit one demon from each area, it was more a matter of storage space than anything else…since you’ve, uh, ‘freed up’ some space, you can go recruiting again if you want.” 

“I appreciate it,” he said from behind his stole as Minerva shot a blast of wind at a few zombie samurai, “but I’ve been doing some thinking, and I’d rather not devalue the friends I make by considering them as replaceable. I’ll still accept only one demon per location.” 

“You know that’s gonna bite you in the ass big-time though, right? I mean, what happens if you run out of demons?”

“I suppose I’ll find out if or when that happens,” he replied. 

Walter coughed, starting to feel his extremities grow cold, but before he could say a word, Comus reached into his bag and tossed him a Dis-Poison. He spoke in a hushed tone to the other samurai. “Jonathan, Isabeau…you’re recognizing this odd dynamic before us too, aren’t you?” 

“Regrettably,” Jonathan replied from behind his ascot. “I still cannot comprehend his fondness for his demons, especially now after knowing of his…’condition’. They are bloodthirsty fiends, and he treats them as though they were fellow prentices.” 

Walter uncorked the Dis-Poison and gulped it down, sticking his tongue out at the bitter taste. “I confess, I’m seeing less of an issue with it the more I see him interact with them. After all, communicating with demons and turning them over to our side was an integral part of our training. We’re spending plenty of time with them. It’s no different than getting to know your fellow prentices in the end, right?”

The Luxuror turned his nose away. “I suppose I can understand that line of reasoning…though if it were me, I wouldn’t engage with them on any level.”

“Do you even have demons, Jonathan?” Isabeau asked, surprising the both of them with the fact that she’d been listening. “I’ve never seen you or Walter use them.” 

“Now, hold on!” Walter protested. “For me, it’s a matter of trust. You don’t need demons when you’re fighting alongside another Samurai, right? It gives the impression of weakness, like stationing ten cannons to protect a single hut.”

“I have no interest in making use of demons,” Jonathan answered. “Though I do concur, one feels a sense of camaraderie that is bolstered in the presence of another prentice. I wouldn’t be summoning mine even if I had any.”

“And what of you, Isabeau? I haven’t seen any of yours either, come to think of it.”

Isabeau looked away. “How I approach battles and my philosophy are none of your concern.”

“Oh, but ours is of yours, is that so?” 

“I feel,” Minerva chimed in, looking over her shoulder, “that one should spend less time discussing the strategy of battle and more time ensuring one’s own victory.” 

The comment stunned each of them for a moment, until Jonathan lowered his head in shame. “To be scolded by a demon…my father would never let me live this down…!”

“Guys, I really appreciate the running commentary, but can we be quiet for a bit? Someone’s coming,” Comus said, stopping in his tracks. 

From around the corner, a samurai that he vaguely remembered as having a small posse laughing around him in the tavern stalked forward with a terrified look in his eyes. He noticed the others, and his expression was relief and shock at once. 

“Y-You…you’re those Casualries!”

Comus cleared his throat. “You’re speaking to three Luxurors and a Casualry, you know. Treat us with the respect we deserve.”

Walter gave him a look. 

“Whoever you are, I-I really wouldn’t recommend continuing on past here. There’s a…a-a funny wall. Navarre went in, and ever since, I’ve lost contact with him…this whole situation is passing strange. I’m going back to the hall…” the odd samurai raised one hand, “t-though this isn’t a retreat, mind you! Simply a…a tactical withdrawal. I suggest you all do the same.”

“Yeah, alright,” Comus responded, jabbing his thumb over his shoulder. “You exit promptly and leave us to take care of the dirty work. As always.” 

He glared at the samurai as he passed by the rest, and after he was a good ways away, he looked back at his party. “All in favor of continuing on, raise your hands.”

Everyone raised their hands except Minerva, who raised a wing.

“Then onwards we shall go.” 

They didn't have to walk far, really: it was only a brief walk around the corner before they stumbled upon the ‘funny wall’ the suspicious samurai from earlier had mentioned. It was remarkably organic in appearance, yellow-green sinews and fibers stretching out into a structure resembling the inside of a bone or vein. In the center, a swirling ethereal portal led further in. Comus initially refused to continue, but after being reminded of his vote (and him insisting that he was the only one who didn't raise his hand because he asked, and subsequently being shot down by the majority), he wrenched his eyes shut and leapt in. The rest followed suit.

When they had exited the short portal, they now found themselves in a mess of brambles. Its general structure was that of a series of long, winding corridors that intersected with one another, but the pseudo-organic appearance of the entrance had now transitioned to a fully organic one, thick dark wines dotted with thorns and the occasional black rose smothering the walls to the point of entirely subsuming them. 

Comus looked around, resting his palms on his longsword’s pommel. “Where the…are we still in Naraku?”

“It doesn’t look it, but it must be,” Walter responded, drawing his own sword. “If it isn’t, wherever this is needs a dire trimming.”

“Everyone, the door…” 

The others turned to Isabeau, who was trying to pry apart the thorns behind them and only shredding her gloves in the process. She looked back, wincing as she looked down at her bloodied hands. “The door behind us has been sealed. We’ll have to find another way out. What is this place…?”

“Perhaps I can answer,” Minerva said, bowing her head. “Domains are miniature dimensions constructed by a demon in order to lure in and ensnare their prey. Think of it like the honey set out to entrap flies, Jonathan.”

Jonathan frowned at hearing his name spoken by a demon, but there were more pressing matters at hand. “Of course…I remember reading about these during my schooling. But, I was told that there hasn’t been a demon powerful enough to establish a domain for many centuries…” He rubbed his cheek, fretting. “What is going on in Naraku…?”

“It figures that someone like Navarre would bungle something like a staged rescue badly enough to turn it into a real one,” Walter grumbled. “How are we supposed to find him in this place, anyway? It’s a veritable labyrinth.” 

“Why don’t we split up?” Comus proposed. “That way, we can cover more ground and find the exit quicker.”

Minerva shook her head. “I wouldn’t suggest that. Remaining as a group is a better way to ensure your survival. The only time you split your army is when you’re surrounding an enemy.” 

“All in favor?” Comus asked, and raised his hand.

Against Minerva’s advice, they split up. 

Walter opted to tag along with Comus and Minerva. The demons in the domain seemed to be a bit fiercer than the typical fare in Naraku, that much was certain, but they were nothing that the three of them (along with the rest of Comus’ demons) couldn’t take care of. In fact, they were making quick work of the lot, and had just finished a battle when they heard an oddly chipper voice pipe up.

“Excuse me! Excuse me, you two!” 

“What?” Walter started, whipping around and raising his sword. “Who goes there?”

“Ah--!” 

The source of the voice, who had been approaching the two of them, was a curious little imp with sleek sapphire-toned skin, short horns, a backpack full of grain, and a pitchfork. It was a Bilwis according to their gauntlets’ identification program, though when compared to the others they’d seen, this one seemed a bit thicker. The typically rod-thin limbs and beanish torso now instead carried some fat on his bones (if the thing had bones), and a small stomach pushed out from beneath his pack’s harness. He put up his hands in surrender. “Now, hold on, before you stick me with that pointy end, I wanted to make a request! Can’t very well do that with blood in my throat, now can I?”

Walter raised his eyebrows. “A request here? In this maze of brambles? I think not.”

“Walt, Walt,” Comus said as though he was trying to calm a dog, putting a hand on his shoulder, “calm down. Let me handle this, alright?” He lowered his sword, watching as Comus approached the Bilwis and bent down a bit to meet his gaze. “What’s up?” 

“Well, before anything else, I’m Michel! Pleased as peach to meet you,” he said, and put out his hand for a handshake. Comus awkwardly returned it, noticing how the little feldgeist jerked his hand all around, and stated his own and Walter’s names in return. “I’ve actually been watching you all since you came in and I have to say, I like what I’m seeing! Plenty skilled, plenty trained…and you know, I just had a feeling. ‘Michel, these are the ones!’ You ever feel like that?”

“Get to the point, I beg of you,” Walter groaned.

“The point is! Would you be willing to let me travel with you all? I know a few nifty techniques, and not only that, I’ll make it worth your while!” 

“Pardon?” Comus asked, a little taken aback.

“Oh, no, haha, not like that! Not unless you ask. You’re looking for the demon who made this domain, right? The truth is, I wandered in here a while ago and stuck myself. I’m much too weak to take her down, you know, but two strapping lads like you guys, you could definitely have a shot! Then we all go free. It’s a win-win, right? Right?” He put his hands out with an appraising look, smiling at the three of them. 

Walter sucked on the inside of his cheek. “That’s trenchant enough reasoning for me. What say you, Comus? Should we take him on?”

“I don’t see why not. Minerva, you don’t mind going back into the gauntlet for a bit, right?” 

“Not at all,” the harpy replied with a bow, and she dissolved into pixels and light before vanishing entirely.

“Fantastic!” Michel sung, levitating up to meet their gazes. “Follow me, I’ll take you right to her!”

Walter began to follow him. “And how will we know that the demon you lead us to is the true owner of this domain, hmm?” 

“Trust me, you’ll know. This domain was set up a few days ago, and demons…well, you know, they aren’t so smart. Me included, heh. So they wander in, and when demons see other demons, they wanna fight! Once they drop and blood hits the floor, they get eaten up, more demons come in, the cycle continues. She just sits back and lets all the food she wants come to her…” 

As if on cue, the entire domain rumbled from some far off vibration, stilling after a few moments. Walter and Comus steadied themselves on their feet, and Michel responded with a shrug.

“She’s…pretty hard to miss.”

In other parts of the domain, Jonathan and Isabeau stuck close to one another, keeping close eyes on the demons that targeted them. A few slices and some choice Bufu and Zio spells were more than enough to fend them off, but the more pressing matter was finding the domain’s master, rescuing Navarre, and exiting as soon as possible. Isabeau sliced a Tangata Manu in half vertically, the two slices being swallowed up by vines as soon as their blood touched their thorns. 

“To think that a place like this is so close to Mikado…and that it was created by a demon of unprecedented strength…” she mused, sighing. “It seems our tenure as samurai will be more turbulent than we’d thought.” 

“Quite so,” Jonathan responded, continuing on down a crook in the hall. “I shudder to think of the monster that prepared this unseemly trap…Hm?” He stopped, peering down at the end. 

“What is it?”

“I can’t quite tell at this distance, but it seems to be…”

The little figure he’d spotted passed out of view, and Jonathan neglected to continue his sentence, instead dashing down it. 

“Jonathan!” Isabeau protested, running after him and only returning to his side after he’d stopped. Now she saw what he had seen. 

A little girl in a white dress rolling a hoop with a stick passed by, entering through one wall and exiting through another. Jonathan pursued her and attempted to pry apart the thorns she had gone through, shredding his hands in the process, but to no avail. He dropped his hands in front of him. “A little girl…a little girl is here in the domain as well! She was swallowed by the thorns!” 

“Are you certain?” Isabeau asked, producing a life stone from her bag. She broke it open and squeezed the juice within over his wounds--the correct way to apply it as a healing item as opposed to Comus and his demons just devouring them by the handful. “I saw no blood. Could she have been some manner of illusion?”

“It could only have been a young girl…right? If Navarre’s antics have put not only himself but an innocent child in danger, then it’s all the more important we solve this matter as quickly as possible…”

“Ah, so you’ve come…” a measured voice said. 

“W-Who’s there?” Jonathan demanded, whipping around with his sword drawn. Isabeau simply readied herself.

From around a corner, an exceedingly odd figure emerged. To the samurai, he seemed to be wearing some manner of red tunic and matching trousers, a pair of rectangular glasses adorning his inscrutable face. His hair was grey, and rather than walking, he arrived before them seated in a chair that seemed to be fashioned from metal, moving of its own accord…or perhaps, simply moving as he directed it to. He kept a knowing smile on his face as he spoke. “Hmm…that’s strange. Where’s your other fellow? The one with the curled hair and large nose.” 

“He separated from us to search for the owner of this domain, sir,” Jonathan explained, baffled but trying to maintain a polite attitude. “Who…are you?”

“I am Stephen. It’s good that you’re seeking the domain’s master. If you kill her, then the domain will dissolve. I’m sure that girl will have already shown herself to that man you entered with as well.” 

“That girl, is she…?”

He turned to Isabeau and templed his fingers. “No, she isn’t the master here. But you will see her again. Perhaps you’ve already seen her before.” 

“S-Sir…I confess, I do not understand. Who are you, really? What is going on here?” 

The entire domain rumbled beneath their feet, Jonathan and Isabeau struggling to steady themselves as the ground shook for a few moments. Stephen seemed utterly unfazed.

“...W-What was that…?” he added after the vibration had shaken him in more ways than one.

“You’ll know eventually,” he replied calmly. “Regardless…tell your fellows that I will be in the room just beyond here.” He pointed at a door that had formed within the thorns. It looked exceedingly out of place, which at least made it match its owner. “Enter there, and I will provide healing for you and your demons. Seek out the domain owner and kill her. That is all for now.”

With that, Stephen pressed a button on his mechanical chair, and he began to retreat into the room he’d pointed out before. Just as he was passing through, however, he looked over his shoulder at Isabeau and waved. She had no idea what to make of it all, and a glance at Jonathan only showed him being just as bewildered, but they had no time to ponder. They had to inform the others of what they’d witnessed…and maybe they could make use of his healing services, too. 

Jonathan raised his gauntlet and called Comus. 

A tense few minutes passed, and it effectively went to voicemail. 

“Comus isn’t responding to my calls…I do hope that coarse Burroughs of his isn’t blocking our line of contact.”

“It isn’t just him,” Isabeau said with concern, “I tried calling Walter, and he hasn’t picked up either.”

“They could be in trouble! Come, let us hope we aren’t too late!”

The two of them hurried along down the halls, hoping that somewhere in the maze they’d be able to find the door to the master…and that they weren’t too late in aiding Walter and Comus. 

“She’s right in here,” Michel said, gesturing to a small passageway in the vines. “It’s a bit tight, but…well, she doesn’t usually leave this spot. She drags her prey in and drains them of all their blood.” 

“Very pleasant,” Walter quipped, ducking down and doing his best to snake his way through the cramped passage without scraping himself too badly. Comus, who had summoned Royce and Rhayader beforehand as a precautionary measure, cringed and looked down at himself. A man of his size certainly wouldn’t be able to get through quite as easily as Walter, but he could make it work. He’d still be going last, though. 

“Ye know what they say, lads,” Royce said, dropping down on his elbows and crawling through as though he was in the trenches on a battlefield, “every rose has its thorns. I’m tryin’ to think of what manner o’ rose could have quite this many thorns, though, and I cannae lie, I’m drawin’ a blank. Must be one muckle rose.” 

“Hahaha! Haha, oh, oh man, did--did you come up with that yourself?” Michel laughed, floating in after him. “That is really, really funny. You should--and I’m not kidding--you should do stand-up. You could have a really good tight-five.”

“Och, pretty hard to do stand-up crawlin’ like this, eh?” 

Michel broke out laughing again to the point of tears, and outside the hall, Comus wrinkled his nose. Fantastic. The comedian has someone who’s easily entertained on his side. There goes his peace of mind. 

Rhayader attempted several times to bite at the thorns surrounding the passage, but no matter how he tried, his teeth couldn’t break their skin. He whined, “Grrrr…these vines are no good for food. Teeth hurt.” 

“Then don’t eat them, buddy, it’s that easy,” Comus replied from outside, sighing as he dropped down and began the crawl as well.

At the end of the hole was a large space made within the vines, where tangled within the mass’ thorny grasps were the bodies of numerous demons, shriveled and exsanguinated. Walter reared back. “What the hell…?”

Among these demons, however, was one still very much alive samurai, who went from hopeless to overjoyed upon hearing the familiar voice of a fellow. 

“Wuh…W-Walter…Walter, is that you? O-Oh, oh, I’m saved! I’m saved!” he cried, practically on the verge of tears. “It’s me! Navarre! Y-Your fellow samurai! Get me down from here, save me before she--”

Nothing he said could have stopped them all from witnessing what occurred next. 

A short ways to Navarre’s right was an absolutely immense figure, almost unrecognizable at first…but further inspection showed it to be humanoid in shape, and feminine at that. It wasn’t difficult to get why one would need some extra time to ascertain its identity, though.

The demon was grotesquely obese. 

Her chalk-white skin--patterned across its surface with green markings resembling the thorn-laden vines that made up the domain--was stretched across an obscenely overfed body, her scarlet-red hair cascading down over her eyes but only reaching the upper shelves of her swollen breasts. Each was the size of one of the melons the samurai would have seen at the market following a particularly fruitful harvest, and they sagged heavily off her chest, sloping off to her sides where they fought for space against her pillowy arms, the fat of her upper arm able to be seen hanging and swaying as she brought her palms to the back of her head. Her blackish-red lips, either stained with blood or naturally toned, were plump atop an ample double chin that swallowed her neck. Most impressive (or perhaps most egregious, depending on how you looked at it), however, was her stomach: the sack of pale blubber provided an ample platform for her wobbling chest and then some, its upper portion tumescent from her constant gorging. A small divot of a navel topped off the mass as it bounced, hanging down over the enormous black rose her lardy upper half was sprouting from. 

The samurai and arriving demons could only watch in horror as the enormous demoness sat within her rose, her chubby-cheeked face tilted back and her mouth wide open as, above her, a master samurai Walter recognized as having been a fixture of the service for many years was tangled within her vines. He saw the other samurai and almost tried to call for them as well, but no words could make it out of his mouth before the vines coiled and twisted, their thorns digging into his flesh and puncturing his organs. A shower of blood rained down onto the demon’s face, staining her alabaster flesh with splatters of red, and she let out an indulgent gurgling moan as her pudgy hands gripped the sides of her stomach. It swelled further with the new meal, her voracious gulping echoing off the domain walls, until she was satisfied…or at least, there was no longer any blood in the samurai to drink from. She let the vines return him to the wall, the master now nothing more than a desiccated husk. 

“H-Hell’s bells…” Walter sputtered, stepping back. This was unlike anything he’d ever seen…perhaps a cow could get this big, but this was no cow. It wasn’t even a cow-like demon. It was humanoid, and by far the fattest thing he’d ever witnessed, even while under his father’s tutelage gutting pond-fed fish… 

Royce slapped his head. “Bloody fookin’ ‘ell, look at the size of that lass! She’s a right whale, she is!” 

“Told you she was pretty hard to miss,” Michel added, nodding and content in knowing that he was indeed correct. 

Rhayader drooled, only growling out “Meaaaat…” at the sight of her. 

And Comus…Comus blushed, covering his mouth with his hand. Silently grateful that he’d chosen the knight armor with a built-in metal piece between the legs, he raised his gauntlet and stammered, “Uh, Q-Queenie…how…how much does that, uh…”

“Jeezum crow…that’s an Alraune. A friggin’ huge one, at that. My sensors say she’s pushing 870 pounds.” 

He swallowed dryly and laughed without really knowing why, blushing darker. 

Now aware of her new visitors, the alraune licked her lips and belched, turning to face them and speaking in a breathy tone.

“Ohhh my…are you the friends of this selfish human here?” She gestured to Navarre, who clenched his eyes shut and turned away, gritting his teeth and shivering like a leaf. 

“This one, who deceived you and hurt you, and now begs you to come to his aid…? This one, who is…mmmh, so little muscle and oh, so much blood…” she moaned, gripping his head with one hand while the other ran itself down her excessive curves. “Human blood is so rich and scrumptious , it’s got this thick texture that just lingers on the tongue…setting up this domain was the smartest decision I’ve ever made, that’s for sure…” 

Navarre whimpered, trying his hardest to disappear into himself as the enormous alraune grinned, showing off white fangs within her mouth. “That’s why I can’t give this one up, you see? I’ve been saving him for dessert, and I’ve been looking forward to it all day…” 

Walter, having finally shaken off the initial shock of the encounter, drew his sword and pointed it at the alraune. “That’s enough. Regardless of how much we’d like to leave him to his fate, we won’t let him become your dessert. I’m sure a cad like that would give you indigestion anyway, isn’t that right, Comus? …Hoy, Comus?”

He was stuck staring at the demoness, paralyzed by what could have easily been fear, or want, or a mixture of both. 

“Hey, Coms! I’m always getting vital readings from you, you know, and I can tell what you’re thinking. Quit thinking with your pants and go save your dumbass friend! It doesn’t matter how hot you think she is!”

“Q-QUEENIE!” he screeched, mortified from embarrassment and banging on her screen with his fist in a clumsy attempt to get her to shut off. When he looked back up, the alraune was looming over him and his demons, casting a literal shadow over them all. Gods, he could feel the heat radiating off of her, not to mention the distant gurgling of her stomach as she processed her sanguine meal from moments earlier…

She hefted her belly with both hands, biting her bottom lip as she moaned. “Mmmnnn…just look at you all…if I drink this much blood, I’ll get chubby,” she teased, giving her body a wobble on the last word to emphasize it. Comus’ eyes were locked onto its heaving mass. If Jonathan was here, he’d have probably called it some form of hypnosis, but Walter was smart enough to know what it was and…well, he had thoughts, but now was far from the time to speak on them.

“Och, wee bit too late for that, in’t it no?” Royce said. Michel loudly snorted, trying to keep himself from laughing. 

“Oh well,” she sighed, letting her belly drop with a thwap against her petals. “I can always start dieting tomorrow…unless…you like me more this way, human…?”

From behind the smitten samurai, completely escaping his notice, a thorny vine rose up out of the ground and aimed itself at his neck.

“I-I…um…” Comus swallowed again. “C-Could I get back to you on that?”

“Mmmm, I’d like an answer now… you wouldn’t want to keep a big girl like me waiting, would you? Otherwise I might get… hungr-- ” her seduction was interrupted by a loud wail of pain as she winced back. A thump from behind him finally convinced Comus to turn around, and there Walter was wielding his blade, with which he had sliced away the nefarious vine. 

“Focus on the mission, Comus, otherwise you might lose your life. You can save your fantasizing until after we’re back home safe in Mikado, understand?!” 

“Ah--yes! Yes, of course! S-Sorry!” 

“B-Bastard…” she snarled, huffing and puffing. “And here I was just about to let you touch me before I drank all your blood, y-you…fatso!” 

“Look who’s talking!” Comus replied, practically on instinct, and with a shot of Zan from his hands that shaved off a bit of her hair, the fight had truly begun. 

Eager to prove himself useful and escape from the domain for good, Michel spat on the ends of his pitchfork and twirled it around in much the same manner as a flag twirler, flying by and jabbing the alraune in her side rolls. “Hyah! Take that!” 

“Ow! You little twerp--!” 

Rhayader, only barely able to hold himself back, finally lunged with his claws and fangs bared, latching himself directly onto the lower swell of her belly and sinking his teeth in. She screamed and whipped at him with more thorned claws, sending the ant-lion tumbling down to the ground. 

At the same time, Royce spun his sword in his grasp and slashed at her breast. He smirked. “How’s that then, eh? Ye got two big targets ripe fer slashin’, so I’ll be doubly accurate!”

“Hahaha! Good one! Here’s hoping my poison jab did the trick too, huh?”

She sneered, covering the gash on her breast with her hand, and in an instant, Royce was wrapped up in vines. “Nguh--!” He felt the thorns digging into his body, and though he already had plenty of weapons stuffed into his chest, the introduction of new punctures was not pleasant. The alraune leaned in close to him, grinning cruelly.

“You want poison , little man…? I’ll give you poison…” 

Her stomach gurgled violently, and she leaned in to deliver a long, wet, coppery belch right in his face that blew back his hair. When it passed, she licked her lips. Royce slumped over, suddenly feeling extremely nauseous. Comus glanced jealously over at him, but his attention was drawn away upon seeing another vine slap Michel out of the air. 

“Let him go, you bloated harlot!” Walter shouted, putting out his hand. For the first time, Comus saw a flicker of flame, followed by a full-fledged fireball that hit the vines ensconcing Royce and freed him. 

Rhayader charged once more, successfully tearing off a nice big chunk of flesh for him to feast on, and Comus kept the pace going with repeated charges of wind, but Michel made sure to heal himself by chewing on a bit of wheat from his backpack and Comus tossed Royce a holy fruit to keep his health up. The Lham Dearg cracked open the pomegranate-like fruit and messily chomped on the fleshy interior, feeling his strength return to him. 

“Aye, thanks, lad. This Big Bertha’s a real one, in’ she? No wonder she’s relyin’ on those vines o’ hers, I bet she couldn’t throw a punch or swing a sword t’ save her life! An’ that breath, hoo-wee. Fookin’ mingin’.” 

“Are you enjoying your snack, little man?” she asked, gritting her teeth as she glared down at him…or, well, she would have been glaring if her eyes were visible. “Do you have any other wisecracks you want to make?” 

Royce took his last bite of holy fruit. “Ye, I do. Fer ye, th’ second-best time to go on a diet’s now, and th’ best time would’ve been twenty years ago.” 

Comus looked at him. “Wait, didn't she just set up this domain a few days ago?” 

“Aw, ye ruined the jo--”

Two more thorny vines came out and slashed him across the chest in a cross shape, sending him toppling. “Eh, c-could do wit’ another one o’ those fruits…” 

“I’ve got you!” he called, and tossed Royce another one from his bag. At the same time, Michel had risen to his feet and delivered another jab in the alraune’s side, now causing numerous thin streams of blood to stain her rose petals, and Rhayader had repeatedly mauled whatever portions of her fleshy body he could sink his teeth into. She was breathing heavily now, exhausted from the battle and her wounds, but it was another Agi from Walter that set her hair and leaves alight which truly enraged her.

“I’ve had…just about… enough of you all…muscling in on my meal…! Can’t a girl eat in peace?! Especially you, pervert!” she snarled at Comus, her vines wrapping around him and lifting him up high. He groaned out with pain, feeling the thorns bend and pierce his armor. 

“Shoot, Comus! Hold on, I’ll get you down,” Walter called, preparing another spell, but Royce--now back on his feet--stopped him.

“Steady yeself, laddie. I’ve got an idea, an’ if ye hold back now, we just might win this.” 

“Seriously?! But he’s--!” 

“When I say ‘now’, follow my lead. Can ye do that?”

“Tch…I guess it’s worth a shot. Alright,” Walter sighed, and readied himself as he watched the scene before him.

The alraune snickered, lifting her soft face to face him. “A plump little thing like you will keep me fed for days…or maybe only hours. Not to mention the effect it’ll have on my figure…though I bet you don’t care about that, do you, you little freak? You’ll be inside me , one way or the other…”

“Now?” Walter asked.

“Not yet,” Royce replied.

She tightened her vines’ grip on Comus and effectively wrung him out like a towel, the samurai letting out a strangled scream as blood began to seep out from his clothes and from underneath his armor, dripping into her waiting mouth. She gripped the sides of her belly, eagerly anticipating it to swell with the new meal and rejuvenate her. 

“Now?!” Walter demanded. 

“Not yet!” Royce barked back.

The vines twisted tighter, tighter, completely enveloping Comus’ body…and after a sickening series of cracks and squelches, a waterfall of blood poured down upon her. She moaned and started gulping as fast as she could, her wounded stomach swelling, and swelling, and swelling…

“Is there any point in asking again?” Walter queried.

“Now, now, now!” Royce responded, and in a flash, the two of them leapt forward. 

They delivered two deep stabs into the sides of her turgid belly, driving their blades in deep until the hilts could pass no further, and then Royce brought his sword down vertically with Walter following suit. In this manner, they made two immense gashes in the center of her stomach, and a flood of blood gushed out from her middle as though a dam had broken. Her vines quickly retracted, the twisted and drained body of Comus falling to the floor before Michel, and she burbled out a few final choice words.

“S-Screw you guys…!” 

The immense alraune’s leaves shriveled up, and she slumped over where she sat, no longer moving. The fight had been won. Walter used his foot as leverage to withdraw his sword, grunting and shaking it dry. 

“I can’t help but feel as though that plan could have been put into place much earlier, and a certain samurai’s demise could have been avoided as a result,” he said. 

“Och, well, it’s like guttin’ a fish. Ye can’t live without yer innards, an’...oi, why’re ye gaggin’, lad? Did I say somethin’ too fishy fer me own good?”

Walter forced down his nausea. “L-Look, the domain…”

Sure enough, now that its creator had been killed, the vines were fading away, revealing the craggy cave walls of Naraku once more. The brambles keeping him in place having dissipated, Navarre dropped to the ground like a sack of bricks. 

“Walter!” a male voice called, and when he and Royce turned around, they saw Jonathan and Isabeau approaching quickly. “A-Are you and Comus quite alright? We couldn’t contact you and…oh my…” He took in the scene before him. Comus’ body, yes, but the sheer size of that demon… “H-How in the world could a demon have gotten so…” 

“Huge…!” Isabeau cut in, shocked at seeing the deceased alraune (now with Rhayader ripping her apart and gorging on her flesh) as well…though once she realized she’d said it out loud rather than in her head, she covered her mouth with both hands and turned away with a blush. “Er…Pardon me. Jonathan, you tend to Navarre, I’ll take care of Comus!” 

“No need to worry, missy!” Michel chirped, kneeling beside Comus’ mangled corpse and feeding him stalks of wheat from his backpack. “I’ll take care of him and fix him up lickety-split!” No matter how unbelievable it seemed, the color was returning to his face, so he seemed to be stabilizing. 

“...If you say so.” 

Jonathan helped Navarre up off the ground, supporting him under his shoulder. “Navarre, are you alright? Are you injured at all? Here, let me take care of your wounds…”

“T-Those two Casualries, they…” he murmured out half-lucidly, “...a-and there was this massive, hideous …ohhh, if only I hadn’t been chosen…! I-I would still be living my carefree life as Mama and Papa’s special little boy…aha…aheehee…”

“N-Navarre?” 

Navarre was delirious from terror and stress, his face twisted into a weak smile as his head lolled about and he giggled. 

“Jonathan.” Comus, now back to his old self with only the taste of wheat in his mouth as a reminder of his fate, was standing beside him with a severe expression on his face. “If I may have a word with Navarre, please.” 

“I-I request that you not be too harsh with him, if you must. He seems quite mentally infirm at the moment.” 

He nodded without saying a word, and circled around to be a bit closer to Navarre, leaning in. The Luxuror let out a pathetic whimper, feeling Comus’ gloved fingers digging into his scalp, and he leaned in close. He looked at Navarre. Navarre tried his hardest not to look at him.

“...” Comus sighed. “I can’t be mad at you. You may be kind of a piece of shit, but you’re right: you never asked for this life. Like it or not, this is how things are. Through rain or snow, you must keep fighting.” 

“Wuh…?”

Comus patted him gently on the back. “If you want tips, meet me in my room sometime after dinner. Us Luxurors have to look out for one another, right?” he added with a wry grin. 

Navarre almost said something, perhaps offended by the suggestion that he would need any sort of help from a pretender like Comus, but just hung his head with a defeated groan. Jonathan hoisted him up a bit more, surprised at the compassion he showed. “I’ll help take him up to Mikado and inform Hope of all that’s happened. Will you and the others be fine?”

“Of course we’ll be! We were just about to head home, right?”

“I’ll say,” Walter replied, stretching. “Your little show of compassion has spoiled my want to give him a verbal drubbing anyway. Besides, I’m sure you have a lot to think about once you’re in bed tonight, will you not?” 

“W-Walt! Shush! Don’t say that around the others!” 

“Pardon me?” Isabeau asked, her curiosity piqued. “Did something out of the ordinary occur in your battle?” 

“I’m also curious to know,” Jonathan added. 

“N-No, nothing out of the ordinary occurred in the slightest! Whatever Walt tells you, it is a bold-faced lie, do you hear me? In the boldest of face!” he stammered, his cheeks flushing red. 

“Hahahaha! Don’t you worry,” he gibed, nudging Comus with his elbow, “Your secret’s safe with me…though I can’t guarantee how loose or tight my lips might be should we encounter another of her ‘power’, hmm?”

“Oh, s-shut up…”

Royce pointed at Comus and said to the others, “The lad thought ‘e was braw on account o’ her size.” 

“And tell your demon to speak in a language I can understand more often, will you?” 

~

Comus: 236 lb → 246 lb

Royce (Lham Dearg): 159 lb → 176 lb

Ying (Fuxi): 137 lb → 146 lb

Rhayader (Myrmecolion): 164 lb → 190 lb

Minerva (Harpy): 175 lb → 184 lb

Michel (Bilwis): 192 lb → 210 lb

Chapter Text

Comus: 246 lb

Royce (Lham Dearg): 176 lb

Ying (Fuxi): 146 lb

Rhayader (Myrmecolion): 190 lb

Minerva (Harpy): 184 lb

Michel (Bilwis): 210 lb

~

“Hoy, wake up.”

Comus immediately sat up, frowning. “Walt, really, are you doing this on purpose now? I can wake up on my own, I’m not five.” 

“I’ll see it when I believe it. Besides, I’m starting to like our little morning meetings.”

“Mmh,” he replied, rubbing his eyes. After that whole business with that obese alraune’s domain, Comus was dead tired, and had fallen asleep practically as soon as he’d reached his barracks. He was surprised he wasn’t being woken up on the floor, really. With the dreams he had had, though…maybe it was good that he had the sheets to cover himself. The scene of that alraune groping her ample gut still replayed in his head from time to time…

“There is a reason for our visit apart from waking you, in any case,” Jonathan added, startling Comus yet again. “The masters are apparently all out today, and as such, us prentices have been granted a holiday that we can spend as we please.” 

“Yup. Jonathan and I wanted to invite you out to breakfast together outside. The weather’s right for it, after all. Let’s say…some bread at the bakery?”

“What about Isabeau?” Comus asked.

“Oh, I asked her, but she demurred and said ‘I’d rather spend it alone,’” Walter replied, performing a cheesy impression of her voice. 

“Nice impression. Real nice. Either way, I’m game. You said the bakery, right? I’m eager to try it, I could use something tasty…” 

Jonathan made an odd expression and pressed his palms together. “May I suggest…a light breakfast, on your part?”

“Excuse me?”

“Y-You understand, I only put forward the suggestion so you don’t end up like…n-never mind.”

“Oh, give the man a break, Jonathan!” Walter laughed, slapping him on the back. Jonathan flinched a little harder than was really necessary. “He’ll be fine. It’s just a bit of bread, after all. Whoever said bread made you fat?” 

“I appreciate the conversation turning to being about me,” Comus sighed, “but I’d really like to get dressed right about now. And I can’t do that with you two knuckleheads standing in my room.”

Getting the message, the two samurai said their farewells and departed, leaving Comus in his bed. He yawned, stretching as far as he could, and threw the covers off, sitting with his legs dangling off the edge of his bed. He looked down at himself.

Sure enough, he was only getting bigger. His own belly now folded over the waistband of his fabric trousers, sitting firmly in his lap as he sat. The lightly-haired portion beneath his navel was peeking out of the hem of his sleep shirt, even--a sign that he should…probably get a new shirt. Yes, that was the most appropriate course of action. His hair-dappled arms had only softened on top of the muscle he’d gained, divots forming at his elbows where the fat of his upper arm met that of his forearm. His thighs now touched in a normal sitting position, and he had to actively spread them to allow for a separation. 

A slight red flush adorned his soft cheeks, and he squished a hand into the side of his stomach beneath his shirt, closing his eyes as he felt his fingers sink into the soft, supple flesh. 

Soft…yes, this was how it was supposed to be for him all along. This felt right. It felt good. It felt like how he always should have been…

Walter poked his head back in, “Hoy, I just realized I forgot to ask, you know where the bakery is, ri--” 

“WILL YOU GET OUT OF HERE?!”

~

The bakery was, thankfully, only a short trip from the barracks down into the Casualry district. In front of a small hut where shelves of all manner of bread were laid out in rows. The owner--another Casualry, a portly man with only a scant wisp of hair atop his head--stood outside and greeted the approaching samurai with a wide smile.

“Hoy, Samurai! Jonathan, it’s especially good to see you again. I trust you’ve been faring well without your servants?”

“Oh, uh, y-yes, sir. Very well indeed.”

Comus shot him a jealous look, crossing his arms. “I wish I had servants…” 

“We’ll get three loaves,” Walter asked, holding up the appropriate amount of fingers, “fresh and still kicking, if you please.”

The baker chuckled. “I can’t say I know of any bread that kicks, but three loaves is what you’ll get.” He took three loaves from the back, the freshest among that lot that hadn’t been picked up and turned over in the hands of prospective buyers. As he retrieved them, he glanced back at the samurai. “By the by…it’s good that you all happened to visit. I have something I wanted to show you.” 

He turned around and set the loaves of bread down beside him on the shelf, digging behind them until he produced a few curious items: a set of a few books bound in paper and leather, their titles printed in a language the Samurai could only just about understand. It looked to be the same language as the ones on their gauntlets, in fact: the mystic script. The baker held them out with a smile. “They call it ‘Literature’. Have you all heard of this?”

“I’m sure you can tell us all about this novel concept after breakfast, Mr. Baker,” Comus said, edging towards the bread on the shelf. 

“You see, the stories within are these complex tales of human suffering, the struggles of life on a personal level…and they’ve made me come to realize something,” the baker continued, gripping the books in both hands as he spoke. “Luxurors, Casualties…this whole system, it’s quite a farce, isn’t it? Luxurors such as you, Jonathan, like to believe that they and Casualries are equals and can co-exist, but it’s simply a pretense, is it not? There is no equity among us, and that is because we face no adversity! Adversity is what builds a man’s character for the better!” 

“Uh, I concur with Comus,” Walter added, edging towards the bread along with him, “if we could get that bread…?” 

Jonathan frowned, furrowing his brow. “Where did you get that…?”

“Why, just recently, I was invited to a Sabbath, and the Black Samurai gave it to me as a gift. I think you all could do with some copies of your own, surely? Let’s see, what have I been reading lately…?” he mused, shuffling through the books in his collection. “There’s Osamu Dazai’s ‘No Longer Human’, Ogai Mori’s ‘The Dancing Girl’...” 

Walter and Comus alike had taken the bread he’d prepared for them. Comus was sneaky and stuffed an extra loaf into his bag for later. Now the two of them were back beside Jonathan.

“We’re…going to go. Shall we be off, Walt, Jon?”

“I-I suppose, um…sir? I’ll just leave the payment here for you…”

The baker continued to list off books of great personal trauma, even as Jonathan dropped a couple dozen macca onto a nearby table and awkwardly hurried off with the rest of them. 

Opting to take their breakfast in a place with a view, they discussed where best to eat at length until Comus personally recommended a place he knew: a small clearing beneath a large tree on the coast of Lake Mikado. All were in agreement, but as they came upon the spot in question, they found that it was already occupied by two young men. 

“O-Oh!” one of them said upon noticing the Samurai, standing up. He was clearly dressed in the clothes of a Casualry, a simple tunic much like the one Comus once wore on his family’s farm and which he hated to be reminded of, with his hair put up in a ponytail. The other man stood alongside him, having similar attire but a more sleek hairstyle and eyes that didn't fit an ostensible peasant such as himself. “Hello, sirs. To what do we owe the honor?” 

Comus squinted. Right, he knew those guys…weren’t they in front of him during the Gauntlet Rite? They both got rejected. He remembered from standing in line at the Rite that the boy with the ponytail was…

“Issachar, right?”

The words came out as a surprise to him, and Issachar looked up with a bit of confusion. “Uh…yes, that is me, and beside me is Flynn, my friend.” Flynn raised a hand in silent greeting. “Do I know you?” 

“Perhaps a better question is,” Walter cut in, “do you know them? Are these friends of yours, Comus?”

Oh, great. He’d really put his foot in it now, hadn’t he? Now he had to pretend to know them for real. Comus crossed his arms and puffed out some air. “Ohhh…you could say that, yeah. We’ve spent some time together.” It wasn’t a lie if it was technically true, right? Either way, Issachar and Flynn just looked baffled. 

“I see,” Walter replied, not believing him. “Nonetheless, would you two like to join us in our breakfasting here? I’m sure my friend here wouldn’t mind sharing his bread, would he?” he jabbed Comus in the side, making him flinch.

“No, sadly, this was only a brief respite for us. We have field duties to tend to. Not only that, but I have a gift to bring home to my family in Kiccigiorgi. We ought to start heading back, shouldn’t we?” he asked Flynn, who nodded in response. Comus noted that he didn't seem to be much of a talker, at least not while in company. 

“Kiccigiorgi?” Jonathan asked. “That’s quite a long ways away, I must say.”

“Oh, it isn’t that much of a trek, I can assure you. If we start walking now without rest, we should reach it before sundown. It can be daunting when you hear it explained, but we both have found ways to pass the time and make a game of things, haven’t we?” Flynn nodded again. Yup, definitely not a talker. 

“If you say so. Fare thee well,” Walter said, seeing the two boys off as they started their journey to the far-off village. 

Now with their spot cleared, the three sat and began digging into their loaves of bread. A pretty Spartan breakfast by Comus’ tastes, frankly. 

Jonathan swallowed his first bite and sighed. “Oh, me. We should have brought beverages as well. It completely slipped my mind.” 

“Lucky for you, Jonny, someone among us has some foresight and taste when it comes to their meals,” Comus said with a snicker as he reached into his bag and retrieved three glass bottles of sweet cider, the cloudy liquid’s aroma breaking through their stoppers and delivering a fruity scent among them. 

“Comus…where did you get those? I didn't pay for those!”

“Mum’s the word. Now, do you want a drink or not?” 

Jonathan huffed. “If you’re implying that you stole them, then you know I will have no choice but to report such criminal behavior to Master Hope for him to take punitive action…”

“Aw, Jonathan, don’t be so tightly-wound! I’m sure you can overlook a misdemeanor as tasty as this, no? Pass one here.” Walter opened his hands and caught a bottle tossed to him, yanking out the cork with his teeth. 

Comus held out another bottle to Jonathan, urging him to do the same, but the upright samurai just raised his hand and turned away. “No thank you. It wouldn’t be right of me, let alone a samurai, to drink that which he has gained unlawfully.”

“Suit yourself, more for me,” Comus replied, uncorking a bottle and guzzling it down happily. 

Walter tore into his bread, looking out over the surface of Lake Mikado. He was quiet as he ate, taking in the view, but eventually he found something he wished to speak about. “I admit,” he said with his mouth partially full, “the peculiar behavior of that baker from earlier has been playing on my mind. That ‘Literature’ of his is something I’ve never heard of.”

“Me neither,” Jonathan replied, taking small bites like a mouse. It was a little cute, Comus had to admit. “The only stories I know of are of the founding of Mikado, tales of King Aquila’s bravery and might, and fairy-stories.”

Comus let out a small burp from the cider, shrugging. “Don’t ask me. My family was too poor to even have those, let alone anything in mystic script. I don’t know how to read it at all, Queenie is in charge of translating all that for me.” 

“Same here,” Walter concurred, raising his bottle and taking a drink. “Quite useful, I must say. Those characters mean nothing but headaches for me.” 

“What I’m more concerned about is this ‘Black Samurai’ he mentioned…where would she have obtained such esoteric tomes from?”

“Frankly, I couldn’t care less,” Walter answered. “I have better things to do than fret about some self-proclaimed ‘dark knight’, let alone on a holiday such as this.” 

Comus swallowed another bite of bread, starting his second loaf. “Oh, right, it’s a prentice holiday. I completely forgot about that. What are you all’s plans for the day?”

“I thought it would be nice to take a stroll around the castle city for a bit,” Jonathan said.

“Wow. I certainly didn't see that coming. You’re so lame, Jonathan,” Comus said with a giggle, making the Luxuror blush. “I think I may just join you, though…after all, one must start thinking about lunch sooner or later.” 

“Me, I think I’ll just nap the day away right here.” Walter stretched out and laid back on the grass, closing his eyes. “You two enjoy yourselves. I’ll be here attempting to complete my transformation into a placid lakeside rock.”

They all shared a good laugh at that, and soon after, the three said their goodbyes and parted ways for the day. Comus returned to his room in the barracks, but not before checking his gauntlet and remembering that he had a few challenge quests to complete. First among them (and seemingly the easiest) was to slay five chagrin in Naraku, but as he wanted to take full advantage of his holiday, he simply took three steps in, summoned Minerva, and requested her to take care of it. By the time she’d returned, though she had a few needles in her, the challenge was complete, and he retired to bed shortly thereafter. 

He laid back, his hands folded behind his head, and was just about to doze off when he got the peculiar feeling that someone was watching him. Not wanting to scare them off, he remained with his eyes mostly closed, taking advantage of his larger nose to hide the eye that was more open. 

There was a figure in the doorway, its shoulders hunched and a dour expression on its face, but the light was too dim to make it out fully. Comus moved to sit up, grunting out a “Who’s there?”, but his only answer was the sound of hasty footsteps against stone as the figure vanished. 

Upon peeking out of the door, though the figure itself had since vanished, a small scrap of green fabric was sitting where it once stood. 

Comus pocketed it. 

~

“Walt, I know it’s you,” Comus mumbled, his eyelids creaking open to see Walter standing over his bed. He rubbed his eyes and groaned. “I can tell just based on the energy you radiate by now, and I must say, I’m not a fan. Not to mention…” There was very little light in the room, only coming from the torches lining the walls. The sun wasn’t up yet. “Why have you woken me up at all? It must be the middle of the night…”

“Pardon me for interrupting your beauty sleep,” Walter quipped, “but Isabeau has finally exited her room and is up on the rooftop alone as we speak, the priss! Come on, don’t you want to see what she’s doing?”

“...I would rather go back to sleep…”

“I concur,” Jonathan said, scaring Comus again.

“Gah--! Please, Jonny, wear a bell or something! You startle me every time you show up here with Walt!”

Ignoring him, Jonathan continued. “It’s most impolite to intrude on a lady in her private matters. We should go back to bed.” 

“And yet you’re still awake, I see?” Walter replied, making the Luxuror stammer bashfully. 

Comus blinked hard. “You two aren’t going to go away until I come with you, are you? Fine…” 

Hauling himself out of bed and still yawning with every couple steps he took, Comus trudged along behind Walter and Jonathan through the halls of the barracks and up the stairs of the castle until they reached the roof. The wind blew bitterly against them in the night, stars peeking out through the clouds here and there. There, near one of the corners of the rooftop, Isabeau sat. 

Walter turned to the others and spoke in a hushed tone, “There she is…! Okay, here’s my plan. I’ll sneak up on her and surprise her with our presence!”

“I really doubt she’ll enjoy that,” Jonathan cautioned.

“That’s the point! To see that prim iron mask of hers slip, those cold cheeks of hers flush pink…”

Comus shot him a look. “Okay, Walter, thank you. Not all of us are blessed with an absence of shame like you are.” 

“And whose iron mask are we speaking of?”

That last voice was Isabeau’s, and her appearance right between Walter and Jonathan caused both of them to let out a startled yelp. She shook her head, her hands noticeably hidden behind her back. “Honestly, if you all are choosing to be voyeurs, the least you could do is be quiet ones.” 

“Don’t blame me,” Comus explained with another yawn, “This whole thing was Walt’s idea, so I had no say in it…what were you doing up here by yourself, anyways?”

“You weren’t reading ‘Literature’, were you?” Jonathan asked.

“Literature?” she responded, confused. “No, no…what I’m reading is ‘manga’. You see?” Isabeau held up a small, squat, rectangular book with a picture of two excessively pretty figures on the front--one in a red dress with thickly-curled blonde hair holding some flowers and another with cascading platinum locks. The title was written in mystic script, though, so Comus couldn’t make heads or tails of it. She opened it up, and the other samurai were shocked by the level of visual representation within its pages. 

“Amazing…it’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen before,” Jonathan mused. “A story told through words and pictures…”

“The story I’m reading is set in the fictional kingdom of France, where a daring female knight dresses as a woman to achieve her goals and perform feats of derring-do. B-But then, at one point, she falls in love with a man, her fateful companion, and then, and then…!” 

She excitedly explained the plot of the story to the three of them, and while it went over Jonathan and Walter’s heads, Comus seemed to be the only one actually interested as he flipped through the pages. The art especially seemed to intrigue him. “You’re telling me this woman was raised as a man, and by that dint is emboldened to act as a man does in battle? Impressive…”

“Indeed! But it isn’t just her upbringing that motivates her, for she also engages in romantic entanglements with…hm?” She looked up, gazing out to the horizon. 

“What is it? Have you finally realized the silliness of your obsession?” Walter cracked.

“N-No…look, over there!” 

She pointed out to a distant point on the horizon line where the sky was lit up in a swirling orange-red-yellow miasma, the clouds darkening above and around its point of origin. Comus squinted, trying to get a good look at the distant scene. Considering he’d been woken up without warning only a few minutes earlier, his vision wasn’t in peak form. “It looks like…a village is burning?”

Isabeau tucked away her book. “Isn’t that the direction where Kiccigiorgi lies?” 

“Comus! I-Isn’t that where those two we met at breakfast-time live? Issachar and Flynn?” 

“I guess so…” 

“Hurry!” Jonathan called, gesturing for the other samurai prentices to follow him back down from the rooftop. “If we act fast, we may be able to assist those in danger!” 

Isabeau bounded after him, and Walter followed after with a “Don’t wait up!” to Comus. Comus himself was left standing on the rooftop, looking out at the burning village…and no matter how badly he just wanted to go back to bed and accept that someone else--someone more prepared--will take care of the issue, he knew that his heart wouldn’t allow him to. Plus, it probably wouldn’t be a good look if he chose to sleep in when no doubt every other samurai in the kingdom was mobilizing. 

Reluctantly, he hoped his armor still fit. 

The scene at the plaza was hectic, samurai running around all over like a colony of ants after being sprayed with a hose and shouts filling the air. The four prentices approached a master at the center of it all, standing beneath the statue of King Aquila and directing teams. He raised a hand to stop them. “Halt. You prentices surely aren’t also being put on the Kiccigiorgi expedition, are you…?”

“So there is trouble,” Walter sighed.

“I’m sorry to say, but no prentices have been assigned to that mission. You’ll have to return to your stations for now.”

Isabeau shook her head. “I suppose there’s nothing to be done about it, then…”

“But those young men, Issachar and Flynn…they’re…!” 

“Sorry, but no prentices. You all must stay put unless you’re called upon, that’s the rule. 

“The rule?!” Jonathan smoldered, lowering his head and clutching his fists impotently. 

“We did only just meet them, Jonathan,” Walter said. “Otherwise, they’re perfect strangers to us. It’s not our place to go sticking our noses in where they don’t belong. It’s painful, yes, but…well, it is the rule.” 

Comus watched Jonathan struggle over their lack of power, feeling quite a bit of sympathy for him. After all, he knew the feeling of wanting desperately to save people you only met just recently and being unable to. He knew it all too well. It was about that time, then, that he got an idea. Turning around, he ruffled his hair, he prodded himself in the eyes to draw tears, and he whipped back around with an overwrought expression of sorrow and dismay on his face.

“Oh, please , sir, you don’t understand! Kiccigiorgi, it’s…i-it’s my home! I left my dear Mama and Papa behind to become a samurai, if something were to happen to them, I, I…!” He dropped to his knees, sobbing with his face in his hands. The master samurai just looked on, bewildered, and the others seemed to be mimicking him. “You have to let me and my associates go on this mission, you simply have to!”

“I…I…” the master stammered.

“What’s going on here?” Hope demanded, stamping towards the scene taking place before him. Comus was on the ground, loudly crying and sniffling and banging his fists against the stone ground until they were raw.

“S-Sir! I have an, uh, report for you…these samurai, you see…”

“Kiccigiorgi is my hometown, sir!” Comus pleaded, grabbing Hope’s coat by the hem and kneeling before him. “You must allow me to save my dear family from whatever destruction has befallen my hometown, y-you must, if you have a heart…”

Hope stared down at him and met Comus’ bleary, snotty visage. He looked over at the others, seeing Walter’s whistling and faux casualness, Jonathan averting his eyes, and Isabeau furrowing her brow at Comus hard enough to turn coal to diamonds. Then he sighed. “It’s alright. These prentices can accompany us on the mission.”

“B-But sir, the protocol states--”

“I’m aware of what protocol states, but this is an emergency. The more hands on deck we have, the better. Not to mention…” He cast a knowing look back down at Comus. “It is the duty of any noble samurai to strive to protect the people of Mikado, even those he may not have any familiarity with on a personal level. Now come along, we must hurry.”

Hope strutted away, the master he’d been speaking to glaring suspiciously at the other samurai before following after him, and Comus blubbered out ‘thank you’ after ‘thank you’ until he was certain that the two of them were out of earshot. Then, just as quick as it’d happened, his crying faded and he wiped his face, fluffing his hair and turning to the other samurai. “Well? Shall we be off, then?”

“That was…” Isabeau started, then trailed off. “No. I don’t have the words to describe it. It was simply…”

“I’ve got one. Impressive. No, wait, two. Pathetic. Just a little bit,” Walter said.

Jonathan took one of his hands. “A-Are you actually from Kiccigiorgi? If so, I’m so sorry, and we must--”

“No!” Comus slithered his hand out of his grasp. “Of course I’m not from there. I’m actually from Nelymar, which is…” he pointed in the exact opposite direction of Kiccigiorgi, “that-a-way. I just engaged in a bit of dramaturgy, that’s all. And in the end, we got on the mission to Kiccigiorgi, didn't we?” 

“I don’t know how comfortable I am with this…” Jonathan murmured, “but I suppose the ends justify the means, at least in this instance. Let us be off.” 

~

Kiccigiorgi was aflame. What buildings weren’t currently consumed by the blazing conflagration were reduced to little more than rubble, and the charred remains of mutilated bodies filled their interiors. The four prentices marched behind Hope, taking in the scene of carnage with horrified expressions. Soon enough, they stumbled upon a panic-stricken elderly man who claimed that demons ‘from the fairy-stories’ had appeared and ransacked the village, and that while a few survivors still remained, they had all escaped into Kiccigiorgi Forest. The group made the trek, and Hope gave them their mission statement, addressing all four of them.

“Search for any survivors and ensure their safety as they make their way back to this entrance. And be sure to give Comus your full support…as this is a personal matter for him,” he added, glaring at him. Comus sunk into his shoulders under the weight of the veteran samurai’s gaze. 

The instant they set foot in the forest, they could hear screams from a number of locations, and the decision was made among them once again to spread out. True to the old man’s word, the place was crawling with figures from fairy-stories: dwarves, pixies, spriggans, and even a few Stonka and Camazotz. They roved in packs, and Comus and Minerva kept a close eye on each others’ backs. When a whole gang of elementals, Erthys and Aeros and Flaemis alike, surrounded them, they had no issue dispatching the group. The same went for a slew of Napaea and dwarves, a few Zio shocks and some repeated slashes doing the trick to scatter them to the wind. Only a short ways past the latter horde were two survivors, a man and a woman tightly huddled together who cursed Issachar for leaving them for so long. That was odd. Didn't they just see him with a friend? What was that other guy’s name? Finn? It was probably Finn. Nonetheless, Comus instructed Minerva to lead them to the entrance of the forest, and though it left him vulnerable for a short while, he figured he could hold his own in the meantime.

“Heeey, tubbo~!” a high-pitched feminine voice rang out, and in an instant, Comus lifted his heavy zweihander. So much for holding his own, he supposed…

“Who’s there? Identify yourself or, or…!” Really, he should be holding up his gauntlet or even just a magic-casting empty hand, but muscle memory still demanded that he lift a weapon in response to a perceived threat.

“Whoa there, big boy, put down the sword, okay? It’s not a fight I’m interested in…it’s you,” the voice spoke as its owner lightly fluttered down to rest on the very tip of his blade. 

It was a pixie, that much was true: the little humanoid looked about the same as the rest of them with a little curl of reddish-brown hair, a blue leotard with matching long gloves and knee-socks, and two delicate wings sprouting from her scapulae. The only thing that seemed to set her apart, really, was that she was quite a bit chubbier than the typical pixie, her thickened thighs filling out her knee-socks and her belly and breasts stretching out her leotard. She kept her eyes perpetually half-lidded with a sultry expression on her face, one thick leg perched atop the other and her soft chin sitting in her palm. “Aren’t you a cute thing, hmm? All the other samurai are such sexless adonises, blah-blah-blah-ing about ‘the mission’ and ‘Mikado’, but I can see just from the look of you that you’re a little different than the rest. I just adore those cute curls of yours, not to mention…” she bit her lip and sized him up like a piece of meat. “Mmmm…What’s your name?” 

Comus went pink, flustered at being fawned over by a demon who was…admittedly very cute. “Er…Comus. Sorry, this isn’t some sort of trick, is it?” He glanced over his shoulder. “You aren’t going to launch some sort of ambush on me while distracting me with your wiles, are you?”

“My wiles? That’s one way to put ‘em, I suppose,” she giggled, resting a hand on her chest. “But, no way! I could never launch a surprise attack on a sexy thing like yourself…not unless you count this, of course--!” Before he could move out of the way, the pixie launched herself at Comus and scurried up into the tunic beneath his armor. Though an outside observer wouldn’t notice a thing, it was more than obvious to him that she had her arms and legs spread, fully latched onto his stomach. “Mmmm, so, so soooft…Just want it to engulf me…Mmh, can I stay here? I promise I’ll try my best to be quiet,” she practically begged. 

The samurai was beet-red at this point, once again thankful for the codpiece of his armor, and he almost considered it before he felt movement that felt like bouncing where she had latched herself onto him. It wasn’t exactly expected by him that someone other than himself would like his new heft, let alone to this extent, and he wasn’t hating it at all. That being said, he still had some degree of dignity.

“I-I, uh…I do appreciate it, and you know, maybe I will consider it during more private times, but there’s a mission to be taken care of and survivors to rescue. You’re free to tag along with me and the others though, if you’d like.” 

Like a rat had found its way into his sleeping bag, he felt the pixie crawl and grope her way up his body before popping out of his collar. She planted a kiss on his double chin. “Seriously? Thanks a million, big boy! You can call me Nena. What kind of others have you got, hmm? If they’re more muffin-tops like yourself, I just might lose my mind…”

Coming in just when she was needed, Minerva flew down from the canopy and perched herself nearby. “Comus, there’s a survivor a short ways east of us being attacked by a demon. I’ve already let Walter know, so he’ll be coming to our aid momentarily. If you’ll follow me, I can take you to where they are.” 

“Uh, t-thank you, Minerva.”

The harpy raised her eyebrow. “And who is this? A new recruit?”

Nena sized Minerva up the same way she did with Comus, ogling her hips for longer than was necessary. “Just consider me another member of the harem~” 

“A-Alright, that’s enough out of you,” Comus scolded, unsummoning her. 

Meeting up with Walter a couple meters east, the two of them pushed through some shrubbery to come upon a terrifying scene: a man being accosted to the point of tears by yet another half-human half-bird demoness. Comus wondered if this kind of demon was common or if he’d just been lucky as of late, but the man’s screams prevented any further theorizing.

“P-Please…Oh, God, help me!” the man cried, the bird-demon swooping around him and gripping him by the shoulders with her human hands. In fact, she seemed to be mostly torso, black-feathered wings sprouting from her head and plumage emerging from beneath her ribcage. Queenie’s software identified it as a ‘Strix’. 

She whispered close to his ear. “Come now…aren’t you sick of how those Luxurors treat you? Why don’t we pick up where we left off, and…”

“Unhand him, lest we chop those hands of yours clean off!” Walter called, drawing his sword. Comus summoned his demons at the same time, Minerva being flanked by Michel and Rhayader. 

“Speak of the devil…” the strix growled, shoving the man to the ground. “It appears I’ll have to ensure we have some privacy before we continue our talk! You callow, despicable, insufferable Luxuror bastards…have you come to oppress us once again with your half-baked arrogant beliefs about ‘equality’ and ‘grace’, born from brains of leaky shit?!”

“I am no Luxuror,” Walter responded, “but I am a samurai. And as such, I’m duty-bound to cast things like you back to the Hell from whence they came from.”

“And I object to your opinion of Luxurors!” Comus shouted, earning a smack on the back of the head from Walter. “O-Ow! Do not strike me, Walt!” 

“Look alive!” he yelled.

The strix let out a mighty caw and swooped down intending to slice out Comus’ throat, but the samurai ducked and instead shot an electrical charge from his pointed finger, making her cry out in pain and drop to the ground. Immediately thereafter, Minerva swiped her talons at the strix’ ample breasts and Michel jabbed her in the face with his pitchfork. “Sorry! I think you have a lot of good ideas, but I also don’t condone killing people!” he apologized while stabbing her in the eyes. Rhayader just sunk his teeth into whatever he could take and tore away, though more often than not he was spitting out feathers. Walter could barely contribute with how the demons dogpiled her, though he managed to get a few good stabs in.

“Gah--! W-Wretches of the system! Luxurors! Luxuror sympathizers! I-I detest all of you…your cowardly tactics of ganging up on the weak won’t be taken sitting down, though!” she cried, flapping her wings and sending the group flying in different directions. Two figures weren’t sent away due to having their heads gripped in her palms, though: Walter and Rhayader. One kicked and protested, the other growled and pawed. “If you will suck, suck, suck, like the social vampires that you are, then why shouldn’t I give you a taste of your own medicine?!” 

She dug her fingers deeper into their scalps, draining a good chunk of life from the both of them and cackling…but just as she was about to switch from ‘healing myself’ to ‘killing you’ mode, a sensation like a taser in the middle of her back caused her to arch it and screech at the top of her lungs, dropping the both of them.

“Now, Minerva!” Comus shouted, keeping his Zio spell active. 

Regaining her senses quick as a wink, Minerva leapt up and swooped towards the Strix, delivering the finishing blow in the form of three parallel talon-made gashes across her face. The bird-demon went limp and Comus let her drop, wiping his hands free of dust. “That’s that taken care of.” 

“O-Oh…” the man who was being harassed slowly staggered to his feet with Walter’s help, tears streaming down his face. “T-Thank you, thank you both so much! This awful business, i-it…it all started when a villager brought back books from the c-castle town…they called it ‘Literature’. Something called a ‘Sabbath’ was held to discuss the works, but from what I saw u-upon being invited, it was just an excuse to denigrate the Luxuror class…and then…” he covered his face, “a-and then, their bodies started twisting, and convulsing…and they became demons…!”

“It’ll be alright,” Walter said, comforting him as he braced the man with his shoulder. “I’ll take this one back to the forest gates. Have you got the rest of the survivors taken care of on your own? I’m sure Jonathan and Isabeau must have finished up by now.” 

“I should…Minerva, did you spot any other survivors?”

“There was a family being held hostage by a group of Napaea and dwarves to the south,” she replied. 

“Then that’s where we’ll be headed next.”

“Say,” Walter grinned, “you’ve got a pretty smart demon, there. Just take care not to rely on her too much. You’ve got to be of some use by yourself, after all.”

“Just go drag the survivor out,” Comus responded curtly, watching as Walter helped the man away. Minerva perched herself on a nearby branch and looked down at Comus and his demons. 

“He is right, you know. It isn’t wise to rely too much on one demon. You’d be better off investing in a group of demons that work well together rather than focusing solely on a single attacker. What might happen if I were to fall in battle?” 

Comus winced. He had been trying to avoid thinking of that possibility for the past few days, but…well, he had to deal with it sooner or later. He shook his head. “Then…I suppose I’d have to rethink my strategy?”

“By then, it will have been too late. Rethink it now, while there is still time.”

Michel pointed up at her. “Boy, you know, she really is smart. Where’d you find her? I don’t even think harpies fly this high…”

“This high?” Comus asked, a hand on his hip. “We’re at sea level in the forest, there aren’t any mountains around for miles. Plus, as far as I know, demons being outside of Naraku isn’t normal.” 

“Oh. Oh, yeah, right, heh! Silly me, f-forget I said anything!” Michel backtracked, trying and failing to hide behind his pitchfork. “I just say random stuff sometimes like that, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

“...I suppose you do have your secrets. And here I thought you were just overly friendly and easily entertained.”

“You’re right on both fronts there, tho--h-hey! Hey! Rhayader! That’s my grain, not for you, give it-- give iiiit…”

The Napaea and dwarves scattered practically as soon as Comus and Minerva showed up, and he was able to easily escort them to the forest entrance without an issue. There, Hope and the rest of the master samurai explained to the group as a whole all that he’d been informed about: ‘Literature’ was brought back to Kiccigiorgi after being passed out by the Black Samurai, where afterwards the younger people of the village gathered to form a ‘Sabbath’ where they expressed their frustrations over the class system, causing them to turn into demons. His next task was for all samurai to head deeper into the forest to both search for any remaining survivors and track down the Black Samurai, if they were still lingering in the area. 

Only a few steps past where they had already passed through, Queenie popped up on Comus’ gauntlet. 

“Uhhh. You should know, there’s some REAL bad shit up ahead. You know all those demons you’ve been fighting? That’s practically peanuts compared to what I’m sensing. I suggest you turn around and high-tail it right the fuck now.”

Of course, he ignored her, and he and the three other samurai ventured inward with Minerva stashed away for her own safety. Visible in a clearing as the trees parted was a young man with a messy ponytail familiar to three out of the four present. It was Issachar, seemingly doing nothing but standing around, and he was startled to see samurai encroaching upon his busy work. 

“A-Ah, you’re…!”

“Say, isn’t that the fellow from the other day at the lake?” Walter asked.

“Issachar, was it? Are you alright? What about your compatriot?”

“Oh, I am fine…in fact, I am better than fine. I’ve decided to shed my former life as a downtrodden work-a-day Casualry. You see, it’s finally sunken in. The Luxurors…they deny us Casualry the rights of knowledge and education, keeping us complicit and accepting of the status quo while they reap the rewards of our hard work! But that’s just the thing…it’s our hard work. We keep the wheel turning for their sake, and we have the power to stop it if we so choose. It is off our backs that the idle rich grow fat!” 

Comus opened his mouth, then closed it again. Queenie popped up on his gauntlet. “Yeah, uh, just so you guys know, in addition to that fuck-off scary signal I’m still picking up, I just picked up another demon signal right next to you.”

Jonathan kept his hand on his sword. “Your friend, Flynn…where is he?”

Issachar’s shoulders slumped, him shutting his eyes. “I don’t know. Maybe I left him…or perhaps he left me, abandoning me to go rub shoulders with the big shots at the castle. It doesn’t matter anymore. I don’t need him or anyone else…” 

His eyes shot open, revealing red sclerae as his mouth twisted into a maniacal grin. 

“...Now that I’ve embraced the demonic.”

All four samurai produced their weapons, readying themselves for battle. 

Rather than charging forwards, however, Issachar’s body lurched and shook unnaturally, the boy groaning out in pain. It seemed as though his form desperately wanted to mutate and shift into that of a demon, but something--whether that be uncertainty in his morals or inherent inability--was preventing him from doing so, leaving him in painful turmoil. 

“Dear Lord…what is happening to him?” Jonathan murmured in fear.

“Isn’t it obvious? He’s turning into a demon…or at least trying to.” Walter stepped forward, raising his sword. “It’s best to cut him down before he--”

“Hold on, Walter.” Comus had raised his hand to stop him, and looked back to the others. “Let me take care of this for now, okay?”

“...If you say so.” He lowered his sword and allowed Comus to step forward, the pudgy samurai dragging his zweihander behind him. Jonathan clasped his hands together, silently praying for everyone involved to come out safely, while Isabeau simply looked on. 

All the while, Issachar moaned out in pain and…staggered back, away from the incoming samurai. “I-It was mortifying, to be passed over for the Gauntlet Rite…knowing I would forever be nothing but a lowly Casualry, toiling away in the fields until my untimely death…that there was no way out of this miserable life I had never asked to be born into…!”

Comus took a deep breath inwards, then sighed. “I know how it feels, Issachar.” 

“You…? You?!” The mutated boy tried to swipe at Comus, but his arm never even came close to making contact. “I heard you earlier! You…Y-You’re a Luxuror! You think I’m filth! No matter the circumstances of your birth, you all…all of you samurai are Luxurors, having graduated to become a part of the class that had done e-everything in their power to keep you from reaching their level by sheer chance…” 

He clenched his fists as Issachar spoke, the words welling up inside of him. The more he’d heard the turned villagers’ opinions on the Luxurors and the more he’d thought about it himself, the less he felt comfortable with his so-called ‘dream’. After all, it was only ever his dream because he envied the comfortable lives of the Luxurors, those who had the freedom to eat and drink and be happy and healthy, a privilege that was few and far between on his farmstead…but this suppression, the fomenting of this sort of resentment and anguish, this was not what he wanted. This was never what he wanted. 

Comus stuck his sword’s blade into the ground, looking Issachar in the eyes as he shouted.

“I-I…am a Casualry! That’s what I was born as, and no matter what role I may take, no matter how I may look, no matter the class mantle I don, I will always be a Casualry in my heart!” 

Walter nodded approvingly, Jonathan meekly raised his clasped hands, and Isabeau was frankly a bit confused, since she’d been under the assumption that he really was a Luxuror. It was what he was always saying, after all. Issachar himself blinked, the pain becoming second to his epiphany.

“Y-You…but…no, that’s impossible! T-Then…” he looked down at his hands with despair, “w-what have I done…?!” A bulge formed in his torso, then another in his gut, and he doubled over, vomiting a mixture of black and red sludge. Whatever he was intending to transform into, it wasn’t taking. He dropped to his knees, gripping the edges of Comus’ coat. “O-Oh, God, the pain…! I-I can’t…please, I beg of you…end my pain…!” 

“M-Me?” Comus stammered, and though he was clearly uncomfortable, his hand slowly edged towards the grip of his sword. “I, I…” 

This would be his first time killing another living human being, if he chose to go through with it…but was that something he would also have to get used to, someday? Death was as permanent for humans as it was for his own demons, after all…though, he didn't have the time to waffle. He had to, as he’d done many times before, go with his gut. He looked back at the group and singled out one.

“...Walter. Come here and help me finish the job.”

“C-Comus!” Jonathan protested. “You would end his life when he’s already suffered so much? Perhaps there could be a cure for whatever condition is ailing him!” 

“Jonathan, we would be doing him a kindness. This is a measure we must take to cut his prolonged suffering short, no matter how cruel it may seem. You should follow his example and take action when you know what the alternative is.” 

Just as Walter was about to approach Comus and the suffering Issachar, however, the boy suddenly lurched and let out a gurgling gasp of pain, dropping to the ground with a heavy thud. Stuck into his back was a samurai sword, and its owner appeared to be the figure that now rose from where he had snuck in. All present recognized it, but it was only after he had removed the sword and turned Issachar onto his back that his name was spoken.

“Hrrrkk…F-Flynn…you came…f-for me…?” 

Comus and Walter both stepped back, allowing the two their moment as Flynn cradled his dear friend’s form on his knees. Issachar blindly groped until he took hold of the fellow peasant’s tunic hem. 

“I-I thought you…you had a-abandoned…me…b-but really, I…I-I guess I gave up…I-I was so angry with the Luxurors, I…I-I forgot all about you…my friend…” He let out a painful laugh, blood spattering across his soiled outfit. “Y-You remember that day…when we first saw Mikado castle…o-on an errand, right? T-The city seemed like it could go on f-forever…from that spot that was s-so precious to us…on the shore…of L-Lake Mikado…” Issachar sobbed. “F-Forgive me, my friend…all I wanted was to…c-change…the world…”

And finally, his convulsions ceased. Flynn lowered him down to the ground, his expression solemn and unreadable, as he retrieved his sword once more.

Comus rubbed the back of his neck under his curly hair, approaching Flynn. Only now had he noticed that Flynn was still dressed in the clothes of a Casualry farmer. “T-Thank you for that…Flynn, was it? I wouldn’t have felt comfortable doing it myself, you understand, so…a-anyways. Are you not a Casualry just like him and…well, Walter, and I? Where did you get that sword?”

“I concur,” Walter added. “It seems to be of the same make as our own castle-forged ones.”

Reaching into his own white neckerchief, Flynn produced a scrap of lime-green cloth. Comus recognized it, reaching into his bag and pulling out his own scrap with a small smile. “I see. He must have let you have it. Just be sure to return it soon, alright? He still has the makings of a fine warrior if he’d only accept his fate like the rest of us. And don’t get caught with it, otherwise the masters might take you for a pretender.” 

Flynn nodded and, without a word, he turned and began to make his way out of the forest. 

“Will he be alright on his own?” Isabeau asked.

“If he could sneak up on four samurai like that and deliver a killing blow so quickly, then I’m sure he can hold his own against some pixies and dybbuks,” Comus said. “Still…even if I’m glad I didn't have to deliver the final blow, I doubt it felt good for him to do it to his own friend.” 

“I wish there was never a need to deliver a ‘final blow’ in the first place,” Jonathan retorted, “the boy was clearly of no danger to anyone. He could barely remain living as it was.” 

“And you would have let him continue on like that? Your heart was in the right place, Comus. Don’t let it get to you.”

“...Thanks.” 

All at once, the samurai received an incoming call on their gauntlets. Comus was the one to answer, and a video screen emerged showing Hope. 

“Calling all Samurai. Our target, the Black Samurai, was just spotted in the deepest regions of the forest. Make capturing the Black Samurai your utmost priority for now. They appear as a human figure clad in ebon armor. I repeat, for all those who are receiving this message, make capturing the Black Samurai your number-one priority for now…” 

“The Black Samurai…” Comus mused as the video feed turned off. “I wonder, do you think that could be the dangerous reading Queenie got earlier?”

“But the Black Samurai is human, no?” Isabeau questioned. “Surely your Burroughs wouldn’t identify them as a demon…?”

“Look, I don’t question my readings, I just tell ‘em to you. And what I’m telling you right now is that it’s getting really, really fucking close and if you all don’t listen up and get out right now--”

There was the sound of foliage rustling, then numerous small branches like the kind found in bushes and shrubbery snapping and breaking. All four sharply turned to face the source of the sound, and all four were utterly shocked. 

Standing there before them was what couldn’t be anything but a feminine form, on account of its enormity. Her obesity approached that of the Alraune Walter and Comus had battled a few days earlier, but didn't quite reach the same heights. Her form was nonetheless plump to the point of parody, her arms now resembling cones that flared out the closer they approached her sloping shoulders, fighting for space against her pumpkin-sized breasts. Her chest still held much of its shape, and whether it was a result of her clothing or not, her belly was perfectly globular without a dimple or divot to be seen apart from where the material was clearly stretching over her navel as it hung halfway down to her knees. She was clad in a skin-tight sable jumpsuit constructed of some shiny material, pockets and squares of protective buffer lining the limbs…though ‘clad’ was putting it nicely, as the garment appeared painted onto her sheer bulk. It squeaked as she walked, her thighs (each as thick around as Jonathan’s torso and more) chafing the material between them as they rubbed. Shrouding her head was a helm that could only be described as utterly alien, even if the samurai had no conception of what that word meant, two glowing red eye panels being set into a roughly bell-shaped black metal body kept stable with bracing rods. 

She stood with her hand on one round hip, audibly huffing and puffing from the trek through the forest she no doubt had to take on foot.

Jonathan bristled and hovered his hand over his sword. “My goodness…I suppose she is in ebon attire, so this must be the Black Samurai…? The unearthly appearance, I was not expecting, but, well…I was also not expecting her to be a woman…”

“Let alone one so…prodigious,” Walter finished, transfixed by a strange mixture of emotions. “I’m surprised she even made it out here…”

Isabeau was, funnily enough, turning pink and seemed to be trying to avoid staring too much. Comus was the same way, except he was drinking in every curve and fold he could see. 

After catching her breath (for the most part), she spoke in a low, husky voice. “No need to be so coy. I won’t refuse those who yearn for me…”

Comus cleared his throat and raised his gauntlet. “Uh, Q-Queenie? Could you, uh…tell me how much, y’know…” 

“Seven hundred forty-nine,” the Black Samurai answered, “and counting.” 

Jonathan blanched. “M-My word…that’s enough to outweigh some livestock, is it not?!” 

Comus loudly and awkwardly laughed. “Ha ha! Ha ha, yeah! It is! Ha. Ohhh…”

The Black Samurai laughed, her body shaking within its confines. “What books do you all like…? I can impart upon you all the knowledge and wisdom you like, and open your minds up to a whole new way of living…Class consciousness is only the first step. Then comes bodily consciousness…” 

Walter sputtered, drawing his sword. “E-Enough prattling. You’re to be in our custody for what you’ve done to these villagers, and that’s that. Either go quietly, or we’ll make you.”

Jonathan agreed and did the same. “Whatever you wish to share with us, you can save for the inside of a Mikado castle jail cell!” 

She sighed, pressing one stubby hand against the cheek of her helm. “Oh dear…you all really are lost, aren’t you? You can’t even conceive of anything outside your narrow range of knowledge. If you seek to open your mind, then come to the underground…”

Isabeau blinked, trying to find something to focus on other than what was in front of her. “U-Underground…?”

“That being said, I really must be going…but I’ll leave these girls to keep you all company. They’ve been quite immersed in our teachings, so perhaps some of their knowledge will rub off on you.”

The Black Samurai lifted a hefty arm, and on her wrist a panel opened much like the gauntlets of the samurai. She pressed a few buttons and, in a flash of light, the forest was suddenly full of figures…

Fat, female figures. Olive-skinned Lilim whose bellies and breasts hopelessly flowed over and out of their scant white jackets and shorts, their fibrous wings flapping in vain to try and keep their heavy bodies afloat. They were packed close together on account of each of their sizes, chests smushing against chests, flabby rolls fitting between one another, and all the while they cooed and moaned as they felt themselves, their white-gloved hands grasping and squeezing and jiggling all that they could on their own bodies and the ones beside them. The Black Samurai raised a hand in farewell, saying “I look forward to our next meeting, Samurai of the Eastern Kingdom of Mikado…” before disappearing into the sea of eager bodies. 

Walter thrust out a hand, trying to keep his eyes from wandering. “W-Wait!” 

“Walter! The enemy before us should be our most pressing concern for now! I anticipate this should be a decently facile battle as well, judging from their poor state of physical fitness. Nonetheless, you all should stay on your toes, and--”

A wave of heat seemed to emanate out from the horde of obese lilim, accompanied by their beckoning calls and the sounds of hands slapping against fat and bodies clapping against one another.

“Don’t you want us~?”

“Come and sink yourself into us~”

“Feed us more, more~!”

“All for you, all for us, for anyone who wants it~”

Jonathan braced himself for a mental onslaught, sensing that a spell was cast…but when he opened his eyes again, he found himself physically no worse for wear and mentally clearer than ever. “What…?”

The others didn't seem to be so lucky. Walter was gritting his teeth, flushed with something or other, as he kept himself steady on his sword. “Gnrkgh--! M-My mind…my thoughts aren’t my own…being flooded with i-images and…sensations…!” he moaned, pulling his sword a bit closer in some hope that it’d hide what he was starting to feel. 

“Isabeau, be careful to…I-Isabeau?”

Isabeau had her legs pressed tightly together, having dropped to her knees and covered her mouth as her face turned beet-red. “I-It must have been…nnf, some manner of charm spell…I-I’m thinking so many… inconvenient things…!” She squeaked, steadily dropping lower and lower to the ground. 

“Even you?! Then, what of…”

Comus currently had his face completely buried into the belly of the nearest lilim, his nose buried in her navel as he grasped and groped at the tan flesh surrounding his face. She pet his hair gently, cooing and praising him for coming over to their side so easily, and Comus only moaned and buried his face in further in response.

“What in the world…” Jonathan murmured, completely baffled.

“W-Why am I the only one unaffected?!”

~

Comus opened his eyes and found himself face-down in the dirt. 

“O-Ohhh…” he moaned, slowly rolling himself over and huffing. “I-I must have been having the most sensational dream, filled with all manner of attractive…uh…w-wait, where am I?” He sat up then stood, looking around. 

There was nothing around him as far as the eye could see, only a vast, empty, red-soiled wasteland. The air was dry and stuffy. He turned in a circle. No Walt, no Jon, no Izzy, no horde of gorgeously obese lilim…where was he?

“Hello,” a voice rang, and Comus turned to see none other than Stephen slowly whirring into view. “I don’t believe we’ve met before. I’m Stephen.”

“Oh, er…hello, Stephen.” He scrutinized Stephen’s appearance, as foreign as it was to him. “Nice chair.” 

“Thank you,” he replied with a chuckle. “There’s a girl who wants to see you to the east. Go and see her.” 

“I-It wouldn’t be the lilim from my dream, would it be?”

“No.”

“Ah,” he said, more than a little disappointed. “Off I go, then.”

Off he went, then, trudging along in the direction he figured was probably the east, and after what felt like hours of walking, he finally arrived at a beachfront with a table beside it, three fanciful chairs arranged around its edge. There, a little girl in a white dress with a hoop and a stick approached him. 

“Hello there, little girl,” he said hesitantly, now more than a little creeped out.

“You came,” she said, looking up at him with an empty expression.

Comus swallowed and checked his pants. He sure hoped he didn't, especially now that he was talking to a child…

“But I’m not complete yet,” she continued in a neutral tone, “because everyone has forgotten about me. I need to be revived for all of their sakes.”

“Who…Who are you?” he asked, but got no answer.

“Please…won’t you revive me?” 

His vision filled with white…

~

“Hoy, wa--”

“Walt!” Comus shouted, sitting straight up. He quickly scanned those around him, and found Isabeau looking more than a little ashamed of herself and Jonathan looking utterly baffled standing over him as well. Apparently, he’d ended up on his back in the grass at some point, but the presence of grass at least let him know he was back in Kiccigiorgi Forest. He scratched his cheek. “That’s incredible. It’s like you’re one of the roosters back home, I hear your voice and I immediately wake up! And I suppose Jon-boy would be the opposite, since I always forget he’s there before he says a word, heh. Mind helping me up?”

Comus put out his hand and was helped to a standing position, sighing. “What happened…?”

“We were bewitched by some manner of charm spell, it seemed,” Jonathan explained, “and when our bodies simply could take no more, we passed out. That is, you all did. For some reason, I remained unaffected, and was forced to shoo out the lot on my own.”

“O-Oh…right. I remember.” Oh God, they saw what he was doing. Walter already knew, of course, and swore to keep his secret, but Jonathan and Isabeau…they probably saw the whole thing. “I-I suppose we all learned a little something about ourselves then, didn't we?”

“I’ll say…” Walter muttered, looking away.

“H-How embarrassing…” Isabeau groaned, turning away as well.

“What do you mean, ‘learn something about ourselves’? What are you all so sheepish over? I’m still trying to work out why I was unaffected, and your help would be appreciated in this…”

Comus’ gauntlet beeped, and Hope showed up in a video screen.

“Attention, prentices. This is Hope speaking. I received a report of your encounter with the Black Samurai as relayed by a nearby witness, though…the way he described it, I cannot possibly believe. I’d like to hear the tale in your own words.”

“Of course, sir,” Jonathan nodded. “As I was conscious throughout, I will happily explain. You see, it started when the Black Samurai emerged, or at least we feel it was her. I had my doubts, due to her--”

The three other samurai leapt onto Jonathan in an attempt to stop him from speaking.

“W-Why don’t we continue this report at the forest entrance?!” Comus pleaded.

“Yes, t-then we can provide you an unfiltered report of the incident!” Isabeau concurred.

“No need for mister clueless here to explain things, he’ll just get it wrong,” Walter begged. 

“Mmhphph--mmmph!” Jonathan tried to say. 

Hope’s expression shifted to one of discontent, raising one eyebrow, but he knew better than to contest the antics of these prentices by now. They were an odd bunch, but they got the job done more often than not. He shook his head. “Alright. We’ll discuss this in person. Hurry here.” 

Jonathan finally managed to shake the others off and pulled his ascot fastidiously. “W-Was there really a need for that? I wouldn’t have besmirched you all’s reputations in my explanation. We were under outside influence. It isn’t as though any of our inner desires shone through, right?”

Nobody made eye contact.

“...Let’s just go,” Comus suggested, and the others all quickly agreed.

Returning to Hope at the entrance, Jonathan made due on his promise and left out some of the more embarrassing details for the sake of his friends’ reputations whilst giving his report, and the veteran samurai accepted them without question. After all, the prentices weren’t popular among some of the Luxuror-born veterans, and rumors could always circulate about them…either way, Hope informed the samurai present that as of late, there had been an uptick of demon sightings outside of Naraku, posing a serious danger to the people of the Kingdom of Mikado. In many cases, it seemed to be that these demons were former readers of ‘Literature’ who transformed due to their ire against the upper class. Under his breath, he admitted that Abbot Hugo’s theory must have been correct. 

Comus thought of how Nena the pixie had treated him and hoped that there was no remaining consciousness of whatever poor villager had become her…if that was her origin at all.

Once the last master samurai informed the group that every inch of Kiccigiorgi forest had been searched and there were no remaining survivors nor any lingering trace of the Black Samurai, the expedition was officially deemed over, and Hope dismissed all of them, allowing them to return to the castle town. 

Undoubtedly glad to get some rest and have some time to himself after his titillating encounter, no matter what he wanted to do, the instant he reached his barracks, Comus fell into a deep sleep.

~

Comus: 246 lb → 268 lb

Royce (Lham Dearg): 176 lb → 185 lb

Ying (Fuxi): 146 lb → 155 lb

Rhayader (Myrmecolion): 190 lb → 199 lb

Minerva (Harpy): 184 lb → 193 lb

Michel (Bilwis): 210 lb → 228 lb

Nena (Pixie): 156 lb → 165 lb

Chapter Text

Comus: 268 lb

Royce (Lham Dearg): 185 lb

Ying (Fuxi): 155 lb

Rhayader (Myrmecolion): 199 lb

Minerva (Harpy): 193 lb

Michel (Bilwis): 228 lb

Nena (Pixie): 165 lb

~

Comus dreamt of the places he dreamt of when he first fell asleep in his barracks. Surrounding him, the ruins of enormous metal-and-glass buildings flickered with hungry flames, the roar of public destruction only just able to hide those low, deep rumblings…they were familiar. He couldn’t place them the first time but now, he knew what they were.

They were belches. Long, deep, wet belches, loud enough to shake the ground.

In front of him, Walter stood grinning. He extended his arms.

“We meet again…you and I both know what we want, don’t we? To throw off the shackles of responsibility and work and usher in a world of indulgence, where pleasure is king. A life of decadence without a care in the world, living in the here and now and throwing caution to the wind. Hurry on to the underground…”

His vision faded to white…

Then, once again, he was in the great desert, facing a huge stone visage half-buried in the sand. The sun beat down on him, and not a soul could be seen one way or the other. Jonathan now stood before him, hands folded behind his back. 

“You would sacrifice it all--your health, your ability to protect your fellows, your reputation--for the pursuit of personal pleasure? That is faulty and short-sighted. Keep yourself and others in peak condition, and the public peace will be upheld all the easier. It is our responsibility to keep the world in good health, both for us and our children, and how can we do that if we cannot even do the same for ourselves? You mustn’t go to the underground…” 

Comus’ vision faded to white once again…

And his eyes shot open, finding that he was still fully-dressed despite having been in bed for the past few hours. For once, it wasn’t Walter waking him up, but his gauntlet loudly beeping. He muttered out some obscenity or another and mashed his hand against the gauntlet screen, allowing a video of Hope to appear.

“All prentices, this is Hope speaking. I ask that you please gather in Aquila Plaza as soon as possible. The reason for this and more information will be given upon your arrival, as there is an important announcement to be made. Once more: assemble in Aquila Plaza immediately.”

Hope disappeared, and so too did Comus’ desire to stay awake. The only thing keeping him from going right back to bed was the knowledge that he’d get an earful from Hope and his friends for being late again, and so he (reluctantly) shoved himself up into a sitting position. 

He felt…heavier. In fact, he felt quite a bit heavier, and the fact he hadn’t taken off his armor yet was the only thing preventing him from seeing just how much heavier he’d become. He could practically feel how he was now filling his armor like a liquid in a glass, and if he took it off, there was a low chance of him ever being able to slip it back on…so, knowing that what he was wearing was the largest version of the strongest armor he had and there was no other option, he opted to keep the armor on for the day. Standing was a bit more of an effort. He could notice that, at least, and it was hard not to with how he involuntarily let out a huff as he stood. 

Maybe he ought to pick up some breakfast before heading to the plaza. He wondered if that baker was still in business, or if he’d turned into a demon by now…

He felt a squirm somewhere between his belly and his armor, where there was practically zero space, and for a second he was terrified that a rat had somehow found its way in…but then he heard a light feminine murmur from inside and promptly unsummoned Nena. 

Arriving at Aquila Plaza, Comus was surprised to find that practically every samurai he’d ever seen since he was forced into the job was gathered around in a crowd, muttering and discussing amongst themselves the nature of the ‘important announcement’ they’d all been called to witness. He came up on his friends, invasively leaning his elbows on Jonathan and Walter’s shoulders. “Am I late this time?” 

“For once, no,” Walter replied. “Though perhaps it would have been better for you to sleep in this time. I have a dreadful feeling about all this.”

Jonathan wiggled his elbow off his shoulder. “I believe they’re just about to start. I do wonder what sort of announcement could require this many samurai being assembled at once, though…”

“Could have something to do with that Black Samurai, mayhaps. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her since yesterday…”

Walter snickered. “And the sky's still blue with the sun in the middle. Tell me something more surprising next time, won’t you?” 

“S-Shut it, Walt, like you haven’t been thinking of her too!” 

Isabeau shushed the three of them, pointing to the statue.

Before the statue, Hope marched and took center stage. “Alright, everyone! Quiet down!” Everyone promptly did as instructed, and the commander cleared his throat. “I call this meeting in order to--”

“Please, Commander. As this is a monastic issue, why don’t you allow the Abbot himself to take care of the specifics, hm?” a mousy voice cut him off. It was coming from a somewhat round-faced monk in a yellow habit robe, his hood pulled over his head like the rest of them. This seemed to be the ‘Abbot Hugo’ Hope had mentioned following the mission at Kiccigiorgi. Hope himself seemed to cringe at having his speech usurped, but stood back to allow Hugo and a female monk with a white and blue habit to take the stage.

“Greetings, everyone,” Hugo started with a bow. “Thanks to the hard work and diligent efforts at Kiccigiorgi Forest, a startling truth has come to light. A figure known to us as the Black Samurai has been plaguing many with the introduction of so-called ‘Literature’, books which, when read, cause the recipient to transform into…demons.”

That last word was obviously emphasized for effect, prompting plenty of gasps and muttering among the samurai who weren’t ‘lucky’ enough to go on the mission to Kiccigiorgi.

“The writing found both outside and inside of these tomes is mystic script, the very same found within your gauntlets…and so it is the official position of the Monastery that this Black Samurai, whoever she may be, is in league with the Unclean Ones.” 

Comus whispered to Jonathan, “Am I supposed to know of these Unclean Ones?”

“Oh, right…I suppose with your upbringing, Comus, you wouldn’t be aware. In our creation stories, the Unclean Ones are those who dwell in the underworld.” 

“That being said,” Hugo continued, “we at the Monastery are putting forward a special quest to all of you, requesting the capture and retrieval of the Black Samurai. For this, you will need to venture into the Unclean Ones’ country beneath Naraku. This is a request directly from King Ahazuya of Mikado himself!” Hugo added with more than a bit of pride. 

That got the crowd talking, and from the samurai surrounding Comus’ group, there was much protesting.

“To enter the Unclean Ones’ country…that would be against the Samurai code, though! Surely, the monks cannot be suggesting…”

“And what of the legendary demon said to dwell between Naraku and their country? Does the Monastery expect us to risk our lives on a suicide mission?”

“This is an outrage! It’s tyranny from the Monastery! What about our Commander, does he have no objection to this?!”

Hope, for what it was worth, seemed pretty displeased with the mission being proposed in general, but he recognized that dissent among his men would not put him in good standing with the Monastery, and so quieted them all. “Settle down, all of you! That’s enough!” 

The abbot smugly grinned at Hope, returning his attention to the crowd. “This will be an official request with a special reward offered to anyone who wishes to carry it out. Sister Gabby will elaborate a bit more on the details,” he said as he stepped aside, the female monk taking his place and speaking with an elegant, almost otherworldly tone.

“This quest shall be available at K’s Tavern on the blackboard. If you wish to accept it, speak with him there.” 

She stepped back. That was it? Comus sucked on his cheek and wondered why she was there in the first place if that was all she had to add. Hugo leaned back in and said, “Once more, for any who choose to accept it, your mission is to capture the Black Samurai in the Unclean Ones’ country! That is all.”

That seemed to be all they had to say, as immediately afterwards, Hope dismissed them all, allowing them to return to their typical duties. Jonathan seemed the most shaken out of all of them, crossing his arms as he mulled over their new charge. “The Monastery would truly ask Samurai to break their own code…? I suppose if it’s for the good of the people, then capturing the Black Samurai would take precedence, but…”

“Come now, Jonathan. You were all too eager to break your code to head to Kiccigiorgi, but now you are precious about it? If it wasn’t for Comus, we would have never even encountered the Black Samurai to give our report. Still,” Walter shook his head, “it’s a tall ask, to be sure. I’d be lying if there wasn’t some apprehension mixed in with my excitement.” 

“Will you be going to the Tavern to accept the request, Comus?” Isabeau asked, catching him off-guard.

“M-Me? Well…” he scratched his cheek, “I’ll certainly be taking a look, but I actually have something that I need to take care of first. I agreed to help out a castle relic-keeper with exorcising some manner of demon from a gauntlet, and I’ve kept him waiting long enough. You all can go on without me, I’ll catch up sooner or later.” 

“If you say so,” she said, turning away. “Me, I doubt I’ll have much of a choice if these two are willing to go along with this request. I suppose I’ll see you when I see you.”

The three headed towards the tavern, leaving Comus to pursue his own request.

~

“Thank you so much for coming!” the relic-keeper, a lean man with salt-and-peppered hair, exclaimed. “I was starting to think no one would show up…”

“Er, y-yes, apologies for my late arrival. With the recent request made of us Samurai, my priorities had to shift quite suddenly...but I wouldn’t have given up on this request regardless!” Mostly due to the prize money being offered, though he neglected to mention that out loud. Minerva, her recently-added weight only further making obvious her bottom-heavy physique, perched on the ground beside him, while Michel--similarly heavier, his sleek skin now starting to bulge over the harness of his grain-pack--whistled and viewed all the items in the castle’s treasure room. Wherever Rhayader was, he couldn’t be seen from their vantage point.

“Oh, yes, of course. I heard about that,” he said with a twinge of sympathy. “I do trust the Monastery’s judgment, however…I admit, there have been rumors.” 

“Rumors?”

“Indeed. As the relic-keeper, occasionally items from the Unclean Ones’ country surface in Mikado. At first, they were considered property of the royal family, and so it was my task to keep watch over them, but…over time, the Monastery has been exhibiting more and more interest in them. Far be it from me to suggest an ulterior motive, but I can’t help but wonder if the appearance and search for this ‘Black Samurai’ was something of a godsend for Abbot Hugo and the rest. After all, a proper venture into the land of the Unclean Ones would result in many more relics for the Monastery’s perusal…” 

Comus crossed his arms, thinking over his words. Of course, that was an easy way to view it…though he had such little knowledge of what ‘relics’ the relic-keeper was referring to that he really couldn’t make any statements one way or the other. The only ‘relics’ he’d managed to bring back for a profit were random precious metals and gems he’d excavated from Naraku. But, well, he was here for a reason. 

“You mentioned there was a gauntlet in need of exorcism, sir?” Minerva asked.

“O-Oh! Yes, pardon me, I tend to ramble. You see, we must make sure to cleanse all gauntlets before using them for the rite, as demons often make their homes within those that have been left to collect dust. This one, however, contains a demon so powerful that no samurai has been able to contest it. He will only respect the will of those stronger than him. Are you still up for the challenge…?”

He nodded. “I’ll see what I can do. Give it here.”

“Right then. I’ll just…hm?” The relic-keeper had turned to a table where the cursed gauntlet had been sitting, and instead found it missing. “Where did it…I swear, I put it right here…A-Ah! Sir, your demon!”

Whipping around, Comus saw that Rhayader had snatched it up and was currently gnawing on its screen, trying his best to dig his fangs into the metal-and-glass piece of electronics. 

“Rhayader!” he shouted. “Bad ant-lion! Drop it! Drop iiiit…”  

The myrmecolion snarled at him, and with another press of his teeth on the screen, there was a flash of light, and a demon emerged. 

He was a towering masculine figure with scarlet-red skin dressed in the traditional garb of a centurion, a gleaming golden helmet hiding much of his thickly-curled brown hair and his form being hidden beneath a white toga with blue additions, matching golden armor, and a long cape. He was thickly-built, the kind of wall of fat and muscle that one would expect from a modern strongman…though from the way his torso armor angled outwards, there may have been a bit more fat on him than was really necessary. In one rock-thick fist, he held a sword as tall as Comus himself, and he slung it over his shoulder as he glared down at the chubby samurai with pure white eyes. 

“I…am Ares. Are you yet another challenger who has come to face me?”

Comus, finally having wrenched the cursed gauntlet out of his demon’s mouth and putting it up on a high shelf, looked back at him. Wow, this guy was beefy. Can’t knock this one over with a pail of water. Or a pail of rocks, it seemed. He was a little intimidated, he had to say. “...Y-Yes, I suppose I am.”

“Very well,” Ares grumbled, holding out his sword. The relic-keeper let out a yelp and dove for cover behind a shelf, only peering out to watch. “Prove your strength to be equal to or greater than that of my previous master, and I shall relinquish control over that machine you seek to evict me from. With a form like yours, however…I anticipate there will be little challenge,” he added with a chuckle.

“Speak for yourself, Ares, that gut of yours isn’t doing yourself any favors,” Comus replied almost automatically. The demon twitched with anger. 

“Mmm, no, most unwise of you, Comu--” Minerva started before Ares swung wildly at her, slicing off a couple of her feathers and scraping her hip badly in the process. She just barely managed to escape a fatal blow.

“S-Shit, Minerva! Fine then, if you want to play rough, then let’s get rough!” Comus produced his longsword, running the palm of his hand across the flat side of the blade and slicking it with a dripping purple substance. Raising it high with enough strength that it even surprised him, he swung it down onto Ares and clashed with the gladiator’s own sword. The two traded blows like this, sword clashing against sword, as Minerva healed herself and Michel brandished his pitchfork once again. He bounced back and forth behind Ares, trying to find a weak spot in his armor where he could strike.

“There!” he shouted, jabbing his pitchfork into one of Ares’ thighs. The demon roared out in pain, looking down at the blood that now trickled down his trunk-like leg. 

“You…you dare draw my blood! I will crush you, you little imp!” He let out a mighty roar, shoving his sword forward and knocking Comus flat on his back as he swung his sword in a sweeping slash towards Michel. The feldgeist dropped down in a duck, but his horns weren’t so lucky. A dark, viscous liquid dripped out from where his horns once were…but he didn't seem all that concerned.

“Aaagh! My grain! Y-You harvested my grain!” he cried, frantically gathering up the severed heads of wheat from the ground where they had scattered. “I-I was saving those, you…you big jerk!” 

“I will be harvesting more than just your grain, worm…!” the gladiator snarled, raising his sword high. Taking advantage of his split attention, however, Comus dragged himself to his feet and quickly thrusted with his zweihander, delivering a critical blow by stabbing the blade deep into Ares’ armpit. “Gaahh!” he cried out, dropping to one knee. His grip on his sword didn't waver, however, and he swung it wildly in an uneven arc from the pain, clipping Michel on the arm and dropping him to the ground. Minerva attempted to swoop in, but with his uninjured arm, he clocked her with the back of his fist and sent her tumbling into the shelf where Comus had perched the gauntlet. Rhayader had been trying to climb up onto it and resume chewing on it the whole time, not helping in the slightest. 

“Right, I’ve had enough of this!” Comus shouted, one hand breaking from his grip on his sword (which was still stuck deep into Ares’ chest) as he shoved his palm right beside the demon’s neck. “Make another move, and I’ll use Zan to slit your throat. Do you yield?”

Ares opened his mouth, almost protesting…but rather than fight any more, he lowered his head. “I…I submit. You are the stronger man. I admit defeat.”

“Good,” Comus huffed, putting his foot on Ares’ waist to yank his sword out. “Now, could you please vacate that gauntlet over there?” 

“Of course. You’ve proven yourself to be as skilled as my late master…as well as proving my own assumptions about you wrong. May the next time we meet be as allies, samurai.”

The demon faded into pixels. Whether it had died, or simply disappeared, or even retreated somewhere undetectable within the gauntlet, Comus had no idea, but all he knew was that the quest had been taken care of. The relic-keeper sidled out from behind the shelf, shaking Comus’ hand furiously.

“O-Oh, thank you, thank you so much, samurai! This gauntlet is finally ready for use in next year’s Rite. If we require your help again, could it be said that we can count on your assistance once again?”

So long as the payment was adequate, he almost said…but instead, Comus just smiled and gave a thumbs-up. “Of course.”

“Now, to…w-where did it go?”

An ant-lion scurried past the two of them, shoving its way through the door to the treasure room and sprinting down the halls. It had something in its mouth.

“R-Rhayadeeeer! Get your behind back here! Bad ant-lion! Bad! Don’t make me whap you with a rolled-up gazette!” Comus shouted, stumbling after his demon with Minerva and Michel (who had healed up his horns without an issue with a bite of severed wheat-head but was still sniffling over his lost harvest) following suit. 

The relic-keeper watched them go, wondering how such an eccentric samurai could be so capable despite first appearances and hoping he could at least track down and return the gauntlet his myrmecolion had stolen.

~

A little under a half-hour of chasing his demon through the halls of Mikado Castle and a harsh reprimanding from Hope later, Comus trudged his way into K’s Tavern, still somewhat exhausted. He could at least take the exploration of Naraku at his own pace, but suddenly forcing himself to sprint wasn’t conducive to his body’s new state of equilibrium, to put it lightly. After a shower and sucking in his gut as best he could, he was just barely able to fit his plate armor on for what would most likely be the final time. Hopefully the smith would get some new stock in quickly, otherwise he’d have to go back to the slightly more accommodating wooden armor…

“Ah, Comus,” K said as the overweight samurai plodded in. His tone seemed a bit more downtrodden than usual. “In for your typical lunch of mutton, then?”

“I would appreciate it,” Comus replied, taking a seat. The stool’s wood creaked under his form, making him blush. “Do you have that request from the Monastery in yet?”

K sighed as he gave the order to his cooks. “Unfortunately, I do. This whole blackboard and quest system was meant to give samurai a bit of fun, but now the Abbot and his ilk are using it to fulfill their own ends…it makes me a bit sick to my stomach, I can’t lie, but refusing a request from them is tantamount to heresy, so I must abide. There’s a few others up, though, if you want to take them on as well.”

“Let me take a look, here…”

“Comus?” a voice called from nearby.

“Izzy? You’re still here?” he asked, seeing her take her seat. “Are Jon and Walt, then…”

“They’ve both opted to take the mission and have descended into Naraku already.”

“Then why haven’t you gone with them? Don’t tell me you were waiting around for me to make my decision,” he chuckled, “since I’m known for being a bit of a straggler, if you aren’t already aware.”

“Do not be mistaken. I am aware. I simply…” she chose her words carefully, “...I wanted to be certain that we were all in agreement before starting such a massive undertaking.”

“Whatever you feel helps you sleep at night,” Comus quipped as a plate of mutton was laid before him. Happily, he picked one up and dug into the meat as he looked over the quests available on the blackboard. Fuxi feathers for pillow-stuffing…hey, he had plenty of those. He could drop those off right now. With his free hand, he dug into his bag, groping around for spare feathers. Isabeau watched him closely, then diverted her attentions away.

“...That being said, I did want to seek your advice on something. A second opinion, as it were, to assure me of the validity of my choices.”

“Mmph-hm?” Comus mumbled with a mouthful of lamb, swallowing. “Shoot.” 

“Suppose that one were to enjoy a…” she glanced at the leg of mutton in his hand, “a specific kind of food, that many others would consider disgusting, or at the very least, greatly unorthodox. And if you were to divulge your like of this food to others, no matter how much shame it brings you, you would surely be shunned…what would you do?” 

“Hmmm. Well…” he pondered the question, taking another bite as he did so. Once he’d finished chewing, he looked to Isabeau. “I think, so long as it doesn’t cause anyone harm, you shouldn't feel any shame in it. It’s simply what you enjoy. It cannot be controlled, so you might as well take joy in the things you take joy in.” He set down the bone, wiping his hands and mouth on a cloth napkin. “There are so few things in this world one can enjoy without it coming at a cost, and if the cost is your standing among those who don’t know you and don’t care to know you, I would say that’s a better deal than anything else.” 

“I see,” she murmured, hesitant to accept his answer but clearly having something to chew on. “That being said…will you be heading to Naraku as well?”

“Next morning, yes.”

“Surely, you wouldn’t mind if I accompanied you?”

Comus smiled, the motion of which was now starting to crease into his softened cheeks. “Izzy, this whole talk wasn’t just an excuse to get to follow me on this quest, was it? You know you could have simply asked directly.”

“I-I can assure you, that was not it.”

“Very well,” he shrugged, standing up. “You go rest up, and I’ll meet you outside Naraku tomorrow. As for me, I have some feathers to deliver.” 

Isabeau got up and started for the door, but turned to look at Comus once more before she exited. He had turned over his bag and dumped a small pile of feathers onto the bar counter with K telling him that he’d really prefer if he just metered out what he had to deliver one by one. 

She cracked a small smile and stepped out.

~

That night, while Comus was resting in his barracks, he had summoned a few of his demons to discuss strategy for the upcoming journey. Going this deep into Naraku was going to be their most dangerous mission so far, and so they had to be adequately prepared for what was to come. Royce the Lham Dearg had been brought out after a period of rest in the party, only having picked up a bit of a rounded midsection beneath the muscle he had already packed on his person, and he stood beside a window while Michel laid back at the foot of Comus’ bed and Rhayader laid curled up in the center of the room, gnawing on a rock he’d found. It was strange that he acted more like a dog than an ant or a lion, but far was it from Comus to dictate how demons should and shouldn’t act. 

They were going over elemental weaknesses and what to do in battle if one of them should fall, when suddenly there was a knock at the door. 

“I got it,” Comus said, hefting himself up off his bed and gesturing to his demons to stay quiet and lay low, preparing them to be unsummoned at a moment’s notice. He pushed the door open a crack, and saw…

“Navarre?” 

Sure enough, Navarre stood before him, stooped over and his head tucked between his shoulders. His hair was a mess, and the bags under his eyes made it appear as though he hadn’t slept well in days…or at all, really. He rubbed his arm, shamefully unable to make eye contact with the samurai before him.

“...H-Hello, pretender,” he muttered, still trying to keep some semblance of social control over Comus.

“Oh…um, actually, I’m not pretending anymore. I admit it, I’m a filthy Casualry,” he conceded with an awkward little laugh. “What are you doing here?” 

“You, uh…put forward the offer to l-learn some methods for making this…miserable samurai position less…t-traumatic. I was considering…perhaps…taking you up on your offer,” the last couple words came out quick and hurried, like they hurt to say. 

Shit, he had put forward that offer, hadn’t he? He’d completely forgotten about that among all the activity as of late. “Right, yes, I remember. Please, come in.”

He had only just opened the door before Royce, being the comedian he was, opened his mouth. “Oi! It’s ol’ chookie-head! I thought ye headed fer th’ hills after that last entanglement , heheh.” 

Navarre blanched. “D-Demons…! Demons!” he shouted, and he was just about to turn tail and run before Comus grabbed him by his tattered green bandanna. 

“Whoa, whoa, calm down! They’re my demons. They won’t hurt you, I promise. Don’t listen to Royce over there, he’s just…he thinks he’s funny, and he’s not. Well, Michel thinks he’s funny, but Michel also has the sense of humor of an eggplant.” 

“Is that a compliment?” Michel asked, sitting up. “I don’t know if that’s a compliment or not, but I’m taking it as one, sooo thank you very much!” 

Navarre slowed his roll, lowering his arms as his wide eyes darted between Comus and the rest of the demons. They seemed friendly enough, waving at him, making conversation with the Casualry pretender…well, former pretender…and even Rhayader only opened one eye to give him a once-over before returning to chewing on a rock. “You…y-you are certain. They won’t disobey you and eat me whole, l-like that…that…!”

“Guys,” Comus looked back, “show of hands, who wants to eat and kill Navarre? Royce, don’t put your hand up if you don’t want to, even as a joke.” Nobody raised their hands. “See? You’ll be safe here, I promise. Plus, why would I put in the trouble of saving you just to kill you later? I could have just let you die. In fact, I kind of wanted to…but the past is the past, eh?”

Uncomfortable but unwilling to argue the point, Navarre shuffled in, still keeping wary eyes on all of the demons inside. Comus gestured for him to have a seat beside him, and Navarre took it. He looked Comus up and down.

“Y-You seem…healthy. Perhaps too much so, for a samurai,” he said.

“And you seem unhealthy. Perhaps too much so, for a samurai. Have you eaten anything over the past few days?”

“N-No, I’ve…I’ve been turning away my meals. I cannot stomach a single thing, n-not after that horrid encounter with…”

“With the alraune, yes. That was unlucky for all of us, to say the least. That being said, did you have any demons helping you out before you stumbled into her domain?”

Navarre shuddered. “Perish the thought! I-I could never align myself with such reprehensi…ble…” he trailed off, realizing Michel was sitting right next to him, smiling at him.

“I love your hair,” he said. “How do you make it go ‘vwoop’? You know, like, ‘vwoop’,” Michel said, gesturing to make the shape of Navarre’s hair. “I would want that hairstyle, if I had hair.”

Navarre looked back at Comus, silent.

“...I take that as a ‘no’. You must be like Jonathan, then, where it’s a moral obligation not to associate with demons. The thing is, if you don’t and you’re traveling alone, like you were…well, you’re kind of screwed. You need allies if you want to survive in this or any world.”

“I-I know that! I’m not a simpleton!” Navarre protested. “But…s-surely, I could simply rely on other Samurai to support me rather than…demons…?”

“Other Samurai aren’t always gonna be around, and…” He knew he didn't really have any room to speak on this, but Navarre didn't know, and letting him in on his ‘condition’ wouldn’t help much. “Demons can always be brought back. You can’t bring back a Samurai who kicks the bucket. Plus, you know…with the way things are going, there may someday be a hell of a lot more demons than there are Samurai. Making connections now will probably help you out in the long run.”

“Y-You’re joking…”

“‘E is?” Royce chortled. “If ‘e is, then it’s a pretty lame one, bahaha!” 

“Royce, come on. Shove it, please.” 

Navarre stood back up. “I-I won’t accept this. I can’t accept it, I…I-I’m going to have my parents arrange for my dismissal as a Samurai. I don’t want this! I want to go back to living my comfortable life back home with Mama and Papa, I-I…” 

He began to tear up, and Comus rolled his eyes. Fantastic. Now he felt bad and was annoyed. Still, he got up and put a hand on Navarre’s shoulder. 

“Listen. Your lifestyle can’t last forever on its own. It sucks, but it’s the truth. You’ll have to fight to keep living the way you want, because other people will do whatever they can to ensure that you can’t. You’ve got to fight for your right to…be free, I suppose.” 

“To fight for…? T-Then, you suggest I must ally myself with demons to ensure that I-I can keep living my life of ease?” 

Wait, was he giving him the wrong message? …Or, maybe it was the right message, and he was just taking it the wrong way? Whatever. He just needs to make this work so Navarre doesn’t end up killing himself from stress and shame. “Er…you got it.”

“B-But then, how do I…? I slept in during demon recruitment training, so…”

“You too, huh?” Comus snickered, patting him gently on the back. Even that was enough to make him flinch. “Oop, s-sorry. The first thing, I think, is to treat demons just as you would people. Why don’t we start with introductions to my demons? That way you can see they’re just the same as anyone else, minus perhaps a bit of bloodlust. You’ve got your pick of Royce and Michel there, or I can see if Minerva or…well, no, Nena wouldn’t be a good pick…Ying? Who was Ying? Have I ever even talked to him?”

“O-Oh, for goodness’ sake, just pick one and let’s get this over with!”

“Fine, fine! Jeez.”

“Ooh, ooh!” Michel volunteered, raising his hand. “I can do it! I love talking to people, that’s like my number-one skill apart from stabbing people with my pitchfork and harvesting grain! Now, Navarre, do you like barley or oats more? Because I can go on and on about the pros and cons for both, let me tell you…”

Navarre groaned and covered his face. It was going to be a long, long night…

~

Despite the Luxuror’s hesitance and repeated complaints, their lessons lingered on late into the night, and just before Navarre had left to retire to his room, he had genuinely thanked Comus for all that he was doing.

“For the life of me, I cannot understand why a Casualry such as yourself would want to help me…e-especially after all that I’ve put you through…but it is appreciated.”

Comus slept well that night. 

The next morning, he met up with Isabeau outside the entrance to Naraku and--after picking up plenty of revival leaves and detox solutions--began the descent into the underground proper. They passed down through the winding halls and stairways of Naraku, Comus lagging a bit behind the much fitter Isabeau with Royce acting as the buffer between them, but they made it to the threshold with little issue. There, two older samurai who acted as guardsmen let them pass, albeit reluctantly due to their hesitance in breaking their code. There was nothing to be done about it if they had accepted the mission before them. Royce slapped them on the backs and told them they were “awright bastards”, and had to be hurried away lest he get run through by one of their swords. 

The fourth stratum of Naraku opened up significantly from the dank corridors of the first three strata, the cramped space giving way to a massive underground cavern where the only safe methods of traversal were down old rusted ladders and across rickety bridges. The air was cold and stagnant, occasionally with a bit of spit from the waterfall their path weaved around, and Comus worried he would catch something ugly the longer he stayed. The demons were no joke, either: it seemed that every few steps, they would be dealing with hordes of zombie samurai, phallic-nosed Vodyaniks that were the cause of many close calls with their group electric attacks, and big fluffy Fomorians (which Comus desperately wanted for his own party just to hug in the night, but knew he had a personal standard to uphold and continued on with a tear in his eye). Close calls were more common than ever, which spoke to the danger of this territory. This was where no samurai was meant to go, and they meant it.

That being said, it wasn’t all bad. Royce made himself useful at one point by finding an old, rusted key behind a waterfall…and though he got soaked in the process and nobody had any clue what it could be used for, they congratulated him anyway. Eventually, at the mouth of a slope that wound down further underground, they ran into Walter and Jonathan and the team regrouped. Apparently, they’d opted to wait for the others before continuing on.

Passing through the slope, they entered into a large open passage with a single dry path passing through a lake, at the end of which laid an enormous stone door. Royce whistled with his hands on his hips. “Och, lookit th’ size of it! …That’s what I said to me las’ hen, eh? Eh? Aw, c’mon, that was a good one!”

Isabeau ignored him, as she’d now learned to do for the sake of her own sanity, and stepped forward to read the inscription that ran across the top. “‘Those who serve God Almighty: Thou shalt not proceed through this door’. Could it be a warning from Aquila himself…?”

Comus’ gauntlet lit up. “I know you dickheads completely ignored me last time, but you should know there’s a fuck-off powerful demon behind that door. Make sure you’re totally prepared before going in.” 

“Queenie, you’ve been quite insistent about warning us about powerful demons lately,” Comus cracked. “Could it be you’ve grown to like us and want to prevent our untimely demises? That’d be a shock, to be sure,” he snickered.

“Oh, fuck you, alright? I bust my ass doing almost everything for your fat behind, and you’re here cracking jokes about me just STARTING to like you? Trust me, Coms, if I didn't like you, you’d be a month-old corpse right now.”

“O-Ow. Harsh, but understood. I apologize.”

“You better.”

“If you’re done bickering with your AI,” Walter called, “I believe we have no choice but to venture in. If we all work together, we should be able to push the doors open. On the count of three, alright? One, two…”

All together, the four samurai heaved the great stone doors open with the sickening scrape of rock against rock that hadn't come into contact with one another for millennia. 

On the other side was a huge cavern marked by a single column in the center and numerous small streams running along the ground. The place echoed something fierce, and despite being nice and cold, the air had an untenable pressure about it. Walter, ever the brave one, stepped ahead of everyone else with a cocksure smile.

“So then…where is this legendary demon? Perhaps it’s wasted away lo these many yea--Aagh!” He was interrupted by a Vodyanik that had suddenly lunged onto him, knocking him to the ground. 

“W-Walter!” Isabeau shouted, before she felt a flaming arrow stab into her back. She turned, and there was what appeared to be an ambulatory papier-mache, cloth, and wood head with a Celtic cross atop its hat--a Wicker Man. 

With both Walter and Isabeau out of commission, it was now just Comus and Jonathan. The former summoned two more of his demons, Minerva and Michel, just to be safe. He suddenly had a very, very bad feeling about what was about to happen next.

From the darkness came a THUD. THUD. THUD. Then, a snort and a low snarling voice. “For humans to set foot into the Hall of the Minotaur once again…”

Trudging out and looming a head and a half above Comus, Jonathan, and the other demons was a grotesque figure resembling a muscular humanoid figure and a bull subsuming portions of his form. Rather than humanoid legs, the hoof-ended haunches of a bull emerged from beneath his loincloth, but more striking was how his face--almost skeletal in appearance--seamlessly melted into that of a bovine, complete with a separate set of eyes, horns, and front shoulders whose own hooves melded into his human shoulders. He was dragging two heavy double-edged labrys axes behind him, carving tracks into the stone. 

Minerva stared up, looking shaken for the first time since Comus had fused her as she staggered back, one wing reaching for her master for support.

“T-The…the Minotaur…”

The Minotaur puffed out clouds of hot breath from what were both his eye sockets and his nostrils, gritting his lipless teeth. “How long has it been, Master Aquila, since we made our pact…? Ahhh…one thousand, five hundred years. You all must be either very brave…or very, very foolish. Perhaps there is no difference, judging by the looks of you.”

“Meep,” Comus squeaked. Jonathan just gawped, at a loss for words. 

“I shall dine on your blood, that which wishes to mingle with those of the Unclean Ones!” 

The Minotaur raised his axes high, stamping his hoof against the ground and making the very cave shake. An aura of pure death surrounded him.

“Now come , Samurai…put on a good show!”

It was Comus who made the first move against all parts of his rational mind, thrusting out his hand and sending out a scatter-shot of icicles directly towards the Minotaur’s face. It roared out in pain, stumbling a few steps back, where it was met with Michel on one side and Royce on the other. Michel licked the prongs of his trident, slicking them with poisonous spit, and stabbed it as far as he could into the Minotaur’s skin…though he only got a centimeter in, if that. The beast was hardy, to say the least. Royce’s slash with his sword has about the same effect, only creating a surface scratch. 

“Och, what th’ bleedin’ ‘ell is this stot bastard made out of?! Diamond?!” 

While the others distracted the Minotaur with their attacks--no matter how paltry--Minerva hung back and flapped her wings, sending out a wave of energy. Instantly, the party felt lighter on their feet and nimbler than before, itching to roll and slip out of the way of any oncoming attack. The Minotaur huffed once more, rising to his full height. 

“Hrrrngh…perhaps you have some skill…but you are still far, far below the level of my master. Tell me…do you think what paltry strength you have will be enough to best me?”

Comus forced a grin, even if he wasn’t feeling it. “One ought to have faith in themself if they’re willing to put their life on the line like this, right? I don’t just think I do, I know I must.”

That seemed to take the beast aback, and he narrowed his sockets. “I see…misplaced as it may be, the determination to overcome any foe can overpower even the strongest of enemies. Perhaps I have misappraised you all…” 

“I would say so!” Jonathan agreed, swiping his hand and sending out another wave of Bufu ice magic, this time freezing part of his shoulder in the process. Incensed, the Minotaur inhaled deeply before letting out an ear-splitting, heart-rumbling roar that only grew more intense from how it bounced off of the interior of the cave hall. 

Immediately, morale among the demons dropped.

“C-Comus…” Minerva murmured, looking back at him with uncharacteristic worry. “I have to advise a retreat, f-for the sake of all of our--”

The Minotaur let out a mighty roar and brought down one of his axes, slashing Minerva across the chest. It was quite the gash, and she cried out in pain as she fell back. 

“Minerva!” Comus shouted, producing another rain of icicles to keep him away from her. “We aren’t falling back, no matter what happens! Fight and keep fighting! Michel, you go take care of her wounds!”

“You got it, bud!” Michel chirped, hurrying over and producing some of the decapitated heads of grain from earlier, feeding them to Minerva. “I know, it isn’t as good when it isn’t fresh off the stalk, but this is what we have to make do with…”

“Urk…t-thank you, Michel. I must pay closer attention to the fight…allow me to assist in your healing,” she groaned, raising her wings and casting a Dia spell on herself. All the while, Comus, Jonathan, and Royce circled around the Minotaur, dodging swipe after swipe from his axes. Comus and Jonathan kept up the barrage of ice magic, seeing that the Minotaur was weak to it, and Royce leapt in for a slash or a stab every now and then. It was a risky strategy, however, as the price paid for finally being able to sink his blade deep into the Minotaur’s chest was receiving a severe wound in his side, the axe sinking in to the central shaft before the Minotaur retrieved it. Royce spat up blood, yanking out his sword. The Minotaur put a hand to the deep wound he’d received, staring down at his palm as it wrapped around one of his axes. Blood now caked his calloused fingers. His own blood. He shuddered. 

“Could it be that I’ve met my match…? You lot are the first to deal me such a wound in centuries…Do…” He gripped his axes tighter. “Do the Samurai have no limits…?!”

Comus smirked.

“If we have them, we surpass them in fights like these.”

For just a moment, the most fleeting of seconds…there was fear in the Minotaur’s eyes. “N-No…could I truly be…here…?! No… No!” he bellowed, charging toward the samurai at full speed. They managed to leap out of the way just in time, causing the Minotaur to run head-first into a cave wall. The crater he left in the shape of his skull was severely intimidating, but it served to stun the beast himself for a few moments.

“Michel, you keep on healing duty! Help out Royce and make sure no one dies!” Comus called.

“Understood, cap’n!” Michel saluted, making sure Minerva was now alright with a thumbs-up before running his pudgy body as best he could over to Royce. “I hope you like farro, ‘cause that’s all I’ve got right now!” Royce gurgled past the blood pooling in his mouth and groped for a stalk to chew on. Minerva, keeping as far away from the Minotaur as possible, cast another Sukukaja spell of evasion on everyone present. 

Comus himself could feel that he was running low on magic power. He was starting to become drained, his already somewhat sluggish body becoming more sluggish by the second. Hoping that the Minotaur could stay distracted for long enough for him to recharge, he produced a chakra drop--a small jiggly lime-green thing that squished when it was between his fingers--and popped it into his mouth. It popped with a liquid flavor reminiscent of some kind of melon, and he instantly felt himself become rejuvenated. 

Jonathan, who had been focusing on the Minotaur and sending out Zan spells, saw it raise its head and turn to his partner. “Comus, look out!”

“Whuh--” Comus only got that much out before he was smacked with the broad side of an axe, the samurai tumbling head-over-heels until he was face-down in a stream, the blood streaming from the blunt-impact wound on the back of his head staining the water. Then, keeping pace, he turned his attention to the harpy above him and leapt up into the air, his hooves indenting into the cave floor. The two’s eyes met, and Minerva recoiled. He swiped with his axe, cleaving off a large portion of her thigh and dropping her to the ground once again. 

“Ngghaahh…haahh…” He panted heavily, now struggling to even keep his axes raised aloft. The repeated ice and wind spells, along with the numerous slashes and strikes, had begun to really take their toll: portions of him were frozen, and what portions weren’t were picking up cut after cut, puncture after puncture, gash after gash. “Finally…those two irritants are taken care of, and now…”

He flashed a grin at Jonathan…but the grin didn't last long.

“Hrrnghh--fuck…” Comus swore as he staggered upwards. Despite the obvious wounds he’d incurred, he managed to stand on his own two feet, facing away from the Minotaur…then he picked up his sword and turned to glare at the beast. 

“What--?!” he barked.

On the other side, Minerva managed to get to her feet once again, even as the great open slice of flesh on her thigh wept crimson. “K-Keep fighting…that was what my master said…a-and if your master said the same to you…then we have the same goals…!” 

“What?!” the Minotaur shouted, looking around. This wasn’t possible. How could this be possible? How could they still be standing?! He stood and watched, taking a break to register his confusion, and it was in that break that he saw it. That little imp, running around and stuffing their faces with cereal grain…yes, that was what was propelling them to keep acting! That was his next target, and he knew just the technique to use for it.

With a grin, the Minotaur tossed both of his labrys axes into the air. Then he caught one, tossing it to his other hand, doing the same with the other until he was juggling them. Jonathan and Comus watched, baffled, as the Minotaur began to…dance. Yes, between catching and throwing the axes, he would spin and kick out his hooves, gyrating his shoulders and hips, thrusting out his limbs and rocking his head up and down, side to side, in a frenzy of motion…it looked a bit silly, yes, but the purpose was always to fool your opponent. 

This was the secret of the Demon’s Dance technique…the Oni-Kagura.  

Dancing all the way, the Minotaur grew closer and closer to Michel, who was busy feeding Comus, and readied his true attack as he reared his fists back, both axes still in the air. 

“Michel! Watch out, lad!” Royce shouted, dropping his sword and shield as he sprinted as fast as he could. He leapt off the ground, flying through the air with his arms and legs spread, just in time to take the full brunt of the Oni-Kagura. The Minotaur put all of his force behind his two fists, his fingers curled inwards and his palms together, and he achieved direct impact with Royce’s sternum. He broke many of the weapons already sticking out of the Lham Dearg’s chest, sending him flying until he wrapped around the center column of the cave hall. 

“R-Royce?!” Michel looked up just in time to see Royce going flying, and not in time to see the Minotaur aiming to repeat the same technique on him. 

“Michel, get your head in the game--!” Comus shouted, gripping him by the arm and harshly yanking him out of the way just in time. The Minotaur’s second Oni-Kagura made contact with the wall behind them, crushing it into rubble. Thank God that column still supported the cave from the center, otherwise there would be a very real possibility of a cave-in. 

“Hohhh! Oh! Oh, mein Gott! That could have been me!” Michel wheezed out, clinging to Comus. “Thank you so, so, so--”

“Save the ‘thank you’s for when the fight’s over, if you could! Focus on healing!” 

“R-Right, right, yes!” he stammered, letting go and running off to where Royce had landed. 

The Minotaur caught both of his axes, and by now he was truly running out of steam. He was running low on stamina, having to now steady himself on his axes, and he looked to the samurai with admiration and resentment. “Y-You…are much more skilled than I had previously thought…I-I should have expected nothing less…from the descendants of Aquila…”

“Minotaur!” Jonathan called, brandishing his sword. “You have proven your devotion to your master, King Aquila! We shall strike you down with the utmost respect!” 

From there, all present descended onto the Minotaur as best they could. Comus generated more icicles than ever, aiming them towards the beast’s vital spots, Michel--freed up by Minerva opting to heal Royce herself--jabbed and prodded with his pitchfork wherever he could, and Jonathan went on the physical offensive, slashing with his sword in a most diligent manner. Royce, now up and ready to fight once again like the stubborn mule he was, retrieved his sword and joined Jonathan in the fight. The Minotaur, exhausted, had no choice but to hunker down and take it, growling. 

That was, however, until he felt talons scrape against his head. He looked up and saw Minerva finally in the fray, the harpy scratching at him with a bouncing claw and her teeth grit. After each hit, however, she would fly back to avoid being hurt. She seemed to be the cautious one of the group…but he had one last plan that could ensure his victory, if he could do it. 

Letting out a mighty cry, he rose up and shook all of the demons and samurai off of him, his gaze snapping towards Minerva. She froze. 

Comus, now on the ground, could see what happened but couldn’t stop it. “Minerva! Get out of there!”

No matter his cries, however, the harpy was paralyzed with fear, her eyes wide as she clung to a high portion of the cave wall. The Minotaur laughed, a low and fearsome sound, then raised his axes high, high, high…before finally unleashing them in a beastly throw, sending them Minerva’s way.

They whistled through the air, catching everyone’s eyes. Royce and Michel watched it go, crossing their fingers. Jonathan watched it, holding his breath. Comus couldn’t pull himself away from the sight. Not again…not again, it was happening again…!

Minerva couldn’t bear to look. 

She wrenched her eyes shut.

THUK.

THUK.

…

…

And yet, when she opened her eyes, she felt no pain. Instead, the axes had embedded themselves into the rock wall behind her…only a scant few inches away from her wings. She let out the most joyous sigh of relief.

Royce cheered, Jonathan grinned, and Comus fell onto his back, not even caring that the cave water was soaking his hair. She was alright. She was alright!

The Minotaur, however, just stood there in awe, unable to formulate anything more beyond these few words.

“B…Blessed…they must be…blessed…”

They all basked in the afterglow of such a close call…but it was Michel who first realized what an opportunity this was. “Wait, wait, hold on! Now’s my chance!” he sputtered, picking up his pitchfork and running over to the Minotaur. “I got it, I got it, I got it, I got it, I got it--!” 

With all his might, he jabbed it as far and as deep into the Minotaur’s ass cheek as he could. The bull-man cried out in pain and, finally, dropped to his knees. The fight was over. Jonathan, Comus, Royce, and Minerva all gathered before him, watching as the beast writhed in pain, coughing and hacking. 

“A-Agh…K-King…Aquila…I am sorry, but…t-this must mark the end of our pact…I held it for…as long as I could…” he gasped, his beady bull eyes looking at Jonathan and Comus. 

“B-But…perhaps…we can entrust the future…t-to them…after all…”

He closed his eyes, and fell silent. 

Comus and Jonathan both closed their eyes and put their hands together in a silent prayer, and the others followed suit. Except for Michel, who was retrieving his pitchfork from the Minotaur’s butt.

“Hoy! Are we too late?” came Walter’s voice as the man himself finally managed to show up from behind the door they’d entered. He was covered in a good couple of scrapes and bruises, but otherwise seemed to be stable. “Apologies for not being able to participate. We were jumped by demons, and they dragged us out…I contend they must have been cronies of that so-called legenda…wait, is that him?” 

“Yes,” Comus answered.

“Did…did you already kill him?”

“Yes,” Jonathan answered.

Walter groaned. “Blast it! It figures that I should be preoccupied with some small potatoes while you handle the main course. I hope it at least was a thrilling battle for you all?”

“I’d say so,” Comus sighed, wringing the cave water out of his hair and unsummoning his demons. “Though I doubt you’d have helped much. It’s a lucky thing Jonny managed to tag along so we could take advantage of his weakness to ice. I can’t imagine how it would have gone with you and your Agi spells…”

He crossed his arms with a cocky grin. “I’m quite sure I’d end it thusly either way.”

“Have you truly already beaten the legendary demon…?” It was Isabeau’s voice, and she surfaced soon after from the same location, with about the same injuries. “What a shame…I was almost excited to see it in person.”

“You can still see it,” Walter quipped, “though, I’m sorry to say, all he can do is give the cold shoulder now…h-hey, Comus, Jonathan, what are those looks for?!”

They all laughed off the comment in the end and took care of each other’s wounds, but the laughter dried up soon after they realized where they were. They were all past that door that denied those who served God Almighty. All of the samurai looked to where the hall led next and felt a sudden deep apprehension. “To pass beyond this door,” Jonathan mused, “is a severe violation of the Samurai’s code…once we continue, there will be no turning back.”

Walter cracked his back, resting his palm on his sword’s pommel. “Regardless of our or any code, though, it’s necessary to continue. Who knows what carnage may continue to spread if this Black Samurai is allowed to have her way…? We must put a stop to it.”

“Comus, are you ready to venture further in?” Isabeau asked.

“Ummm…” he mumbled, looking down at his gauntlet. “...A-Actually, I’m completely out of MP. And I don’t have any more chakra drops, that was my only one, soooo…unless you all have spares on you, I was actually gonna head back up to Mikado and rest for the night.”

“Rest? Now? Are you kidding me?” Walter said. “After you just defeated the demon that the elder samurai have nightmares about?” 

“Sounds like a good enough reason to me,” Comus replied with a shrug. 

“...Point taken. Shall we?”

~

Comus: 268 lb → 278 lb

Royce (Lham Dearg): 185 lb

Ying (Fuxi): 155 lb

Rhayader (Myrmecolion): 199 lb → 208 lb

Minerva (Harpy): 193 lb → 202 lb

Michel (Bilwis): 228 lb 

Nena (Pixie): 165 lb → 183 lb

Chapter Text

Comus: 278 lb

Royce (Lham Dearg): 185 lb

Ying (Fuxi): 155 lb

Rhayader (Myrmecolion): 208 lb

Minerva (Harpy): 202 lb

Michel (Bilwis): 228 lb 

Nena (Pixie): 183 lb

~

Apparently, word hadn’t yet spread that the Minotaur was defeated, as Comus and his fellows woke up to a quiet (if somewhat tense) morning. Nobody swamping them, nobody wanting stories of their heroism, nobody even seeming to notice they were ever gone…it was slightly demoralizing for Comus, frankly, but Jonathan assured him that the sense of pride he should be feeling would outmatch any praise he’d receive for their fight. Comus lovingly told him to shut up. 

Thankfully, the return trip wasn’t nearly as complicated. Michel was the demon tag-along for this trip, as Comus admitted that he pretty much owed his victory to Michel’s quick healing and that he had delivered the final blow, and it was him who pointed out that the rusty old key Royce had told him he’d picked up could be used to open that door in the first stratum that had been locked since their arrival. 

“Wait, where did he get the chance to tell you that?”

“We talk in the gauntlet! It isn’t like we’re totally cut off from each other, you know. I send him messages, he sends me messages, I tell you, that guy is such a card. I don’t know where he comes up with his stuff, but it cracks me up!” 

“I believe it,” Comus muttered, turning the key in the lock.

Past the door, it was just one absurdly long jump down an absurdly dark hole before he was back in the fourth stratum. From there, it was a hop, a skip, and a jump back into the Hall of the Minotaur, where Comus cracked his knuckles and looked back at the other samurai. “Alright, everyone, hang back for a bit. I recognize this will be the first time you’ll be seeing me stretch my negotiation muscles, but fair warning: I am extremely good at it. So don’t feel discouraged if you feel lesser by comparison.”

Walter sucked his cheek. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

Comus marched forward, certain in his own skill with demon recruitment. The first one he spoke to, a towering Fomorian, had no interest in joining his team, but was more than happy to impart upon him a quest. Disappointed, Comus made a mental note to take care of it later. Then he attempted to speak to one of the wicker men, but…well, the only sounds they made were the sounds of wood scraping against itself, so that was a no-go. Then a few Knockers saw what he was trying to do and cajoled him for as much macca and as many items as they could before bolting, leaving him holding the bag. Comus trudged back to the other samurai, dejected. Michel pat him on the back in a show of sympathy.

“Well? Have you stretched your ‘negotiation muscles’ sufficiently? Can we continue?” Walter asked, his arms crossed.

“Yes…I guess we can…” Comus murmured, letting out a dramatic sigh. What was wrong with the demons in here? Didn't anyone want to join up with him?

Just when he had lost all hope and was about to throw in the towel, however, a nasally feminine voice sounded from behind a nearby rock. “E-Erm, excuse me…”

Isabeau and Jonathan readied their weapons, but Comus--now realizing what was happening--gestured for them to calm themselves. “Yes?” he said. “Please, come out. We won’t hurt you.”

Floating out from behind the rock, as if being dragged along by an invisible hook, was a knocker. She seemed to look about the same as the rest of them--a round brown face with glowing yellow eyes peering out of a brown patchwork shawl, brown arms and legs sticking out of holes in the garment, and white gloves and boots--but there were a few small markings near her left eye, like triangular scars. She rubbed the side of her nose. “I couldn’t help but watch your performance against the Minotaur, and I must say…i-it was most admirable. And not only that, I-I also couldn’t help but watch your performance in attempting to recruit demons to your cause…i-it was most pathetic.”

Comus furrowed his brow. “Are you here just to make fun of me?”

“No, no, not in the slightest! Actually, I was, um, going to offer that…if you’ll have me…I would happily join your team.”

The pudgy samurai looked back to his friends with a renewed expression of vindicated ‘I told you so’ arrogance before bending down and putting out his hand. The knocker was no taller than his waist. “It’d be a pleasure to have you. I’m Comus.”

“A-Abraca,” she shook his hand. “I hope I can be of use to you.”

“I hope so too,” Comus replied with a chuckle, allowing her into his gauntlet. He stood back up and clapped, “Right then! Now that you’ve gotten a demonstration of my skills, we can continue!”

“Far be it from me to say, but that seemed to be more a matter of blind luck and happenstance rather than an application of skill…”

“Be quiet, Jonathan,” Walter whispered, “or he’ll try to do it again and we’ll be here until tomorrow morning.”

The four samurai moved on from the Hall of the Minotaur, climbing down the ladder at the other end, and when they got to the bottom, they found that they were in…an odd series of corridors. In fact, they no longer seemed to be natural structures, instead appearing more man-made. Tall metal cabinets lined the walls, and signs warning the reader of encountering angels ‘up ahead’ had been erected. For whose benefit was entirely unknown at this moment. Even the floor now made a hollow, echoing sound when stepped on. Michel clung to comus like a scared child, craning his neck (and the double chin that had clearly now formed on him) to take in all the sights around him. “I’ve never seen anything like this…I mean, this is just…phew, wow , y’know? Who made all this stuff?”

“I find it easier to try and not figure quandaries like that out,” Comus replied as he marched onwards. “It simply wastes energy better spent elsewhere. If I don’t know it now, I’ll either find out later, or I’m better off not knowing.”

“Hey,” Walter stopped the group, pointing out a door. “That seems like a safe place to rest, doesn’t it? I could use a break from our intensive exploration…”

“Oh, har, har, Walt. You’re lucky I’m only allowing you to go in because I want to see what’s inside for myself. And to rest my feet.” 

He pushed open the door, and inside was a variety of strange items he’d never seen before: a bed on a metal frame with sheets not made from fabric but from something stiffer, oblong metal containers housing something or other, a white oblong thing like the ‘cabinets’ in the halls…and on the walls, there were shovels and spades of all sorts. As the other samurai explored the area and rested up, Comus sat back on the bed, blushing a bit at hearing something within it creak. That was odd. He’d never laid on a bed that creaked before. Was he really getting that heavy…? His worries were only assuaged when Michel hopped up next to him and kicked his feet, making the same creaking sound. It must be something in the mattress itself, he supposed.

“Look at this!” Jonathan called the others over, and in his hands he held some sort of strange L-shaped metal device. “It was sitting alongside these,” he said, shaking in his palm a number of acorn-like metal capsules. Was everything made of metal here? They must have some very skilled smiths, Comus thought to himself. 

“What a fearsome object,” Isabeau murmured. “What could it be?”

“Holy shit, wait a minute, that’s a gun.”

Comus brought up his gauntlet. “Q-Queenie?”

“Oop, sorry. I guess I should say ‘lucky thing I’m here’, but I was just shocked, y’know, like…that’s a gun. It shoots bullets. To kill people. Those little things you’re holding are bullets, and you put the bullets in the gun, and then you pull the trigger and it makes the other person dead.”

Walter rubbed his chin. “So it’s…like a mechanical bow and arrow?”

“A mechanical bow and arrow fueled by fireworks that you don’t have to nock and only have to reload after six shots. Pretty damn deadly.”

“In that case, why don’t we see if there are any more of these ‘guns’? They might just come in useful.” 

“Should we not report this to the Monastery? After all, these are no doubt very valuable relics,” Isabeau asked. 

“Eh, don’t worry. I’m letting the…hrrk, ‘good people’ at the Monastery in on all the relics you find. Just do your thing, I got it taken care of.” 

“...For how coarse she is, Comus, your Burroughs is more than capable. I don’t know where we’d be without her.”

“Thank you! Fuckin’--about time someone appreciated me!” 

After a bit of digging, Jonathan indeed found several more guns, and bequeathed one to each of them. The extra firepower was useful, yes, but to Comus, it just felt like more weight for him to lug around. And God knows he has enough of that already. Now packing heat, he rose from the bed and pushed the door open. “I think I’m about ready to continue on. Let’s see if--” 

Gathered outside the door was a swarm of demons. Orthruses, Kaso, Porewit…all fire demons. The air was suddenly extremely hot, and it hurt to breathe. Acting on instinct, he shut the door behind him to prevent any of the other samurai from emerging.

“Wh--Comus! What’s going on?!” Jonathan shouted from the other side.

“Stay inside! There’s a horde of demons out here! I’ll take care of it!” he shouted back, summoning Minerva and Nena. The two female demons hovered beside him, Michel taking the front position and pointing his spear at the conflagration of demons. 

“I bet you all think you’re so hot, don’t you?!” Nena called, the chubby pixie standing on Comus’ shoulder. “But there’s only one guy who’s hot enough for me, and he’s right here , got that?! So you better step back, or else-- eep!”

Right in the middle of her boasting, the front lines of the horde took in a deep breath and shot out a wall of flames. With their backs to the wall and nowhere to dodge to, Comus and his demons had no choice but to take the flames head-on. Michel’s grain caught on fire, which of course was an issue for him, and Comus had his hair and clothes singed, but his armor protected much of him. Nena had her entire body set on fire for a split second, but burying herself in Comus’ clothes (as she loved to do) deprived the fire of enough oxygen to put her out…at the cost of delivering a pixie-shaped burn onto Comus’ gut. Comus coughed up soot, hissing through his teeth as he looked down at himself. Scorch marks covered his body. “I-Is everyone alright? Is everyone-- Minerva!”

Minerva had gotten it the worst out of all of them. Her whole body was wreathed in flames, but rather than thrashing or screaming out, she simply…wasn’t moving. Comus’ breath hitched in his throat. No, had she already…? No, but she had just escaped death! She couldn’t have died now! Not that suddenly, not that easily, not…

Then he remembered something someone had said a while ago. It must not have been to him, since he would have remembered it clearly otherwise, but he recalled Queenie’s voice…

‘His demons seem to stay dead if they’re left as a corpse for more than a couple minutes.’ 

Thinking quick and acting quicker, Comus produced his bag and barked out “Keep healing each other and keep the horde at bay!” to Nena and Michel as he stumbled over to Minerva, kicking open one of the lockers lining the walls and throwing a dusty spare uniform onto her to keep the flames at bay. He dropped to his knees, panicking. “Come on, come on, I must have so many of these by now, I mus--aha!”

He finally found it: a revival leaf, like those sold at the apothecary! It was a small and green thing, like a sprig of mint, but he didn't have time to scrutinize it--he only shoved it into Minerva’s mouth. He cupped her face with both hands, praying, pleading to God under his breath to please, please let it work, let it work this time…

Her eyelids fluttered open.

“C…Comus…?”

“M-Minerva! Oh, you’re okay, you’re alive!” he pulled her into a hug, tearing up. “I thought you’d, I thought…” he could have kept hugging her for hours, but now wasn’t the time. They were still in battle. “Minerva, I’m unsummoning you. Stay out of this fight for now.”

Still very weak, she smiled, and dissolved into pixels as she returned to the gauntlet. Comus sighed with relief and looked back over to Nena and Michel. “Are you two alright?” 

“Uhhh, I think so?” Michel said. “Though her method of healing is…is this how pixies usually do it? It’s kind of weird.”

Nena was currently nestled under his arm and squeezing at his chest, rubbing her cheek against him as she chewed on a head of grain. “Mmm, you’re getting to be a plump little thing, aren’t you~? I wonder if field spirits can grow moobs? You might just get big enough to be the first…not to mention all this,” she purred, digging her toe into the side of his belly. She looked back over at Comus, who was staring, and giggled as she let go of him. “What? That’s what rejuvenates me, so why shouldn’t it rejuvenate others? Besiiides, it worked, didn't it?”

“I mean…I don’t know, did it, Michel?”

“I don’t feel like my skin is on fire, so…is that good?” 

“It must be. Alright, let’s--”

An Orthrus charged forward and tackled Comus in the side, sending him sprawled out into a wall of lockers. His head fell limp. 

Nena screamed, suddenly back to being aware that they were in the middle of a fight. “No! Don’t you lay a finger on his adorable body, you ugly pyromaniacs!” She raised her arms, whirling discs of wind magic filling her palms, before sending them out in a flurry. They practically turned much of the horde into confetti.  

“S-Sorry to distract you, Comus! I’ll make up for it now!” Michel proclaimed, licking the prongs of his trident and delivering a flurry of stabs into the remaining members of the horde. Sure enough, once they had actually focused and applied themselves, the wildfire horde went down easy. 

The only problem was, now, Comus was pretty much dead. 

Jonathan opened the door. “Comus? I don’t hear any more fighting, are the demons--oh my,” he interrupted himself, seeing the quickly-fading bodies that filled the fall. Then he spotted Michel and Nena hovering over Comus’ body. “Umm…pardon me…?”

“Let me heal him!” Michel protested, a fistful of wheat being kept from its destination--Comus’ mouth--by Nena actively pulling his fist away. “Wheat does a body good! It’s the backbone of all major economies and food groups! To deny a man his wheat is to deny a man his livelihood! The sweat of his brow!”

“I don’t--hrrnngh--know what the heck you’re blabbering about, but I can see that my big boy’s only gotten bigger under that ugly armor of his, and I want to feel it for myself! You aren’t taking--grrrgh--this away from me!” 

“You are weird! You are a weird pixie, I know that’s rude and I apologize, but it’s true!”

Jonathan closed the door and looked back at Walter and Isabeau, sitting with their chins in their palms.

“Is he done?” Walter asked.

“In a sense. Let us wait a minute or two more for him to come and get us himself.”

Once Comus had come back to his senses with Nena happily riding on his shoulder (as in the end, she was the one who had the say in how to heal him), he brought the other samurai out. It wasn’t long before, literally down the hall from where his nearly-disastrous fight had taken place, they stumbled upon an enormous set of sliding metal doors framed in stripes. 

“Now this is curious…” Walter hummed, stepping forward to press his hand against them and instead getting startled by the doors automatically opening to his touch. He looked back at the others, who just shrugged, and then continued inward.

The interior of the room couldn’t have been less like the somewhat dingy break room they were holed up in moments earlier. Extending out from the door they entered through was a metal pathway lined with a railing, terminating in a central altar. All around them in a spherical shape were tessellated triangular panels, broken only by a center line of rectangular lights that bisected them. It encompassed the entirety of the room, making for an odd experience. It was like one was stepping inside of a globe…though, well, the people of Mikado wouldn’t have known what that was. Maybe a worm in an apple would be a better comparison.

“What on earth…?” Jonathan murmured under his breath, all of the samurai giving themselves cricks in their necks looking around. Comus’ gauntlet spoke up.

“Whoa, hey! You guys found a terminal! Kickass!”

“Terminal?” Isabeau said.

“Yeah, I just…whatever. This must be the ‘Sky Terminal’, according to my scanners. See, these terminals actually--”

“Hello, Samurai!” a video screen suddenly popped up with a familiar annoying face gracing its interior. “This is Abbot Hugo speaking! I’ve been keeping track of your Burroughs’ logs, and it seems you’ve stumbled upon a terminal room! Those terminals, as fantastic as it may seem, are conceived as--” 

“They’re matter transportation devices! You go in, you link with another terminal, you get transported there instantly!” Queenie interrupted. “And don’t you EVER interrupt me again, God-boy, or I swear to your God I’ll--”

“In fact, there is a terminal room at Aquila Plaza,” Hugo continued, trying to ignore the ranting AI…though the twitch at the corners of his smile said all there was to say. “However, since we had never found another one of its ilk, we have never been able to make use of it…until now, that is!”

Isabeau lightly kicked the railing. “So then, we will be able to travel between Naraku and Mikado instantaneously?”

“That’s some pretty high-level magic…!” Walter said, honestly impressed.

“Ugh, thank goodness. It was such a pain constantly going back and forth, back and forth…can’t you guys get rid of the stairs or something in Naraku? There’s way too many and they serve no purpose. Just make it a straight line down.” 

Hugo looked Comus over and sneered. “...I’ll make a note of it. Regardless, since you found it, and the one in Aquila Plaza cannot be used without having a name to associate it with, I shall give you the honor of naming it.”

“M-Me?!” he sputtered.

“Quite the honor,” Isabeau said with a nod. “Be sure to give it a good name, as we’ll be using it often. So long as you don’t make it anything perverse.”

“Wh--”

“Think long and hard about this, Comus,” Jonathan added, “after all, whenever we use it, we will be remembering that you were the one who christened it so.”

“But I--”

“And remember, if you give it a foolish name, we have the right to tease you mercilessly about it,” Walter chuckled, “so don’t screw it up!”

“But--”

“You got this, big boy! Give it a name as appealing as you are!” Nena cheered.

“...B--”

“Yeah, don’t screw it up.”

Everyone stared expectantly at Comus, and he met all of their gazes with wide, nervous eyes. He racked his brain, trying as hard as he could to come up with a good name. He had to, right? He had to come up with something good! Think, think, think, oh God, they’re all staring, he can’t focus like this! A good name, a good name…

“...Muh…Wh…W-Why don’t…Why don’t we, uh, just call it the Mikado terminal?”

A palpable silence filled the room. 

“Laaaaame,” Nena teased. 

“Ahem. Anyway,” Hugo resumed, “since you’ve found one, there’ll no doubt be many others in the Unclean Ones’ country. Why don’t I set you up with a request to find them all for me, while you’re down there? Thank you so much, I’ll be counting on you!” And there he went. Quite the abrupt conclusion, wasn’t it?

Walter groaned, leaning over the railing like he was laundry drying on a rack. “I do wish that Abbot Hugo wouldn’t pile more work on us so suddenly as a ‘while you’re down there’...but, what say we try it out? Just for fun?”

“I’m still not entirely confident in the safety of these ‘terminals’,” Jonathan said, eyeing the altar warily. “What if there’s some sort of accident? Where would we be sent in that instance?” 

“Then I suppose we’ll go to pieces. Is that the answer you wanted, Jonathan?”

“H-Hardly…”

Comus, meanwhile, had trudged over to the altar and wordlessly raised his gauntlet to it. Queenie appeared on his screen.

“Would you like to travel to the ‘Mikado’ terminal, you sack of crap?”

“Y-Yes please…”

~

Comus: 278 lb

Royce (Lham Dearg): 185 lb

Ying (Fuxi): 155 lb

Rhayader (Myrmecolion): 208 lb

Minerva (Harpy): 202 lb

Michel (Bilwis): 228 lb → 236 lb

Nena (Pixie): 183 lb

Abraca (Knocker): 181 lb

~

Following a quick nap and a short period of reflection about his lack of creativity, Comus and the others returned to the underground workers’ area (at least, that was what Queenie’s scanner called it--what it actually was, nobody had a clue) and came to an agreement: They would split up, Jonathan, Walter, and Isabeau going on ahead to scope out the area as a group while Comus explored in more detail. No matter how he tried to explain it, it always seemed to come off as an excuse to let him drag behind, but they had no interest in arguing the point and allowed him to hang back. 

Nena, ever the clingy one, remained on Comus’ shoulder as he opened locker doors, opened chests, and fended off the occasional sea of fire-breathing demons with the help of his own team. She buried her face into his hair, humming happily, before leaning back out. “Paahh…so, why are we still here, anyway? Shouldn’t you be catching up to your butt-buddies?”

“Do not call them that,” Comus scolded, shutting a locker door. “And to answer your question, I’m on the lookout for another demon to recruit. One more, and we’ll have a full party.”

“And why’s that a good thing?” she asked, laying down with her back on the hump of his shoulder, making her belly stick up in the air and bounce with each step he took. “We’ve got all the oomph we need, don’t we?” 

He chewed the inside of his bottom lip. “...You can never be too safe.”

“Aw, are you scared of losing us?” She sat up, patting him on his rounded cheek. “Don’t worry! We aren’t going anywhere! Especially me~” 

Comus shrugged his shoulders and looked away, sheepish. “Just…be on the lookout for anyone you feel may be a good fit for us, alright?” 

“Hmmmm…” She hopped up onto her feet, peering out and turning in a circle, stamping her feet as she did so. “How about…ooh, what about that one there? Kinda scrawny, but that can always change, you know~?” 

He looked in the direction she was pointing and saw a petite girl with red skin, a white flower-patterned tangzhuang , and the wings of a butterfly. She was seated on top of one of the lockers Comus hadn’t gotten to, kicking her feet as she tapped away at some manner of black box in her hand. It looked rather like if the screen on Comus’ gauntlet could be removed and used independently from the rest of the system. 

“I don’t know…”

“Let me go talk to her! I can really strut my stuff when I need to. Watch and be amazed, big boy~” she puffed proudly, leaping off his shoulder and flapping her wings until she was able to carry her pudgy little body over to the Hua Po. “Scuse me!”

“Hm? What’s up?” she asked, not looking up from her phone. 

“Oh, nothing muuuch…” Nena replied, taking a seat beside her. The hua po wasn’t that much bigger than her, perhaps half a foot taller, but it still was a strange sight to see two miniature humanoids sitting beside one another, one more miniature than the other. Nena folded her hands in her lap, looking away politely until she felt that enough time had passed. “Just out of curiosity…how do you feel about your body?”

That got her attention. The hua po looked up at Nena. “...Excuse me?”

“I’m just saying! You look a little thin. Thin’s on its way out, if ya didn't already know. You know what’s on its way in , though? Fat. Big, beautiful bodies with rounded bellies, double chins and stretch marks, and--and succulent breasts…” Nena moaned out, pressing her thighs together as she drooled. Then she shook her head. “So, y’know, if you wanna get ahead of the curve, you could come with me and my master over there,” she gestured to Comus, standing a short ways away pretending not to be associated, “and you’ll blow up in no time! Whaddya say, hmm?”

The hua po couldn’t have looked any more repulsed. 

“Uhhh…” Then she forced a grin. “Gosh, you know, I would love to, I really would, but…I have…things to do. You know, though, I have a friend who would probably love that! Totally. Let me, uh, let her know, and then you can…talk to her. How’s that sound?”

“Ooooh, fantastic!” Nena clapped. “I’m sure she’ll be delighted by the transformation! Where is she?” 

“She’s down there,” the hua po pointed down in an ice cooler. There, curled up, was a hedgehog-like chagrin. She glanced up at the two fairies with a beady eye, and then immediately buried her head back into herself, whimpering. 

Nena grimaced. “But that’s…are you really sure that--?” 

By the time she’d looked up, the hua po had already dissipated into small iridescent butterflies that fluttered in all directions. She groaned out, frustrated, and dove down to scoop up the chagrin in two hands. Nena handled the little beast delicately due to its spines, but she still muttered “ow, ow, ow, ow” as she carried her over and set her down at Comus’ feet. 

“Didn't go well?” Comus said.

“Nope. I don’t get it, I said everything that would have worked to get me to join! Isn’t that what people say to do? Give the pitch you’d want to hear?” 

“With all due respect, Nena…n-never mind. Is this who that demon recommended?” Comus bent down, looking at the curled-up chagrin. In the back of his mind, he remembered Hipodil, and he winced. This poor thing couldn’t have been farther from her in terms of personality. “Hey, hey, it’s okay…what’s your name, little miss?”

The chagrin didn't respond, only staring up at him with those wet eyes that animals can pull off so well. 

“...Alright, then. I’ll unsummon you, and maybe next time we talk, you can tell me your name, alright?” 

When there wasn’t a response again, Comus just took her into his gauntlet and sighed. “Quite the shy thing, isn’t she?” 

“I’ll say! Besides, she’s a little animal. It’s not gonna be any fun fattening her up! She’ll just turn…spherical. Which is super super hot on a humanoid like me or you, but just kinda…disconcerting, on an animal. You get me?” 

“Yes, yes, I get you…let’s just continue on, shall we?”

“Your next demon better be a total butterball, I’m just saying.”

“Nena…please…”

~

Comus: 278 lb

Royce (Lham Dearg): 185 lb

Ying (Fuxi): 155 lb

Rhayader (Myrmecolion): 208 lb

Minerva (Harpy): 202 lb

Michel (Bilwis): 228 lb → 236 lb

Nena (Pixie): 183 lb

Abraca (Knocker): 181 lb

Panda (Chagrin): 148 lb

~

Moving out of the employee work room, Comus now found himself at the top of a massive vertical shaft surrounding a single center column made up of an inscrutable mineral-like material. The pathway itself was all diamond-plated red alloy, held together with nails and hope, and the walls were supported by great steel cross-beam girders. Each level connected to the next by single-piece ramps that creaked and shuddered as Comus walked across them. Nena whined each time it sounded out, and it just made him all the more aware of his recent, dramatic, and unexplained weight gain. 

Leaning over the railing (but not too hard--he didn't want to snap it off, after all), he saw yet more demons milling around and fluttering about around the center column. He whistled. “Seems rather busy in here too…” Checking his gauntlet, he saw that his party was full up. Which means…

He returned to the entrance of the shaft and leaned on the wall for some support he had a bit more confidence in and turned on his gauntlet. Hovering his finger over the UI, he finally found what he was looking for: the hexagram icon labeled ‘Mido’. With a press of his finger, the screen changed, and the elderly face of Mido appeared once again.

“Comus! Simply marvelous seeing you again! I hope you’re prepared to…ah, pardon me,” he stopped himself, clearing his throat, or whatever he had to be cleared as a floating digital head. “I recognize my attitude may not be fitting for the current mood, and I apologize. I assume you are here to…?”

How considerate of him. Comus smiled and shook his head. “No, no, no demons have died this time, Mido. In fact, I’m just freeing up some space, thankfully, so this will be fusion for the fun of it.”

Mido’s head literally spun. “Fantastic! I am overjoyed to hear that your demons are faring well, even with the conditions they are subject to. Now then, which two demons shall you be fusing today?”

The demon stock opened, and he looked in on all of his demons. Queenie had mentioned that each demon got their own miniature realm to call their home when they weren’t being summoned for battle, and it seemed that the majority were doing quite fine: Minerva--who didn't seem to have fully escaped her previous close call without injury, as there were now darkened splotches on her wings and torso where the flames had scorched her--was sleeping among the Greek ruins in her glen with Rhayader (flowers spilling from his mouth) curled up beneath her, Royce and Abraca were chatting with one another, laying along rolling green hills with a castle in the background, and Michel was happily tending to his wheat fields, golden grain stretching out as far as the eye could see. 

“Mmmm…I don’t know, I’m quite attached to all of these demons…Wait.”

He stopped. ‘Ying’. Right, he was…wasn’t he one of the first demons Comus had ever recruited? He must have gotten lost in the shuffle at one point or another, because Comus couldn’t remember ever even talking to the Fuxi…the man-headed bird was standing on one of the upper balconies of a Chinese-style pagoda, pacing impatiently back and forth. It kind of made him feel bad, but…well, he never used him anyway, so what was the harm in fusing him? 

Then he looked over to the chagrin he’d just recently picked up. Her name, seemingly automatically logged through some process Comus had no conception of, was listed as ‘Panda’. In the sandy desert where Hipodil mentioned she had been stuck, Panda cautiously explored the sandstone ruins surrounding her, totally confused as to where she was and what she was doing. 

It was sort of an easy choice.

“Let’s go with Ying and…Panda, I suppose. The chagrin I just got.”

“Very good picks, very good picks! Your result will be…a Makara, will that be alright?”

The image showed some kind of fish thing with the head of a deer. Not exactly a look he liked, but it was that or nothing, so he obliged. “Sure. Commence the--”

“Wait, wait, can I say it? Oh, how I love to say it!”

“Alright,” Comus conceded with a laugh.

“Commence the fusion!” Mido boomed, and he immediately got to work in summoning the two ingredient demons necessary. In one of the fusion tanks, Ying appeared, whipping his head around until he spotted where Comus was looking in from. 

“You…” he snarled in a raspy voice, kicking the inside of the tank. “You! Finally, I can speak with you! Let me make this clear, you promised me 500,000 macca in return for entering your employ, and as of now, I have not received a single one! You owe me restitutio--” and just like that, he was nothing more than data. Comus cringed. Not a good look for him, but to be fair, he was only starting out anyways. 

In the other tank, Panda only got a few moments to curl up into a ball and whine before dissolving into data herself. The two streams of bits and bytes flowed into the center vestibule, starting to form into the resulting demon…

Then, alarms blared. The entire screen flashed red, and Mido’s head swung in, rapidly shaking and surrounding the rapidly-growing blob of data as he attempted to control the situation. You could only do so much without hands, it seemed.

Comus lightly tapped the side of his gauntlet, leaning in. “Mido, what happened? W-What’s going on?!”

“I-I wish I could tell you, but…well, these things happen sometimes! Some of the data doesn’t mesh well, or it gets partially corrupted, and it results in a ‘fusion accident’...”

“I-Is that bad?!”

“Errrr…”

The screen lit up bright red and, like a Roman candle, it sent out a spew of data out into the air before Comus, building the newly-formed fusion accident demon line by line, block by block, bit by bit…until finally, it descended with a heavy thud against the metal beneath them. 

Standing head and shoulders above Comus was a humanoid masculine figure with pale grayish-green skin, brown-and-white-dappled feathers fanning out from his back in a cloak, and thick black hair framing his features--said features being that everything north of and including his nose was that of a hawk, two red eyes and the upper half of a beak looking down at his summoner. 

Unexpectedly for Comus, however, he was the first demon he’d owned that outweighed him. The man had a significant belly that folded over and covered the upper portion of his gold-toned loincloth, a dimple at the center of the underbelly and two small rolls above his love handles providing it ample shape and definition. Prominent moobs fanned out from his chest, sloping off to push his thick upper arms out just enough to where they couldn’t comfortably rest at his sides. His legs, while seemingly quite sturdy, were covered in a layer of fat thick enough to ensure that his bare thighs jiggled against one another whenever he walked, and a thick double chin filled the space between his jawline and chest. Winding blue tattoos stretched across his fleshy body, depicting fire on his limbs and a manji -like sign on his chest. Around his hands were hooked-claw gauntlets sharpened enough to rend flesh with ease, and though his gut pushed it out to the side, at his waist was a bone-handled machete sheathed in cloth. 

The figure stepped towards him, Comus able to hear the subtle huffing as he did so, and put his hands on his hips (doing so carefully so as to not scratch himself), looking down at him with a smirk. “So…I take it you’re my new master then, huh?”

“Er,” Comus stammered, trying to keep eye contact and not let his gaze wander downwards. “Yes, I-I’m…”

“Ha!” he let out a barking laugh, then slammed his hand onto the wall as he brought himself close to Comus. Their stomachs pressed together, though with the height difference, his almost completely overtook the samurai’s. If he wasn’t looking up, Comus would be eye-level with his (his!) tits. He grinned down at Comus. “No. Here’s the deal, mmkay? I want two things. Food to feed this,” he gripped the side of his belly, lifting it and letting it drop, “and fights to feed this,” he tapped his temple. “You’re gonna get me both, and I don’t want to hear a single complaint coming out of that mouth of yours. Capisce?” 

The samurai went deep red. Let it be known that when it came to attraction, Comus had never been the most discerning of gender so long as they had certain… other qualities. “Y-Yessir,” he squeaked. 

“Good,” the demon said, stepping back. “Now that we’ve got that taken care of, I’m an Ictinike. You call me Roky.” 

There was a small yawn from Comus’ hair, followed by two squat little arms stretching up out of his right side. Nena, who had been taking a little nap, finally popped out of his hair and rubbed her eyes. “Aahhh…mmm, what’s going on? There’s so much talking, and…and…whoa…” Finally, she noticed Roky standing before her, and once she had registered every part of his obese body, she practically launched herself at him, taking a seat on the palpable shelf his gut had formed. 

“Hiiii~” she mewled out, giggling with a lovesick smile on her face. 

“Howdy,” Roky replied with an arrogant snicker, looking down at her. “I’m Roky. You want some of this, little missy?” 

“Oh, god, I want all of this, in so many ways…” Nena reached over and grasped at his chest, moaning as she felt her hands completely disappear beneath them…though considering her size, it wasn’t quite as impressive as it would have been otherwise. “Mmm, how much do you weigh, Roky?”

“Heh, I never bother to count.” 

“Comus!” Nena shouted, “use your gauntlet doohickey to weigh him, I know it can do that! I wanna see just how much meat Roky’s got on him…”

Comus, despite always feeling that Nena’s flirting and…well, abject lust for him, toed the line between being quite appreciated and downright creepy, now felt oddly insecure at seeing her nibbling on the breasts of another masculine figure. Was there a word for this…? He felt like there was. Still, muttering, he raised his gauntlet.

“Queenie…”

“Yeah, I heard your little perv fairy. My sensors say Roky is…ehhh, pushing 317 pounds or so.” 

Nena let out a moan that faded into a giggle as she bounced on him. 

“And for the record, you’re just past 280 yourself.”

“I-I am?! I…wow…” Comus looked down at himself. Not having taken his armor off in a while must be hiding a lot of his recent gains, but that was…a really big number. Whoof. How is he even gaining this much weight with how much work he does…?

“Hnnhh…call me when that ‘2’ turns into a ‘3’ and bring a change of laundry, ‘big’ boy! In the meantime, I’m going to be exploring more of Roky…” 

Comus crossed his arms. “Well…regardless, I still need a demon from this shaft to complete the set, so--”

“Hey, you! Baby doll with the wings!” Roky called, gesturing with an arm whose hanging flab bounced as he did so to beckon the demon closer. 

A rather tubby hua po with smallish breasts and a prominent double-tiered belly that was clearly outlined against her tangzhuang hovered over, her hands clasped together as she fawned over Roky. “Mmhmmm?” 

“What’s your name, girl?”

“Beike,” she answered, cozying up to him. 

He jerked his head in Comus’ direction, cupping one hand under her backside and rubbing the side of her gut with his thumb. “Team up with that bozo over there, and I’ll see if I can do something good for you in bed. Whaddya say?” 

“Oh, seriously? Sweet, I’m in!” Beike cheered, fluttering over to Comus.

“Hello there, I’m--”

“Yeah, yeah, just make with the unsummoning already, alright? I gotta wash up!” 

Groaning, Comus unsummoned her. “You know, Roky, I think you’re really starting to overstay your welcome…regardless of what I provide for you or what you provide for me, just remember that I’m the summoner here, alright?”

Roky snorted, laughing in his face. “And what are you gonna do if I don’t let myself get unsummoned, huh?”

Comus pointed at the ramp beside them. The first of many ramps. Then he pointed at the ladder they had come down from. Then he gestured to the Ictinike’s body. He groaned, getting the point. “Ugh, fine. Sorry, doll, I gotta bounce. Meet me in my room later tonight though, alright?”

Nena mumbled out something in the affirmative, and Roky puffed as he approached Comus again. “Add ‘sex’ to the list of things you’re gonna feed me. You already know where I’m gonna point for that. You got an issue with that?”

“Not really, actually. Whatever you all do in my gauntlet is your own business, and if it helps you fight, I’ll allow it.”

“Glad to hear it. Would have done it either way though, heh. Now get me outta here, ain’t no way I’m going down all those ramps. My feet’d kill me.” 

“Yes, yes…” Comus grumbled, unsummoning him. The ire he had gained from Nena quickly fizzled out once he allowed her to ride underneath his armor again, but he still couldn’t help but feel an odd imbalance of power following Roky’s summoning. He felt a little too strong for his own good. Would it really be alright, having a guy like him around…?

He was so lost in thought, in fact, that he completely passed by Stephen, who had been sitting right near one of the ramps traveling downwards. 

If he was disappointed, it didn't show. 

~

Comus: 278 lb → 290 lb

Royce (Lham Dearg): 185 lb → 194 lb

Rhayader (Myrmecolion): 208 lb

Minerva (Harpy): 202 lb → 211 lb

Michel (Bilwis): 236 lb

Nena (Pixie): 183 lb

Abraca (Knocker): 181 lb → 190 lb

Roky (Ictinike): 317 lb

Beike (Hua Po): 221 lb

~

Only a short way down the series of ramps, Walter, Jonathan, and Isabeau stood beside yet another passageway and a ladder, this one leading down into the center column that stood in the center of the scaffolding. Graciously, they allowed Comus to scale the ladder first, though there was no kidding each other: it was because not only did nobody want to be the one staring at his fat ass going down the ladder, they were wary of the ladder breaking off entirely with everyone on it. Best to be certain and safe in times like these, Jonathan would have said if he wasn’t too polite for his own good. 

That being said, all pretense dropped once they reached the bottom. There was a large circular room, and though it was filled with rubble and decrepit to the point of appearing to have been abandoned for years, the glass window that surrounded its circumference was more than clear enough to see through. The samurai stepped towards it and were astonished by what they saw. 

“M-My goodness, what…what is this…?” Jonathan stammered.

“It’s beautiful…” Isabeau murmured to herself.

“So this is the Unclean Ones’ country, then…” Walter said, amazed and in shock.

“What in the…” Comus sputtered, pressing his face against the glass.

Stretching out below them as far as the eye could see were enormous rectangular metal-and-glass structures, clustered into groups separated by long, gray strips. Among these structures, an infinite array of lights and colors shone against the darkness that surrounded them. Above them, the sky was dark and murky, being met not by the sun (as Mikado was), but by an enormous slab of rock. 

“It’s just like…” Comus started, then trailed off. 

“It’s downright wondrous, is what it is. All those lights down there, and this layer of bedrock now above us…I’d be impressed if I wasn’t aware of who these marvels originated from,” Walter said, taking in the sights. 

“This truly is a backwards place: the ground above us and the night sky, all its stars included, below us…” Jonathan placed his hand gingerly on the glass. “There’s not a doubt in my mind that this must be where the Unclean Ones dwell.”

“Everyone, over here! I’ve found something,” Isabeau called, gesturing for the others to gather near her. Before her were two sheer metal slabs set into the wall. She pressed her palm against it. “They seem to be doors, but I haven’t been able to budge them, no matter how hard I’ve pulled.”

“Looks like it’s time to put my knowledge to use again,” Queenie chimed in. “That’s an elevator. Basically, it takes you up and down in a box. It’s like stairs you don’t have to climb.” 

“Thank God,” Comus let out a sigh of relief, bending with his hands on his knees. “If I had to climb up and down another flight of stairs, I was going to scream…”

Jonathan looked at him. Mentally, he said ‘it’s quite the miracle that even with the difficult terrain, you have become and remained so weighty’, but externally, he said “How does one make use of these?”

“You press the ‘up’ button to go ‘up’. And you press the ‘down’ button to go ‘down’. I know you Samurai are completely unfamiliar with tech like this, but you’d think something like that’d be just a matter of common sense…”

“She’s got you there, Jonathan,” Walter chuckled, pressing the ‘down’ button. He stepped in, then Isabeau, then Jonathan. “Come on then, get in, Comus.”

He looked at the three samurai. Then he looked down at himself. Embarrassed, he slumped his shoulders and mumbled, “You all go on ahead. I’ll be down in due time…”

“If you’re worried about not fitting, I’m sure we can make some extra room, can we not?” Isabeau offered, squeezing herself into one of the corners. Walter tried his best to do the same, but he was already rubbing elbows with her. “P-Perhaps not…”

“Just go down,” Comus huffed, swatting at the air as the elevator doors shut. That was definitely a side effect of this extra weight that he hadn’t anticipated…he took up plenty more space than he once did. It felt obvious when you laid it out like that, but it hadn’t really hit him until just then. That being said, he knew that he would no doubt be entering a new location soon enough, and since his party was full once again, he knew what time it was. 

He opened his gauntlet, he pressed the appropriate icon, and Mido swung into frame with a boisterous. “Comus! Back so soon? This is quite the surprise, I must say: I usually don’t see you quite this often! Freeing up some more space again?”

“Yes, it seems I must.” 

“I do hope that Ictinike that emerged hasn’t been too much of a hassle for you? He did seem to be rather…strong-willed, from what I saw.”

Comus furrowed his brow, looking through his demon stock. Roky was tucked beneath what looked to be animal pelts within a Lakota tipi, a fire roaring in the center while he snored, presumably naked beneath his covers. Beike was snuggled up beneath his heavy arm, just as nude. “What you saw? Wait, how many of my…’escapades’ have you been watching?”

“Oh, some here, some there. I spend much of my time studying demons in the digital space, but I do pop my head out occasionally to see what my user has been up to! That business with the Black Samurai was especially intriguing, wasn’t it? I can’t explain it, but I feel quite drawn to her…though not in the sense you may think, of course.”

“O-Of course,” he muttered, scrolling through his demons. He didn't want to part with any of them, really…but it wasn’t like he had a choice. A lot of the results were pretty poor for his level too, sadly…but it didn't take long to make his choices.

“Rhayader,” he pointed at the ant-lion, who was chasing his abdomen while Minerva watched from high above, “and Abraca,” he pointed at the knocker, reading a book while Royce snoozed behind her. 

“I understand Rhayader is one who’s been with you for a while. Would you like to say goodbye to him first?”

Comus chewed the inside of his cheek. “...Yes, actually, I would.”

There was a flash of light, and then Rhayader was before him in the observation deck, busily chasing his own backside. He caught it and gnawed gently on it, laying down where he was.

“Rhayader?” the myrmecolion looked up upon being addressed. Comus knelt down and petted his mane, feeling how the big cat part of him leaned into his touch. “I know we’ve gone through quite a lot together, but…well, I’m going to fuse you into something and someone that’s hopefully even bigger and better. You proved useful to me in a lot of fights, and even if you were a bit of a hassle…I-I’ll always remember you,” he concluded, sniffling. He felt silly for making a goodbye like this, since it wasn’t like he was dying, but…he kind of was, in a way. Whatever he became, he wouldn’t be Rhayader anymore.

The ant-lion watched Comus tear up, gained a knowing look, and sat up straight, putting out his paw for the samurai to take. He did so.

“You brought me lots of great food, master. I was never hungry with you around. I was always hungry in the cave, but then…you helped me.” He bore his fangs in a catlike smile. “Thank you.”

They shared one final hug between them before Comus unsummoned him. Mido was also sniffling. “Snf, snf…O-Oh, what a touching farewell! Such a display of not only compassion, but respect for your demons! It moves me! It moves me to tears! Will you do the same with Abraca?”

“Ahh…I-I don’t know, I mean, I barely know her…I think it would be kind of awkward?”

“No, no, yes, I understand. In that case, commence the fusion!” 

Thankfully, there were no issues this time, and in fact Abraca never seemed to notice that she was being fused, simply continuing to keep her nose buried in her book. The two were broken down into their base components and combined, and just like the first time they’d done it, there was a flash of light as a small, stout silhouette hopped out of the gauntlet…

This demon only came up to about Comus’ knee, having a leathery skull for a head and being smartly dressed in a black trilby with a white band, a white cravat and gloves, a black trench coat with matching pants, and black leather boots. Even despite his short stature, he was rather rotund, taking on the general shape of an oval from top to bottom with a prominent stomach that strained the knot which kept his coat closed and stubby, squat limbs. 

“W-What, who…where am I?!” he spouted in a screechy voice, turning in a circle to try and understand where he’d just been brought to. “Who, who…you--!” He finally noticed Comus, and when he did, he leapt up onto the Samurai, grabbing him by the orange stole around his neck and flicking open his straight razor. “Who are you?! Who are you working for?! Are you with… them?”

“Ack! P-Pardon me,” Comus protected, putting his hands up, “I thought you’d know already, I…I’m Comus. I fused you from two of my friends.” 

“Shut up!” the twitchy Jack Ripper barked, pressing the flat edge of his straight razor against Comus’ double chin. “How do I know I can trust you, huh? For all I know, you could be lying to me. You could be working with them. Plotting my destruction!”

“Who in Mikado could I possibly be working with to take you down, you literally did not exist until five seconds ago!” 

He kept his beady light-point eyes trained on Comus for a tense couple of seconds before lowering the razor with a squint of the sockets. “Alright then…I’ll play your game for now. But the instant I start thinking you’re on their side, it’s schlick , off with your head, alright?”

“O-Okay…”

The little demon put out his hand. “They call me…’Paul’. I suggest you do the same, if you know what’s good for you. You never know what or who could be lurking around the corner…” 

Comus moved to shake his hand, but stopped just before he made contact. There was a shine in Paul’s palm. “...Is that a nail in your palm?”

“Clever. Observant, too. Maybe I can trust you after all,” Paul concluded with a grin, tossing away the nail and gripping Comus’ hand himself in a firm handshake. 

“Ooooh, I hear another voice! New demon time? Must be, must be!” Nena sung, wriggling her way out of Comus’ armor before popping up out of his neckline. She seemed…moist, likely due to Comus sweating up a storm beneath his armor from all the movement. “Let’s get a look at what new adorably pudgy…” She stopped once she saw Paul.

He took off his trilby, revealing his bald cranium, and nodded. “Ma’am.” 

Nena scowled and retreated back into his armor. 

Unsummoning Paul, Comus was now back to being alone. The elevator was probably open by now…but frankly, he was running low on magic once again, and he felt it was a better option to head back up to Mikado and rest up. He contacted his fellow samurai and told them of his plans, and though they were a little irritated at having to wait, they admitted that they had no clue what was ahead as well, and judging from what they could see around them…it probably wouldn’t be good. They all figured it’d be best to return to Mikado for now to prepare for the coming battle. 

The trip back to the terminal was not as easy as Comus had anticipated, though. Once again, the wildfire hordes proved themselves to be a force to be reckoned with: while Michel was jabbing and prodding with his pitchfork as best he could, and Roky was actually proving himself to be quite powerful as he coated his claws in frost and ripped the fiery demons to embers, Nena hadn’t been so lucky. She’d gotten so distracted watching how Roky’s belly and breasts bounced and wobbled with his nimble movements that she completely missed a plume of flames heading her way. It knocked her out for a hot second, but Comus was prepared for this. He shoved a revival leaf in her mouth, tucked her safely back into his armor, and gave the order for his demons to make a break for the terminal. They just barely made it in. 

Nena would probably have burns on herself the same way that Minerva now had, but Comus doubted she would let it get to her: that unwavering confidence that teetered on a lack of self-awareness was basically a staple of hers by now. 

As long as she was alive, though, he was happy.

Hopefully it would last.

~

Comus: 290 lb

Royce (Lham Dearg): 194 lb

Minerva (Harpy): 211 lb

Michel (Bilwis): 236 lb

Nena (Pixie): 183 lb

Roky (Ictinike): 317 lb

Beike (Hua Po): 221 lb

Paul (Jack Ripper): 191 lb

Chapter Text

Comus: 290 lb

Royce (Lham Dearg): 194 lb

Minerva (Harpy): 211 lb

Michel (Bilwis): 236 lb

Nena (Pixie): 183 lb

Roky (Ictinike): 317 lb

Beike (Hua Po): 221 lb

Paul (Jack Ripper): 191 lb

~

“I must say, you and the others are the talk of the town, Comus,” K said, chuckling as he handed Comus’ food order to him. Beef and pork together, mashed potatoes, bread and sauce…it was  “For a variety of reasons, of course, not the least of which being that it’s said it was you and Jonathan who slayed the mighty Minotaur together.”

It was true: once Comus had returned to the tavern, he had practically received a hero’s welcome, many of the samurai present raising their mugs and throwing out a cheer for those who had defeated the legendary demon. Even some of the older master samurai, who frowned upon him for other reasons, couldn’t help but raise their mugs in a toast. Eyes were on him at all times…especially once he received his food. 

“And what could those other reasons be, K? They positively escape me.” Comus feigned ignorance, taking a piece of toast and sopping up as much sauce as he could before stuffing it into his maw. Even among the most decadent of Luxurors, Comus’ appetite and the subsequent consequences of his glutting had become something to behold. No other samurai had been able to achieve such a size and yet still remain an active fighter, let alone one so skilled! For many, it was the equivalent of fighting with two seventy-five-pound weights strapped to your midsection, and yet he not only met his fellows, but surpassed them. That alone made him worthy of great merit. 

K just snickered. He was just as impressed as the rest of them. “Far be it from me to make personal comments about a samurai on your level. Just be wary of the quality of your armor, samurai. That suit of yours looks like it’s seen so many nicks, slashes, and scorchings, that it may just fall apart due to internal pressure…if you get my meaning.”

“Naturally, I do. And, well…this is embarrassing for me to say, but the blacksmith’s shop doesn’t…er, carry anything else in my size anymore. Even this armor, as I’m sure is quite obvious to anyone seeing me, is woefully undersized.”

“Not to worry,” K said with a lax grin, “you’ve done so much good for the people of Mikado and for the samurai that I was able to put in a word with Q the blacksmith for him to hand-tailor some new garb for you.” 

“R-Really?” Comus said through a mouthful of pork, washing it down with a mug of sweet cider before continuing. “Wait…how did you get my measurements?”

“I…might have let that slip. Sorry. It was supposed to be a surprise, you can’t blame me!”

He blushed. “I…w-wow, thank you. I don’t know what to say, truly.”

“Don’t mention it. You may be an odd duck, and some of the other veterans might turn their nose up at you for being a bit broader in the beam than most, but you’ve got the skill to prove that you belong here just as much as anyone else.”

“O-Oh, wow…snff, please, I must ask you to stop, otherwise I may end up crying into my mashed potatoes!”

The two shared a laugh, a genuine connection that they both were happy to have. K folded his organic limb over his prosthetic one, leaning over the counter with a smile. “So then, what will you do now? I hear you’ve made it further than any other samurai have gone, and yet you’re still here. What’s the occasion?”

Comus wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Oh, you know, I owe some quests to some people. I can see there’s a few more up on the blackboard there, after all, and I’d like to prepare myself for any trials that may lie ahead rather than run in recklessly.”

“Quite prudent of you. Well, first on the docket, we’ve got someone asking for a bunch of something called…’Birdman’s Liver’.”

“I have plenty of those! Hold on, just let me get my bag…”

“Ahhh-bup-bup,” K interrupted, reaching underneath the bar. “We appreciate you and all that, but do you know how much work it takes to wipe off this bar? Here, use this from now on.”

He set on the counter a large wooden bucket labeled ‘DELIVERY BUCKET’. 

~

“Remind me again why we’re here?” Roky grumbled, strutting forward and occasionally slashing enemy pixies into ribbons with his claws. Nena rode on his head, a new selection of pale splotches gracing her features and dark splotches gracing her leotard and gloves. Apparently, she thought they looked ‘chic’. Can’t keep that girl down. “I thought I told you to only bring me out if you had food, a fight, or sex for me. So far, I haven’t gotten shit.”

“Calm down, will you, Roky? We’re doing something good for the people,” Comus replied, leading the charge. “There’s a Casualry mother out on the outskirts of the Mikado castle city whose son has been missing for the past few days, and she’s charged us with rescuing him. She last saw him here.”

“What, seriously? We’re busting our asses just for some snot-nosed brat? Hurry up and unsummon me, you don’t even need me here,” he groaned. 

“I’ll be the judge of that. Besides, be thankful I didn't have you summoned for the whole walk here. You know how far Kiccigiorgi Forest is from the castle city? It was a day’s walk for a fit man from Kiccigiorgi, imagine how long it took for me. I swear, I might finally be losing weight at this point from all this walking…” 

Roky just scoffed. 

“Aw, c’mon now Roky, there’s no need to be so glum!” Michel said, floating along beside him. “One thing that always helps me when I want to make traveling go by faster is to make a game out of it! Like…how many different trees can you spot? See, that one has round leaves. That one’s got lighter bark. That one…oop, nope, just dried blood. Thought it was a red tree. Ooh, look, a ladybug! They’re good luck, you know.” 

Rocky glared back at Comus, pointing at Michel. “Does this one have brain damage, or is he just a moron? I need to know so I know how much I’m allowed to hate him.”

“Oh, be nice. He’s only trying to be friendly.”

Come to think of it, this was the first time multiple of his demons had really had the chance to socialize with one another outside of the gauntlet since Walter, Isabeau, and Jonathan joined up with him. He kind of missed this, just going along with his demons…and it was also the first time he was really getting a long, hard look at Michel in a while. 

Apart from Roky and Comus himself, Michel was certainly the fattest out of all of them. A Bilwis was naturally supposed to be pretty lean, but by now the imp had filled out with thick fat nearly everywhere, his harness now digging into the chest padding he’d developed (Nena was right--he might very well be the first Bilwis to have breasts) and his belly curving out from beneath it. His arms now creased at the elbows, fat beginning to hang from them in much the same way it did on Roky, and his legs had become thick enough that his ankle scythes were in very real danger of scraping against his calf fat. Even his gait had changed from a brisk skip to a slight waddle…when he was walking at all, that is. He seemed to be levitating more and more. 

Really, looking at his demons like this…they were all getting big. Past the point of pudginess, like, noticeably big. He hoped, quietly, that it wouldn’t get in the way of any future combat encounters or result in any further deaths…his own added plushness included. 

“Hey, over there!” Nena shouted. “There’s the little snot!”

Having been hiding behind a bush, a dirty-faced child hesitantly poked his head out. He seemed to feel much safer after seeing the cobalt uniform of a samurai emerge from the brush. Comus waved at him. “Hello there! Are you Timothy?”

“U-Uh huh,” the kid nodded. “I got separated from my mom during when everyone started turning into demons, and I’ve been hiding out here ever since…”

“Ever since then?” Michel asked. “Wait, wasn’t that, like, a week ago…? Or was it yesterday? I don’t actually know. Comus?”

Comus just shrugged. 

“But, mister samurai, you’re saying you’ll take me back to the castle town to see my mom?”

“Indeed I am,” he responded with a grin.

“Hooray!” Timothy cheered, and before Comus had any chance to stop him, he hopped up onto the samurai’s back, bracing himself on Comus’ shoulders. The pudgy samurai groaned and nearly buckled under the extra weight, but somehow managed to pull himself back into a standing--if hunched--position. 

“O-Okay…I suppose we’re doing this. Roky, you wouldn’t happen to mind if you…?”

Roky was too busy laughing to answer. Nena was laughing along with him. Michel laughed so as to not be left out.

Comus just sighed and began to trudge all the way back to Mikado castle, Timothy in tow.

It took another day and a half before he made it back to the castle city, and the first thing he did was drop off Timothy. The mother and son reunited in a joyful embrace, and the boy exclaimed that when he grew up, he wanted to be a samurai just like the one that had saved him. Comus was touched enough by the praise, the first time he noticed that he’d really stopped caring about the material rewards for quests like these, but the mother wanted to gift him another reward. Returning from her hut, she brought out a gleaming silver necklace and brought it down over Comus’ head.

“Here. I know it isn’t much, but it’s been in my family for quite a long time…it’s the least I could do for you for saving my baby boy and returning him to me.”

Unsure of how to respond, Comus simply thanked her and went on his way. He did, however, remove the red earring as well. It just felt like too much at once for his tastes. On the way back into the castle city to rest, he swore he could feel his armor clanking against itself…had he actually lost weight from the trips he’d taken? He hoped so. This suit needed to hold out a little while longer until he got the word that his custom-made clothes were finished. 

They’d better not break in the middle of a fight…if he had to deal with a wardrobe malfunction on top of the other feelings that may arise from outgrowing a suit of armor, he might end up dying on the battlefield from embarrassment rather than injury. 

~

Comus: 290 lb

Royce (Lham Dearg): 194 lb

Minerva (Harpy): 211 lb

Michel (Bilwis): 236 lb → 245 lb

Nena (Pixie): 183 lb

Roky (Ictinike): 317 lb

Beike (Hua Po): 221 lb

Paul (Jack Ripper): 191 lb

~

“Isn’t Roky hot?” Beike gushed, fluttering beside Nena as they followed Comus down to the lake. The chubby hua po blushed with her cheeks in her palms, thinking of her late-night partner. “I mean, he’s totally got that ‘bad boy’ energy that drives me wild, I know that much! So assertive, so forceful , and when there’s such a big size difference, I mean, that just makes it even better…”

“Mmh, yeah,” Nena responded, the singed pixie wiggling her hips as she flapped her wings beside her friend, “the attitude’s one thing, but I just can’t get over that body of his…Fuck, like, what I wouldn’t give to see another two hundred, three hundred on him…”

Beike gave her a look. “Wait, seriously? I mean, I know he’s a bit of a bigger guy, but you’d want him even bigger? That’d be, like, landwhale size!” 

The pixie moaned, practically drooling at the prospect. “Uh huuuhhh…even bigger than that , too…”

“You’re a total freak. I think he’s hot just how he is, but a girl has her limits. Any bigger and I’d be like, blech, no thank you! Just enough chub to grab is where it’s at for me, not enough to overflow.”

A short ways ahead of the group and unfortunately being forced to listen to the conversation were Comus and Minerva, whose burns were a bit more severe and had resulted--now that he was getting a good look at her for the first time in a while--in one of her eyes being permanently shut. Dark scar tissue snaked across her pink body, and in some places, her feathers had refused to grow back. Even so, she still carried herself with the same determination and wisdom that she always did. 

She looked back at Comus, who was trying to focus on the journey. “Comus…if I may make a comment, I don’t know if your choice in allies as of late has been particularly…strategic. Especially pairing these two together…” 

“I know, I know. It’s weird for me to listen to as well. I did some research on our quarry, however, and this seems to be the best lineup possible with the demons we have. You’re the key to this, trust me. I really didn't want to bring you out, especially not after…” he looked to her shut eye, then realized he was staring and stopped. 

Minerva lifted her chin. “I can hold my own, regardless of my injuries. If I can have faith in you, then I ask that you have faith in me.”

“...Of course.”

Reaching the lakeside, Comus drew his longsword and waited.

At first, at the surface, there was nothing more than a slight bubbling…then the bubbling grew stronger and more powerful until finally a huge shape breached the surface and coiled itself within the air above Lake Mikado. It was a Qing Long, an azure dragon with two long white antlers, sapphire scales coating the entirety of its winding body, and four short grasping claws. Its seafoam-green mane sticking to its scalp from the moisture, the dragon looked down at Comus and his demons. Beike and Nena pointed up at it and eagerly shouted for the other to take a picture. What a picture was, neither of them knew, but both of them wanted it. 

“Samurai…” the dragon growled out, “have you come to slay me?”

Comus shifted his sword in his hands. “I suppose I am, yes.”

“Many others have tried to do the same and have fallen…let us see if you shall fall in line with the rest.” 

The dragon talked a big game, but it turned out that having three demons who could fly on your side when fighting a dragon was a big help. Comus stayed at the lakeside, firing off electric Zio spells to shock the still-soaked dragon, and while Beike sent out little ethereal butterflies to barrage the dragon with many small impacts and Minerva cast evasion spells on the party, Nena simply bobbed and weaved around the dragon, goading him into trying to hit her. She waved her arms, shouting “Hey, lizard-noodle! Over here! Yeah, I’m talking to you! Come and get me!” 

It seemed unphased, instead opening its mouth and sending out blast after blast of wind breath towards Minerva. Comus watched from his position on the ground, gritting his teeth but staying glued to the scene. Could he trust that Minerva was strong enough to take care of herself, and would his plan work…?

With a flourish of her wing shielding her like a shroud, Minerva deflected all of the dragon’s wind attacks, sending them right back at him and slicing up his face and neck something fierce. She looked back down at Comus and smiled, which he matched with a sigh of relief and an ‘OK’ gesture. 

After that, it was just a matter of keeping up the onslaught, until Nena finally decided to go in for an attack of her own and brought her fists together, bonking the Qing Long squarely on the snout. Judging from the cry of pain and how it seemed to shrink back, oddly enough, that must have been what did it. The dragon raised a claw in surrender. “Enough. I yield…you are the stronger warrior. I am surprised that there are still humans who wield enough power to overpower one such as I. I shall leave this place, but before I do, I must ask…what do you see us dragons as? Do you see us as holy beings, guarding and protecting the land from those who would sully it? Or do you see us simply as mindless beasts, fodder to be slain?” 

Comus shook his head. “You’re simply demons. Nothing more, nothing less. However, if you challenge me, then I have no choice but to fight back with all my might.”

“Mmmm…a wise answer. I see. Regardless, I will now take my leave. Fare thee well, brave samurai,” the dragon snarled out, curling and coiling in the air until it straightened itself out completely, flying off towards the horizon. Comus watched it go as his demons returned to him. Nena was excitedly waving her arms. “Did you see that?! I dealt the final blow! I was all like ‘go eat a sandwich, danger noodle’, and then I gave him the head-bop, and that was that! Not to brag, but I think that deserves you laying on top of me tonight, right? Right? Please say yes.”

Beike rolled her eyes. “Girl, you are desperate. Go hump a pillow if you need it that badly.”

“I’ve tried! It isn’t the same! …I-It’s similar, but it’s not the same!”

“I trust I served you well, Comus?” Minerva asked, coming to a landing in front of him.

“You did, without a doubt. You’ve really made me proud, Minnie.” 

She raised an eyebrow. “Minnie? Is that some manner of nickname?”

“O-Oh, uh,” that name had just slipped out without him even noticing, and now that it was being brought to his attention, he suddenly felt very self-conscious about it. “Yes, though, you know, if you don’t like it…I apologize. I thought it’d be--”

“I like it,” she said with a grin. “I believe I’ll go by Minnie from now on, then, if that’s alright with you.”

“...I-It is. It is.” 

“Hey, sorry to interrupt the tender moment, but I just got a message from Q. He says your outfit’s done and ready to be picked up.”

“Oh! Thank you, Queenie. I’m sure I’ve inconvenienced him enough by having K make such a request…that’ll be my next stop, then.” 

~

“When in God’s name did I get so fat…?”

That was the question Comus was asking himself as he looked down at himself in his room in the samurai barracks. He knew he’d always had a bit of an appetite--even back on the chicken farm, the metering out of what portions his poverty-stricken family could provide was never enough for him. He left every meal wanting more, and spent every night hungry. Now that he was a samurai with an ample paycheck, he was able to indulge it all he pleased…a little extra pudge was good, even, considering how he had started off as stick-thin. This, though? This was downright excessive. 

He was resembling Roky more and more by the day, having developed a considerable belly that now was starting to encroach over what portion of his briefs could be viewed from the front. Lowering a hand, he found enough padding had accumulated to allow him to cup the whole of his slight-haired gut in his palm, hefting it from the side. The motion made him stir below the belt, as did his realization that he was starting to form breasts much the same as his playboy demon’s, two fist-sized globs of fat sticking to his chest beneath his nipples. His arms still felt firm with muscle beneath their accumulated fat, and though his legs often burnt from excessive travel and the litany of stairs and ladders Naraku and what laid beneath it was full of, he seemed to be maintaining decent shape regardless. One had to be in decent shape to do the things he could do, after all…though that wasn’t to say he didn't like it. 

In fact, he liked it too much. 

He liked how he had begun to form a roll at his inner thigh where the flab brushed against itself as he strolled, how he could feel his arm fat bouncing if he raised it quickly the same way Michel and Roky did, how he could even slot a thumb into his navel and nearly lose the whole thing in it. It made him pant with anticipation and…was it too much to call it euphoria? He felt like this was how he was always supposed to be, what felt right and what felt, above all else, good to him. He just hadn’t expected it to happen so soon and so quickly after leaving home…

Comus felt his double chin squash against his chest, looking down at his hefty body, and smiled wide. Who knows how big he’ll get, at this rate? Nena would freak, he bet, if he ended up gaining another hundred or two like how she wanted Roky to. He wondered how he would feel about it, too, though a quick stand to attention beneath the swell of his gut answered that quickly enough.

That was enough self-appreciation, though. He’d gotten quite distracted, and he had his new outfit to put on.

The outfit Q had tailored for him (which he provided at no small cost, to Comus’ chagrin--he’d thought K had paid for the whole thing up front) was modeled after the armor King Ahazuya of Mikado himself had worn as a young samurai, and consisted mainly of a heavy sleeveless tabard made of a dense and thick fabric meant to block the blows of bladed weapons, a layer of chainmail armor beneath that, and a large brown belt around the center. Q mentioned he’d upsized the belt to fit Comus’ waistline, which he probably didn't intend as an insult, but it wouldn’t have come off like that to him anyways: all it did was remind him how much and how quickly he was growing. Nonetheless, the armor fit and it would serve him well for the upcoming battle, he hoped. 

He also hoped this ensemble would last just as long (if not longer) than the suit of armor he’d had to retire.

~

When he returned to the elevator at the observation deck and finally pressed the ‘down’ button, the doors opened without so much as a second thought. He and Roky--who he’d summoned in preparation for the coming fight, as he had to explain to the annoyed Ictinike as he pulled his loincloth up over himself--trudged into the cramped space. The box creaked ominously once both their weights were placed on it. The doors closed.

“This thing isn’t gonna fall out from under us, is it?” Roky asked, leaning against one of the walls. Thanks to his size, he had to stoop slightly and was only a step away from bumping bellies with his master. “‘Cause if it does, I’m kicking your ass for taking me out of the gauntlet in the first place.” 

“I hope not…oh, here, a weight limit sign!” Comus said, pointing out a long-since corroded and decayed sign on the wall of the elevator. It read in mystic script (Queenie translating with her scanner) ‘WEI__T _IM_T: _5_0 _G’. 

“...It probably should,” he murmured. “I don’t know how much ‘50 G’ is in the Unclean Ones’ measurement systems, but it’s probably fine.”

There was a ding, and the doors opened.

Facing the two of them was a man-sized bat with rounded proportions and an ample chest, black fur covering her body and a squat upturned nose being positioned above a mouth full of fangs. Two thick arms ended in claw-tipped hands holding sickles decorated with red-and-blue string around their grips, and the hanging membrane of wings draped itself along her arms and connected to the small of her back, where a short tail twitched on the ground. She was tall enough to look down on Comus, but just short enough to have to look up at Roky, and stood there grinning at the two of them.

Comus and Roky both shouted, pressing themselves back against the wall of the elevator. The samurai raised his gauntlet, preparing for a fight, and the Ictinike drew his bone-handle machete in defense. 

“O-Oh, no, no, I’m so sorry to startle you!” the bat-demoness suddenly said, speaking in a soothing female tone, “I don’t mean you any harm, I promise. Please, you can come out.” 

“Don’t trust her,” Roky snapped, “the bitch is probably just making an excuse to lure us out. I’ll chop her head off if you shoot her in the gut.”

“N-Now hold on, hold on,” Comus stammered, putting a hand on Roky’s shoulder. “I’ve trusted every demon that’s come to me not immediately trying to kill me, and every time, I’ve been proven right. Can you trust me on this?”

He sneered. “Fuck no. The fact you haven’t gotten your fat ass killed by now is a miracle in its own right. But fine,” Roky raised his hands, stepping out of the elevator and leaning on the outside wall, “you do whatever you want. If you die, I’m eating your corpse.”

“Thank you,” he sighed, stepping out as well. The elevator doors shut behind him. “Sorry about him. He was an accident.”

“That’s a rude thing to say about someone, isn’t it?” the Camazotz said.

“Eh. It’s true,” Roky replied.

“Really? Goodness. Either way, I’m Manola, and…I’ve been waiting by this elevator here to warn you whenever you came down here.” 

“You knew I was coming?”

“Certainly! I talked with your friends Walter and Isabeau on the subject, and they told me to keep an eye out for you when you did appear. The other one with the curly hair, I think his name was…Jonas? He didn't seem interested in speaking to me, which I understand. I mean, just look at me,” she gestured to her face. “You see what this place is, don’t you?”

Comus looked around for the first time since he’d stepped outside of the elevator. This second (or first) observation platform was choked through with three things: bones, scales, and stone. If there were windows, they had long since been converted into a hard slate-like material, darkened in splotches by long-dried blood, and skeletons littered the ground to the point where you had to actively trudge through the morass to get anywhere. Demons roamed about, of course, but a number of them were especially fascinated by the things that were peppered here and there on the platform. They seemed to be exceedingly lifelike statues of humans, their expressions and poses of sheer terror frozen forever in time. Some demons were just sitting and looking, others were discussing them with yet other demons, but not one dared to touch them. Even still, Comus could feel the heaviness in the air. He remembered where he had felt this sensation before, and he blushed.

“This is…a domain?”

“Similar to one,” Manola corrected, “but more permanent. Ever since she set up here, no one’s been able to pass between Mikado and…I suppose to you, it’d be ‘the world down there’. She lures demons and humans alike in, then keeps them captive by either trapping them here or turning them into statues like the ones you see there.” 

“She?” Roky raised an eyebrow, interested. 

“Yes, yes. Her name is Medusa.”

Comus blushed a little deeper. “I-Is she…you know…?”

“Hm? I’m sorry, I don’t follow, I…”

Comus made a motion with both of his hands out in front of him, squishing the air before him.

“Uh…oh, oh! Oh. Er, yes, she’s…I can’t put it in a nice way, you see, but the seed of her strategy has bore quite fecund fruit, if you get my meaning.”

He didn't, but he was now only more eager to meet her. “So then, where is Medusa?” 

“She typically stays at the center within the passageway down to the ground, and won’t move unless she has to. That’s actually what I wanted to warn you all about: she’s strong. Very strong. As you are now, I’m sorry to say, I don’t think you’ll be able to beat her. I wanted to join up with you to help you take her down.” 

“Wh--seriously?” Roky said, stepping towards her with his meaty arms crossed. “You expect us to believe you? This human may be an idiot, but he’s got me on his side, and that means we’re gonna win no matter what. Come on, Comus, let’s beat it and go see this Medusa girl for ourselves. I bet she’s smokin’ hot.” 

“We’ll do it,” Comus answered, earning a scowl from Roky. 

“The hell we aren’t. I’m going to see her for myself.” He started to strut away, swiveling his head and hoping to catch a glimpse of the gorgon, but Comus grabbed him by the wrist before he got any further.

“No you aren’t,” Comus reiterated with a grave tone, pulling Roky in closer. “You can posture and gloat all you want, Roky, but remember that I am the one who gives you your commands. I summon you when I need you to fight, and I unsummon you when I no longer need you. I despise being harsh like this, but you will obey me and not run off on your own and get yourself killed.”

“Get your hands off of me, you--” he started, but when he looked back in Comus’ eyes, he saw both a seriousness and a vulnerability that shook him. They stared at each other in silence for a moment or so, before Roky sucked his teeth and yanked his arm away from Comus’ grip. “...Fine. But only ‘cause it means I’ll get to waste the demons around here for a while.”

“Thank you. Now, Manola, you said you wanted to help us out?” Comus put out his hand to her. “Welcome to the team, then.”

She shook his hand gladly, grinning a snaggle-toothed grin. Her claws kind of dug into his palm, but he made no mention of it.

“Thank you so much, mister…Comus, was it? Before anything else, I think spending some time sweeping up the demons around here would be good…”

~

For the next few hours or so, Manola acted essentially as the boxer’s second to the whole team of Comus, Roky, Nena, and Michel. She would stand by as they faced off against rampaging Stonka, fire-breathing hordes, and gangs of hua po, shouting advice and strategies for them to take and taking care of them when they became too injured to carry on. Rubbing their shoulders and feeding them life stones with the occasional vial of healing water per Comus’ instructions, she would go over what they did right, what they did wrong, and what to look out for in the future. She was firm, but never harsh, and her demeanor led the group to believe that--oddly enough--she’d done this before. Comus appreciated her help a lot and took her suggestions as well as he could. Roky didn't mind getting fawned over by a bat-milf in the slightest, but when he wasn’t flirting with her, he was also doing his best to keep her advice in mind. Michel happily took all the pointers he could get, gnawing on his grain all the while. Nena…well, Nena took both the life stones and a grope of Manola’s breasts as her method of healing, and she was more than happy to keep training so long as she retained that privilege.

After their training, Manola gave her thanks and allowed herself to be unsummoned, and Comus and his demons could finally prepare themselves to face Medusa. Keeping one hand trailing along the petrified walls of the observation deck, Comus led the way with Nena on his shoulder and Michel and Roky following after. They passed by statue after statue, each looking more terrified than the last, before Comus happened to spot one that was still living. 

“Walt?” 

Walter looked up and raised a hand with a smile. “Hoy, Comus. Funny running into you again here. I saw you training earlier with your demons, but you seemed quite occupied, and I had no desire to disturb you. I like the change in wardrobe, too. I don’t believe I’ve seen that style of garment for sale at Q’s yet, have I?”

“Haha, well, actually, K had them custom-ordered to fit me…” It would be best not to mention that he was already starting to feel the belt grow a bit tight around his middle, maybe. “But, is it just you? What about Jonathan and Isabeau, where are they?”

He crossed his arms, leaning against one of the statues. “I presume they’re somewhere nearby doing some training of their own. Me, I’m sick of preparation. If we’re going to fight, then we’re going to do it ready or not. Besides, I missed out on defeating the legendary Minotaur: there’s no way I’m passing up the chance to be anything but first in defeating whoever’s in charge of this domain.”

“You haven’t been told who it is?” Michel asked. 

“No, but I’m sure that it will be as invigorating a fight as we’ve ever had, haha!”

“Walt,” Comus cautioned, “I really don’t think you should be leaning on the statues like that. Not even the demons around here want to touch them, and it’s probably because…er...” 

“Because what?” he asked, leaning a bit further onto the one beside him.

It promptly fell over before he had a chance to catch it and shattered into pieces on the ground. He stood there, hunched over it with his eyes wide and his mouth half-open, frozen in place. It was as though all of the demons in the domain had frozen as well. You could hear a pin drop. Then, from the center passageway, a female voice boomed out.

“Who did that?!”

Then there was the sound of slithering…or rather, something like slithering. In construction, it was more like the sound of hundreds of bones scraping against one another, accompanied by a chorus of rattling hisses. It grew louder, and louder, until its owner and the artist behind all of the ‘sculptures’ came forth. 

Medusa towered over the samurai, her pale blue-green skin being covered in places by thick purple scales and her yellow eyes gazing down at them with a piercing stare. Rather than hair, numerous interconnected links of metal chains as well as sickly green and deathly pale snake skeletons sprouted from a bushel of scales, and beneath her waist were not legs, but the form of a snake’s tail formed entirely out of these lichen-covered skulls and bones. 

Naturally, it seemed that her indolence in allowing her prey to come to her rather than to leave and seek it out on her own had done a number to her figure the same way it had to the alraune, though to a lesser extent. Yes, a thick double chin swallowed her neck, and a flabby midsection marked by a dimple in the middle folded over the black spike-laden leather garment that covered her waist and the first portion of her tail, but more than anything else, her breasts bubbled and overflowed over the leather top that was practically hidden beneath the flesh. Each being the size of Comus’ stomach (no small feat in and of itself), they’d clearly taken the brunt of her growth and bounced in their undersized confinement as she swayed and slithered towards the two samurai. Her chubby face creased with the scowl that she now wore, beady pupils darting from human to demon.

“Which one of you insolent twerps broke one of my gorgeous sculptures?” she demanded. 

Walter opened and closed his mouth like the fish he so despised, a slight blush on his face. Comus stared up, his blush being far from slight, and once Nena popped out of his hair, she didn't even get a word out before being face-to-face with enough cleavage to make mica jealous. Michel glanced next to him at Roky, who was more than happy to see both a strong opponent and one he found so attractive, and lightly poked him in the side. “Uh, Roky? You might want to invest in something more restrictive than a loincloth, maybe? Just saying. I can see your totem pole…wait, sorry, is that offensive? Totem poles are an American northwest thing, and you’re midwest, right?”

“Shut the hell up, will you?” Roky replied brusquely, smacking him on the back of the head. “Like I give a shit what people see or don’t see.”

“Well?!” Medusa demanded once again, hands on her hips.

“It was him,” Comus said quickly, pointing to Walter.

“You--is this not treachery?!” 

The gorgon sneered down at the two of them, but then her attention returned to the sculptures all around. They were beautiful, yes, but…many of them were samey. The only people to come around here were the fit ones who could fight past the demons, after all. They tasted scrumptious, but they made for such a lack of variety in form…this pudgy one in front of her, however? He could make for a real centerpiece, and if not…he’d make one hell of a meal. She licked her lips, resting her hands on the sides of her belly. “Oh, don’t worry about it…I’ve already come up with a suitable punishment. How about you all become my new line of sculptures? For you, fat boy, I think…a bit of contrapposto to define those side rolls you’ve got hidden beneath your chainmail will do wonders for my gallery.” 

She drew her claws, sharp as ever despite being on thicker fingers than usual, and Comus put his hands up, letting the wind magic flow as a gentle breeze from his palms in preparation. Walter drew his sword at the same time.

“If you mean to add us to your collection, then forget it,” he said, then added with a snicker, “after all, I’ve never had an eye for art.” 

“Then I suppose I’ll just have to take you all by force!” Medusa replied, lunging towards them with a screech. 

The fight was on. Comus and the rest managed to stagger out of the way, but considering her extra size and the cramped quarters they were fighting in, evasion would prove to be rather difficult. Even still, they had discussed their strategy beforehand with Manola, and knew what approach to take. Comus sent out blades of wind to her, inflicting some pretty deep cuts along the side of her exposed gut and making her cry out in pain, and on the other side, Roky drew his claws and slashed at whatever spots of exposed flesh he could, raking out streams of dark red blood that dripped down onto the floor to mingle with the rest. Michel applied his poisonous spit to the tips of his trident and jabbed it into her tail, not doing much except knocking loose a couple of bones and skulls, and Nena joined Comus in sending out Zan waves while shamelessly keeping her eyes glued to the gorgon’s wobbling chest. Walter spun his sword in his grasp and steadied himself on the ground, sending out a wave of force that caused a sizable slash along her collarbone. 

“Gah--!” she screamed, covering what wounds she could reach with her hands. “Gaahh…hahh…you know…seeing as you are visitors to my gallery, I may as well ask…what do you think of my statues? Are they not the very picture of beauty, each and every one?” 

Comus hesitated, then lowered his hand a little, looking at a nearby statue. “I mean…personally, I do think they’re very unique. You can’t make something with this level of quality and detail with human hands…” Against his better judgment, he continued, “M-Might I say, they’re almost as beautiful as their creator…”

Medusa’s eyes widened, and she turned red. “...You…you really think so?” 

“C-Comus, come on!” Walter shouted, gesturing at her. “You don’t seriously…I mean, it’s…there are better times and better places, man!” 

“It’s true though! You are! If you’d just let me close to those fun-bags of yours, I could show it some way other than words,” Nena piped up with a giggle, her fingers flexing in what might as well have been the international symbol for ‘perverted intention’. 

“I gotta confess, I think so too,” Roky said, lowering his claws and taking the opportunity to catch his breath. “I don’t discriminate. You got tits that just won’t quit. Quit moving, I mean. Like damn…you mind if I motorb--” 

He was interrupted by Medusa slamming her hand into his face and wrapping her fingers around his skull. “Don’t you have anything to say about me other than how big my boobs are, you little pig?!” she shrieked, her touch sending bolts of electricity coursing through the Ictinike’s body. He seized up, gargling on his own saliva.

“Oh no, Roky! You get off of him!” Michel started, yanking his pitchfork out of her tail and charging with it towards her main body. Before he could even make contact, one of the snake skeletons that made up her hair shot out and sunk its teeth into his head, yanking itself away just as quickly. He winced and dropped his pitchfork, covering the wound. “Ack--snake bite! Snake bite! Sna--oop, can’t feel my body. Down I go.” He fell over onto his back, numb all over. She let go of Roky only after he scratched at her wrist and forced her to.

“Roky, catch!” Comus shouted, reaching into his bag and tossing him a life stone. Roky, slightly scorched and somewhat smoking, caught it like an outfielder and tossed the whole thing into his mouth without so much as a thank you. “Nena, you go take care of Michel!”

“Roger, roger!” she chirped, soaring over and putting her ‘unique’ method of healing to work as she buried her face in his underbelly and grasped at whatever she could get her hands on. As strange as it was to witness, it always seemed to work, so…if it isn’t broken, don’t fix it, as they say. He was even starting to regain feeling, and as far as first sensations after numbness went, he could be dealing with worse.

Walter sent out another critical wave, sending femurs and ulnas flying, and in response, she let out a roar and slashed at Comus, delivering three gashes to the thick fabric of his armor. Thank goodness he’d swallowed the cost and taken his upgrade, otherwise that would have probably killed him. At the same time, Roky--who had resumed his slashing, received another electric shock from her finger. 

“Nnghh, you…philistines…! Have a taste of this, then!” she shouted. All at once, the skeletons of her hair rattled and chattered, before sending out all their ribs in a radius. The short and sharp curved bones dug into the skin of everyone present, hitting Roky (whose insistence on not covering up now resulted in him looking like a pincushion), Michel (who only had his harness to protect his chest, though it covered less by the day), Nena (who only got one or two stabbed into her, but due to her size, they were like longsword blades in her body), and Comus, though thankfully the chainmail had stopped many of them. In an instant, his party was on the ropes, everyone struggling through the onslaught they’d faced. 

It would have been bad…but thankfully, he’d picked up something he was saving especially for an occasion like this. Diving deep into his bag, he produced something that looked like a miniature rosary, four hard red beads being run along the black string that connected them. Comus bit at the string to break it and held it above his mouth, dropping one into his mouth and breaking it with his teeth. Like a piece of hard candy, it splintered into chunks that melted away, and suddenly the pain of the ribs embedded within him was gone. “Walter, you keep up the onslaught, I’ll heal up the party!” 

He sent out another critical wave with his sword where he stood, Medusa ducking out of the way with a titter. “I-I’ll do my best, but no promises!” 

Tearing out the little bones, Comus began to sprint to where each of his demons had fallen in turn, administering a bead to each of them from the chain. For Nena, it was like fitting a whole apple in her mouth, but she didn't seem bothered by it in the slightest and was able to remove the ribs without any complaint. The same went for Michel and Roky, who--with a heft and jiggle of his gut--shook out all the needle-like bones. 

He looked to Comus and, scoffing, reluctantly huffed out a “Thanks, I guess.” 

Medusa swung at Comus and missed once again, Roky dodging the blow and drawing his machete from the sheathe at his hip. Now much more focused on the fight after recognizing the danger they all were in, Roky plunged his blade deep into the side of her belly, making her let out a shriek of pain. 

“W-Wretches! Little wretches, all of you! You all…that’s it! I-I bet you’re all dogs of that Tayama, aren’t you?! Of course, I should have seen it before!” 

“Sorry to say,” Walter said, “but we haven’t a clue about this Tayama. That is, assuming you haven’t turned delirious from your injuries already.”

While she spoke, another snake from her hair shot out and bit Roky squarely on one of his moobs, sending venom coursing through his body. He slurred out something, then dropped to his knees in a state of numbness. Immediately thereafter, dual Zan shots from Nena and Comus sliced up her arms and breasts something fierce. Blood now covered much of her front. She hissed with pain, hunching over as the sensation shot through her. Based on her heavy breathing, the samurai figured she must have been reaching her end, and they watched her closely as she slowed. 

“Nggh…y-you…who knew that humans could be so fearsome…?! F-Fine, then! I give! I admit defeat. I mean it, I do. Gaze into my eyes, and see that I’m telling the truth…” She gestured at her eyes, staring intently at the samurai. Her eyes glinted. 

“I don’t need to see it in your eyes,” Comus responded, turning his head and only looking at her through the gaps in his hair. “I’ll believe it when you’re dead on the ground. Nice try, though.” 

She recoiled in shock. “G-Gghh…I-I can’t believe this…I’m being humiliated by a human! Not to mention, a porky one like yourself…”

“Alright, I think that it’s about time to bring this exhibition to a close. Everyone!” Comus raised his hand. “On my mark, we rush her! One, two, go!” 

He brought his hand down, and just like that, all able-bodied demons and samurai descended upon her. Comus and Nena shot out wave after wave of razor-sharp wind projectiles, Michel stabbed blindly at whatever he could reach, and Walter swung his sword with the intention to chop off anything he hit. Roky was the straggler, still partially paralyzed, and as she writhed and flailed in a desperate attempt to protect herself, she managed to slash at him a couple of times, but after only a minute or two of the onslaught, it was clear the fight was over. 

They stepped away and saw Medusa, slathered in blood and covered in cuts and slashes, heavily wheezing as she glared up at them with insane hatred. “N-No, to…to think I-I would be…defeated by you…” She spat up a glob of black blood. “Y-You all…have…n-no taste…” 

Losing all color, Medusa’s body turned to ash, and she crumbled away. 

Walter, Comus, and the demons watched her go. Roky, finally working the last few drops of venom out of his system, pumped his fist. “Fuck yeah, that was sick! I kicked that big-titty bitch’s ass!”

“Not to be a ‘Correcting Carolyn’,” Michel said, raising a finger, “but technically, we kicked that big-titty bitch’s ass.”

Roky glared at him, but then he looked back at Comus, who was speaking with Walter, and sighed. “...Yeah. Yeah, I guess we did. God, I’m starving…” 

Nena knelt down near the ash that was still in the shape of Medusa’s body and attempted to hug into her belly and breasts. All that she got was an armful of soot, and she let out a small, sad cry. “Maybe in your next life…” 

Speaking of the other samurai, Walter was scratching his head. “I’m glad we got her taken care of, but I have to admit, something’s been bugging me. If the Black Samurai is from the Unclean One’s country, then she would have had to pass by both Medusa and the Minotaur, right? And yet she seemed no worse for wear.” 

Comus crossed his arms. “It’s possible she could have talked her way past Medusa, but the Minotaur was set to guard that door in Naraku by King Ahazuya himself…hmm. That is a good point.”

“If nothing else, I would say it’s an omen of how our mission is about to become much hairier than we’d ever thought possible…” 

“Regardless, that’s a big thorn in our side taken care of. I have a few more things to take care of in Mikado before moving on into the Unclean Ones’ country, though, and I and my demons need the rest anyway: can I count on you to let Jonny and Izzy know that their latest and greatest obstacle was taken care of by me and you, and that they missed out on quite the fight?”

Walter laughed.

“What sort of a friend would I be to you if I didn't say as much, eh?” 

~

Comus: 290 lb → 299 lb 

Royce (Lham Dearg): 194 lb

Minerva (Harpy): 211 lb

Michel (Bilwis): 245 lb

Nena (Pixie): 183 lb → 201 lb

Roky (Ictinike): 317 lb → 326 lb

Beike (Hua Po): 221 lb

Paul (Jack Ripper): 191 lb → 210 lb

Manola (Camazotz): 215 lb → 232 lb

Chapter Text

Comus: 299 lb 

Royce (Lham Dearg): 194 lb

Minerva (Harpy): 211 lb

Michel (Bilwis): 245 lb

Nena (Pixie): 201 lb

Roky (Ictinike): 326 lb

Beike (Hua Po): 221 lb

Paul (Jack Ripper): 210 lb

Manola (Camazotz): 232 lb

~

Roky reached down and yanked his machete out of the back of a bloated Legion corpse, shaking it free of the diseased blood that coated it and stuffing it back into its sheath. “Ugh, these fuckin’ hordes are a pain in the ass to deal with. Every time you turn your back, they’re on you like wild animals.” 

“You’re telling me,” Comus said, blowing out the smoke from his gun’s barrel. He hadn’t had the chance to use it much lately, but he had to admit, it was pretty terrific having a portable killing machine in his pocket. “Lucky thing projectiles seem to work well on them. Otherwise, we might have been screwed.” He attempted to spin his gun coolly around his finger, but ended up just fumbling with it and hurriedly shoving it back into his bag. 

“I still don’t get why we’re doing this. We beat that cow Medusa, didn't we? Why don’t we just go down, see what’s up, and come back for all this shit in Naraku later? I’m sure the villagers or whoever the hell is dealing with the curses these things are doling out will be fine.”

“If I may,” Minerva replied, the harpy flapping beside him, “Our master Comus has a reputation to uphold. He accepted these challenge quests, and to let them go for too long without fulfilling their requests could prove detrimental to how he’s viewed by his fellow samurai. This was a request directly from Commander Hope himself, after all.” 

“Aw, god, seriously?!” he groaned. “This is all for your rep?! Who gives a shit, man, seriously? I don’t care what anyone thinks of me, and I’m doing just fine, aren’t I?”

Minnie muttered out, “Debatable.” 

“What was that, chicken-fingers?”

Manola put a claw-tipped hand on Comus’ shoulder, the stocky bat-demoness smiling warmly. “Well, I think it’s very noble of him to want to help people. After all, what’s the use of strength like ours if we can’t put it to good use? There’s already enough suffering in the world, the least we can do is mitigate it.”

“Oh, yak, yak. Go shove a sock in it, batgirl,” Roky said, swatting at her and turning away. 

Comus’ gauntlet lit up. “Another horde’s coming in from the south corridor, just so you know. Keep an eye out, and all that.”

“Understood. How’s everyone doing on energy and health?” He opened his bag. “I’ve got plenty of medicine, healing water, and life stones for you all.”

Like a bunch of kids crowding around a bag of Halloween candy, Roky, Minerva, and Manola zeroed in and took a life stone or five each. Manola, however, neglected to take any and instead admitted, “My magic is quite low at the moment…you don’t happen to have any more chakra drops in here, do you?”

“Sorry, I only have the one…though in that case, it’d probably be better to switch you out. I assume that’s fine by you?”

She nodded. “Naturally.” 

Comus was about to do so, raising his gauntlet, when Minerva--after swallowing the chunk of life stone in her mouth--raised a wing. “Comus? I believe it may be prudent to switch me out as well. These coalitions of Macabre and Legions must be acting under the direction of a leader to target such a specific location as a village, and their malevolence is--”

“Quit yapping, lady, and just admit you’re too scared to keep fighting. Go ahead and go back into your little glen, let the real men take care of this,” Roky said with a loud laugh, drinking down healing water and letting out a small belch. 

The harpy just sneered back at him.

“Come on, Roky, she does make a good point. We need to be prepared for anything. Manola, Minnie, back into the stock you go. Then…hmm…let’s go with these two,” he said, unsummoning the girls and bringing out Michel and Paul. 

“Howdy, guys!” Michel said, chipper as always with his hands on his ample hips. “So, we’re taking down one last calamity horde, right? Well, I ain’t afraid of no gh--”

“Shhh!” Paul hissed, the rotund Jack Ripper hopping up and clamping his gloved hand over Michel’s mouth. “Not too loud! They’ll hear you. They watch us always, viewing all events of our lives individually yet simultaneously…” 

“Mmph. Your hand smells like cigarettes, Paul,” Michel mumbled past his palm. 

“Not always. It didn't always, not like this. They didn't always watch, either, there was once a time when we were alone, truly alone, with only the eyes of God above us…”

Roky glared at Comus. “You just love giving me headaches, don’t you?”

“The more you complain, the more I enjoy doing it.” 

“Guys, horde incoming!”

Regardless of how much trouble the hordes had been giving them, they were lucky enough to be able to maintain good health throughout each of the battles. There were a few close calls, sure, but nothing that a snack and some healing magic couldn’t fix. This last horde was no different from the rest, a swarm of Macabre, Legions, and Mou-Ryo that went down quickly enough with a barrage of shots from Comus, a few slashes from Paul and Roky alike, and Michel jabbing them all with his pitchfork. Their bodies evaporated into foul mist, and once the battle was over, Roky clapped his hands free of dust. “And that’s that. Let’s go tell Hope his rank peasant buddies are fine now, or whatever.”

A low, raspy, dreadful voice echoed from around them.

“I see…I was not expecting you to defeat my hordes quite so easily.”

It was as though space itself momentarily warped and tore before them, and before they could process what was occurring, a figure emerged. It was a small human skeleton, perhaps the size of a child or an especially undersized adult, dressed in a magenta Renaissance-like outfit with a single feather sticking up from its cap. In its hands, it carried an elegant violin and accompanying bow. 

Comus reflexively pulled his gun on the skeletal being, and the rest of his demons drew their weapons as well, but it seemed undeterred. 

“Who are you?!” Paul demanded, waving his straight razor around. “How long have you been watching us?! Have you been watching with them?!”

The figure’s motions were entirely unnatural. He didn't seem as if he was moving on his own accord, instead appearing as though he was being puppeted by invisible strings rising up from his head and limbs. He performed a short jig, then bowed. “I am David, and so long as humans fear death, I shall always be watching.” 

Comus lowered his gun, a cold chill echoing through his body. David turned to look at him, and though his expression could not change, it seemed as though a cruel smile was forever painted upon his face.

“You…you have been marked by us. I can sense it. When your demons fall in battle, they won’t return to life unless tended to immediately, will they?” 

The samurai shivered.

“Wait, is that true? And you didn't tell us?!” Roky shouted, grabbing him by the stole. “You’re telling me that if I get dropped, that’s it?! You son of a--why the fuck do you keep sending me out, then?! You could get me killed!” Comus didn't respond, just being shaken limply by the Ictinike. 

Paul slumped. “I knew it. I knew it all along, I knew he was a bad omen…he tricked me once before, but now it’s finished, I’m marked, forever cursed…” 

Michel, for once seeming to take the matter seriously, raised his pitchfork and stepped towards David. “Listen, David. I-I don’t know who you are, or why you’re doing this…but you’re causing my friends here a lot of stress with that ‘mark’ of yours. Can’t you…I don’t know, turn it off or something? Uncurse him, and us too!” 

David tapped his feet. “It is out of my hands. How he has picked up this curse, I have no knowledge. Perhaps he committed some grave sin in a past life that has led to this life of his being tainted…but there is no cure. Death shall follow him wherever he goes, and Fiends such as I will haunt him forevermore…unless something is done. What that is, is up to you. But enough talk,” he said, scraping out a sound on his violin that caused everyone present to cover their ears and wince in pain. “Shall we commence this dance of death?” 

Roky grit his teeth, wanting nothing more than to pulverize that bag of bones into dust, but he was unsure whether to beat Comus to a pulp first. Eventually, he shoved Comus away and cracked his knuckles, turning to David. “You better not let me die, human,” he snarled behind him, “otherwise my ghost will make sure you have nightmares every damn night , got it?”

Comus didn't respond at first. This Fiend, David, had been the first to recognize the odd ‘curse’ that he realized he’d been saddled with very early on in his adventure, and he even provided a possible explanation…though the solution proposed was sadly quite lacking, if it was one at all.  Unless something is done…

If what needed to be done was to hunt down and kill all of these Fiends, then perhaps he’d do just that.

“Comus!” Michel shouted. “Are you alright? Do you wanna sit this one out?”

“Huh--n-no! No, I’m ready! I’m ready to fight.” He stashed away his gun and put out his hands, electricity sparking from his fingertips. “Prepare to meet your maker, David.”

“You would attempt to conquer the fear of death? Bold, if foolish. Very well, then. Let us dance!” 

Right off the bat, Comus sent out a bolt of electricity that singed the edges of David’s historical costume, staggering his pace, and Roky did the same as his coat of feathers billowed behind him. The Zio shocks seemed to be doing the trick, though Michel also made use of his poison-tipped pitchfork to get at David. Each puncture seemed to do very little to him, however, and even when the blades hit and broke bone, shredding the Fiend’s clothes, David just kept dancing. Paul let out a scream and charged forward, his balled fist knocking a number of David’s front teeth completely out of his skull, and yet David kept laughing. Laughing and dancing, dancing and laughing even as electricity coursed through his body and he only became more and more tattered. 

Finally, after taking hits for long enough, David retaliated. “Hoho! En garde!” he called, spinning and delivering a back-handed punch to Paul, sending the squat serial killer sliding across the cave floor. 

“Eat claw, you skeletal son of a--” Roky began, raising his claws to swipe at David, but before he reached the Fiend, David began to play his violin. It was a sweet sound at first, but soon became a violent, mad concerto as he furiously ran the bow across the strings like a machine. Roky felt his heart pulse and his head swim, and it was as though the growing exhaustion he’d felt from the action had been replaced by manic energy coursing through his veins. 

Regardless of how heavy he was, when Roky stood there panting and heaving and looked back up at David with uncontrollable rage in his eyes, it was terrifying. Even David seemed to recognize that he’d made a mistake.

“You…mother- fucker!” he screamed, pulling out his machete and lobbing it at David as hard as he could. With a hollow thunk , the blade sunk directly into the middle of the Fiend’s skull. David blindly groped around his head, feeling where the handle was, and his jaw opened silently. Whatever he was going to do or say, he didn't get the chance before Roky wholesale tackled him, scattering the Fiend into little more than a litany of bones scattered across the cave wall.

Even so, he continued to scream and rant, stomping on the nearest femur he could in an attempt to break it into pieces. “I’ll bury you! I’ll bury you in the ground, you little piece of shit! When I’m through with you, you’ll be nothing but fertilizer, you hear me?! That’s what you are! Crap! Shit! You son of a--”

“Roky, Roky, calm down! Calm down!” Michel pleaded, wrapping his arms around the Ictinike’s sagging middle to try and settle the raging bird-man. Paul, having only just peeled himself up off the ground, ran over and tried to do the same, though all it really did was add the weight of an overstuffed backpack to him as he rampaged. Their combined efforts seemed to do the trick nonetheless, as shortly thereafter, he lowered his heavy arms and blinked, confused.

“W-What…the fuck? What happened? I think I blacked out…first time that’s ever happened…”

“Very good, all of you, very good…” David’s skull said, unimpeded by the fact that half of his teeth were missing, and with a rattling noise, all of his pieces bounded towards the skull and reformed his figure. One of his arms arrived carrying his violin and bow, and he bowed to them. 

“I concede this fight. The dance between us is over. But for you, young man…” he pointed his bow to Comus, who recoiled back. “You have been lucky so far. Not since the loss of your first friends have you felt the pain of grief. Your luck will run out soon. I can see the shadow of death looming over you even as we speak. Do not become conceited in your quest, for you never know who among you may be snatched away in an instant…and with that, I bid you all farewell!” 

He raised his violin and gave another deep bow. Comus shouted “Wait!” and started to sprint towards the Fiend, hoping to get more answers out of him, but the world rippled and shifted strangely once again, and in an instant he was gone. He dropped to his knees, lowering his head. 

Roky, Michel, and Paul approached him, none of them wanting to say anything. No matter how intimately involved in their master’s life they were, all of them knew that this was a rare opportunity for explanation that had been missed. Who knew when someone with the kind of knowledge that David had about Comus’ curse would return? Was there even a way to break it? What other Fiends could be lurking out there, and if they tried to take them down, would they even have a chance at succeeding…?

Michel put a hand on his master’s back, and when Comus drearily turned to look at him, the feldgeist just smiled.

“Let’s go back up to Mikado and rest, huh? It’s been a long day, you probably need it.” 

Comus smiled back. God knows he does need the rest.

~

“So there’s no way I can-hrrff--talk you out of this then, huh?” Roky grumbled, huffing and puffing as he hauled himself down ladder after ladder. The fourth stratum of Naraku was hard enough for Comus considering how much heavier he’d become, and it was even worse for a demon twenty or so pounds heavier than even him with no means of levitation or flight. “We’re back in this--hff--dump of a cave, tracking down some monkey for--hahh--a guy I’ve never even heard of, instead of--hrrf--either relaxing back at the barracks or getting on with the mission.”

Comus stood at the bottom with his hands on his knees, catching his own breath while waiting for Roky to descend. “T-That’s right…whoof. There’s no way you or anyone else can convince me not to do this.”

“Even when I told you straight-up that this would be dangerous for your level?” Queenie scolded. “That little skeleton freak told you that death would be coming for you, and yet you’re still feeling yourself enough to take on a quest like this? Maybe he was right, you’re either bold or foolish.”

“Oh, Queenie, come now. How difficult could it be? All we need to do is track down…” he brought up the mission screen, “Sun Wu Kong.” 

“Sounds Chinese,” Roky said, finally making contact with the ground and leaning against the rock wall as he wheezed. “Can’t you get--hrrff--Bei-Bei to help with this? She can fly, at least…”

“I don’t…what is ‘Chinese’? Is that some distant part of the Conntow region?”

“The fuck are you talking about?” he replied.

Minerva swooped down, perching on one of the ladder’s rungs and whispering into Roky’s ear, “He isn’t aware of many of the regions we are. Exercise caution in what you mention around him for now.” 

“...Uh…okay. Weird, but alright.” He straightened up. “And where the hell’s that little weirdo? What was his name…Paul?”

“You’re right, I actually don’t see him,” Comus said, searching around the open cave they stood in. “I really hope he didn't fall off the bridge, otherwise we’ll have to send Minnie to go get him…” 

“Over there!” Minerva said, pointing a wing out to the region across the rickety wooden bridge in front of them. 

There was an anthropomorphic monkey similar in appearance to a macaque--red skin and white fur--dressed in traditional Chinese armor and riding a cloud over the bridge. He held in one hand a bo staff, which he was currently using to try and smack away the round Jack Ripper that had decided to cling himself to his waist sash. 

“I know what you are!” Paul screamed, slowly climbing inch by inch up Wu Kong’s body. “I saw you looking! You’re working with them, I know it! I know you are! Confess! Confess!”

“Gaaahh, would you get the heck offa me, you little ball of--!” 

He stopped upon reaching Comus and the others, trailing off as he managed to shove Paul off of him. He looked at Comus. Then he looked at Minerva. Then Roky, who crossed his arms defensively. 

Then he began to snicker.

“Holy…snrrrk, what, is there a fried foods festival in this cave or something? I didn't know the tubbos would be coming out to play without a reward attached! Who the heck are you guys, and how’d you make it down here without having a heart attack?”

Comus, somewhat annoyed at the remarks, said “We’re here to--”

“Nope,” Wu Kong interrupted, holding up a finger and turning away. “Dooon’t tell me. You got sent to find me by that killjoy pencil-pusher Erlang Shen, didn't you?” 

Minerva raised a wing, “As a matter of fact, he--”

“I knew it!” he huffed, spinning his staff in front of him before striking a combat stance. “Fine then. I’ll get you guys outta my hair and show him I’m doing just fine down here! Though…” he stifled another laugh, “I wonder just how you’re all gonna do against me…I mean, look at you! Look at you! The only battle I bet you all have won is the battle against your pants buttons! Haha! Hahahaha!” he cackled, doubling over.

Queenie popped up and pointed at him. “He’s weak against ice.”

“Roger,” Comus said, and gestured to Roky and Paul to follow his lead before raising his hands and shooting out a barrage of icicles at Wu Kong. 

The monkey king nimbly dodged every effort, striking a variety of awkward poses to ensure not a single one hit him, but it was enough for him to realize the strength of the party before him. “W-Whoa, alright then! Guess you fatsos have more going for you than I expected. In that case…later!” He gave a two-finger salute, then squatted on his flying Kinto’un and zipped away past them, up the very hole that they’d used to travel down to the fourth stratum of Naraku in the first place. 

Roky watched him go and sniffed. “Welp, we found him. Let’s let Shen know and go home.” 

“Ehhh, wish I could say the same, but sadly, it ain’t that simple. Erlang Shen wants us to apprehend the monkey kid ourselves after roughing him up a bit, in order to ‘teach him a lesson’. Thankfully, I was able to scan him, and I’ve got him locked on.”

“That’s good, at least,” Comus sighed. “Where is he now, then?”

“...Second stratum.”

Comus, Roky, and Paul looked back at the ladders they’d had to climb down to get to where they are now and groaned. 

One long trip upwards later, and they managed to corner Wu Kong at a dead end in the second stratum where he had been hiding out on his cloud. The boys were all quite tired from the trip, which really didn't help Wu Kong’s perception of him once he noticed he wasn’t alone. 

“Hmm?! Aw, heck, it’s you guys again?” he said, hopping onto his tail and reclining on it like an office chair. “You’re pretty persistent for a bunch of tubs of lard, you know that? But that stamina’s gonna run out soon enough!”

“L-Listen,” Comus pleaded, coughing, “I’m doing this as a favor to Erlang Shen, so if you could please just…go quietly? This can be over and done with a hell of a lot easier…”

“Mmmm…don’t think so, sorry. I would never let myself live it down if I, the Great Sage and Equal to Heaven, was taken in by slobs like you! I mean, look at this one,” he said, aiming his staff at Roky and letting it extend until it jabbed him right in the stomach. He winced and held it, snarling up at the monkey king. “I’m surprised he can even still walk with all that fat hanging offa him!” 

“You cocky little--” Roky growled, thrusting out his hands and trying to ignore how his arm fat wobbled as he sent out another volley of icicles. 

Wu Kong simply dodged again. “Whoop, too slow, big guy! Anyone else wanna try? Nope? In that case, I’ll be taking my leave again! See ya never, losers!” He gleefully mocked the party, soaring out above them on his cloud and evading all of their attempts to nab him. Even Minerva, the most nimble of the group by all accounts thanks to her ability of flight, could only just barely get a hold of his sash before he sped away. Comus stamped his foot, “Damn it! Where did he go now, Queenie?!” 

“...You’re not gonna like this. He’s in the Hall of the Minotaur.” 

He groaned even louder than before and pinched the bridge of his nose. “We might as well start heading there now. Come on, everyone.” 

“Seriously?! All the way back down past the fourth stratum?!” Roky shouted, rubbing the small bruise on his belly where Wu Kong’s pole had hit him. “I swear to god, when I find that twerp, I’m gonna shave him bald and ram that pole up his ass.” 

“Why would…why would you shave him?” Paul asked.

“...I-I don’t know, I just, I was trying to come up with…shut up! You little psycho.” 

By the time that they had shoved the heavy stone doors open and trudged into the Hall of the Minotaur, the party was absolutely exhausted from all the running around. Comus made a mental note to take a bath and wash his armor as soon as he returned to Mikado, since he could feel how deeply soaked he’d made his chainmail with sweat. Roky was practically reduced to a waddle as he gasped and puffed, and Paul had dropped onto his hands and knees as soon as they entered the hall. Minerva was the only one who seemed to still have stamina within her, but even she seemed to have grown tired from using her wings so much and had opted to rest on the ground.

“Well, well, well…” a familiar voice said, and the silhouette of Wu Kong loomed over the four of them. “You all just don’t know when to quit, do you? You need the exercise, that’s for certain. You seriously still want to fight me after all this?”

“Yes!” Comus shouted, exasperated. “Why else do you think we keep tracking you down?!” 

“Fine then,” he said, stepping down off of his cloud and twirling his staff in front of him. “You wanna get serious?” He spun it to the side, to the left, to the right, over his head, even tossing up into the air as he stepped in an odd circular motion. A step forward, a step to the side, a step back, another step forward, making headway a foot or two at a time as Comus and his demons watched in confusion…

Then, without warning and with lightning-like speed and precision, he jabbed his staff forward and hit Paul right between the eyes. His skull exploded, shattering into pieces, and his body dropped limply to the floor immediately thereafter. 

Wu Kong looked up with a wide fanged grin and thumbed his nose at them.

“Let’s get serious.”  

That was not a good start by any means, but there was one thing Comus was more occupied with than anything else as the fight began in earnest, and that was reviving Paul. Panicking and holding out one hand to send out a flurry of freezing wind Wu Kong’s way, he reached into his bag and retrieved a revival leaf. No sooner had he set his eyes upon it that he felt the end of Wu Kong’s staff knock into his wrist, sending the leaf flying. “Gah--!” he shouted, holding his wrist in pain.

“Ah-ah-ah. You wanted a fight, right? Don’t tell me you’re chickening out just ‘cause the fattest skeleton I’ve ever seen went down like a chump! Buck-buck-bugaaawk!” 

Gritting her teeth, Minerva flew high up into the air and casted several Sukukaja evasion spells, Roky and Comus keeping up the offensive with ice spells. Now that he was taking the fight ‘seriously’, or as serious as someone like him could take it, Wu Kong’s mind was focused more on inflicting damage rather than avoiding it. After all, he was immortal dozens of times over: what did a guy like him have to care about when it came to a risk of death? As a result, though, the icicles and freezing winds were actually affecting him, frost coating his fur and stiffening his movement. 

Wu Kong watched Minerva soar high and snickered. “So you can fly after all, eh? Not for long!” He brought his staff close to him, banged it twice on the ground, and--to the shock of those present--allowed it to grow in length until it nearly scraped the top of the Hall of the Minotaur. Even with its size, he wielded it with ease, and swung it like a flyswatter at Minerva, crushing her against the wall. She let out a yowl of pain and spat up blood, dropping out of the air and into a nearby pool of water. 

“M-Minnie!” Comus shouted. This wasn’t going well. He was already down a demon, and until now, Wu Kong hadn’t given him the chance to even summon another one…but now, now was his chance, for better or for worse. He brought up his gauntlet and made a snap decision.

“No need to say anything,” Michel said as he formed in front of them, producing two stalks of wheat from his backpack, “you want me to heal Minnie, right? Consider it done!” He hurried over to her as fast as he could, bending down beside her and feeding her the heads. Though she was still deeply injured, she managed to pull herself up out of the water and smile.

“T-Thank you, Michel. That technique of his is one to be avoided…”

“You’re telling me. Just do your best to keep away from him as best you can, alright?” 

Wu Kong weathered a few more ice attacks as he shrunk his rod back down, watching Michel toddle over to the harpy and cackling. “Bwahaha, look at that one! By the Jade Emperor, are all your demon friends so chunky? He’s so funny, look at him run! He’s like a baby, ha! Haha! Ahh, it’s almost a shame I have to kill you guys. Oh well.” 

“Aw, for fuck’s sake,” Roky huffed, producing his machete and pointing it at the monkey king. “Quit talking and fight like a man, not a monkey! I’m getting sick of your whiny-ass voice!”

One of his ears twitched. “Oh, you want me to quit talking? Sure. I’ll quit talking.”

He spun his pole once again, and before either Comus or Roky could stop him, he aimed it at Minerva. 

“No, no, no--!” Comus begged, rushing to try and tackle him.

“You son of a--!” Roky shouted, doing the same…

And yet, the one who had outsmarted the gods time and time again prevailed.

His staff extended with enough speed to outpace a bullet train, and when it made contact with Minerva’s chest, it tore straight through her. Its black-and-gold surface became stained with dark red as it bore into the cave wall behind her. Michel was splattered, having been kneeling no more than a foot beside her, and was frozen with a look of horror. 

Comus covered his mouth. 

Minerva only had just enough remaining consciousness to look down at the weapon that had skewered her, look back at Comus…and smile, knowing that he did all he could for her, before falling limp. The smile remained on her face even as the life left her body. 

Wu Kong shortened his pole once again, shaking it dry from the blood that now coated it, and looked back at Roky with a mocking sneer. “How’s that? Better?”

Roky’s mouth hung open, speechless.

“What, now you’re not talking? Where’s the fun in a silent fight? Come oooon, you gotta give me something for all that big talk you were spewing! What about if I do this, huh?”

Without breaking eye contact with Roky, he spun his pole around once again and extended it out in the same manner to Comus. He knew what was coming, and had enough presence of mind to try and turn around, but the weapon’s extension was simply too fast to dodge. It impacted him right on the back of his head, and though it had been moving slowly enough to not completely obliterate his skull as Wu Kong had done with Paul, it still gave him enough of a concussion to knock him out for good. He dropped onto the cave floor, unmoving. 

Roky watched it all happen, witnessing Wu Kong shorten the pole once again and shake it dry. “Well? Are you gonna say something now, or do you want me to make it three-for-three?” 

“Y-You…” Despite how he’d always wanted to appear, tears of rage started to well up in his eyes. “You’re a complete monster, y-you know that…? You don’t give a shit who you kill! This is…t-this is all just a big game to you, isn’t it?!”

Sun Wukong shrugged with a rakish grin. 

“Wasn’t ever anything different, fatso. Now are you gonna lie down and take it, or am I gonna have to skewer you too?” 

From behind Sun Wukong, leaping into the air and silhouetted by the torches on the walls to show nothing more than his two glowing eyes, a furious Michel raised his poison-tipped pitchfork high, intending to skewer him straight through the neck. 

Just as the tips were about to hit his neck, though, the monkey king whipped around and pinched them in his fingers, stopping Michel dead in his tracks. He snickered, “Aww, does the little imp want to play too? Alrighty then. Let’s see if you have a better reaction than the big grump over here.” Wukong pointed his staff at Roky, and immediately, danger signals went off like sirens in the Ictinike’s head. He leapt to the side, attempting to avoid a head-on collision, and no matter how sloppy his movements were, he got his wish…although, the pole still brought itself down on his windpipe and reduced him to critical condition in an instant. 

Roky choked and gagged, rubbing his throat as his vision swam and he struggled to get to even just his elbows and knees…

But then, he felt something in his hand. 

There was a small pile of heads of wheat in it, along with a packet of seeds with German text printed on it. He looked up and saw Michel looking down at him, panting with his pitchfork at his side. 

“Eat it,” he said, “and it’ll heal you. That’s all I can do for now.”

Roky tried to speak, but his throat was still crushed, and all that came out was a wheezing cough. 

Michel squatted down beside him. “I know you never liked me much, and I don’t blame you, but…when Comus wakes up, tell him that the past few weeks since I joined his team have been the best days of my life. I made so many friends, friends who liked me and didn't like me, friends who made me laugh and kept me fed…if I’m giving my life for anything, I’m giving my life in thanks for everything you’ve all done for me.” 

Roky feebly reached out one of his hands, and Michel took it only to squeeze it.

Then the Bilwis stood, took one last look at Roky and the bodies of his friends, and smiled…before letting out a piercing scream and charging forward with his pitchfork drawn towards Wu Kong. 

The monkey king watched him approach, one hand on his hip, and waited for Michel to come to him. He waited, and waited, and when the feldgeist had reached him, he ducked out of the way and swung his shortened pole as hard as he could at the side of Michel’s head like a baseball bat. 

As though the lights in his head had just blown out, his eyes stopped glowing, and he dropped to the floor. A dark liquid like treacle spilled out of the gash in his skull. 

Wu Kong clicked his teeth. “Tsk, tsk, tsk. So much chatter, and for what? Just to go down in one hit like a chump? I really expected better…though I guess that’s on me. As for you…” he continued, strutting towards the Ictinike that continued to lay face-down on the floor and planting the sole of his boot directly into the small of his back. “I thought you’d be more of a challenge just ‘cause you were so massive , but it turns out you were just a wimp like the rest of them. Pretty disappointing, but that’s the way it goes when you’re trying to best the immortal king of the monkeys, the one equal to all Gods above. Any last words before I splatter your brains?”

Roky murmured something. 

“Hmmm? What was that? Couldn’t hear you, could you speak up more clearly?” Wu Kong leaned in, cupping his ear with his hand.

Then the monkey king felt a sudden impact at the back of his knees--Roky kicking one of his legs up and hitting the area with his heel--and it made him reflexively kneel. Immediately afterward, Roky leapt from his position on the ground and, gripping an icicle the size of his machete, rammed it deep into Sun Wu Kong’s exposed neck. With this anchor firmly lodged in his enemy’s throat, he threw himself forward and body-slammed Wu Kong into the hard cave floor, smothering him beneath all 300+ pounds of demon. The impact had knocked his precious pole away, sending it out of his reach no matter how he stretched his hand. 

Roky leaned in close to his face, showing that his mouth was full of grain heads, and spat some of the bran into Wu Kong’s eyes. 

“I’m not moving until you admit defeat. Do you yield?”

Wu Kong choked past the blood filling his throat. 

“I SAID, DO YOU YIELD?!” Roky screamed into his face.

“Kaakkh…ggrkgh…I…I-I…yield…”

“Will you go quietly to whoever wants you, and never show your fucking face around here again?”

“I-I…will…I-I will…” he sputtered, nearly on the verge of tears. 

“That’s enough!” a voice boomed from the heavens, light somehow shining through the cracks in the cave ceiling despite how deep underground they were. “I, Erlang Shen, will take him. You may let him go.”

Roky looked up at the light, then glared down at Wukong, only letting him go and rolling off of him after spitting in his face once more. Now free from his capture, the immortal Wukong yanked out the icicle in his neck and gasped desperately, trying to catch his breath. When his throat had finally healed, he stared back at Roky with wide, wild eyes. “Y-You’re insane! A complete lunatic! I thought they’d send a god or something to get me, but--”

The Ictinike just scowled and pointed away without a word. 

However far away he may be, Erlang Shen was watching, and he got the message. There was a flash of light, and without ever leaving the cave, Sun Wukong was gone. Erlang Shen’s voice echoed from above. 

“...I cannot express enough my apologies for the trouble he has caused you. Know that in exchange for your hard work and the sacrifices of your friends, the Jade Emperor and all the gods in this celestial realm are supremely pleased with you.”

Roky snarled, “What good are you gods if you can’t protect the people who help you out like this? You’re damn happy enough to sit on your ass and watch, but you only intervene when you feel like someone has ‘learned their lesson’. Now my friends are dead because you couldn’t keep one monkey under lock and key.”

“...To be fair, he is a very dangerous mo--”

“Drop the reward and get the hell out of here.”

“V-Very well,” Erlang Shen stuttered out, dropping a small weapon onto the ground before Roky. It was a strange thing, resembling a pestle that was only large enough to fit in the palm of the hand with two short blades: one on each end. “I will pass your summation on to the Jade Emperor for his perusal. Thank you again for your work,” he hurriedly said, and then the light coming in from the cracks vanished.

He bent down and picked up the weapon. He looked back at Minerva’s body, the harpy laying there smiling with a hole through her chest. He looked down at Michel’s body, the Bilwis’s skull cracked open and still spilling blood even now. He looked over at Paul’s body, now headless and surrounded by the fractured pieces of his cranium. He trudged over to where Comus lay, still breathing and alive only thanks to the gauntlet on his wrist, and sat down on the ground beside it. 

Beneath his hand, he felt something. He picked it up and held it before him.

It was the revival leaf from earlier. 

Roky sighed and ran his hand through his hair. 

“Shit…”

~

Comus: 299 lb 

Royce (Lham Dearg): 194 lb → 203 lb

Minerva (Harpy): 211 lb → X

Michel (Bilwis): 245 lb → X

Nena (Pixie): 201 lb → 210 lb

Roky (Ictinike): 326 lb

Beike (Hua Po): 221 lb

Paul (Jack Ripper): 210 lb → X

Manola (Camazotz): 232 lb

~

The return trip to Mikado was quiet between Roky and the newly-revived Comus. Neither of them wanted to talk about what had happened or the price that had been paid for it. Both of them were very much aware of what the other was feeling, and there were no words to be shared on the subject. What was there that was left to be said? 

The next morning, Comus stood on the shore of Lake Mikado beside the tree he’d always chosen for an occasion like this, looking out over the waterline. To his left, Royce the Lham Dearg wept while covering his eyes with a burly hand, sniffling and struggling to keep his composure as Manola rubbed circles into his back, her eyes closed. To his right, Nena wailed and buried her face in Beike’s shoulder, who just sighed and comforted her as best she could. Right nearby was the product of the fusion between Minerva and Michel, which Comus had opted to perform in the dead of night for his own sake: a Kaso--a red-skinned rat-demon with a body of flame that hovered beside her creator--named Budosu. She was painfully aware of the circumstances of her creation, and wanted to attend if only to pay respects to those who had sacrificed themselves so that she could live.

Roky stood leaning against the tree, keeping an eye on the entrance to the castle city. After some time spent waiting, he gestured to Comus and said, “They’re coming.”

From the city, Walter, Jonathan, and Isabeau emerged, coming upon the scene with a variety of emotions. Walter seemed the most solemn out of the lot, his head lowered in acknowledgement of the others’ sorrow, while Jonathan and Isabeau kept impassive stoic looks upon their faces. Walter waved a hand to some demons and nodded to others, placing a hand on Comus’ shoulder. “You wanted us here?”

“I did,” Comus said. His eyes were bloodshot. He’d undoubtedly done his fair share of crying last night. “Thank you for coming. Jonathan, Isabeau, I know you were never really close with any of my demons, but…”

“Nonsense,” Jonathan cut him off, raising a hand. “You’re our friend. What you value, we ought value as well, and if you must handle sorrow, then you mustn’t handle it alone. It was our pleasure to attend, was it not, Isabeau?”

“I wouldn’t call an event like this a ‘pleasure’ in any context, Jonathan, but if you mean that we had no intention of passing it by, then I agree.”

“A-Ah, my apologies…”

Comus sighed, looking back out over the lake.

“Is that everyone, then?” Walter asked. 

“I invited one more. I don’t know whether he’s coming or not, though, so maybe we should just…”

Roky tapped the tree beside him. “Here he is. Looks like he’s got a demon in tow, too.”

Trudging away from the castle city to the spot at the Mikado lakeside was Navarre. The samurai still seemed quite worse for wear, there being shadows under his eyes and his uniform remaining rather scruffy, but he wasn’t the deathly wraith that he was when he’d met Comus a couple of nights ago. Floating beside him was a fair-skinned woman with vibrant blue hair, white and brown garments, and a spinning-wheel in place of her torso--a Fortuna, if Queenie’s scanner was anything to go by. The other samurai were shocked, to say the least. 

“N-Navarre…” Jonathan murmured, unsure of what to say. Isabeau remained silent but watched the Luxuror intently. Walter just huffed through his nose and looked away. 

“Hello, Comus…” he murmured, still not quite used to using a Casualry’s name to refer to them. “Y-You wanted to invite me to this…funeral, of yours? I hope it’s alright, I, uh…brought a friend,” he gestured to the Fortuna beside him. “Her name is…Ludovica. I’ve opted to…mostly just remain in Mikado itself. Comparatively less d-demons there, and I’m sure I can still fulfill many of my duties as a samurai without delving underground…though I suppose I couldn’t have continued on without your help. T-Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Navarre. And it’s very nice to meet you,” Comus said to Ludovica, putting out his hand for a handshake. Though she hesitated at first, looking to Navarre for support, she eventually gave him a delicate handshake. She must be on the timid side. He hoped Navarre was treating her well. “Now that everyone’s here, I think we can start. Roky, if you could hand me three leaves from the tree there?” 

The other samurai watched as Roky reached up and plucked three broad leaves from above his head, handing them to Comus. He fanned them out in front of him and took a deep breath, placing his finger on one.

“Paul,” he began, writing the Jack Ripper’s name with his finger, “you were the product of something I was hesitant to go through with, and though your paranoia made you difficult to deal with…I wish that perhaps you could have had the time to trust me more than you did.”

“Michel,” he continued, writing out the Bilwis’ name, “we rescued you from that domain in Naraku, and ever since, you were always a positive and friendly presence. Even if you may have gotten on some people’s nerves,” Roky winced and looked away, “you were a valuable team member and an even more valuable friend.”

Royce let out a sob. Nena, sniffling, buried her face in Beike’s hair and wailed. 

“M-Minnie…” Comus said, his voice breaking as he wrote out her name. “You were the first fusion result we ever had, and you saved us so many times with your wisdom, I can’t even recall them all. You had your share of close calls, and even when you were burnt, you still stayed by our side…t-to the bitter end. Thank you for everything.”

Shuddering, Comus clasped all three leaves in his fists and prayed. The rest of the demons followed after him, and once the samurai saw what they were doing, they followed suit too. Walter, then Isabeau, then Navarre and Ludovico, and finally Jonathan. 

Then he opened his eyes.

“May you all find peace and happiness in the world after this one.”

He let the leaves go, where they scattered in the wind before dispersing one by one. From there, he took his longsword ‘Dies Irae’, which had served him well over the past month or two, and plunged it deep into the dirt before him as a memorial. He wanted to place down something permanent: something where, if he were to look out at this spot from his barracks bed, he would always remember those who had fallen. 

When heading into the Unclean Ones’ country, after all, who knows if he’ll be able to return here?

He prayed that he wouldn’t have to find another way to pay his respects.

~

Comus: 299 lb 

Royce (Lham Dearg): 203 lb

Nena (Pixie): 210 lb

Roky (Ictinike): 326 lb

Beike (Hua Po): 221 lb

Manola (Camazotz): 232 lb

Budosu (Kaso): 212 lb

Chapter Text

As we move out of Mikado and into a new chapter of the story, I think it’d be prudent to provide a full description of our protagonist and his demons before venturing further.

Comus: A fair-skinned young man with a prominent aquiline nose, thickly-curled dark brown hair that reaches his shoulders, hooded green eyes, and a small goatee. Once quite skinny, he has reached a weight of 299 pounds at a height of 5’8”, giving him an obvious double chin, a soft stomach that hangs over his waist but does not yet fully cover his crotch, thick limbs with newly-formed muscle hidden beneath a layer of fat, and the start of moobs on his chest. Though he can always be seen with an orange shawl thrown around his neck, he currently wears the Ahazuya Grey torso and leg armor with the Mikado Wood helmet, consisting of a heavy padded tabard worn over chainmail with gloves and a large brown belt across the middle, grey padded-fabric trousers with chainmail boots, and a simple green-toned wooden helmet, along with a silver necklace and a tokkosho double-bladed pestle as a weapon.

Growing up in abject poverty as a Casualry chicken farmer in the far-off town of Nelymar, he coped with his situation by considering himself to be a Luxuror born into the wrong body and striving to achieve his dream life without wanting or longing for anything…especially food. As he made friends and matured during his first few months as a Samurai, however, he began to recognize the injustices of the class system he lived under and instead opted to embrace himself for who he is and continue to seek the life and happiness he desires, regardless of what he was born as. It’s his belief that everyone deserves to be well-fed at the very least, and to be denied even that simplest of pleasures is one of the greatest injustices there is. He is bisexual with a preference for women and has a latent weight gain kink and fat fetish that he’s quite embarrassed about. He likes calling his friends by shortened nicknames. 

Royce: A Lham Dearg weighing 203 pounds, Royce is a ghostly Scot with light brown hair, glowing red eyes, and a sword and shield he makes ample use of in combat. Stuck into his traditional Scottish armor are nothing but the blades of several other swords and the shafts of arrows, the grips and fletching having been chopped off in combat, and beneath his kilt, his legs fade into nothingness at the knees. He’s as of now the thinnest out of the group, but his time with them has softened his jawline and given him a round middle that pushes out the center of his armor. 

Speaking with a thick accent, he fancies himself a comedian, even if the extent of his ‘comedy’ is just cracking lame puns and insulting people. He doesn’t exactly get why his team (and himself) seem to be growing in size as time goes on, but he figures it isn’t his place to question it. Even though he’s been with Comus the longest, he doesn’t get taken out often since he doesn’t have much combat skill outside of ‘stick them with the pointy end’. He calls Comus ‘the bairn’. 

Nena: A Pixie who would weigh 210 pounds if she were human-sized, but as she’s only about eight inches tall, she really weighs closer to 3 pounds. She has wine-red hair parted to the side, a blue leotard with matching gloves and boots, and butterfly-like wings, but her skin has been scarred and darkened in places across where it was exposed, and her outfit has become mottled with black scorch marks. Her fat is pretty evenly-distributed, having less muscle tone than Royce or Roky, so her breasts and belly stretch her leotard together. She has a slight double chin as well.

Nena is completely obsessed with larger people--seemingly ignoring her own weight gain in the process--and finds great pleasure in seeing them grow and grow, without any concept of limits. She’s very handsy and tactile, often enjoying cramped spaces between the limbs and rolls of someone much bigger than her both in weight and in actual size, and her perversions can cloud her judgment, but she does care deeply for her friends and fellow demons…even if she’s mainly tagging along just to see how fat everyone’s going to get. She heals herself by groping or burying her face in others’ fat and calls Comus ‘big boy’. 

Roky: An Ictinike who weighs 326 pounds, the heaviest member out of all of them by nearly 30 pounds. He has straight black hair, greenish-gray skin covered in stretched-out blue tattoos of flames on his limbs and a manji-like symbol on his chest, jet-black hair, and the beak and eyes of a hawk with a human mouth. A cloak of giant hawk feathers covers his back and sticks up from his scalp, and he wears a yellow loincloth containing a cloth sheath for a bone-handled machete as well as metal claw-like knuckle weapons. Being that he’s the fattest out of the lot, his belly is wide and sags over his loincloth and his thighs rub as he walks, but a not-insignificant portion of the weight went to forming two large sagging moobs and sticking to his upper arms, bouncing and swaying whenever he slashes with his claws and forcing his arms to naturally stick out a bit at his sides. Despite his weight and the fact he tends to huff as he walks with a wider gait than the rest, it’s clear he has significant muscle within his arms and legs. 

Arrogant and gluttonous, a womanizer and someone who’s always spoiling for a fight, Roky really only cares about what happens to him (or so he says) and loathes the extra work that his ‘master’--a title he only reluctantly ascribes to Comus, his summoner--gives him by making him accompany the Samurai on his journeys. He knows damn well what he looks like and enjoys it, working it to his advantage to flirt with girls, but he has no interest in men. That being said, as of late, he’s begun to respect Comus and the other non-female demons more. 

Beike: A Hua Po who would weigh 221 pounds if she were human-sized, but since she’s closer to two and a half feet tall, she weighs about 50 pounds. A young girl with red skin, black hair pulled into blonde ponytails, a white tangzhuang one-piece patterned in orange flowers at the sleeves, and Chinese slippers of the same design, two large iridescent butterfly wings sprout from her back. Much of her weight is centralized in a double-tiered belly that visibly strains the midsection of her one-piece, but her slightly thicker limbs and neck show that it’s starting to spread. 

She hasn’t spent much time with Comus, only joining up to sleep with Roky, who she’s madly in love with thanks to his confidence and bad-boy attitude. She isn’t super into the extra weight he has, and doesn’t care for her own or anyone else’s extra weight in general, but is into him nonetheless. On her own, she’s both peppy and preppy, enjoying gossip and good-natured teasing, and has become fast friends with Nena on account of being in such close proximity to one another. 

Manola: A Camazotz weighing 232 pounds, Manola is a black-furred anthropomorphic bat-like figure with claw-tipped hands, leathery wings, a cloth necklace with two painted clay skulls on the sides, and red-and-blue sickles she uses as weapons. Despite being on the heavier side, her biology means it doesn’t show much: the clearest indicator is the substantial chest on her, as well as the rounded stomach it sits upon. 

Manola is very motherly and compassionate in her demeanor, happily supporting, encouraging, and comforting not only Comus but any other demon in the team who needs her. She doesn’t like making a scene, and can’t respond to an insult with anything other than an apology and an awkward change of subject, but she is quite a good judge of character nonetheless. She believes herself to be quite unattractive, mostly on account of her face. 

Budosu: A Kaso said to weigh around 212 pounds, though really, how accurate that is is anyone’s guess, as she’s pretty much just a blue-eyed red-furred rat with a body consisting of a whirling fireball. She’s about the size of a basketball. 

Painfully aware of the circumstances of her creation as a fusion of two well-loved demons, she is extremely pessimistic and morose, believing that she has no innate talent or purpose and only exists to be compared to those who are more talented and more likable than her. Ironically, this attitude makes it more difficult for the other demons to grow fond of her--something of which she is also painfully aware. You can always count on her to sour the mood whenever she opens her mouth.

Chapter Text

Comus: 299 lb 

Royce (Lham Dearg): 203 lb

Nena (Pixie): 210 lb

Roky (Ictinike): 326 lb

Beike (Hua Po): 221 lb

Manola (Camazotz): 232 lb

Budosu (Kaso): 212 lb

~

Comus traveled with all three samurai back down into the terminal at the workers’ room, the mood solemn yet determined as they descended back down through the observation deck and the now-barren domain, finally able to take the final elevator down to the ground floor to meet the Unclean Ones in their own country. He opted to take the elevator with the rest rather than wait it out this time, and though it was quite cramped inside as a result (especially with Budosu floating nearby making it a rather sweltering experience as well), it only lasted a few moments before the doors opened. 

The samurai stepped out into a bombed-out ground-floor lobby, the walls being partially glass and partially metal only identifiable as such by how shards littered the ground. The air was muggy and stank of smoke and chemicals burning, and it was dim at the best of times. The sun probably never even reached down here, Comus thought to himself as he looked around cautiously. 

“Wh--Hey!” a voice called, and all the Samurai collectively turned to the source. There were two men--a weaselly one in a dark suit, and a burly bald one in a white suit--who seemed to have been standing guard at the elevator and were startled by the samurai’s presence. Judging by the voice, the thin one must have been the one who spoke first. “Who the hell are you guys? …And what’s up with those outfits? What part of the city are you from, and why’re you here at the Skytree?” 

Jonathan, completely ignoring their questions, muttered to himself. “So these must be the Unclean Ones of legend…they look very much like us, and yet appearances are often quite deceiving…” 

Comus blinked, quiet, then looked at Walter. “...Did you also understand what those two guys said?”

“Just about,” he replied, shrugging. 

“They’re speaking the verbal version of the mystic script, you two,” Isabeau elaborated, pointing to her gauntlet, “though I do admit, I was expecting it to sound more…foreign. Though their accent is quite difficult to parse, it seems to be the same language we speak.” 

Budosu let out a long, protracted sigh, sinking in the air. “So they really don’t speak some kind of cool foreign language? That’s so disappointing…I was really hoping to hear something exotic, but knowing they’re really no different than you or me…I should have expected it, I guess.” 

The two men looked at each other, utterly baffled. The bald guy spoke now in a gruffer voice, “What the hell are you two going on about? Answer us! Who are you, who’re you working for, and where are you from?! And quit talking with those silly accents, or I swear to god I’ll bust your ass!” 

“Such coarse language…” Jonathan placed a hand on Comus’ shoulder. “They sound very much like your Burroughs AI, as a matter of fact, Comus. Could there be a connection? But then, why are all of our Burroughs as proper and refined as could be expected?”

“I’ll properly refine your mouth into a receptacle for the end of your shoe if you keep saying shit like that to me.” 

“Who’s asking?” Walter said, finally addressing the men directly with a hand on his sword. “We’re from above, that’s all you need to know of us at the moment.”

The bald man opened his mouth, but the weaselly man stopped him. “...A-Above…? You mean…”

Walter sucked his cheek and pointed up at the ceiling of the lobby, and it was like all the blood had rushed away from the men’s faces as they went deathly pale.

“N-No fuckin’ way…don’t tell me you’re…” the smaller one stammered out, trembling. “...A-Angels?!”

“Far from it, sir,” Jonathan explained, starting to step towards them. “We are Samurai, from the Eastern Kingdom of--”

“Heeeeelp! H-Holy shit, I don’t wanna die!” the same man screamed, turning tail and stumbling away out the front door of the lobby. 

“You bastard, wait for me! If these freaks really are angels, then I’m getting outta here too!” the burlier man shouted after his cohort, giving one last look to the samurai before sprinting after him. 

“Oh…they ran away. I guess they didn't want to talk to me. That’s okay…I wouldn’t want to talk to me either,” Budosu murmured, slinking lower and lower in the air until she was basically laying on the floor. Comus lightly nudged her muzzle with his shoe. 

Walter and Jonathan alike were taken aback by the Unclean Ones’ show of cowardice, but it was Isabeau who spoke, rubbing her cheek in thought. “According to the stories, I’d always imagined the Unclean Ones as powerful magicians, but…I cannot tell a lie, I was expecting them to be much more fearsome than they truly seem to be.” 

“Well, if they aren’t that fearsome, this may be much easier than we expected,” Comus said, bending down and picking up Budosu, tossing her from one hand to the other as she kept burning his gloves. “Let’s see if--ow--we can go and--eep--track down that--ack--Black Samurai sooner rather than--owch--later.” 

Together, they exited the building’s lobby and laid eyes on the Unclean Ones’ country for the first time from the ground level. Massive rectangular buildings lined the pathways with flickering light showing sparsely from what windows weren’t utterly black, roads paved with painted asphalt that was now cracked and in disrepair, and the air was full of smog. The landscape seemed to stretch out as far as the eye could see. Behind them, the long winding ‘underground’ that they had spent so much time venturing through was revealed as the interior of a massive tree whose roots wound and weaved themselves around the base of the Skytree building, as that one man had put it. They all stared out over a nearby railing, too shocked to speak for what seemed like an eternity.

“These buildings…” Walter finally murmured, mostly to himself, “they give me the same feeling as seeing massive tombstones…”

All of them were quiet, simply standing and taking in the scenery. This was such a far departure from what they were used to in the Kingdom of Mikado that none of them really knew how to approach or process it. Common among them was the severe shock that, by all accounts, the Unclean Ones’ country was so much more technologically advanced than anything Mikado had ever been able to produce. 

Queenie’s voice cut through the fog. “Hey, guys, sorry to interrupt your standing and gawking, but I’m getting a call from Hugo.”

“Oh, not him again…” Walter grumbled, but Hugo appeared nonetheless with that squirrelly grin of his.

“Greetings, Samurai! I’ve been keeping track of your exploits, and I see that you’ve all finally arrived in the country of the Unclean Ones…Tokyo.” Looking down at something off-screen, he continued speaking. “Us at the Monastery have been monitoring this country closely ever since we heard word of its existence, and what I am sending to you all now is the fruits of our research. Make good use of it!”

All of their gauntlets beeped at the same time, the notification showing that they now had a full map of Tokyo’s layout to make use of. 

“Don’t forget to pick up plenty of relics as well on your search for the Black Samurai! I am expecting great results from you Samurai!” he chimed, tittering giddily and hanging up abruptly afterward. 

Walter leaned on the railing before him, groaning. “Fie on that Hugo! He always knows how to spoil the mood most excellently. If he’s so keen on sending us Samurai down to do his dirty work and line the Monastery’s pockets, then I’d like to see him come down here and search for himself.” 

“N-Now, Walter, regardless of what other motivations the Monastery may have, we are on this mission first and foremost to track down someone who’s proven themself to be a threat to Mikado. We have the safety of our people to think about, and if we should do some good for the economy in the process, why should we complain?” 

“The economy? There’s only two things the economy is good for, and that’s a headache and constipation.” 

Jonathan and Walter went back and forth on the topic, while Isabeau just shook her head and turned to Comus. “Unless you also have some comment you’d like to make, I’d like to return to the mission at hand,” she said. “Even looking out from the tower, I couldn’t see the edges of this country. It’s downright expansive. We need some method to find our way, some direction to take, otherwise we’ll simply be going over this land with a fine-toothed comb…”

Comus was scrolling around the map, frowning. A lot of these places where buildings ought to be by his estimation were nothing but sand, and there was no rhyme or reason to what areas were sand and what areas were ‘civilization’. That couldn’t have been on purpose. Budosu slumped herself over the railing and whined, “We’re going to be in this miserable country for the rest of our miserable lives searching for that miserable Black Samurai…”

“Budosu, come on, keep your thoughts to yourself…hm? Wait, look, Hugo issued us a quest,” he said, pulling it up on his gauntlet and showing Isabeau. “He wants us to find someplace called the ‘Counter-Demon Force’ base somewhere in Tokyo. Notably, he gives zero indication as to where in the world that may be, so I assume it’ll be up to us to wander around until we discover it. Very kind of the Abbot to give us such a mission when he has the maps…” 

“Counter-Demon Force?” Jonathan asked, having broken from his small spat with Walter. “I wonder what manner of organization that could be. It sounds similar to the aims of the Samurai. Do the Unclean Ones oppose demons as well…?” 

“Do they, don’t they, does it matter?” Walter replied. “We’d better spread out. We’ll cover more ground that way.” 

“Fair enough,” Comus said, turning off his gauntlet and putting out his other hand for Budosu to scurry up and use to perch on his forearm. “That’s what we do most of the time anyways. Once one of us finds something of interest, be sure to patch in and let the others know, alright?” 

There were general affirmations all around, but though Walter and Isabeau split soon after, going their separate ways in the city of Tokyo, Jonathan remained near Comus. Once the others had left, he approached the pudgy samurai. “Pardon me, Comus?”

“Hm? Yeah, Jon?” he asked, turning his head.

“I was wondering…would it be too much trouble for me to accompany you as you explored? There are some matters I’d like to discuss with you without the others overhearing.” 

“Ohh, here it comes…” Budosu whined, covering her eyes. “Bad news, incoming…”

“Budosu, shh! Sure, you can come along. No complaining about how and when I recruit demons though, alright? If Walter could roll with it, then so can you.” 

Jonathan pursed his lips. 

“I’ll try my hardest.”

~

Tokyo was, as some would call it in its current state, a complete shithole. Where the roads weren’t abandoned, they were practically left to crumble away into nothing, and the only function buildings served were as shelter--no business could conceivably function above-ground with how demons ran rampant throughout the thoroughfares. Littered across the road, left like giant metal-and-glass-and-something-else corpses, were structures resembling four-wheeled carriages, though there was no place to hitch a horse to and their wheels were not wood but a pungent black substance with a bit of give. The smell of smoke and blood alike lingered in the muggy air. It was not pleasant, to say the least, and with basically no direction, Jonathan and Comus simply wandered from place to place. After passing through road after road, they reached an open desert, then the border of a river where a horde of Kelpie expressed their frustrations with something called a ‘Peallaidh’ in a place called ‘Ueno’ and offered their assistance if their problem was taken care of (what that problem was or what help they would give was, of course, not elaborated upon), and from there, they simply skirted the edge of the river. 

The water was a seedy black color, stained by pollution and soot and blood and god knows what else, but the smell was slightly more pleasant than it was in the heart of the urban areas, so the two samurai opted to take that route and follow it to see where it went. Occasionally fending off demons here and there, the two of them made significant headway through Tokyo.

“So, Comus…what I wanted to talk to you about is concerning…well, I suppose it’d be two things. Two related things, at that,” Jonathan said, adjusting his sword’s sheath as he walked. 

“Talk to me,” Comus replied, Budosu hovering beside him. With a lightened party, he’d also summoned Beike, who was petting the rat-like demon and trying (in vain) to cheer her up a bit. 

“It’s about your demons…and that ritual you invited us all to beside Lake Mikado. Am I to understand that that was some manner of funeral for them?” 

“Indeed it was. I write out the name of a demon who’s fallen, I give my thanks, I pray, and I let them go.” 

“That’s what is puzzling me so…Why do you care so deeply for these demons? They are amoral and ignoble creatures, by my observation, and are more often than not willing to kill humans like you and I. The art of negotiation is more akin to bribery than a true give-and-take relationship, and demons as a whole have been responsible for countless human deaths…they are monsters, and yet you treat them the same as you do your fellows. Why is that?”

Comus glared at Jonathan, but rather than spit out some manner of barb about how he could easily start treating Jonny boy as less than his demons, he huffed through his nose and thought honestly about it. 

“Humans are capable of all the same sins as demons. They just have to work harder for it. Demons are sentient, sapient, and capable of speech. They need to eat to survive, just like any other animal, including demons. You wouldn’t blame a lion for tearing apart a gazelle just to feed itself, would you?”

“You contradict yourself. If demons are as self-aware as you say they are, then surely they must realize the moral implications of killing others with as much intelligence as they have.”

Comus shrugged, “It’s no different than soldiers fighting soldiers, to me. That’s why I don’t cry for the demons my team and I pick off--they would have killed us otherwise. Besides, they’ll come back. Mine won’t,” he added with a sullen look. 

“I see…then, er, my other, related question. Don’t you feel you’ve been being…perhaps a bit…oh, how should I put this…?”

He stopped and turned around, crossing his arms. 

“You’re asking why my demons are so much fatter than all the others, aren’t you?” 

“N-No, of course not, I…I simply am…curious as to how they seem to be growing so steadily, despite the frequent physical activity each of them seem to take part in…”

“Search me. The best guess I could give you is that I feed them my healing items rather than…I don’t know, pressing it against their heads? I don’t actually know how you’re supposed to use a life stone, but they taste good, so…”

“But aren’t you worried about their health? About your own health?” 

Comus looked down at himself. He’d be lying if he hadn’t thought about it, but apart from being tuckered out a bit quicker while traveling, he hadn’t been having any issues…and as time went on, he was relying more and more on magic, so there may not have been much of a need for peak physical fitness anyway. His demons seemed to still be getting along quite well for themselves, too, and if they were unhappy with how they were, then Comus was sure he’d be hearing about it…of course, though, he didn't vocalize all that. He just shrugged again, said “I don’t see any issue with it,” and kept walking. 

Jonathan stared, then stumbled after him. “N-No issue? What about your agility? Your organs? Your joints? Y-Your clothes!”

“Jonny, wait. Look over there,” Comus said, cutting him off and pointing a short ways ahead of them. There were bright white lights coming from a passage underground along with a quite modern-looking hologram sign stationed beside it. There were some characters in mystic script in the top portion of the arch. 

Comus lifted his gauntlet, having Queenie translate it for him. “It says ‘Ueno Station’. And funnily enough, I can sense another terminal down there. Seems like there may be some kind of civilization down there…”

Accepting that he wouldn’t be getting any further answers, Jonathan moved on. “The Unclean Ones make their settlements underground? That’s quite unorthodox…”

“I mean, use your eyes, do you see this place? I wouldn’t live up here if I was being paid to. Also, there’s a guy coming out of that car holding an Uzi.”

“A what now?” Comus asked, before a torrent of gunfire poured their way, originating from one large man in a white suit and red shirt who was opening fire on the two samurai and the demons. An ear-splitting repeated ratatatatat filled the air, and the two humans immediately ducked for cover behind the nearest empty car they could find. 

The demons weren’t quite so fast. Beike got a bullet straight through one of her wings, making her yelp, and Budosu watched her drop to the ground morosely. “Ohhh…not even five seconds here, and of course they want to kill us, why should I have expected anything differe--ow,” she murmured, feeling a bullet or two pass through the fire of her midsection and explode on impact.

“B-Back in, back in you two go!” Comus shouted, hurriedly unsummoning the two of them as he crouched beside Jonathan, clutching his own comparatively-wimpy pistol close to his chest as he panted. “Holy…”

Jonathan shushed him, pointing up. Behind them, they could hear the man stomping about. He bellowed, “Come out, come out, wherever you are! I know you two punks are still here somewhere…if you’re dumb enough to walk in on Ashura-Kai territory, then maybe you’re smart enough to run the hell away before I turn you into swiss cheese.”

“Ashura-Kai?” Comus whispered. “What is that? Am I supposed to know what that is?”

“P-Please, stay quiet! Or else he’ll…”

There was the sound of the car door opening. From the other side, he could see their scalps and the fluffy hair that covered each of them poking out over the edge of the window on the other end. “Ha! Found you dumbasses!” he gloated, slamming the door shut and running around the side with his Uzi in tow. Terrified as he prepared to turn the corner, Jonathan and Comus alike both gripped their guns and aimed them at where he would be appearing. He took slow, intentional steps.

“You two really fucked up, now…bet you won’t make the same mistake twice, eh? Maybe you’ll get reincarnated as a demon and can tell your friends not to fuck with the Ashura-Kai next ti--” 

There was a bang , and the limp arm of the gang member dropping against the asphalt was all that ultimately emerged out the other end. Jonathan and Comus held their breath. Then, a rough-hewn and oddly accented voice sounded from the other side. “Don’t worry, dudes! It’s cool! I took care of him! And I promise, I’m not gonna shoot you. I’m tryin’ not to do that kind of stuff anymore…even if I did totally just kill a guy. Aw, man. I just got that. I gotta reset my streak…” 

Jonathan asked, in a slightly quivering voice, “B-Be you human or demon?”

“Uhhh…that’s kind of a complicated question, bro. Is there a third option I can take? I can tell you though, I’m totally not Ashura-Kai. Those guys are total dweebs.” 

Comus nudged Jonathan. “I’m going up.”

“Don’t risk it! He could easily be honeying us up, only to strike us at our most vulnerable!” 

“So, what, are we going to sit here behind a…what did Queenie call this? A car? Are we gonna sit behind a car all day, or are we going to keep moving? I’m going up,” he reiterated, moving into a kneeling position and raising his hands before slowly rising to his full height. When he wasn’t immediately gunned down, Jonathan took it as a good sign and did the same until they were standing beside one another like a pair of mismatched scarecrows.

Standing on the other side of the car was…something that wasn’t quite human and wasn’t quite demon. Apparently, he’d been telling the truth about that. He was masculine in build, his skin having a pale greenish hue, and he was wearing an ocean-blue beanie that read ‘ELIMINATORS’ in a language neither of the samurai could parse, out from the bottom of which thin blonde hair hung down to his shoulders. Apart from that, the only clothing he seemed to be wearing was a pair of baggy green cargo pants with suspenders thrown around his shoulders, a set of black Calvin Klein underwear, and red-and-black sneakers. He wore numerous pieces of expensive jewelry and accessories including a silver dagger necklace, two gold wrist bangles, a silver Rolex watch, and some piercings: two in his right ear, one above his navel, and one in his left nostril. His eyes were red and beady, and when he opened his mouth, his incisors were more fangs than anything else. 

Naturally, he was also quite heavy, but he seemed to be pretty much the same weight and build as Comus, if not slightly lighter--it simply was more obvious considering he was entirely shirtless, his belly folding over the band of his underwear and his suspenders actually having something to press against rather than hanging limply…namely, his flabby chest. In one hand, he held a smoking pistol, and in the other, a switchblade. 

He was also raising his pudgy arms above his head, laughing stupidly. “I dunno what we’re doin’, but I kinda like it. E-Even if my arms are getting kinda tired…” 

The samurai lowered their arms, and the man-demon followed suit with a sigh. 

“Thank you for saving us,” Comus said, walking around the car and approaching him with his hand outstretched for a handshake. “I don’t know if we’d have gotten out of that if it wasn’t for you…uh, I’m Comus, by the way. That’s Jonathan,” he said, pointing to the other human.

“Joseph! But my friends just call me Joe,” he said, shaking Comus’ hand promptly. “When they aren’t calling me a hooligan, anyway. Sorry for shootin’ that guy. I’m tryin’ to actually not do that anymore.”

“Not do…what?” Jonathan asked.

“Killing people. Demons, it’s like, whatever, they’ll grow back, but people? They just lay there. Bleh. It makes me feel bad. So I’m trying to stick to just shootin’ demons if I need to shoot anybody. Can I get you guys a drink or something?” 

“A drink?” That perked Comus up.

“Sure, dude! I’ve been down here my whole life, and I know where to get the goods. There’s a lot of sealed stuff that’s still tasty ‘cause of all the preserva-whatsits they put in ‘em,” he explained, digging into his deep pants pockets. They were probably so overburdened that they were the reason he had the suspenders instead of anything else. Joe retrieved a couple cylindrical containers with more mystic script written on the outsides, the contents within sloshing as he moved them around. “I got pre-made coffee, orange juice, strawberry juice…you guys like soup? I picked up some primo corn soup from a ruined vending machine over in Asakusa just the other day, I was saving it for a special occasion, but…heh, I’d call this a pretty special occasion, wouldn’t you?” 

Comus’ stomach grumbled. “I’ll take one of those juices, actually.” 

“Hell yeah, brother! Catch it!” Joe tossed a can of strawberry juice to Comus, who caught it.

“Comus, what are you doing?! You’re drinking something that a demon gave you, which came from the Unclean Ones’ country! You have no idea what could be in it, it could be dangerous!” 

“Jonathan…please. Don’t tell me you’re going to abstain from food the entire time you’re here. It’s not practical. You have to figure out what’s edible and what isn’t, and how are you going to do that apart from trying things?” He cracked the top and took a sip. “Oh my god.” Then he chugged the whole thing. “Jon, you have to try this, it’s delicious!” 

“Yeah, dude, try it!” Joe insisted, shoving a can at him. “I drink five every day, and look at me! I’m fine!” he said, then pounded his fist on his chest to force out a belch. It seemed the sugars in the juice were just as preserved as the flavor.

Jonathan’s face wrinkled. “I’ll…save it for later,” he said, tucking it away into his bag. Comus took another juice and cracked it open, sitting on the hood of the car. “You wouldn’t happen to be familiar with the ‘Ashura-Kai’ that man was claiming to be a representative of, would you?” 

“Of course I do! I live around here, after all. I can tell you more once we’re downstairs in Ueno, but all I can say for now is that those guys are bad news. They set up a lotta these little cities, and they claim to want to help the humans down here live the good life, but they’re up to some shady stuff. I’ve seen it, bro. It is messed. Up.” 

“What exactly is ‘messed up’ about it…?”

“Oh, dude. You don’t even want to know.”

“But I do…” Jonathan said, more than a little annoyed. 

“Joe, you know,” Comus said, wiping his mouth of juice, “I think I could really have a use for you on my team. You have a lot of knowledge about Tokyo, after all. Would you like to come with me?” 

“Hey, I’d be down! Just try and keep the ‘killing humans’ stuff to other demons, okay? Like I said, I’ve been workin’ on that. I can also help you guys sniff out relics, if you want. Shops down here’ll pay a pretty penny for stuff like my soup cans, from what I’ve heard! I dunno myself. I’ve never actually gone down there. I get too scared.” 

“Then why don’t we?” Comus said, tossing the can over his shoulder in a flagrant disregard for littering laws…not that there was any way for them to be enforced anymore. “Queenie did say there’s a terminal down there, so let’s go check it out. You can come too, Joe.”

“Really? Aw, hell yeah! Let’s go!” The hooligan pumped his fists and started off towards the entrance to Ueno Station, Comus following behind with a grin on his face.

Jonathan couldn’t get a word in edgewise…though he felt that the more likely reason behind Comus wanting to recruit the demon was just for the free food. 

~

“This must be it,” Comus said, standing before two seamless metal doors surrounded by caution stripes. “It looks the same as the ones up in Mikado and in that work area.”

“I do hope the citizens of Mikado don’t look poorly on us after having been in Tokyo. I’ve heard rumors about those who return being ‘tainted’ by the Unclean Ones…” Jonathan murmured. 

“I’m sure it’ll be fine, Jon. If the Monastery can have a whole map of the place and collect relics from it and they’re still godly, we should be alright, right?”

“You do have a point, I suppose, but still…” 

“Also, look at them,” Comus said, gesturing to those that passed by them. Scruffy older men in jackets, women lugging guns around, two children seemingly unsupervised…for being ‘Unclean Ones’, Comus couldn’t get over how remarkably similar to humans they looked. Put one next to the other and you probably couldn’t tell the difference. “I think, if anything, they’re afraid of us. I feel like everyone’s staring at me…” 

Joe came in between the two of them, resting one elbow on each of their shoulders and grinning. “Could be ‘cause you got me with you. Or ‘cause you’re probably the heftiest guy I’ve seen down here in decades. Do they have good food up there in Mikado or what, ‘cause your buddy here is kind of a beanpole.”

“Oh, they do, but it doesn’t come close to what they have down here if that juice is anything to go by,” Comus snickered. 

“Comus? The terminal?”

“Oh! Oh, yeah, right. Let’s open it up.” 

It only took a slight touch, but upon pressing his fingers against the wall, the metal doors slid open to reveal…an interior corridor whose insides were not the sleek technological panels they had come to expect, but the winding pseudo-organic sinews and growths that they’d seen among other demon domains. Hesitantly, the samurai and Joe entered, jumping as the door slammed behind them.

“Oh no, are we gonna die?” Joe whimpered. “I-I can’t die, man! I have too many records to listen to back home!”

“Joseph, please,” Jonathan said.

“Joe’s fine, man, don’t call me that…you sound like my dad.” 

“Well, well, well, what do we got here? Raw meat, prime for the pickin’, it looks like!” a loud country-fried voice echoed, and from the other side of the corridor, a man emerged. 

He looked a bit shaggy, wearing a ragged green jumpsuit and orange tackle vest, and there was just enough hair on his sharp chin to give the illusion of a beard without having anything substantial. Strutting behind him were three figures, two small and one large: two of them were Koppa Tengu, odd masked sable-skinned figures with wings sprouting from their backs, and in the center was a tall ninja-like figure with its face covered and wings sprouting from its back as well. It held in one hand a khakkhara ringed staff that jangled as it walked, only stopping when the man and the other tengu stopped as well. 

Joe whispered to the two samurai, “Aw, crap, I know that dude. That’s the Terminal Guardian. He works for the Ashura-Kai, and he’s got a domain set up at each of those terminal thingies for him to guard it from folks wanting to use it.”

Comus smiled at him, then grabbed his beanie and pulled it down over his eyes. “Why didn't you tell me that before I wandered in here?!” 

“I-I forgot, man! I can’t see! I can’t--oh, wait, it’s my hat.” 

Jonathan stepped forward, his hands out in a gesture of appraisal. “Sir, please. We don’t mean you any harm, we’d just like to use the terminal you’re guarding.”

“Hmmmm,” he hummed, crossing his arms and tilting his head in a show of ‘thinking’ so obvious that it had to be fake. This was proven right two seconds later. “Nope! Sorry, but if’n y’all wandered in here, then it’s my job t’ kill y’all dead. I gotta say though, fer a feller like the one you got there with a head full of mothballs, he’s right on the mark. Been guardin’ these here terminals for nigh-on twenty years.” 

Comus could barely understand him past the existing inscrutable Tokyo accent, but he got the message and preemptively summoned two more of his demons, Nena and Budosu appearing beside him. “I’m sorry to say this, really I am, but if you won’t let us use it without taking you down, then that’s just what we’re going to do.” 

“Damn straight! We’ll put you--ohhhh, hellooo~” Nena started, immediately getting sidetracked once she saw Joe beside her, drinking in every inch of his tubby form. “Aren’t you a tall glass of water, handsome~?” 

“I’m not a glass of water, lady, I’m a demon. Thanks for the compliment, though! First time I’ve ever heard that, heh.” 

“Is that so? How sad. You’ll be hearing it plenty more so long as I’m around, I can tell you that much~” 

“Guuuuys…” Budosu whined, “we’re about to fight, quit canoodling…or keep doing it…we’ll probably die either way…”

“Comus, please get your demons in order!” Jonathan demanded, taking off his gloves and preparing to start casting magic. 

The terminal guardian shifted from one leg to the other, his hands in his pockets. He sniffed. “You, uh…you got a real chatty bunch there, don’t ya? Huh. Weird. Even weirder how your demons are all…”

“All what?” Comus asked, already knowing the answer.

“...Aw, to heck with it! Tengu, go on an’ turn ‘em into fertilizer for the cherry trees!” he huffed, throwing one hand up and turning away as he went over to one of the walls and leaned on it to watch the fight unfold. 

All together, the tengu struck a (pretty cheesy) pose, hyping themselves and their evasion up, before collectively flapping their wings and sending out a flurry of Zan magic. It wasn’t a good start for the samurai and their demons, all present immediately picking up a litany of cuts and slashes from the onslaught. Comus cringed and snapped his fingers, sending out a small shock of lightning towards one of the koppa tengu. It seized momentarily, a bit of smoke coming off of its wings.

“Everyone! Focus on one enemy at a time, and take them out one by one! Follow my lead!” 

“Aye-aye, captain!” Joe shouted, twirling his gun on his finger and aiming it at the koppa tengu Comus had just shocked. He fired off a bullet that just grazed its thigh. 

Meanwhile, Budosu’s flame had nearly been put out by the wind magic and she had dropped to the floor, weeping quietly. Nena had dropped down and, in the absence of any obvious fat with which to apply her typical methods of healing, settled for rubbing the fire-rat’s cheeks. “You good?” she asked.

“Mmmm…yeah. T-Thanks. Let me try…” Budosu muttered, flicking her tail. Instantly, everyone present felt a bit lighter on their feet. 

“Thanks, Budosu!” Comus shouted, sending out another shock of electricity that fried the koppa tengu for good. It stiffened, curled up, and dropped to the ground. The other two tengu started panicking, huddling over the fallen one with their arms out trying to figure out what to do. Joe took the opportunity to get another shot off of the central Karasu Tengu, nailing it in the shoulder, and Jonathan followed it up with a shot of wind magic himself. 

That seemed to have pissed them off, as the remaining tengu combined their strength to put out an even stronger onslaught of wind magic, one that knocked every member of the opposite team off their feet. Budosu tumbled until she hit the wall, Jonathan groaned and rubbed his hip, and Joe only laid there, dealing with the pain, until he heard a muffled voice underneath himself. He rolled over and saw Nena, partially flattened and with a delirious grin on her face.

“Aw, shoot, are you alright, lady? Sorry, I must have fallen on top of you…”

“I-It’s all gooood…” she drawled out, giggling. 

“You sure? Alright, if you say so. What should we do now, Comus? …Uh, Comus? Dude?” 

Comus was laying face-down on the ground, utterly unconscious and bleeding out from the cuts that now covered his skin and armor. 

“Crap. Crap, crap! I just met that guy!” Joe panicked, staggering to his feet and picking his gun back up in order to fire another round at the koppa tengu. He managed to hit it straight in the chest, making it stumble back as it clutched itself. It raised a shaky hand, intending to send out another wave of wind. Joe raised his gun again, shutting one eye to improve his aim.

Before he could shoot, though, Nena’s voice chimed out “I got it, I got it!” as she flew in, delivering a moving roundhouse kick directly into the koppa tengu’s jaw. Despite her small size, she managed to knock the mask clean off, sending the tengu to the floor face-down. That was the end of that one. She flew back with a giggle, clinging to Joe’s belly the same way she did to Comus and Roky. “How was that?”

“How was that? That was freakin’ sweet, lady! You kicked that bird dude in the face like in Road House! …Wait, did that happen in Road House? Maybe I’m thinking of Family Guy. I might be thinking of Family Guy. But still, it was so cool!” 

Nena was seeing how deep she could fit her thumb into his navel. “Mmmh, I don’t have any clue what you’re talking about, but damn, are you hot…How much do you weigh, Joey?”

“I dunno. I haven’t found a working scale down…oop, wait, hold on,” he said, raising his gun and firing at the karasu tengu that was hovering over its other fallen comrade. The bullet found purchase in its shin, and yet it kept itself standing by using its staff as a cane.

Back by the wall, Budosu was just slowly rekindling her fire, her beady eyes welling up with tears. “O-Oh, it’s fine…nobody worry about me, I’ll just…keep healing myself…but, since nobody seems to care if I die, maybe I should just stop and get it over with…”

Incensed by the shot and the fact its fellows had been taken out, the karasu tengu flapped its wings once, twice, then sent out a stronger fleet of wind than ever before. Everyone was sent tumbling until they hit the back wall of the domain, Jonathan cracking his skull and letting out a low moan of pain and Comus’ limp body tumbling until it slumped over Budosu, who didn't move an inch. The only one unaffected, funnily enough, seemed to be Nena, who just continued floating where she had been clinging onto Joe…though she wasn’t happy to have her pillow taken away. 

“Wh--hey! We were having a moment! Joey, are you alright?” she asked, fluttering over. “Jo…oh, man…”

Joe was turned upside-down with his head facing a way that it definitely should not be facing on someone who is alive. Nena hissed through her teeth, almost starting to mourn him…but then she remembered when she and Minnie--God rest her soul--had went down to that wildfire horde in the work room and she was able to keep going because Comus had immediately given her a revival item. The singed pixie dove into Comus’ bag, digging around past relics and healing items and soup cans Joe had handed him, until she returned with a small Gobstopper-like jade bead. She vaguely remembered seeing this called a ‘revival bead’ at one point or another, so she hoped it would work and willed it to as she tossed it down Joe’s gullet. The hooligan’s head and neck almost immediately snapped into place, sending him tumbling down onto his back, and he let out a low groan as he rubbed his shoulder. “Gaaahh…I didn't bite it, did I?”

“You did…” Budosu said, taking shelter beneath Comus and burning a hole into his armor in the process. 

“Man.” 

Jonathan, pushing himself against the back wall until he was in some semblance of a standing position, did his best to ignore the concussion he’d just incurred and raised his hand to shoot out another Zan spell. It sliced at the approaching karasu tengu’s upper arm as it hobbled towards them, leaving a substantial gash, but it was obvious that it was a pretty poor showing. With little fanfare, the demon raised its own hand and sent out another wave of wind magic, knocking Joe and Jonathan against the wall once again while leaving Nena unaffected.

She wondered…if it worked for Joe, could it work for Comus? Nena dove into his bag once again and produced another revival bead, flicking it into his mouth. Steadily, his wounds healed themselves, and he blinked blearily as he came to. “W-Whuh…Nena? Did we win? …Why is my stomach really hot?” 

Nena glanced down at Budosu taking shelter beneath him. “You’re asking me? I always thought it was hot. Anyways, we’re getting creamed out here, and Joey already went down once! You gotta switch him out!”

“Agh, r-right, right, thank you!” Fingers moving faster than his mind, Comus quickly unsummoned Joe and brought out the first demon his fingers could summon: Beike, who needed no explanation as she launched forward and delivered an uppercut to the karasu tengu. It leaned back, rubbing its jaw silently. 

“You creep! Get your hands off Nena!” she shouted, pulling down one of her eyelids and sticking out her tongue.

“W-What about me and Jonathan?” Comus asked.

“What about you and whatever-his-name-is?” Beike responded, then let out a squeak as the karasu tengu shoved her away. 

Jonathan, opening his eyes just enough to keep from the light hurting his head, raised a quivering hand and sent out an icy Bufu mist towards the demon. It pretty much sidestepped it, stomping towards him and raising its staff before jabbing it straight into his stomach. Jonathan vomited, making Comus grateful he’d declined the juice from earlier, otherwise it’d be all sorts of gross bright colors. That taken into account, now was his change. Comus lunged forward and gripped the staff, sending out an electrical shock that traveled up the staff’s metal body into the karasu tengu. It went into convulsions and then, finally, fell backwards. 

Comus rose to his feet, Beike and Nena rejoicing and hugging each other to give them congratulations while Budosu slowly plodded out from her hiding place. Jonathan slumped, his breathing ragged and wet. 

The Terminal Guardian slow-clapped as he stepped forward, producing a small black rectangle (oddly enough, the same small black rectangle Comus remembered seeing a hua po use) and pressing it like one would his gauntlet screen. The fallen tengu disappeared. “Looks like y’all are more formidable than I thought. Awright then. I’ll letcha use this here terminal. Just don’t get cocky, alright? I’ll get y’all next time, y’hear me? I will!”

There was a blinding flash of light, and when it had faded, everyone was gathered on the walkway leading to the terminal altar, the domain having completely dissipated. Beike gasped, looking around. “He…He disappeared!” 

“He’s walking out the door,” Queenie said. Comus turned around and saw the bottom of one of his shoes before the terminal doors shut. 

“Eh,” he shrugged, “let him go. I’m sure he’ll show up plenty more times to be an utter thorn in our collective behinds in any case…Oh--!” He looked down at his armor, only to see that there was a giant scorch mark in the center where some sort of fire had burnt its way through the thick fabric and left nothing but the chainmail beneath. “W-What the hell happened?! My armor…Who did this?” 

Budosu whimpered and curled up into a ball before Comus noticed her, sighing and unsummoning her. 

“...Oh, whatever. Nena, Beike, is it alright if you take Jonathan back to Mikado and have him heal up? His Burroughs will probably know how to work the altar there, and if you two are with him, I’m sure the citizens will understand.” 

“Will do!” Nena chimed, dropping down to Jonathan and situating herself under one of his armpits. “You get one, and I’ll get the other, that alright, Bei-Bei?” 

“Ugh, fiiine. Ew, his pits stink…Don’t these samurai guys have deodorant or something?”

“I don’t even think they have showers. Not that I mind…”

“Like I told you, girl. You are freaky.” 

The two fairies hauled the nearly-unconscious and mumbling Jonathan over to the altar as Comus watched, hoping that they’d be able to get him to rest without any complaints. As for him, he really needed some new armor. There was no way he was going to be able to protect himself with a big stupid hole in the middle of his torso. And, now that he was feeling around it, that belt around the middle had no chance of reconnecting anytime soon. Maybe that juice was more potent than he’d thought.

Hopefully there was some kind of armor shop nearby…

~

Comus: 299 lb → 320 lb

Royce (Lham Dearg): 203 lb

Nena (Pixie): 210 lb

Roky (Ictinike): 326 lb

Beike (Hua Po): 221 lb → 230 lb

Manola (Camazotz): 232 lb → 241 lb

Budosu (Kaso): 212 lb → 221 lb

Joe (Hooligan): 295 lb

Chapter Text

Comus: 320 lb

Royce (Lham Dearg): 203 lb

Nena (Pixie): 210 lb

Roky (Ictinike): 326 lb

Beike (Hua Po): 230 lb

Manola (Camazotz): 241 lb

Budosu (Kaso): 221 lb

Joe (Hooligan): 295 lb

~

Jonathan slowly awoke with the remnants of a splitting headache still plaguing his skull, the young samurai’s eyes creaking open. He was laying somewhere soft and familiar…yes, he was in bed. In his barracks, no less. His clothes felt clean and unsullied by sweat, which was strange. There weren’t any voices around him, no fellow samurai hovering above him, so he must be alone…He moved to get up, but the small sharp pain that rippled from the base of his spine to the crest of his skull stopped him partway. “Aggh…”

“Hey, hey, Jonny boy’s awake!” a young female voice called. 

“It’s about time. I was starting to get worried he’d kicked the bucket for real,” another female voice said. 

Beside him was a pixie and a hua po…both of whom seemed vaguely familiar to him. Right, yes. Another look at the pixie’s chubby burn-scarred limbs and the round-bellied hua po with the bullet hole in her wing was enough to cement their identities to Jonathan. “A-Ah, you are…Comus’ demons, right?”

“Yup!” Nena said, flying in a bit too close for the samurai’s tastes. “He told us to haul you back to Mikado for a rest. You were pretty beaten up, after all.” 

“Mikado…?” Sure enough, the sunlight pouring in through the window told him that much. “Wait, but the presence of demons outside of samurai use is strictly forbidden in Mikado, how did you…?”

“We carried you!” 

“Specifically, so we wouldn’t be seen, me and Nena went up into your sleeves and hauled you around to make it look like you were just sleepwalking and covered in blood. It was the dead of night when we arrived too, so you’d think that would be good to keep a low profile, but…”

“Some people did see you and scream ‘ghost’,” Nena admitted. “You may have to deal with that next time you go out on your own.”

Jonathan bristled at the notion of demons like them touching his bare skin, let alone taking such an immense risk to take him through Mikado, invading the very citadel of the kingdom! Were they malicious in nature, they could have easily laid waste to countless lives and livelihoods…but they weren’t. And they did help save his life. He cleared his throat, moving to rise from bed. “Well…I will have to give Comus my thanks for sending you to come to my aid. It was quite prudent of him.”

“Why us?” Beike asked, a little offended. “We were the ones who did all the hard work. He just gave the orders.” 

“T-That is…my apologies. I didn't mean to insinuate, er…” 

“Yeah! We even washed your clothes once you were in bed!” Nena said. 

Jonathan went beet red. “Y-You took off my clothes?!” 

Then his gauntlet beeped, and his Burroughs AI spoke. “You’ve received a message from Comus, Master. Shall I display it?”

Wordlessly, he pressed in the affirmative. The text box that appeared on his gauntlet read thusly:

[ To Jon - I’m sending this just before heading to bed for the night, as I assume you’ll receive it once you awake in the morning. I’m spending it here in Ueno Station, as the ‘Unclean Ones’ seem accommodating enough to my demons and I. Roky’s already asleep with Manola under his arm, Royce and Joe have their own spots in the corners, and Budosu is curled up at the foot of my ‘bed’. I say ‘bed’ because it’s basically just a sheetless cot, but it’s the best they had. The rooms stink, but the food? Holy crap. K still makes the best hot meals, but as far as taste and convenience goes, Tokyo has it under lock. They even have better-fitting clothes instead of plate armor! Even if I had to say a password to get in. I don’t even get what the issue was with the password, it was just saying ‘Erawan’. Is that some word demons can’t say or something?

Sorry, I’m rambling. Queenie is making me dictate this, and…the point is, we’ve been talking to the locals, and there’s a lot of buzz about something called the ‘Hunter Association’. There’s a spot in Ueno Station where Walter and Isabeau have agreed to meet me at this time. I’ll send the location to you, and by the time you get this, you should be awake, so be sure to come! ] 

Jonathan checked the location and the time. “Goodness, he expects me to meet up with the rest of them in 15 minutes? That’s rather short notice.” 

“Chill, Jojo, there’s a terminal here anyway,” Beike said, jabbing a thumb over her shoulder. “It’s how we got you here. Shouldn’t take more than 5 to get to where you need to go.”

“O-Of course, of course…well then, shall we?” 

“Wait, wait! Jonny boy, how are we supposed to follow you? We can’t be seen in the Aquila Plaza, or else we’ll cause a panic!” Nena exclaimed. 

“I should say you’ve already caused quite the panic by parading me through the streets like some manner of walking corpse!” Jonathan shouted back, before taking a deep breath and putting his hands out. “...My apologies. What do you propose we do, then?” 

“Um, duh? Let us ride around in your clothes again,” Beike said, as though it was the most obvious suggestion in the world.

“A-Absolutely not!” he refused, blushing brightly. “To allow women, let alone demon women in such close proximity to my person, it’s…I mean, it…”

“Come oooon, I do it with Comus all the time!” Nena pleaded. “Besides, you didn't seem too shaken by that horde of lilim in Kiccigiorgi Forest, if I’m remembering correctly, so what’s the big deal?” 

“That was different! They weren’t so…I mean, they were too… oh, forget it. I have my own idea anyway, which I feel may be viewed as a variation on yours. In that sense, then maybe we are going with your plan.”

Jonathan began to take off his jacket…

~

“That’s basically it,” Comus said, licking his fingers clean of crumbs and wiping them on a napkin. “The hunter system is essentially like the samurai system in Mikado, though rather than doing odd jobs for the good of the people, we do odd jobs for whoever is willing to pay. Make sense?”

“It makes the most sense out of anything I’ve seen so far down here,” Walter replied, taking a hesitant bite out of his own ‘croquette’, as the bartender had called it. They were roughly oval in shape, consisting of fried breading surrounding a mixture of minced meat and mashed potatoes, and were admittedly pretty tasty, even if they sat heavier in the stomach than anything he’d ever had up in Mikado. Sitting on Comus’ other side, Isabeau hesitantly nibbled bit by bit at one. Comus himself had a plate of them and was finishing each in only two or three bites, happily scarfing them down. “Mighty convenient for us, though. It’s almost as if they were copying our customs beat-for-beat and word-for-word. The leaderboard’s even the same, barring that someone named ‘Skins’ has taken K’s place.” 

“It’s just as possible that we could be copying them,” Isabeau said, looking down at her hands and cringing at the breading that stuck to them. She took another napkin. 

“Just as possible as rats raining from the sky, maybe! The Kingdom of Mikado’s been around for centuries, even a know-nothing Casualry like myself knows at least that much. Anything the Unclean Ones could have come up with, they probably took from us.” 

The bartender shot a look at Walter as he passed by, and Comus wiped his mouth with his sleeve. “Walt, you know, maybe we shouldn’t…call them ‘Unclean Ones’ to their faces. If anything, they’ve been far more hospitable to us all than I would have ever expected…in general, at least.” Walter just shrugged and went back to eating. 

Isabeau, on the other hand, looked around at the tavern they’d found themselves in…or rather, the locals were referring to it as a ‘bar’, so perhaps she should be referring to it as such as well. The bar was loud, crowded, and stank with the rank mixture of dirt, sweat, blood, and smoke that she was quickly finding to be commonplace in most regions of Tokyo. It was unpleasant, but if this was what it was going to be like down here, then maybe she should at least try to tolerate it, especially if the hunter program was going to be a frequent feature in their lives from here on out. “I must say though, Tokyo is a truly fascinating place. So many structures, buildings, and concepts that I hadn’t ever even conceived of before are just a part of everyday life for these people…” 

“Haha, don’t let Jon hear you say that, Izzy! I don’t think he’s gotten quite used to being here yet, himself. Between you and me,” Comus said, leaning a bit towards Isabeau, “I worry he still thinks this will be a prompt in-and-out mission. I myself am fully prepared to stay down here for as long as we are required to.”

“Ha, if I didn't know any better, I’d say your courage can be more ascribed to your stomach than your heart. You seem to have taken quite a liking to the cuisine down here.” Walter lightly punched him on the shoulder. 

“I can’t help it! Look at this!” Comus raised a croquette, grinning widely. “I’m tempted to bring one back to K to see if his chefs could whip up anything similar…”

The painted doors to the bar opened, and Jonathan stepped forward with his coat slung over his shoulder, the sleeves and hem tied up in a lumpy bundle. 

“Hoy, Jonathan, there you are!” Walter said, raising a hand. The others turned to face him as well. “About time. I trust you nursed your wounds well?”

“Certainly,” he replied briskly, setting his jacket down gingerly and untying the knot that kept it in the shape of a bundle. As soon as the knot was undone, the jacket opened up fully, and Beike and Nena both emerged with a gasp. 

“Gahh--! Holy shit, it was stuffy in there!” Beike shouted, her wings twitching as she floated up into the air. “I even turned into a little butterfly and everything to try and make some extra room, but the holes were so small, and Nena’s fat ass took up enough space even without me!”

Nena stretched with a murmur, “Look who’s talking, porky. I wouldn’t have minded being squished up against you, but you were the one who was complaining the whole time. Comuuus, big boy, where are y--” she started to call, then stopped upon seeing Comus himself. 

The samurai must have gained at least 20 pounds since she last saw him, which wasn’t helped by the change of clothes. He’d traded his helmet out for a yellow camouflage-patterned bandanna that piled and wrapped around his thick neck and double chin, layered beneath the orange stole he always wore, and it allowed his thick and curly locks to bounce free from their confinement and cascade down to between his shoulder blades. As for his torso and legs, they were covered with thick beige camouflage-patterned fabric that clung to his thickened limbs, clearly straining around his upper arms and around his fat thighs. His armor was a hard olive-green plastic cuirass whose belt was forced to be undone to make room for his large, round belly. It pushed out the armor, and would have even likely been visible filling his lap as he sat if not for the paneled tassets that hung down over his waist. Even if much of the finer details were hidden beneath his armor, the amount of space he was clearly and obviously taking up (combined with how his backside now edged over the borders of the bar stool he sat upon and how his breathing was becoming slightly more audible) was more than enough proof of his evolution. 

There was no doubt about it: he’d caught up to, or even perhaps surpassed, Roky’s initial weight. He was fat in any sense of the word. Nena drank in every single detail and, when she had finally processed all the changes, she let out a squeal and launched herself towards him with her hands outstretched and her expression twisted with lust…but before she ever made contact with him, he raised his gauntlet and unsummoned her, doing the same for Beike as well. There was no way he was letting Nena do her thing around his friends. He had enough dignity remaining that it was worth preserving however he could, and having an eight-inch-tall pixie dry-humping your belly wasn’t a good method. Instead, he sighed and leaned back on the bar counter from his stool, taking a bite of another croquette. “Welcome back, Jon. You actually just missed it, I was explaining how the Hunter Association system works to Walt and Izzy here.”

“Ah. M-My apologies for being somewhat late. Your demons were kicking up a storm in my jacket,” he said, putting it back on, “the carrying of them via this method I do also apologize for. I couldn’t allow them to be seen in Mikado, you understand, and they insisted on riding within my clothing, which I could not allow…”

Walter scoffed. “Jonathan, Jonathan. Luckiest man in the world, and he refuses to take what is handed to him. I would have accepted it in a heartbeat.” 

“Naturally, you would have! Some of us, however, have personal and moral standards which we must abide by…” 

Isabeau shook her head, sighing. Men. Comus brought the conversation back, however, by swallowing his last cutlet and sighing. “Come over here, I’ll explain the whole thing again for you…”

He did as much, and after Jonathan was brought back up to speed, they discussed their next course of action. A hunter in the bar had explained before the others arrived, Comus recounted, that the Counter-Demon Force base was across the river in Kasumigaseki, but the Ashura-Kai had apparently destroyed most of the bridges going across. Rumor had it, however, that there was a Peallaidh causing trouble at the nearby Shinobazu Pond, and he himself had been told by some Kelpies by the river that if he ‘took care of’ the Peallaidh, they’d help him out somehow. The icing on the cake was that there was a quest to take care of the Peallaidh from the Hunter Association either way, so he’d be killing two birds with one stone. The rest would continue looking into ways across the river as well as information about local factions and locations…plus, of course, relics for the Monastery. 

Comus hauled himself up off the stool with a huff, patting himself down. “That all having been taken care of, I’m going to see if there’s a bathroom anywhere nearby. When I return, we can talk about who’ll be going with who. I think the division of our team of four into two teams of two could work wonders for covering ground without weakening our forces.” 

The others concurred, and Comus began to step out of the bar. Deep within, with an odd mixture of three parts embarrassment and one part arousal, he noticed that his gait was wide enough that he was forced to pay closer attention to how he shifted from foot to foot. For God’s sake, he was starting to waddle like Roky, too…if the other samurai noticed it, they made no comments before he left the bar proper. 

“Pardon me, son,” a low, gravelly voice said. 

Leaning against the wall outside the bar was…for all intents and purposes, a little man with a potbelly, a red jumpsuit, a sack over his shoulder, and a head shaped like the crescent moon. He just about came up to Comus’ waist and wore a wide leather Stetson hat that sat askew over the curved point of the top of his head. 

“...Yes? Hello?” 

“Couldn’t help but notice you ain’t like the rest o’ these city folk. Yer a country boy, ain’tcha?” he said, pushing the brim of his hat up. 

Comus stared down at him. 

“Sir, I don’t know who you are, but if you know where the bathroom is and could tell me, I’ll be on my way.” 

“Wh--now hold on a cotton-pickin’ minute, son, don’t go! Lemme get straight to the point. I’ve been seein’ what you’ve been doin’, and I’ve decided I wanna be a part of it. Guide your hand in the right direction, as it is. You fixin’ for a partner?” He poked his chest with his thumb. “I’m your Sandman.” 

…Wait, was this demon wanting to be his ally? In some sense of the word? He was never one to turn down an offer like that, and so with minimal argument, Comus shrugged and went “Why not?”, putting out his hand. “I’m Comus.”

“Call me Santana,” he drawled out. “Now c’mon. Let’s lead that horse o’ yours to water and make ‘im spit.” 

“Pardon?”

“Just follow me to the bathroom, son.” 

~

Comus: 320 lb → 330 lb

Royce (Lham Dearg): 203 lb

Nena (Pixie): 210 lb → 219 lb

Roky (Ictinike): 326 lb → 334 lb

Beike (Hua Po): 230 lb → 239 lb

Manola (Camazotz): 241 lb

Budosu (Kaso): 221 lb

Joe (Hooligan): 295 lb

Santana (Sandman): 221 lb

~

“Izzy, are you--hff--sure you’re comfortable--huff--tagging along with me?” Comus asked, panting as he hurried along Ameyoko Way, the cramped shop-laden street absolutely infested with Ashura-Kai members who were all packing enough heat to drop you from sunstroke. Or bullets. “After all, I’m--hrnngh--n-not exactly the fittest samurai around anymore, I know…” he said, wincing from the stitch in his side that had formed as they took cover beneath an awning. 

Roky had been the one to initially come out with them, but one stray Mudo--a dark spell that Comus had never seen before--was enough to put him down for the count. He was able to be revived, thankfully, though not without some vein-like discoloration spreading out from his shoulder where he was hit, but he had to be swapped out for Beike for his own safety. Beike hunkered down beside the two samurai, only panicking slightly from the hail of gunfire. 

Isabeau kept a firm grip on her own gun, reaching around and firing at a few gangsters. She typically stuck to targeting the limbs in order to prevent them from attacking further rather than killing them outright. “Would that not be a reason why I should accompany you? That aside, you seem quite confident on your own. If someone like you can continue living in a profession such as ours, you must be doing something right.” 

“I-Is that a compliment? I can’t, hff, tell if that’s a compliment or not…Oh, God, I can’t breathe…” He coughed dryly, reaching into his bag and producing a can of soda, which he guzzled down in one go and followed up with a belch. It was only when he noticed Isabeau staring at him that he realized he was in company and--mortified--stashed the can away and muttered out a “S-Sorry.” 

She just cleared her throat and averted her eyes, trying to focus on the onslaught of Ashura-Kai members. Comus, now refreshed, was doing the same with his own gun. “You know, it’s funny, a month ago I had no idea what this thing was, and now I’m using it every day.” 

“A lot can change in a month,” she said, discreetly glancing down at how Comus’ thighs spread out in his pants against the asphalt beneath them. 

“You’re telling me…” Comus sighed. “All my life, I wanted to be a Luxuror, and for what? To stuff myself and be waited on hand and foot? And now here I am in a shootout in a foreign country, somehow three times my original weight…”

“T-Three times?” Isabeau asked, lowering her gun in shock. “You weigh three times what you did when we first met? Just how heavy are you?” 

The way she asked should have stung, but there was no malice or disgust behind it. She just seemed legitimately shocked and curious. Comus blushed and pulled up his gauntlet. “Um…328 pounds, according to Queenie’s measurements…”

She swallowed. “That’s…simply unbelievable. I-I refuse to believe it.” 

“How do you think I feel…? I mean, how much do you weigh?” 

“Excuse me?” she asked with a tone so cold icicles could have formed off her words. “Did you seriously just ask that of me, Comus?” 

Beike shot him a look and murmured out from the corner of her mouth, “You fucked up, dude.”  

“I-It was just a question! I’m sorry, I didn't mean anything by it, I was just…I was wondering, you know, because I used to be so skinny, where I compared to you, and…”

Isabeau huffed with frustration, turning away. 

Comus pulled his knees up and stewed in his own regret for a little while before calling Beike over and asking her quietly, “What did I do wrong…? All I asked was a simple question.” 

“You seriously don’t know?” the pudgy hua po responded, sitting beside him. “Man, you’re hopeless. You never--and I mean never --ask a girl about her weight. It’s, like, super rude.” 

“But I just thought--”

“It doesn’t matter what you thought! What matters is the implication , you know? Now things are gonna be weird and frosty between you two unless you sort this out. You’re gonna be the one she has in her head as ‘asked me how much I weigh’. If you’re not already in there as ‘fattest guy I know’.”

Comus put his chin in his hands. “You’re so supportive and understanding, Beike. How did I ever get anywhere without you?” he asked, bitterly sarcastic. 

“Beats me. I’m gonna go see if I can find one of those books she likes in a store nearby. A gift should help clear the air,” she said, lightly nudging Comus with a smirk as she fluttered up and out of cover. 

Isabeau started to turn just in time to see the edge of her punctured wing pass out of sight. “...Your hua po didn't just leave, did she?”

“...W-What if she did?”

“Comus, there are marksmen and miscreants everywhere here! It isn’t clear yet! If we don’t stick together, then--” 

BANG.

Both of them stared at each other, then peered out from behind the storefront wall. Beike was laying in the middle of the roadway, blood pooling out from under her. There was a hole in her back where a bullet had gone through. Two Ashura-Kai members were nearby, one holding the smoking pistol. The other delivered another shot to her head just for good measure, making the samurai flinch. Then, without a word, the second member jerked his head over his shoulder, and the first lifted her corpse over his shoulder. They carried her back towards the station, disappearing between buildings. 

Comus lowered his head, sighing long and deep as he slid back down the shop wall, covering his face. Isabeau retreated back around the corner and lightly knocked her head against the wall, cursing herself for not paying more attention. For being too wrapped up in her feelings to act…

“Comus, I…I’m sorry,” she said finally. “If I had been paying better attention, then maybe…”

“No, no, it’s alright. It’s my fault too. I wasn’t thinking, I was too caught up in my own thoughts…” he ran a hand through his hair. “I’m more worried about how the others are going to take it. Roky and Nena aren’t going to be happy…” 

“W-Who’re they?” a shaky, neurotic voice asked from near Comus’ feet. 

“The Ictinike and Pixie in my team. Roky was her…wait a minute, who said that?”

He leaned to the side and saw, standing at his feet, an ugly little demon with the head of a hakurei turnip and the body of a roasted chicken. He screamed, pulling out his gun and pointing it at the demon. Isabeau yelped in response, producing her own gun and aiming at it as well. 

The Onmoraki itself immediately broke down screaming and crying.

“O-Oh god, oh god, please don’t kill me, please please don’t kill me, I’m sorry! I-I’m so so sorry, oh my god, don’t hurt me please, please please please…” it blubbered, falling to its ‘knees’ as it sobbed. “I-I’ll do anything you want, I’ll do anything just please don’t hurt me, please…”

“Um,” Comus said, “we put our guns away already.” 

It peered past one fried wing. “You…y-you aren’t going to kill me?”

Isabeau looked at Comus, who shook his head, and shook her own head. “I suppose not.” 

“Then…t-then, in that case, can I join you? F-Fuse me, do whatever the hell you want with me, just don’t make me fight, please! There are too many strong guys out here who could cook my goose, so just…c-can I come with you? Please!” 

Comus chewed on the inside of his cheek. This guy looked weak. Like, really, really weak. But, well, for better or for worse, a position did just open up. Plus, he’d feel really bad turning away a wimp like him. He let out a sigh, “Fine. You can come with. If you’re alright with being fused to make a stronger demon.” 

“T-That’d be wonderful! Please, do it ASAP! I hate being so weak…I-I’m Taki, by the wa--” 

He stashed Taki away into his gauntlet before the puny demon could finish his sentence and rubbed his temples, groaning. Isabeau furrowed her brow. “You’re really going to have a demon like him on your team?”

“Only for a moment. I just have to figure out someone to fuse him with,” Comus explained, opening the fusion app. 

Mido’s familiar face swung in. “Welcome to the Cathedral of Shadows, where demons gather! It’s so nice to see you again, Comus and…Isabeau? My, what a surprise!” 

“You know me?” she asked, shocked.

“You know her?” Comus asked, similarly shocked.

“Why, of course I do! Lady Isabeau has been making great use of my services ever since she first opened my app, you know. Additionally, I’m the same Mido in your gauntlet as I am in hers, so naturally I know what goes on in both of yours. Enough talk, though: by the looks on your faces, I assume this is a fusion out of necessity rather than a fusion out of need?” 

Comus sighed through his nose. “I suppose you could put it that way, yes.”

“I see, I see…in that case, who shall we be fusing today, hmm?”

His roster of demons appeared, Isabeau raising her eyebrows. “My, you have quite the full party. Doesn’t it get difficult to manage them all?”

“Oh, you’d think so, but they’re all kept pretty happy inside the gauntlet. See?” He scrolled through his demons, allowing Isabeau a glimpse at each of their living quarters…as well as the sheer size of quite a number of them. Roky was laying back inside his tipi, gorging himself on the croquettes from the Hunter Association bar as Nena played with his tits, Joe was sitting on a ruined city corner chatting with Santana about something or other, and Royce and Manola were separated into their own rooms depicting a Scottish countryside and a water-logged sinkhole surrounded by lush greenery that the latter hung upside-down over, asleep. 

“They’re so…” she murmured, keeping her desire for him to switch back to Roky and Joe secret. 

“If you’re gonna say ‘fat’, trust me, Jonathan said the same thing, and if you’re gonna ask why, I’ll tell you the same thing I told him: I don’t know. It just seems to be something about me…”

“I-I see. Then, um, which of your demons will you be fusing? If you’re too attached to some of them, then…”

“No, no, I think…I think this may be an easy choice,” Comus said, moving to the last ‘haunt’ in his gauntlet. Beside a Japanese temple, Budosu was curled up and whimpering beneath a stone statue, and Taki the Onmoraki was beneath an opposing statue pleading for her not to kill him. “These two might be better together than separate…especially since I really don’t have a use for Taki either way. I did promise to fuse him into a stronger demon, after all.”

“The Kaso and the Onmoraki, then? Perfect! Then we shall commence the fusion!”

The two anxious demons appeared within the two ingredient tubes, still just as terrified as ever, and as the two demons’ data mingled and merged, Comus’ gauntlet lit up white as a new figure emerged before them. 

It appeared to be some kind of purple-furred baboon, its wild black hair bundled up in a topknot while leaving enough locks free to frame its painted black-and-white face. A bare and veiny tail sprouted from above the prominent red buttocks that were so prominent in regular baboons…though, that being said, the extra fat on its frame made it resemble an orangutan more than a baboon. It came up to about Isabeau and Comus’ waists sitting on the ground as it was, and as it got a hold of its surroundings and saw its new master, it placed its humanlike palms on the ground and bowed to him.

“Master Comus. I am Oz, the Jueyuan. It is an honor to serve you, sir.” 

Comus blinked. It had been a while since he’d had a fusion result that didn't immediately try and assert their dominance over him, he had to admit, so he was taken off-guard. “Oh…uh, thank you, but just Comus is fine. It’s quite nice to meet you, Oz. This is Isabeau, a…” he trailed off, looking at her. 

“A friend,” she finished with a smile, which he returned.

“Lady Isabeau,” Oz said, bowing to her as well, “it’s an honor to be in your presence as well. If there is no need for me at this moment, then I will accept being unsummoned and returned to my quarters.” 

“...I…I suppose there isn’t a need for you, no. In you go, then,” Comus said in a slight daze, unsummoning the monkey demon. He scratched his hair. “That was weird. That was weird, wasn’t it?”

“Was it? I felt he was positively polite and humble for a demon.”

“That’s what I’m saying, they aren’t usually like that! Maybe you’re some sort of apotropaic, where the demons I pick up are much kinder to me than they usually are…if that’s the case, maybe I should ask you to come along more often, heh!” he laughed. He was so tickled by his own joke, in fact, that he continued to laugh until he snorted, whereupon he immediately stopped and turned red. 

Isabeau, who had been watching silently, rolled her eyes and turned on her heel. “Come. There’s still the central avenue of Ueno to explore.” 

“Y-Yes’m…”

~

If there was any credence to Comus’ theory in the first place, it was immediately disproven in the Central Way by Comus having a chair broken over the back of his head by a Poltergeist. You’d think that one of the central conceits of a poltergeist being that it isn’t visible to the naked eye would make it pretty difficult to figure out who did it, but when the figure in question was a stubby little thing with three holes for eyes and a mouth shouting “You just got chair’d by the great and evil Socrates!”, it was pretty easy to know who and what was responsible. Socrates, as the little devil called itself, prided itself on being a great and fearsome overlord of evil, seeking to cause as much mayhem and destruction as possible…and despite that, it was easily swayed by Comus simply agreeing to be its ‘chauffeur of chaos’, taking it wherever it pleased to bring ruination wherever it went. 

Comus and Isabeau sat on the roof of one of the long-since-abandoned cars that filled the central way, Comus rubbing the back of his head and wincing from the bruise that had formed. “Gaaahh…that little wretch really did a number on me…thankfully, the life stones I had were enough to keep me on my feet, but the soreness hasn’t gone away.”

“I must say, I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone use a life stone quite like yourself. You must have eaten three or four within the span of a few minutes.”

“They taste good, alright?” he said defensively, crossing his arms in a huff. 

“...Do they really?” 

“You want to know? …You’re actually the first person who’s ever asked me that, I think. Walt just laughs at me, and Jon keeps nagging me about trying to lose weight…I can give you one, if you want. Here,” he said, reaching into his bag and producing one of the powder-dusted life stones to hand to her. Isabeau took it into her hands and attempted to squeeze it. Hard as a rock. She almost thought she was being made a fool of, but Comus raised a finger, produced his own, and bit into it with no issues. Following his example, she took a tiny bite using only the tips of her teeth. 

“Mm,” she grunted, swallowing. “It’s quite flavorless…and the powder tends to stick to one’s teeth.”

“Well, no wonder, you took a mouse’s bite! You have to take a big one to get to the filling. That’s the best part, after all.” 

Staring uneasily down at the rest of the life stone, then looking back at Comus (who nodded encouragingly), Isabeau took a larger bite, taking out half the stone in a single chomp. Her eyes widened, and Comus asked how it was, but she held off on responding until after her mouth was empty. “I-It’s sweet! Like some manner of berry jam, though the flavor is one I can’t quite place…”

“It’s good though, isn’t it?”

“I-It is…that’s the strangest part. I’ve simply been allowing my demons to absorb them through the skin, but perhaps I should allow them to partake as well…?”

“I don’t know if you should go that far, I mean, you’ve seen me and my demons!” Comus giggled, resting his gloved hands on the rounded swell of his belly. Isabeau stifled a bit of laughter herself, trying to mask her blush as a result of simple amusement as she popped the rest of the life stone in her mouth. “Speaking of my demons…I’m out of space again, and I really don’t want Socrates to be bossing me around when it’s supposed to be the other way around. You don’t mind if we stop to fuse again, do you?”

“I suppose not, but why do you not just--”

“Why don’t I expand my stock? Queenie won’t allow me. And besides, I think that if you have too many demons, you start to see them more as a collection of blades rather than the thinking beings they are.” 

Isabeau tapped her cheek, ruminating on his comment. “An interesting viewpoint, to be sure, though I’m sure it wouldn’t go over well with the other samurai.” 

“I know for sure it doesn’t go over well with Jonny. He just can’t comprehend it. I think his brain may be missing a piece compared to mine, but then again, aren’t we all?” he snickered, enjoying his ironic gloating, but the look on Isabeau’s face clued him in enough to go “T-To be clear, that was a joke.” before opening the fusion app once again.

“Welcome to the…oh, it’s you two again! Back so soon, hmm?” 

“Yup. Making space again.” 

“Very good! I can see from the crumbs about Lady Isabeau’s cheek too that you two have been spending a bit of bonding time together as well, am I correct?”

Isabeau turned red upon realizing she still had some powder from the life stone around her mouth, quickly patting herself down in search of a handkerchief before resorting to using her red ascot as a makeshift napkin as she turned away. Comus snickered, “Only if you count ‘being a bad influence’ as bonding, I suppose.” 

“Say no more! I remember a beau I once had in my youth. Ah, she was the apple of my eye, but I tempted her so strongly with the promises of vigor and power that came with the study of demons that…oh, pardon me. I seem to be rambling. Please, choose your ingredient demons!” 

Skillfully ignoring Mido, Comus scrolled through the expected results. A lot of these demon results were too powerful for him to wield at the moment, annoyingly enough, so his options were pretty limited…not only that, with his condition, it was a real sacrifice to give up two strong demons in return for one slightly stronger demon. It was a smarter move (at least to Comus) to keep a wide range of fighters that can remain on standby in case anything happens. That being said, there was one that he felt he could go with…but he knew it’d be a bit messy. 

“Let’s go with Socrates,” he said, pointing at where the poltergeist was chasing after Joe and Santana with another chair, “and…Nena.” 

“Very good! Though, I understand you and Nena have been together for quite a while. Would you like to say your goodbyes before fusing her?”

Comus glanced over at Isabeau, who met his gaze with an obliviously understanding expression. She was trying to make it clear that she was fine with him saying his goodbyes, but he was much more worried about the kind of impression Nena would make on them…though really, it wasn’t like he could keep things secret forever. They would be interacting with his demons plenty more in the future, for better or for worse, and the sooner everyone got used to it, the sooner they could work with it. He inhaled through his nose and said “Yes, please.” 

The figure of Nena emerged, and before she even finished materializing, she had lunged onto Comus’ belly and splayed her arms and legs out to hug as much of it as possible. Considering his not-inconsiderable girth, it was no easy feat, but she couldn’t get as much joy out of it as she would have otherwise thanks to the hard plastic armor that covered his torso. “Comuuus! You naughty tubby boy, you unsummoned me before I had a chance to take in all this back in the bar! But I forgive youuu, ‘cause now I get to really feel just how fat you’ve gotten, mmhmmhmmm~” she teased, Comus able to feel the bit of pressure that she was applying to the armor. If she was doing that to his bare skin, she’d probably draw blood. 

He looked over at Isabeau, who looked more shocked than anything else watching the pixie gyrate against him. Comus cleared his throat. “N-Nena, Nena. Company. Company!” 

“Huh-whuh?” she said, following where he was pointing until she saw Isabeau. “Ohhh, hey, you’re that girl! I know you! If you don’t know me, I’m Nena, and I’m here to see just how heavy this big boy and his demons--including me--can get,” she bragged, loudly slapping her palm against the crest of his armor. She immediately winced from the impact and held her hand. “Ow.” 

“...Um…” Isabeau cleared her throat. “P-Pleased to meet you.”

“As am I…” Nena said, looking her over. Oddly enough, she didn't seem to be doing the typical ‘picturing what they’d look like 500 pounds heavier’ once-over, rather more closely scrutinizing the female samurai. Isabeau crossed her arms over herself uncomfortably, and it was only after a tense couple seconds that a wide and knowing grin appeared on Nena’s face. “...Oh, I see.”

“Y-You see? You see what?”

“You and me…we aren’t so different. You might say we’re kindred spirits.” 

“W-What?!” she sputtered.

“Nena, what in God’s name are you talking about?” Comus asked, scooping her up in his palms. 

“Oh, she knows what I’m talking about. She might be denying it for now, but I can see it in her very soul…she likes it.” 

“L-Likes what? I have no idea what you’re talking about, and frankly, Comus, the way your demon is speaking to me is most uncouth! If you continue to stand by and do nothing, then I’ll…then I’ll…” she stammered out, flustered, “I’ll be forced to seat myself on a different steel chariot for a time!” 

“Cars, Izzy, they’re called cars. I’m really sorry, let…let me just take care of this,” he said, turning away from Isabeau and holding Nena up to his face. “Nena, the only reason I’m not scolding you right now is because I called you out for something specific, but…I admit, I am extremely curious. What do you mean?”

“I can see it in her eyes,” Nena explained, kicking her feet. “She’s a kinkster just like me. She might just be finding it out, and she might not even know it herself yet, but the heart wants what the heart wants…and if the heart wants big, flabby bellies and thunder thighs, then that’s what it wants! You’re the same way, aren’t you?”

“Wh--I…I-I mean…” it was his turn to blush, swallowing. “N-Nena…really, I called you out to say goodbye.”

“Goodbye?” Her tone immediately changed, and she stopped kicking her feet. “What’s going on?”

“I’m fusing you with another demon. There isn’t enough room left in the team, and this was…it was a tough decision, but I think it’s for the best, and…”

“Oh, that’s it?” she said, then let out a sigh as she flopped onto her back. “Jeez, you scared me! I thought something really bad was happening! If it’s just fusion, then it’s no problem.” 

Comus decided to let her stay in the dark about what had happened to Beike. What she didn't know wouldn’t hurt her. “R-Really? I mean, you aren’t going to be…you. Mido told me the new demon wouldn’t have any memory of being you after all. Aren’t you…I don’t know, disappointed that you won’t…”

“Won’t get to see how you blimp up?” she finished, sitting back up. “Yeah, it does make me a bit sad, but fusion’s a part of life for us demons, y’know? I knew it was coming sooner or later, and not to get too gloomy, but I’m glad it ended like this rather than me dying. I know I came close a few times,” she said, brushing her fingers over her burn scars, “but you’ve always been good to me. I got to meet a bunch of hot demons, I got to get a bit juicy myself, so…hey, I’m happy.” 

Comus sniffed. “I-I’m…that makes me really happy to hear, I hope you know that.”

“Aw, hey, don’t cry. You’ll always have the good times to remember me by! And plus…you know I’ll live on in one way or another.”

“...I-I don’t follow.” 

“Pfft, you think whoever I end up being fused into is just going to have all my horniness go ‘poof’ and vanish before it gets to them? Trust me, that stuff doesn’t go away easily. I’ll still be watching you guys’ progress, even if it isn’t ‘me’. Make sense?”

He didn't respond.

“Guess not. Don’t feel so broken up about it, ‘kay, big boy?” she said, lightly punching his thumb with a grin. “Just keep on getting nice and big…and keep an eye on Izzy over there for me. Who knows? She may join us on our little journey someday,” Nena added with a giggle, winking at him. 

Comus pulled her into a light hug, taking a deep breath, and then unsummoned her back into the gauntlet. “Alright, Isabeau, she’s out. I apologize for her behavior, she’s very…she was quite…uhhh…”

“Please,” she interrupted, raising a hand, “there’s no need to explain what just happened. Move on and fuse your demon.” 

“R-Right, right,” he said, looking down at Mido on his gauntlet. “Fusion time.”

“As you wish! I shall commence the fusion…now!” 

In one tube, Socrates appeared, quite surprised and more than a little annoyed that it was being fused rather than being toured around as it had ordered, and in the other, Nena fluttered in place and waved to Comus with a smile. The two dissolved into data, which then merged and mixed until the resulting demon emerged from Comus’ gauntlet once again, landing on the asphalt beneath them.

This one was not only unmistakably humanoid but feminine as well, her smooth skin being a deep jade color and her similarly-toned straight hair both falling to beneath her shoulder blades and being styled into two swoops that bordered the hanging hair. Where she would have had arms, instead there were two brilliant purple, brown, and turquoise-feathered wings. 

She was also completely naked. Or at least, what scant clothing she wore--a wooden hair stick with red, white, and blue tassels and a patterned black-and-white-patterned cummerbund waistband--served to cover nothing that should reasonably be covered. The clear pear shape she had only served to make her nakedness even more obvious, as no part of her wide hips (wide enough to match Comus’, in fact, even though she was likely a hundred pounds lighter) and melon-thick thighs was covered, nor was anything in between. She had smallish breasts with dark nipples, not hidden or restrained in the slightest. 

The Gu Huo Niao looked around, taking in her surroundings before noticing the two samurai. Her pupilless white eyes widened, and she spoke in a low, sleepy register. “Ohhh, wooow…so, are you two my masters…?” 

“Er,” Comus said, raising his hand as he looked down at her, “I am. My name’s Comus, and that’s Isabeau.”

“Comus…” she rolled the name over her tongue and teeth like it was a delicacy and stepped towards him. Her hips had an exaggerated sashay to them, almost hypnotic in nature, and Comus swore he could practically hear the sound of her thighs sliding past one another. In another hundred pounds, that sound would probably be replaced by clapping. He tried not to show his body’s reaction to that, bringing his knees together.

She strutted until she was right in front of him, eye-level with his crotch from where he was sitting atop the car, and raised her wings to rest them on the sides of his thighs. Then she pushed herself up, her chest bouncing a bit from the sudden motion, and grinned at him. “I love that name for you…Just from the look of you, I can tell you’re a hedonist, aren’t you…? Just like me…” It seemed as though each word she said just tumbled out of her mouth, like she was slurring her words in a stupor. “That’s good…that’s really good…We’re gonna do good things together, you and me…” she sighed out. 

Isabeau’s eyes darted back and forth between Comus (who was only getting more flustered by the second) and the demoness, who was actively grinding her thighs together against the window of the car she leaned against. There was a lot going through her mind, but among them was an odd one she hadn’t expected. Something like…jealousy? What in Mikado did she have to be jealous of, though? Not even she knew. 

“U-Uh…” Comus stammered out, thankful for both the tassets of his armor and the weight of his belly hiding his excitement. “Do you have a…a name, or…?”

She licked her lips. “Call me Zha, big boy…” 

He felt a strange twinge of lust-soaked nostalgia at being called that, but before he could get lost in it, he raised his gauntlet and unsummoned Zha. Then he sighed and rubbed his face. His cheeks were red-hot…

“You certainly seem to be popular with your demons,” Isabeau said, perhaps a little bit more bitterly than she’d wanted to have it come off, “or at least a certain type among them.”

“I-I know…I’m sorry.”

“I don’t very well know what you’re apologizing for, but I nonetheless am in agreement that whatever you’ve subjected me to witnessing is worth some manner of apology. I don’t suppose you’d like to slink away for a few minutes before we continue in order to clear your mind?” 

“I-Isabeau!” he shouted, mortified. 

Then he sighed. 

“I-I’ll make it quick.” 

~

Comus: 330 lb

Royce (Lham Dearg): 203 lb

Roky (Ictinike): 334 lb

Beike (Hua Po): 239 lb → X

Manola (Camazotz): 241 lb

Joe (Hooligan): 295 lb

Santana (Sandman): 221 lb

Oz (Jueyuan): 222 lb

Zha (Gu Huo Niao): 239 lb

~

“So this is Shinobazu Pond, then? I must admit, I wasn’t expecting there to be any such standing bodies of river down here…let alone a proper pond,” Isabeau said, peering over the railing into the murky water. It looked…gross. And dirty. And like there had been nobody around to clean it out for the past 25 years, which was almost certainly true. 

“That building in the center looks nice, at least,” Comus said, gesturing to it while fending off harpies with his gun, shooting them out of the sky. Some part of him stung as he did it, thinking of Minerva…but he’d always remember her as being larger than these flying chickens, with one eye burnt shut from her wounds. That was her. These are just enemy demons to be killed. The cognitive dissonance didn't escape him, but he chose not to dwell on it. “The hunters in the bar called it a ‘pagoda’. A pretty name for a pretty structure, wouldn’t you say?”

“I know I would!” chirped a short quadrupedal demon resembling a green-striped pig with a single horn in the center of its head who was standing at Comus’ feet. “Remember when we saw that famous five-terraced one at Enryaku-ji in Kyoto together, guys? I thought my neck would break from looking so far up at it!”

The two samurai didn't respond. Isabeau leaned in close to Comus and whispered, “Who is that demon?”

“I don’t know,” Comus whispered back. “He won’t leave me alone. He keeps trying to tell me that we’re old friends, but I’ve never met him before in my life. I don’t even know what ‘Kyoto’ is. Is that some inversion of Tokyo?” 

“Well, can you please tell him to go away? His interminable stories and nudging for us to ‘remember the good times’ is driving me mad.” 

“I’ve triiiied,” Comus whined. 

“Hoho, you guys having a little tete-a-tete? I see how it is. You were always like that. Always keeping stuff a secret from little Miusi. Like when I had my 14th birthday and you made me believe you both had completely forgotten, but when I got home, everyone I knew was there!” 

“If he’s allied with you,” Isabeau continued whispering, “can you not simply unsummon him?”

“But that’d mean he’d be in my party,” Comus whispered back. “I really don’t want him near me.”

“Just do it! Or else I will be forced to take a more drastic approach!” Isabeau hissed, producing her own gun.

“O-Okay, okay, just…just put it away.” He cleared his throat, turning to Miusi and looking down. “Sooooo. Moosey.”

“Miusi,” the Zhu Tun She corrected, “though if you’re trying to make it a trendy nickname thing, I could go by Moosey for a while. Yeah, that could work. I actually went by Moosey for a bit in college, you know--”

Comus unsummoned him. 

“I really hope I can fuse him with someone less annoying.”

“Agreed,” Isabeau concurred. “That having been taken care of…what are we doing here, again?”

“We’re here to take down that Peallaidh that’s been causing trouble for the locals. It’s probably the reason why the water looks all…brown and nasty. The only issue is that we’ve been wandering around the place for twenty minutes, and I have no clue where it could be. I thought he might have been taking refuge in the temple down that way,” he said, pointing down to a passage away, “but the place was deserted.” 

“How troublesome. Maybe it knew we were coming after it and went away on its own…?” 

“That’s no good. I need some kind of proof that it was defeated to show the Kelpies too.” 

“Guys…guys? Did you forget about me? I know you’ve all been having a lot of fun talking to each other and sharing recipes and stuffing your faces, but in case you’ve forgotten, you’ve got a NAVIGATIONAL ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE in your wrists,” Queenie’s voice suddenly said, reminding Comus that…yes, he did have a navigator in his wrist. “If you don’t know where to go, don’t wander around like morons, ask me! It’s the entire reason I exist! Which is pretty fuckin’ sad, but hey, that’s life for an AI, I guess.”

“In that case, Queenie, would you be a dear and tell us where this Peallaidh is hiding?” 

“Don’t phrase it like that, you weirdo. You sound like a grandma. But fine, let me check the demon scanner…” There were a couple of beeping sounds, then her voice emerged once again. “The strongest signal I’m picking up is coming from that dock over there with the boats. I think it’s planning to jump you as soon as you get close, so…y’know, exercise caution and all that.”

Comus sighed with relief. “Thank you so much, Queenie…”

“...And?”

“And?”

“I’m missing another thank you. Or has one of you suddenly gone mute?”

Isabeau jolted in place. “M-My apologies, I wasn’t…thank you, Burroughs.”

“Queen B.”

“Queen B,” she corrected herself.

“Thaaat’s more like it. So next time you’re utterly lost, use your brains, alright? Just…don’t rely too much on me. I’m no thousand-in-one smart device, as smart as I am.” 

Comus clicked her off and gestured for Isabeau to follow him as the two stalked towards the dock. It was more like a short pier than anything else, long-abandoned tour boats being moored to the posts, forever waiting for a tourist that will never come. Their pace slowed the closer they got, until a huge shaggy shape suddenly breached the murky depths. 

“Wooaaaghh…so, looks like I gotta teach you numbskull human bros yet another lesson, huh…?” a shuddering voice echoed out, as one wet limb slapped against the dock, then another, until the demon hauled himself out and onto the damp wood. 

It was bipedal, but seemed to be covered in (if not composed entirely of) seaweed. The only parts of him not mired in kelp were two unsettlingly humanlike black leather hands and a number of upside-down white masks of human faces layered on top of one another. And good lord, did it stink. It smelled like everything rotten and putrid that one could associate with both trash and the ocean, and rivaled even the acrid chicken coops of Comus’ upbringing in terms of ‘worst things he’d ever smelt’. He brought his yellow camouflage bandanna over his nose, and Isabeau covered hers with her hand. 

The Peallaidh swayed as it got to its feet. “You dudes aren’t here to try and take me down, are you? ‘Cause this is my lake, my river, my water! I’ll eat, and eat, and shit it up all I want! And none of you hunters can stop me!” he gloated, spreading his arms.

Comus, thinking quickly, summoned a team of demons for the occasion. Joe showed up first, the flabby hooligan holding out his gun protectively. “Don’t worry, Mr. C, I’ll take down whatever creepy…lake…plant…guy, you want me to take out! …Oh, man, what reeks? Is it me? I hope it isn’t me.” 

“I-It isn’t you…but, where are Roky and Zha? I summoned them too!” 

“Oh, they put off the call for a couple seconds. Apparently, they were in the middle of something and had to finish up before arriving.”

“Demons can do that?” Isabeau asked, drawing her sword and keeping an eye on the Peallaidh that now stood by. 

“If they can, then it’s extremely inconvenient!” Comus huffed, trying not to breathe through his nose or his mouth in an attempt to not let any of the smell enter him. It was a fool’s errand. “They had better come out right now, or I swear I--”

“Hey,” Roky’s voice said, and Comus turned around to see the demon looming over him. The obese Ictinike was just as big as always, though with the addition of numerous pale vein-like scars emanating from a point on his right shoulder, but he was visibly red and slightly out of breath. 

“There you are! Where’s…” Comus started, before seeing Zha emerge from behind him with a woozy smile and her wings being folded over her crotch, the demoness just as red-faced and out of breath. He looked at Zha, then back at Roky. “What were y--”

“Next time, give us a five-minute warning, will you? Otherwise I’m breaking your arms next time you call us out so suddenly. You’re lucky you queued up a fight for me, ‘cause otherwise I would have done it now.” 

“...Right. My apologies. Go ahead,” Comus gestured, and Roky and Zha trudged and swayed respectively to their battle positions beside Joe. 

“Hey, Ro! Did you get done with what you needed to?” the hooligan asked innocently, tipping his beanie at Zha. 

“Just barely. And I didn't have time to clean up. Hope this wad of snot in front of us doesn’t mind a bit more pollution in his pond if anything drips out of Zha-Zha here,” Roky grumbled, reaching down and sinking his fingers into one of Zha’s substantial ass cheeks and eliciting a giggling moan from her. 

Joe blinked. “...Cool! Cool. Kinda weird you were so open about it, but I mean, I dunno. Let’s just beat this guy.”

The Peallaidh, tired of waiting, looked at the party before him. It was kind of hitting him how lame these guys looked. “Man, you…you’re all kinda fat, aren’t you? Except the chick over there. You seriously wanna fight me, bros?”

“We do,” Roky said, speaking for Comus, “and if you still want to fight us, then it’s your funeral, snot-wad.” 

“Hohohooo, okay, man. You asked for it! But before we get started, one thing you should know about Shinobazu Pond…” 

The Peallaidh began to wave his arms, circling them and letting them ripple and shake as though they lacked any kind of bones, and the ground itself began to rumble. Soaring up out of the murky river behind him like a fountain show were dozens upon dozens of vengeful Mou-Ryo spirits, their scarlet visages warping and twisting as they moaned out and collected before the Peallaidh. 

“...This place is way haunted. So I called upon these dudes to take you bros out! Have fun, chumps!” he cackled, leaping back into the river to await their demise. 

Comus was the first to attack, thrusting out his palm to send out a gust of wind that blew a few of the spirits away. “Alright, everyone! Try to focus on magic! These are spirits, so they can only be attacked with--”

“I got it, I got it!” Joe shouted, taking aim with his pistol and firing at the horde of Mou-Ryo. Predictably, it went right through them. He lowered his gun and smiled back at Comus. “Did I get ‘em?”

“Joe…” he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Eat this, you sons of--!” Roky started, having sprinted forward and slashing with his claws. Just as predictably, they went straight through the ethereal entities, but this time one of the ghostly faces wrapped itself around his arm. Dark tendrils shot up through his veins, and he only had enough time to gasp before the whites of his eyes went black and he dropped to the floor, convulsing. 

“S-Shit, Roky!” Comus shouted, already opening his bag and grabbing a revival bead without even looking to make sure he had what he needed--he could tell by touch alone. “Joe, get this to Roky, put it in his mouth, and get back ASAP!” 

“Aye aye, Mr. C!” Joe said with a salute, stumbling forwards as he huffed and puffed. Roky may have had the muscle to back up his bulk, but Joe was definitely the more out-of-shape between the two. There was a reason he relied mainly on bullets, after all. By the time he got to Roky’s body, he was already totally out of breath, and though he managed to slot the revival bead in, he didn't have the agility to escape some of the Mou-Ryo sending out their ghastly tendrils and caressing his skin. He could feel some of his energy being drained out as he sat on his knees, still struggling to catch his breath…but then he found that there was something else in his hand. Comus must have accidentally given him something else alongside the revival bead. He looked down at it.

It was sort of glassy, like a baseball-sized marble, and within the transparent exterior was a collection of suspended bolts of lightning that occasionally crackled and fizzed with energy. “A Mazio stone…” he muttered to himself, before getting an idea. 

“Hey, ghost dudes! Suck on this!” Joe shouted, throwing the stone out into the crowd. It made contact with one Mou-Ryo, and like a chain reaction, each of them was connected by a flash of electricity like a network of synapses until those that had been shocked simply vanished into thin air. There was still a good number remaining, but enough of the ones surrounding Joe had dissipated to allow him to crawl on his hands and knees away from the horde with Roky in tow. 

They would have lunged towards him once more, but at that moment, Zha blocked the way between Joe and the Mou-Ryo horde. The thick-hipped demoness kept her legs tightly pressed together, but let out a grunt as she raised her wings high and brought them down, sending a wave of condensed air out into the horde. Yet more spirits evaporated from the impact. In retaliation, a few spirits broke away from the mob and swung towards her in an attempt to subsume her limbs in the same way they had with Roky, but she effortlessly spun and ducked, avoiding all of them and leaving them to harmlessly puff into nothing against the pond railings.

“Whoaa…nice work, Zha!” Joe said between gasps, giving her a thumbs up. 

“Mmmm, I do my best…” she slurred out, covering herself with her wings once again. 

Isabeau, who sidestepped along the outer edges of the horde, swung with her sword to send out a bolt of electricity. She only managed to catch one or two Mou-Ryo with the attack, but every little bit helped. Comus, on the other hand, hadn’t been able to weave his way back into the action and was instead helping Joe drag Roky away. The Ictinike wasn’t budging. 

“W-Why isn’t he getting up?” Comus asked, shaking him. “Joe, you gave him the revival bead, didn't you?”

“Yeah, I did! I dunno what’s up with him! Also, don’t mind me, I’m just gonna reach into your bag here…” Surreptitiously, Joe rummaged around in Comus’ bag until he found another Mazio stone, spitting on it before lobbing it across the pier into the horde. Once again, a chain reaction occurred that wiped out many of the spirits in a single go. 

“Roky, come on, come on…get up…!” He was starting to panic now. If even the revival items wouldn’t work, then what hope did he have? How would he ever…

Just as he was beginning to spiral, Roky’s flabby arm shot up and he snapped his fingers, shooting out another bolt of lightning that had the same effect as a Mazio stone…though he was quite capable of doing so without the aid of an item. Comus nearly cried as he called out Roky’s name, the demon slowly dragging himself into a seated position and groaning. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just wanted to teach you a lesson for summoning me in the middle of fucking.” 

“You jerk…” Comus said, and he may have meant it, but he also couldn’t help but laugh immediately after: a laugh he and Roky both shared. Joe started laughing too, even though he didn't really know why. 

“What the hell, seriously?! You took them all out just like that?!” a familiar voice shouted, and said familiar voice’s familiar appearance breached the water once again and the Peallaidh slapped its wet limbs onto the pier. “Fine then. If that’s how it’s gonna be, then I’ll take you hunter bros out myself!”

“I request that you stop calling us ‘bros’, demon!” Isabeau shouted, pointing her sword at him. “We are not brothers, by blood or by bond!” 

“Um, it’s a figure of spee--”

“Respect the chick’s wishes, dude!” Joe shouted, aiming his pistol and firing a bullet into the soaked demon’s torso. It didn't come out the other side, and instead made a gross squelching sound. The Peallaidh doubled over, and brackish water poured out from underneath his mask in a show like vomiting. 

Roky snickered as Comus helped him to his feet. “What a wimp. He really is all talk. Hey, Zha-Zha. This guy looks a bit wet. How ‘bout we see if we can dry him off, huh?” 

“Whatever you say…” she purred out, Roky standing beside her as the two put out their limbs (arms for Roky, wings for Zha) and conjured a great fireball in front of each of them, which then--flickering and sending embers flying--combined to form one mass that was sent directly towards the Peallaidh. The fire didn't set him ablaze on account of how drenched he already was, but it served the purpose that they wanted: much of his seaweed had been dried out, and he now crunched and crackled as he moved. 

“Whuh--what the hell’d you do to me, bros?! You dried me out! I’m like a convenience store snack now!” His complaining was stopped by dueling attacks from the samurai: Comus sent out another Zan spell that sliced away many of the strips surrounding his chest, and Isabeau let another Zio bolt electrocute the water-logged demon. 

“Yo, Comus! Pass me another element stone! One with fire!” Joe shouted over his shoulder. 

“Let me see, let me see…Maragi stone, here we are! Heads up!” Comus tossed the stone--a dark volcanic rock full of holes like pumice from which small embers and flickers of flame occasionally reared their heads--directly at the Peallaidh’s head. It bounced off of his masks, knocking one off and setting his head ablaze in the process. 

“Gaaaah, holy shit! Holy shit, my freakin’ head’s on fire! You’re gonna pay for that, you wads! Drown to death in sludge, why don’t you?!” he screamed, picking up the mask that had fallen and throwing it like a Frisbee at Comus. He wasn’t able to dodge in time, and it clonked him square on the temple, sending him staggering in a disoriented haze. 

“Gross, man! Go take a shower!” Joe fired back verbally while also firing back literally, aiming at his masks and sending another bullet straight into them. Though the bullet ricocheted, another mask was broken, and the impact sent the Peallaidh staggering backwards anyway. 

The smell of burning seaweed and garbage was filling the area, and Roky and Zha repeating their dual Agilao spells only made it more prominent as the Peallaidh was now wreathed entirely in flames. He let out a discordant screech before falling flat on his face. He barely managed to rasp out his final thoughts.

“N-No way, man…beaten by a bunch of…fatsos…I-I can’t go to Heaven! They’ll purify me…t-they can’t…clean me…bro…!” 

Then he lowered his head and fell limp.

Roky grinned arrogantly, wrapping a hefty arm around Zha’s shoulders and pulling her in. “All we need is some salt and I’d gobble that fucker right up for a snack! Though, maybe not…after all, the guy also stank like shit! Hahaha!” 

“W-Wait, wait!” Comus shouted, shoving past Zha and making use of a Zan spell to blow out the flames. “We need proof that we killed this guy for the Kelpies, otherwise there’s no way they’d believe it was us that did it! We can’t have proof if the body’s burnt up.” 

“Pfft. Whatever,” Roky huffed, rolling his eyes. “The fucker’s dead anyway, that’s all that matters, right?”

“Sorry…” Zha murmured.

“What? What are you apologizing for?” 

“Roky challenged me…” she started, huffing with a shaky grin on her face, “I wouldn’t spill a drop…so I kept my legs together, but then you bumped into me, and…mmmmh, I’d wash those shoes if I were you…” 

Comus looked down at his shoes and wrinkled his nose. “...Great. Thanks, Zha.”

“If you’re in need of a keepsake,” Isabeau said, kneeling down beside the corpse and sawing off its head with the blade of her sword, “this demon’s head should make a good one, right? After all, who could have done this but--urk!”

The stench hit her. Not just of the Peallaidh’s outsides, but of his insides , which had to be ten times worse on principle alone. She heaved, covering her nose and mouth. “R-Roky! You must hold this!”

She threw it to the Ictinike, who caught it and gagged. “Holy shit, he reeks even worse than he did when he was alive! No way I’m schlepping this shit, you take it, Zha!”

He tossed it to Zha, who looked down at it, sniffed, and frowned. “...This isn’t for a hedonist like me…Joseph!” she shouted.

She lobbed it to Joe, who juggled it in his hands for a few seconds. “Ahh, ew, ew, ewww! Dude! No way, man! I can carry a lot of stuff, but this thing smells skunkier than a skunk! Comus, you’re carrying this!”

“W-Why me?!” he screamed, catching it. 

It smelled absolutely abhorrent, but…if nobody else was willing to do it, then he might as well accept the responsibility. He sighed, covering his nose and mouth with his bandanna.

“...Fine. But we are leaving right now, and we aren’t stopping until we hand this thing over to the Kelpies! Right now! Come on, all of you, back into the gauntlet! Isabeau, let’s hurry! Go, go, go!” 

“Right behind you! At a reasonable distance, that is,” Isabeau said.

~

Comus: 330 lb → 340 lb

Royce (Lham Dearg): 203 lb → 211 lb

Roky (Ictinike): 334 lb

Manola (Camazotz): 241 lb → 250 lb

Joe (Hooligan): 295 lb → 312 lb

Santana (Sandman): 221 lb

Oz (Jueyuan): 222 lb → 232 lb

Zha (Gu Huo Niao): 239 lb → 248 lb

Miusi (Zhu Tun She): 215 lb → 223 lb

Chapter Text

Comus: 340 lb

Royce (Lham Dearg): 211 lb

Roky (Ictinike): 334 lb

Manola (Camazotz): 250 lb

Joe (Hooligan): 312 lb

Santana (Sandman): 221 lb

Oz (Jueyuan): 232 lb

Zha (Gu Huo Niao): 248 lb

Miusi (Zhu Tun She): 223 lb

~

The time it takes to walk from Ueno Station to Ryogoku, where the Kelpies had made their home, is a little under an hour. When you’re carrying a severed demon head in one hand that stinks horribly enough that even the random demons that prowl the streets and byways of Tokyo don’t want anything to do with you, it feels three times as long. Being 200 pounds overweight doesn’t help. By the time Comus and Isabeau handed over the head and watched them rip it to shreds, they were so grateful to have the whole thing be over and done with that they didn't even want to cross the river. After Comus had washed his hands in the river, he and Isabeau agreed that there were still some quests to do in Ueno that would be good to get out of the way while they were still in the area. 

One of these involved the retrieval of a giant egg laid by a monstrous bird referred to as a ‘Rukh’, which made its nests in high places. What other high place could Comus think of, then, apart from the observation deck where he and his fellows had dealt with the monstrous Medusa? 

Among the poor petrified statues that remained long after their sculptor had passed, Comus ran his hand along the outer walls. 

Santana the Sandman kept a close eye on the demons that still milled about the former gallery, one hand kept steady on his western hat’s brim as he squinted at those that passed. “So, son. This here quest is for the sake o’ the people, then? I sure hope we get paid in some of those eggs the giver’s promised to make outta our bounty, all this vigilance is fixin’ up my appetite somethin’ fierce.” 

“If nothing else,” Isabeau said, cracking her neck and keeping her gun close to her body, “I feel it may improve our standing with the locals. The more good we do for them, the more information we may be able to gather.” 

“Sounds pretty darn trenchant to me, little missy. I woulda said the same thing had I the speed of mouth an’ the acuity of mind,” he said, tipping his hat to her. Isabeau didn't know whether to feel confused or flattered by the comment. Santana knocked twice on the wall. “Boy, you find that nest yet?” 

“I’m working on it,” he said with a sigh, squinting. “These walls are pretty thick, and I don’t even know how big of an egg we’re looking at. Or how big the thing that laid it is. I mean, how big is a Rukh, right?”

Isabeau looked down at her gauntlet. “My Burroughs’ database claims it to be ‘large enough to carry an elephant’...though I suppose that’s of no use to us. What is an elephant?”

“Y’all don’t know what an elephant is?” Santana asked, surprised. “Shoot, y’all really are country fellers, ain’tcha? An elephant’s like…it’s like…okay, y’know a horse?”

“Yes, we know what horses are,” Comus said, continuing to run his fingers along the wall. “We aren’t stupid.”

“Well, imagine a horse that’s twice as tall, four times as heavy…uh, grey…it’s got swords on its face, plus a fifth limb…big ears like a mouse’s…Folks say they never forget a thing they hear, and when their time’s up, they up ‘n die in these big ol’ graveyards…” 

“I’m sorry,” Isabeau interrupted, “is this some manner of demon you’re describing? It sounds awfully fearsome…”

“I think I found it!” Comus waved the others over, pointing at a decently-sized hole in the wall that was surrounded by talon marks and a few branches and sticks woven together. “I took a look inside, and at the very back, I can see something round and white. That must be the egg. Unfortunately, it’s too far in there for me to reach with my arm, so one of us will have to crawl into the space, grab it, and crawl back.”

“But who?” Isabeau asked. 

She looked at Comus. Then she looked at Santana. Then she looked down at herself. Then she sighed, “Of course…I should have known. Just…I must ask that you not look inside until I emerge with the egg, alright? I know how you men can be from time to time…”

“We wouldn’t even dream of doin’ such an ungentlemanly thing to a missy like yerself! Would we, son?” Santana said, his hand on his chest, as he turned to Comus. 

“O-Of course not,” he affirmed, also putting his hand on his chest. 

Isabeau narrowed her eyes at the both of them, but knew that they really didn't have much of an option otherwise. A bit indignantly, she removed her sword and coat, placing them both at the mouth of the nest. Then she rolled her shoulders, took a deep breath, and began to crawl inside, pulling herself forward with her elbows and knees. 

Comus and Santana stood at attention outside the entrance, dutifully avoiding gazing to where Isabeau had entered until after her back end was out of view. To pass the time and keep things from being so awkward, Santana lightly nudged Comus in the side. “So then, how big d’you reckon this egg’s gonna be? The quest did say ‘Eggs fer One Hundred’, after all.”

“Hmmm. Your average egg is about the length of my pointer finger with a width and depth a little under the length of my thumb, so by that logic, it’d have to be…maybe between four and five times the size of a regular egg? So perhaps about the size of a watermelon, or a decently-sized pumpkin.” 

Santana whistled. “Ain’t that impressive. How’d you get to be so good at math, son?” 

“That’s what math is? I did that kind of stuff all the time growing up on my family’s chicken farm. How many chickens would put out how many eggs at a time in how many hours for how many days…I can do things like that in my head by now, no problem.” 

“You got experience handlin’ birds, then?”

“I should hope so. My meals depended on it,” he said, leaning against the wall and the window that had been almost entirely subsumed by stone. “For better or for worse, I suppose. It really did make me sick of chickens, though. I can’t stand being around them anymore because of the memories it…do you hear something? Sort of like a whooshing--” 

The ‘window’ behind them shattered into pieces with the sound of crumbling rock as, swooping in, a truly enormous bird swept into the observation deck with an ear-piercing screech. Comus was sent tumbling to the ground, and Santana hit the deck, but the two were mostly unharmed save for being pelted with a few small bits of rubble.

“Eek! W-What was that?” Isabeau asked in a muffled tone, so deep into the nest that anyone looking in would only be able to see the soles of her boots. 

“It’s…” Comus could only look up at the massive avian that filled the space before him…at least, he thought it was an avian. It only resembled a bird in the vaguest sense, not having feathers but instead appearing to be formed from a desiccated white-and-yellow stone, its wings not nimble and feathered but stiff and appearing to only move on a hinge, if at all. Two beady red eyes stared out from the sides of what Comus reckoned to be its beak, and it dragged itself forward with a heavy scrape, knocking away and destroying the statues that laid in its path. Each wingtip brushed against the walls of the observation deck as it approached. 

“I think it’s the Rukh what laid that there egg!” Santana shouted, scrambling to his feet. “Son, get your demons out already, or our goose is cooked!”

“I’m already on it!” Comus shouted back, rapidly pressing buttons on his gauntlet while raising his hand and sending a small fireball towards the Rukh. It made direct contact with the monstrous bird’s face, and it let out an ugly screech as it winced back. That moment of recoil was just enough time for Roky and Zha (now fully prepared after being told there was a very real chance of a battle where they’d be required within the deck) to appear before him, the big-bellied Ictinike and fat-hipped Gu Huo Niao already having gotten used to working in tandem. 

“Hey, when in doubt, give the bird a nice flame-broiling, right?” he quipped, performing the same dual Agilao fireball spell with Zha that he did with the Peallaidh from earlier. The two sent their flame forward, impacting the great bird right in one of its wings, and it screeched out in pain once again.

“The fire seems to be working well! Keep it up, and I’ll join you!” Comus said, getting to his feet and raising his hand to send out another plume of fire.

Meanwhile, Isabeau just laid in the nest, aware that she really had no choice but to lay there and wait until the fight was over considering that there was no way that she could crawl her way out on her own as she was but far from happy about it. 

He looked over his shoulder. “Santana, you join in, and maybe we can take this thing out before it has a chance to attack!” 

Santana, in an odd show of Western bravado, pretended as though he was spinning a revolver and passing it from hand to hand until he aimed at the bird…though really, he just had his fingers positioned to make a gun shape. And even then, he let out a groan and lowered it. “It ain’t gonna be any use! That hardy body’ll make anything bounce off! I could use a Zan to try an’ cut through, but…” 

Comus interrupted, “I wouldn’t do that! Queenie’s sensors are telling me this thing is completely resistant to wind attacks.” 

“Well, shoot, then what am I supposed to do?! Why’d you even keep me out fer this fight?!” he yelled in a huff, looking around for something to do before picking up a rock and lobbing it at the Rukh. It bounced off of the bird, but it did seem to knock off a few of the calcified spires that sprouted from its back. It stopped for a moment…then slowly turned to look at Santana. 

He swallowed. “Aw, heck.” 

The Rukh raised its wings high (or as high as it could within the cramped space of the observation deck), let out another fearsome cry, and brought them down with a huge gust of wind. Sharp bits of rubble and statue fragments went flying in all directions along with the razor-honed edge of the airwave. Zha was pelted with enough rocks to bury her, and Roky nearly called out to her before being beaned on the side of the head with a petrified head and going down himself. Even Comus fell back and practically slid until he felt no more floor beneath his head. He pried his eyes open, looked up, and saw that he was looking down. His head was hanging over the destroyed edge of the observation deck. Quickly, he yelped and scrambled back to safety. 

When the dust settled, it seemed that Santana was the only one who was seemingly unaffected by the attack. In fact, if anything, he seemed like he’d come out of the experience looking even better than before, his sleek grey skin lightly dusted and his hat only requiring a few smacks against the wall before it was good to wear again. He looked down at himself with a fair bit of shock. “What the…?”

The bird seemed…genuinely baffled at how he had remained standing throughout the onslaught, so much so that it wasn’t taking the opportunity to attack. Someone did take the opportunity, however, and a snap of Comus’ fingers allowed him to set the Rukh alight, finally making it cry out in pain and drop to the floor, limp. He blew off the tip of his finger as if it was a gun.

“That’s why I kept you out.” 

“...Shoot, remind me not to underestimate you, son,” Santana admitted with a chuckle. 

“Wait,” Roky said, rubbing his aching head and starting to excavate Zha from beneath the rubble she was buried under, “so you knew that big fuck-off bird would come and attack us? And we came here anyway?”

“Of course! There’s an egg to be picked up and a quest to be completed, after all. And besides, I had complete faith in all of your abilities…and my strategic planning,” he added with a puff of his already puffy chest. Roky just muttered curses under his breath as Zha finally sat up and shook the dust particles out of her hair, smiling at him and Roky returning the favor. 

“Pardon me…” Isabeau’s voice echoed from inside the nest, “if you’re all quite finished taking care of the mother, could one of you help take me out? I have the egg in my hands, but I can’t quite extract myself…” 

“O-Oh, right! Izzy! I nearly forgot about you,” Comus said, stumbling over and reaching both thick arms into the cramped passage. Thankfully, she was just far enough that he was able to wrap his hands around her ankles. He yanked, but she only budged an inch.

“Please be careful! This egg is nearly as large as the space I’m in!” 

“Guys, a little help?” he asked, and Roky lumbered over wheeling his shoulders to assist, followed by Santana and Zha (Santana requesting to be before her so he wouldn’t be staring at her rear end the whole time, no matter how she said she was fine with it). All three held onto one another, and on the count of “One…two…three--!”, everyone yanked as hard as they could. 

Isabeau came sliding out soon after, clutching a huge speckled egg that was…

“Well, I’ll be darned,” Santana said, pushing his hat up. “It really is about the size of a watermelon. You were right, son.” 

“What did I tell you? Never doubt me again,” he joked. 

“Is that the mother Rukh…?” Isabeau asked, looking at the beastly avian’s burning corpse. It smelled acrid, probably owing to how it was more stone than flesh. “What a hideous thing, though I wish there was a less cruel way to have obtained this egg…” 

“I agree, but it was either us or it, Izzy,” Comus admitted. “Besides, it’s to feed tons and tons of people in Tokyo, so…the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the one?” 

Roky punched him in the arm. “You sound like that curly-haired pantywaist.”

“Ow! Aren’t I the only curly-haired pantywaist you know, anyways? Have you even met Jonathan?”

“I’ve heard stories from the others. Now let’s get the hell out of here and make some fuckin’ omelettes!”

~

Comus: 340 lb

Royce (Lham Dearg): 211 lb

Roky (Ictinike): 334 lb → 343 lb

Manola (Camazotz): 250 lb

Joe (Hooligan): 312 lb

Santana (Sandman): 221 lb → 230 lb

Oz (Jueyuan): 232 lb

Zha (Gu Huo Niao): 248 lb

Miusi (Zhu Tun She): 223 lb → 232 lb

~

Comus could at least carry the egg in his bag with little issue beyond some extra weight (which he was already quite used to), and when he placed it before the bartender, the man practically lit up upon seeing it retrieved. The other hunters even seemed impressed, only becoming even more impressed upon seeing that the people who retrieved it were a fat boy and a girl. The chef who put out the quest made due on his promise, and eggs were on the house for everyone that night at Ueno Station. Comus happily dipped his croquettes in yolk done over easy while Isabeau munched idly on a plate of scrambled eggs and his demons gorged themselves on ground-pork omelettes. The whole party had been taken out for the occasion, seeing the sights of the bar and making conversation with the hunters there. 

In one corner, Joe sat working through an entire quiche on his own, the tubby hooligan gulping down can after can of soda pop as he did so, and belched with his feet propped up on the table in front of him. “Ahhh…man, this is the life, isn’t it, Ozzy? Mr. C treats us demons of his better than any other hunter I’ve seen, and I’ve seen plenty! They’re always like ‘do this’, ‘go kill that thing’, but he really gets us, y’know?”

Oz, the Jueyuan, sat with his legs folded on the opposing seat, lifting one slice of quiche up to his mouth while cupping his other hand underneath it to prevent spilling. “Indeed. Master Comus provides well for us. I’m very grateful to be in his employ, though I hope I can prove my worth in a fight soon.”

“Hey, look on the bright side, man! The more time you don’t spend fighting, the more time you can spend chillaxing and eating! Isn’t that better anyway?” 

Oz bit into his slice and just murmured a noncommittal response.

In another part of the bar, Santana carried a piece of egg-topped sushi into Manola the Camazotz’ mouth, grinning all the while as he watched the plump bat-demoness lick her fanged mouth clean of egg scraps. “Mmmm, they really are delicious! And you’re being such a gentleman, hand-feeding me like this…”

“It’s my pleasure, missy,” he said with a snicker. “It’s the least I could do as the feller who practically cinched the victory against the big momma what laid this here egg.” 

“Really?” she asked, eyes wide. “It was you? Because Roky was telling me--”

“Pshhaw, don’t listen to a word that boy says. All he does is think with his wang. Jus’ lookit him over there,” he said, pointing across the way. 

Roky had Zha seated on his lap, her thighs as large as his stomach, and was bouncing her with his waist as they fed one another from a plate stacked high with bowls of oyakodon. They were cooing and giggling at one another while spooning the chicken, egg, and rice concoction into each other’s mouths, Roky gripping her ass cheeks and Zha playing with his moobs. Frankly, it would have been enough to get them kicked out if demons weren’t pretty much exempt from most social rules on account of being able to kill humans as easily as small animals. 

Santana shook his head, clicking his tongue. “You know that boy knows his last beau kicked the bucket? I think her name was Beike. Shot in the back, he said. And he don’t even care, he just moved onto the next hot piece of tail.” 

“Well, you can’t really blame him, can you?” Manola said. 

“Wh--?! Don’t tell me you…”

“Me? …Oh! Haha, no, no, I have no interest in that young lady. I mean more that us demons’ lives are pretty temporary, especially when it comes to humans. Between fusing us, and us falling in battle, and getting revived, and all manner of other fates…you sort of have to learn to deal with it early on, or you risk driving yourself crazy. Even moreso with Comus and his…you know.”

“His condition? Yeah, I remember gettin’ the spiel ‘bout that from the others. Nasty business, but I dunno, it almost makes a feller appreciate what he’s got in life. The opportunities he has. The friends he makes…” his gaze turned to Manola with a charming grin, and the Camazotz bashfully looked away as she ate another piece of sushi. 

At the bar counter, where Comus and Isabeau sat and ate, one more demon lingered: Royce. Royce, by now, had stayed with Comus the longest out of everyone in the party, and yet he was the thinnest out of all of them. That wasn’t to say the Lham Dearg was skinny by any means--he’d clearly developed a pot belly--but he was still quite muscular and otherwise fit. Comus was sharing his croquettes with him as he explained the situation.

“So, our next stop is--mmph--an ‘electronics’ shop over in Ueno. I’ve been told that’s a place sort of like an apothecary where people buy and sell magical items such as the ‘lehd lightbulb’ we’ve been instructed to retrieve, but a demon’s set up a domain there. Since our party’s all full up at the moment, that means it’s time for fusion, and…” he sighed, leaning back onto the bartop. “I’ve chosen you to be fused next, Royce.” 

“Aye, is that so?” He asked, taking a bite of croquette. “I figured it was bound t’ happen sooner or later, laddie. After all, I haven’t ‘ad a square go in ages.”

“Yeah, that is true…” Comus said with a sniffle.

“Wh--oi, are you cryin’? Dun’ start with that, noo!” Royce grabbed Comus by the head and forced him to look up. “You remember when I first met ye down in th’ caves? You were nothin’ but a scrawny little thing! And now lookit ye! Right massive, yer becomin’! An’ ye look all the happier wit’ all these friends ye’ve got, tae boot. The lass there included,” he said, raising a croquette in acknowledgement towards Isabeau. She made no reply. “Ever since I first saved yer behind against that gang o’ Wendigo an’ Nagas, I’ve been glad t’ serve ye, and that ain’t aboot tae change now!”

Comus wiped his eyes with a smile. “A-Alright. If you say so, Royce.”

“By th’ way, what class bloke am I bein’ fused with, anyhoo?”

“Funny you should ask, it was…uh…some Zhu Tun She named Miusi who kept trying to awkwardly cozy up to us with fake stories. He was so irritating to be around that I didn't even invite him to this little feast…”

“A little feast, eh? Wasn’t that yer dream once upon a time, Comus?” 

Now that Royce mentioned it, he was right. He had always wanted a large retinue of attendants who doted on and served him, being able to feast and gorge himself day in and day out to his liking…and it seemed that this little party with his demons and Isabeau was the first step to making it come true, divorced from the original context of him wanting to become a Luxuror. The class divide meant practically nothing down in Tokyo, after all, and it was easy for Comus to forget who was who from time to time. 

In his reminiscing, he didn't even notice that Isabeau was the one to speak next, saying “Just know that you’ll be doing us a good service by fusing with him. Whoever you and him become cannot possibly be any more irritating than the one called Misui already was.”

“Bleedin’ Nora, one o’ yer mates is actually acknowledgin’ me fer once?! It’s a Christmas miracle, bwahaha!” Royce performed a mock bow. “‘Tis an honor tae serve ye milady.” 

Isabeau covered her mouth, failing to stifle the snicker that started to escape from her lips. Comus looked at her like she had just managed to walk on water, shocked that--of all people-- she also found his lame jokes funny. 

“Er…If I may?” Mido’s voice piped up from Comus’ gauntlet.

“Oh, yes, of course, Mido. Sorry! I completely forgot I had you open. Please, take Royce back and do what you need to.”

“Why, it’s quite alright! To see you enjoying the company of your demons so, sharing your food and drink with them and partaking in the revelry…oh, how it brings a smile to my face! But yes, now…we shall commence the fusion!”

Royce was unsummoned, and on Comus’ gauntlet screen, the fusion process played out. Within the ingredient tube, Royce gave one final thumbs-up Comus’ way, and Miusi…well, Miusi was asleep, which was probably for the best as he dissolved into data. The two swirled together, combining, until a humanoid figure emerged from the pixelated light that poured from Comus’ gauntlet. 

It was masculine in build with a human-like body that had colorless grey skin, but where a human head would have been, there was instead the large visage of a brown-furred red-eyed bison, two small horns poking out from the sides of his scalp. His clothes were oddly anachronistic, almost space-age in design with how riveted metal sheets covered his shoulders and connected a flowing black cape to his greebled robin’s-egg blue trousers (called such for what they resemble most, even though they stretched up halfway past his midsection--being kept up with an electronic chip-like belt--and covered part of his feet). In one hand, constructed of steel and sleek black stone, he held a staff topped by a depiction of a moon revolving around an astral body. 

Of course, as seemed to be the case for every demon that came to be in Comus’ company, he was noticeably large, though his size erred closer to the truly obese among them: the only ones who outweighed him would have been Joe, Roky, and Comus himself. His pale arms, thick with flab, were pushed out to the sides by a sizable set of sagging moobs that rivaled Roky’s in terms of size--an impressive feat considering Roky was substantially heavier--and though his stomach was compressed somewhat by how it stuffed the front of his pants, its presence was obvious judging from how it gurgled and churned. His pants were tight enough that they almost revealed more of his thick roll-filled legs than if they were just as revealed as his arms, and audibly squeaked each time he moved. 

Comus, once again face-to-breast with his new demon, looked up to meet the beast-man demon in the eyes. Mido’s result prediction claimed this demon to be a ‘Morax’...though whether that was actually the being’s name or just one of many seemed to be up in the air at the moment. Isabeau stopped eating, sharing Comus in looking up at the hefty demon. In fact, most of the others had been drawn to the silent figure…

Then he banged his fist on his padded chest twice and let out a long, wet belch.

“Urgh, fuck. Dunno where that came from,” he slurred out in a grumbling tone, looking around before taking notice of the samurai. He lowered his staff to the ground, revealing its true use: it was a cane for him to support himself on. “You my new master?” 

“In fact, I am,” Comus said, wary. He glanced over to Isabeau and saw her half-heartedly trying to wave away the lingering effects of his belch. “I’m Comus. Pleasure to meet you…?”

“Y’can call me Costello. Nice to meetcha, or whatever,” he said, bringing a fist up to his mouth and stifling another burp. “Oh, shit, you guys are eating? Let me in on that,” he said, lumbering forward and almost shoving past Comus as he wedged himself between the two samurai’s seats. “Hold this,” he absent-mindedly commanded as he shoved his staff/cane into his master’s hands.

Comus, with a slab of moob flesh pressing into his cheek and a staff in his hands, could only watch as Costello grabbed a handful of croquettes and shoved it all into his mouth, crumbs and small bits of meat and mashed potato coating the area around his mouth and his hands alike. He messily scarfed down three or four at a time, his shameless gluttony earning a whoop of kinship from Roky, a contemptuous shake of the head from Oz, and looks of shock and disgust from the rest. Comus leaned forward just enough to be able to see Isabeau over the curve of Costello’s backside, where a squat curved tail whipped about happily. 

“...I’m sorry, Izzy, but…I suppose this is the best you’re going to get from me and my demons. If you want to regroup with the others, then--”

“It’s quite alright,” she cut him off, the opposite side of his demon’s moob fat pressing against her cheek. “I’m content to…tolerate…the unique kinds of demons you tend to attract. For now. Shall we head to the Ueno domain?”

“That’d probably be good. It’s not like I have much left to eat anyway.”

Costello belched loudly again, and Comus could swear he saw Isabeau’s gaze briefly dart up at his demon’s face before flitting away. 

~

Comus: 340 lb

Roky (Ictinike): 343 lb

Manola (Camazotz): 250 lb

Joe (Hooligan): 312 lb

Santana (Sandman): 230 lb

Oz (Jueyuan): 232 lb

Zha (Gu Huo Niao): 248 lb

Costello (Morax): 283 lb

~

The domain itself was odd, to say the least: odder than any that either Isabeau or Comus had seen up until that point, anyways. The electronics store was unchanged for the most part, save for the expected effects of looting and general disrepair--broken televisions, VCRs strewn across the floor, numerous empty spaces where computers and phones once lived--but every inch of the place was covered in gold. If either of them had been familiar with the myth of King Midas, they’d have thought he had gone on a shopping spree. As such, the golden floor was slippery, and everything being the same color meant that it was all too easy to get lost and turned around. 

The solution was clear: find a demon currently in the domain to lead them to the owner. That was easier said than done, however, as many of the demons in the domain were the same as the ones out in Ueno…and none of them wanted anything to do with the two samurai or Zha, who Comus had opted to take with them. The Gu Huo Niao must have edged far enough into the realm of obesity, even with her proportions, to be unappealing to most demons…though not for lack of trying. If Comus hadn’t been actively reeling her in and scolding her, she’d have probably kept trying to convince them until they opted to retaliate physically, which she wouldn’t have had an issue with. Even when he scolded her, she would press her ample thighs together and moan through a closed mouth, flustering both him and a confused (in more ways than one) Isabeau. 

Eventually, though, they found one. It was an Oni, a red-skinned snaggle-toothed humanoid with a white horn protruding from the center of his scalp beside two smaller dark ones, and much like Royce before him, he had the body shape of a strongman: a stout barrel-like middle and thick limbs that were just as much fat as they were muscle. He called himself ‘Rinkin’. 

“Alright then, Rinkin,” Comus said, looking up at the tall demon. If Roky was head-and-shoulders above him, this Oni was easily twice his height, having to stoop so his head-horn wouldn’t scrape against the ceiling of the gilded store. “Can you take us to this domain’s owner?”

“Uh huh,” he grunted, nodding his head with a grin. He pointed in a direction to the west.

“...Is that not where we came in from?” Isabeau asked, her arms crossed. “I highly doubt they would be that way.”

“Ohhh…” Rinkin groaned sadly, then scratched his chin in thought. Then he snapped his fingers, apparently having an epiphany, and turned around to point at an automatic door behind him. 

Zha sauntered around him and hooked her wings into the handles, yanking as hard as she could. “Hnnngh--! …No good…they won’t budge an inch…”

Comus tapped his foot. “Come on, then. You said you knew where they were! I agreed to let you be in my team,” leaving out that he joined mainly because Zha was interested in him, “and in return, you have to lead us out of here.”

“Mmmm…” he murmured, scratching his head. Then he stared at a specific spot nearby for nearly half a minute, before raising his metal naginata polearm high and whacking it as hard as he could. The wall bent, and it made a cacophonous sound as metal struck metal hard enough to generate sparks, but nothing else happened. 

“...That’s a wall, Rinkin.”

Rinkin nodded with a big grin. Comus sighed and shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. This was a mistake. This was definitely, definitely a mistake…but it was only after he had unsummoned the oni that there were the sounds of deep, heavy, thudding footsteps. 

“Don’t tell me that’s the master coming…” he muttered.

“You don’t think…” Isabeau started, “you don’t think that your oni made a loud noise specifically to lure the domain master out to where we were, do you?”

“If that’s what he was doing, I don’t know if he’d have seemed quite as eager…but I think we’re in for a fight either way,” Comus replied, preemptively summoning Roky and Joe to ready them for combat. 

Trudging slowly without a word around the corner from the direction of what was once the store’s microchip/processor section, a hulking humanoid monster emerged. His skin, perhaps even his muscles and bones, was made of a polished pure gold alloy that jutted out in places like the crags along the edge of a cliff, culminating at the top of his head in a downward-sloping crest ending in two short horns. His red eyes and fanged grimace were devoid of all emotion save for distaste and grim determination, and though he wore traditional green, red, and white Japanese clothing (complete with a fabric sash around his waist), it was clear they were straining to contain his heft. This Kin-Ki was more like a sumo wrestler than a grappler, all of his weight contained in his rotund center. This, combined with his great height, already being composed mainly of a gold-like mineral, and how the slippery gold floor bent and warped beneath his every step made him only appear even heavier than he truly was. 

“Holy…” Comus trailed off, looking up at the beastly ogre. 

Joe squeaked in mild terror as he saw the Kin-Ki slowly approach. “Dude, that guy is massive! M-Mr. C, are you sure we can take this guy on? I mean, I don’t use the phrase lightly, but this guy is built like a gold craphouse!” 

“Shithouse,” Roky corrected. “You can say shithouse. We’re all adults here. But I agree, that motherfucker is big. ”

“Ohhhh, how I wonder what his dieting regimen was to have gotten so huge…If he can still walk like that, then he must still have plenty of muscle underneath all that…I wonder how he dresses himself…?” Zha murmured, covering her mouth to hide an eager grin and a fantasizing mind. 

Isabeau drew her sword and stepped forward. “Regardless…you’re all aware of the saying, yes? The bigger they are, the harder they fall.” 

“Wise words,” Comus said, cracking his knuckles, “though it may not last too much longer. Who knows how many of our enemies may be bigger than us, soon enough…” 

The Kin-Ki rolled his thick neck, a hand on his shoulder, and widened his stance to prepare for the fight.

Comus was the first to go, sending out a small shock of wind magic, but all it did was scrape the exterior of his chest. Roky, taking refuge behind what was once the check-out counter, brought his palms together to create an Agilao ball of flame and chucked it at the ogre like it was a basketball. “Think fast, asshole!”

There was only a negligible effect as the Kin-Ki remained standing, though some of the craggy outcroppings and the surface of his skin seemed to have melted slightly from the heat. Joe spun his pistol on his finger and held it sideways as he fired, but the bullet did little: it stuck in the ogre’s chest and scorched the area around it, but otherwise he didn't flinch. Joe gulped. “H-He isn’t even flinching…I’m scared! M-Mr. C…?!”

“Just keep a cool head, Joe,” he reassured, nodding to Zha. She seemed to get the signal, and she quickly swept out between the group and the Kin-Ki. Zha raised her wings high…then began to perform a sort of swaying dance that accentuated the sway and jostle of her thighs and hips as she bounced and bent over. The little self-satisfied grin on her face said everything about how she felt about doing it. The Kin-Ki didn't budge, but one of his eyes did twitch. 

That should make it a bit harder for him to focus on the battle, Comus thought, but immediately afterwards he realized Isabeau was nowhere to be seen. Joe was beside him, Roky was behind the counter, and Zha was out in front, but where was…?

Then there was the sound of quick pattering footsteps darting between aisles and shelves of long-broken golden electronics, and before anybody could get a glimpse of what was making the sound, the Kin-Ki let out an inhuman roar. As it doubled over, Comus could see Isabeau attempting to plunge her sword into his back. Though her blade found no purchase, it simply bouncing off of his metal skin, the impact seemed to jolt him enough for him to take action. Once he’d gotten ahold of his senses, the Kin-Ki began to charge forward like a raging bull, plodding steps turning into thudding impacts that shook the whole domain. He was wide enough that the edges of his rough-hewn limbs brushing past the shelves toppled over each that he passed in a self-perpetuating domino effect. 

“Incomiiiing!” Comus shouted to warn the others, but he was just a bit too late: with his hand curled into a fist, the Kin-Ki delivered a devastating back-handed punch into Zha’s face, sending her flying into a still-standing stack of boxed mousepads. Her pudgy legs straightened for a second, then went limp. 

“Oh crap, Zha!” Joe yelled.

“Joe, pay attention!” his master immediately followed up. 

The Kin-Ki skidded to a stop just in time to sock Joe right in the face. The hooligan practically flipped over vertically, as one second he was standing upright, and the next he was face-down on the ground…which shouldn’t have been possible considering he was punched from the front, but anything was possible through the wonder of severe blunt force trauma, he supposed. Comus nearly started panicking, but a woozy thumbs-up assured him that Joe was alright…at least, for the time being. More concerning was that the Kin-Ki was now looming over him with its emotionless scarlet gaze fixed directly on him. 

Almost on instinct, he thrust his palm upward and delivered a Zan wind spell directly into the face of the Kin-Ki, slicing out one of its eyes and sending it staggering back in pain. He stumbled out from beneath the ogre and rummaged around in his bag for a revival bead. “Roky, Joe! You keep up the offensive, I’ll go revive Zha!” 

“What else d’you think we’d be doing, dumbass?!” Roky shouted back, already setting up and delivering another fireball. This one scorched the Kin-Ki’s clothing and melted its left arm to the point where the bone was nearly visible, but it still could move the limb with little issue. 

Joe, managing to stop his head from swimming for a second, rolled his fat body over and aimed his gun up at the Kin-Ki, firing one shot aimlessly. It embedded itself into the Kin-Ki’s lower jaw…and just like that, it no longer cared about what Comus had done to it. It was now glaring down at Joe with its single remaining eye. 

“Eep,” he said.

Comus, running as fast as he could and stumbling over fallen shelves to get to Zha’s body, slipped past Isabeau (who was heading the opposite direction) and knelt beside the mangled demon, slotting a revival bead into her mouth. He kept a close eye on her, holding his breath, and only exhaled once she began to stir. 

There was no time to rest, however, and back near the entrance, another brutal impact and the sound of bones crunching into meat meant that someone else had probably fallen as a result of the Kin-Ki’s onslaught. Comus set her down and began to hurry back before she ever had a chance to open her eyes. 

By the time he’d returned to where Joe and Roky were, it was clear things hadn’t gotten much better. Roky still took refuge behind the counter, though now the Kin-Ki was leaning over it--its weight enough to practically crumple the golden desk--and was blindly groping underneath to try and find its prey. Roky was presumably hidden somewhere underneath. Off to the side, Isabeau was looking over the crumpled body of Joe, who…it was better, maybe, to not explain how he looked at this moment. If you’ve ever seen an entertainer smash a watermelon with a sledgehammer, if you paused halfway through, that was what Joe’s head looked like. Comus cringed at the sight and produced another revival bead. “Isabeau, here! Feed him this!” 

He tossed it to her, and she just barely managed to catch it, though she hesitated until she was sure what flap of flesh was connected to what remained of his throat. 

The Kin-Ki, noticing the new combatant, gave up his probing search for Roky and instead began to stomp over to Comus. He swung his balled fists from side to side, Comus managing to dodge each heavy blow, but he didn't escape unscathed: at least once blow did connect, hitting him right in his side and probably knocking a few ribs loose. Even so, he continued to circle around the demon while he figured out his strategy.

At the same time, Isabeau--content that Joe was fine after his bones began to knit--skittered across the floor and took refuge beside Roky under the front counter. The obese Ictinike shout-whispered, “Hey, what the fuck’re you doing down here?! This is my spot, lady, go find somewhere else to hide!” 

“Quiet!” she hissed. “I’ll forgive your coarse tone if you assist me in a plan to fell this demon that requires your help. Will you join me?”

He huffed. “What other choice do I have? Fuck it. What’s the plan?”

“Though this demon’s skin is hardy and resistant to blades, he seems to be more vulnerable to magic, and an impact to his back was enough to make him recoil. You use that Agilao spell of yours to scorch the small of his back, and I’ll take the opportunity to deliver a fatal blow. Are we clear?”

“Crystal. Small suggestion, though: how about you go and distract the big bastard with Comus, and I deliver the finishing blow?” 

She wrinkled her nose. “If you wish to get yourself killed, then go right ahead. Join the one you called your lover. Beike, I believe her name was…? I happened to overhear that you felt little grief for her when she passed. Perhaps the same will be said of us when you do the same from your own arrogance.” 

Roky blinked, mouth agape from her brutal words. On the other side of the counter, there was a loud thump that shook the ground. “...I-I…jeez. Fucking harsh. Fine then. I’ll do what you want me to.” 

“Very good,” Isabeau said brusquely, rising from her hiding spot and climbing onto the counter, where she waited as Roky put his hands together and conjured up another fireball. 

The two of them watched Comus stumble and circle around the ogre, becoming exhausted both from the movement and the pain, waiting for the right moment…until, finally, the Kin-Ki’s back was turned to the two of them. Roky sent the Agilao flame flying, scorching the center of its back and melting the gold along his spine. The ogre let out a fearsome groan as he doubled over, and then Isabeau made her move: she leapt up into the air with her sword drawn, and--taking advantage of the softened skin--plunged the blade deep into its chest. 

It cried out in pain, but beyond that, there was nothing left for it to do. The red glow of its eyes faded, and it fell to its knees in defeat. 

Isabeau yanked her sword out of its body, and Comus staggered forward with a half-eaten life stone in his hand. It seemed he was already in the process of trying to heal up his wounds. “Izzy, that was amazing! You took it out in a single blow!”

“Yeah, nice work, Mrs. I!” cheered Joe, whose teeth had returned to their proper places in his mouth soon enough to allow him to speak. 

“Aha, thank you all very much,” Isabeau said with a bow, a little embarrassed at the attention…though, once she noticed Roky sulking beside her with his flabby arms crossed, she reached out and patted him on the back. “Though, I couldn’t have pulled it off without Roky’s help. He’s what made it all possible.” 

He seemed honestly surprised at her thanking him, but he couldn’t let it show, and instead sputtered a bit before blushing and scratching his chin, “‘B-Bout damn time somebody gave me the respect I deserve around here…”

Comus sighed, feeling around the side of his dented armor. Much of the stabbing pain he was feeling had gone away, so it seemed that all his internal injuries were healed up. He wiped his mouth of life stone powder. All around them, the gilding had vanished from the electronics store, returning everything within to its decrepit, filthy, abandoned state. It almost looked better with a layer of gold over it all. Almost. “The domain’s gone…so the only thing left to do, I suppose, is to grab the light bulb. Where do we even start in a place like this, though…?”

“Excuse me…” a sultry voice cooed, and from the direction of the shelves, Zha strutted towards everyone carrying a small red-and-white box in her wings. “This wouldn’t happen to be what we’re looking for…is it…?”

Everyone leaned in, gathering around. Comus scanned it with Queenie. “The mystic script on it reads ‘Afra LED Bright Light’...this must be it. Where did you find this, Zha?”

“It was near the stack of mouse pads that I…fell into…” 

“Pretty fuckin’ convenient,” Roky muttered.

Comus took the box from her, nodding a small thank-you her way, and shifted it in his grasp. Whatever was inside, it sounded intact. “Perfect. Izzy, if you’d want, once we drop this off and turn in for the night, we could regroup with the others and cross the river into Kasumigaseki?”

“That would be nice,” she replied.

“Do you think they’ll have more egg stuff back at the bar? I could eat,” Joe said, leaning in between the two of them. They gave him a look, and he cowed a little with a sheepish expression.

“I-I just really want more quiche…”

~

Comus: 340 lb

Roky (Ictinike): 343 lb

Manola (Camazotz): 250 lb

Joe (Hooligan): 312 lb

Santana (Sandman): 230 lb

Oz (Jueyuan): 232 lb → 241 lb

Zha (Gu Huo Niao): 248 lb

Costello (Morax): 283 lb

Rinkin (Oni): 261 lb

Chapter Text

Comus: 340 lb

Roky (Ictinike): 343 lb

Manola (Camazotz): 250 lb

Joe (Hooligan): 312 lb

Santana (Sandman): 230 lb

Zha (Gu Huo Niao): 248 lb

Costello (Morax): 283 lb

Shazamu (Kabuso): 268 lb

~

The regrouping with Walter and Jonathan was uneventful for the most part, if you don’t consider Walter ribbing him about his size and Jonathan only becoming increasingly concerned for his friend’s health out of the ordinary. Together, they returned to where the Kelpies had gathered, and they happily arranged themselves into ‘Formation B’ to allow the samurai to cross the river. Comus couldn’t help but notice how the water-logged horses grunted and groaned as he trudged over them, when they made no such noise for the others. Comes with the territory, he supposed.

From there, they realized that…well, they were lost once again. After all, they had a map of Tokyo, but it wasn’t like they knew the difference between Shinjuku and Ginza. It was all Greek--er, mystic script to them. It was then that, with Comus scarcely giving the order, his latest demon emerged. 

The fusion to form her, combining the humble Oz with the dim-witted Rinkin, was nothing special, but it had resulted in a Kabuso with an ego almost as big as her belly. The diminutive anthropomorphic otter may have only come up to Comus’ knee, but she was almost as wide as she was thick, her sizable stomach bouncing and swaying as she marched forward. A vibrant blue bowl cut peeked out from beneath a straw-woven sedge hat, and her whiskers twitched as she grinned a self-satisfied grin.

“Don’t you worry your sorry little heads about a thing! I, Shazamu, know Tokyo like the back of my hand! I’ll take you to Kasumigaseki in no time!” 

Despite protests from everyone present, ranging from ‘she’s a demon’ to ‘she was literally born twenty minutes ago and couldn’t logically know anything about Tokyo’, they all acknowledged there wasn’t much other option, and were forced to follow her. They followed her north, into the Holy Resurrection Cathedral of St. Nicholas of Japan, but all they found there was a depressed Goblin seeking the return of their queen. Further north, they wandered into the Yushima Seido temple in Ochanomizu, but were quickly chased out by an agitated Okuninushi. It took until she literally hit a wall of rubble (and for Zha to have picked up a nasty slash wound that took her down momentarily) for Shazamu to realize she may have been confusing north with south. The group was forced to turn around after that. 

After another few hours of traversal, they passed into an open road flanked by elevator doors that the scanners recognized as Sakurada-dori avenue in the district of Kasumigaseki. Comus leaned on a gate bordering a small estate and caught his breath, thoroughly exhausted from all the running around. The other samurai were less exhausted but just as irritated watching Shazamu look around and rub her double chin in thought. “Hmmmm, yes…yes, I’m certain of it! This is almost definitely Kasumigaseki! See? I brought you here safe and sound after all.”

“We know it’s Kasumigaseki, you bloated little know-nothing!” Walter snapped, bending at the hip to stare down at her. “Our gauntlets say as much, which is more than I can say for your sense of direction. As I was at pains to impress upon the others, you couldn’t have known where we were going. You were just randomly wandering around, weren’t you?!” 

Shazamu cast a look back at Walter. “Huuuh? What the hell are you talking about? I led you here, didn't I? It doesn’t matter what method I took to get you there. You should be thanking me, not calling me names, human!” 

“I’ll call you whatever I want, demon!” Walter retorted, earning an offended scoff from Shazamu. “Why in blazes are you shocked when you did the exact same thing to me?!” 

“Walter, please,” Jonathan said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “She does have a point. We got here after all, didn't we? There’s no sense in antagonizing her, so just leave it at that and let us continue.” 

The hot-headed samurai sucked his teeth. 

“Yeah, human,” Shazamu said, picking her nose with her pinky paw. “Let us continue.” 

“Comus, unsummon your demon before I choose to dropkick it over the nearest fence.” 

“Fine, fine…” he said, finally having caught his breath enough. He promptly unsummoned the kabuso, straightening his back and getting a few satisfying cracks out of the act. “We’re here in Kasumigaseki now, but…where’s the Counter-Demon Force base? All that’s here is an empty byway.” 

Isabeau, who had been covertly investigating the area on her own, approached the others with her sword drawn. “It seems there are doors much like the ones in the lower reaches of Naraku scattered about this area…what did Queen B call them, Comus? Elevators?” Comus just shrugged. She continued, “Two of them seem to be locked, but there’s one that has a rather fearsome man guarding it. I feel his white suit must mark him as a member of that Ashura-Kai group that we’ve been hearing talk of.” 

“The Ashura-Kai…” Walter mused, crossing his arms. “Come to think of it, I’ve been overhearing conversations from both the demons and the Unclean Ones around here about them. They set up the underground settlements such as the one we last met in, in exchange for the citizens paying protection fees. No fees, no protection.” 

“Is that not some form of extortion?” Jonathan asked. 

“One remarkably indistinguishable from our kingdom’s taxation system, I might add,” he chuckled, but a dirty look from Jonathan made him straighten up. “Either way, I feel strongly that that would-be pugilist is guarding the way into the base. Shall we attempt to coerce him?”

Comus rubbed his neck. “I doubt coercion will work, but…I can give it a shot. Where is he, Isabeau?” 

“I’ll take you to him.” 

She did as instructed, and the other two samurai trailed along until they came to the elevator in question…only now noticing that they had been standing in plain sight of the man guarding the door the whole time, and he didn't look happy. In fact, he looked remarkably angry for a man with a tattoo of a cartoon monkey under his left eye. “Who the hell are you chumps?” he grunted. “And what’s with the getup? You freaks have been muttering to yourselves ever since you got here.” 

Comus opened his mouth, and Jonathan spoke. “Pardon us, sir. We’re seeking the Counter-Demon Force base. Would you, by any chance, know where it is?”

The monkey man narrowed his eyes narrower than was ever thought possible. “Who wants to know?” 

The elevator doors behind him opened, and out sauntered an extremely fit man with diamond rings all along his fingers. He wiped his nose with the back of his palm as he snorted. “What’s going on out here?” 

“Some pissants want to get into the base,” the monkey man growled.

“What, seriously?” the diamond guy asked, looking at the samurai. “Don’t you know? This place is being guarded by the Ashura-Kai. That means stay out. We’re on high alert lately, too. Some of our other guys claimed to have seen angels coming down from the sky, and it’s got everyone pissin’ their pants.” 

“You’ve also bought into that rumor?” Walter groaned. “Look, we aren’t angels. Yes, we came from the sky, but it’s only because--”

Both monkey man and diamond guy went pale, staring at the samurai and then at each other. 

“Y-You don’t think…”

“It has to be them! No question about it, it’s…they’re the angels!” 

Walter’s shoulders slumped. Comus lightly smacked him on the back of the head. “You and your big mouth, Walt.” 

“Please,” Jonathan said, stepping forward, “I feel there’s some miscommunication occurring. We are Samurai from the Eastern Kingdom of--”

The monkey man shrieked. “Y-You stay the hell away from me!” 

“The thing!” his cohort sputtered, shaking his shoulder. “Summon the demon you got, man! We have to get the hell out of here!” 

Trembling, the thug reached into his pants pocket and produced a small, thin box that lit up with images. He poked and prodded at the screen while his associate bravely hid behind his bulky frame, it lighting up and spitting out a flood of white pixels and voxels.

Isabeau hummed. “That thin plate of theirs…it seems to function in much the same way as our gauntlets, does it not?” 

“I’ve seen a couple demons using them, actually,” Comus replied. “I wonder what they are…?”

They had no time to discuss theories, however, as the demon that the man was summoning had finally materialized: a grotesquely ugly thing resembling a giant spider with sharp blade-like legs of bone, the sallow face of an ogre with a prominent snaggle-toothed underbite, long greasy red hair, and two narrow corkscrew horns. Out of all the foes that they’d faced, this was probably the largest out of all of them, being the size of an elephant…if they had knowledge of such a thing. Clearly, based on prior conversations, they did not. The Tsuchigumo--a monstrous spider-crab--slavered and let out an ugly guttural sound. 

While Comus summoned his demons (Roky, Zha, and Joe, as he had become used to) and Walter drew his sword, the two Ashura-Kai members immediately turned tail and headed for the hills. Jonathan started after them, shouting “Wait! Please, come back! You need not fear us!”.

Isabeau just shook her head and stated “Jonathan and I will attempt to chase them down. Can you all handle this beast?” 

“Naturally,” Comus and Walter replied simultaneously, before sharing a suspicious look and laughing off the coincidence. She sighed and darted away, following after Jonathan and leaving the two samurai and Comus’ demons to deal with the ugly beast. 

Taking advantage of how the Tsuchigumo’s attention was drawn by Isabeau passing by it, Comus and Roky both rubbed their hands together and shot out clouds of icy mist that assaulted the demonic spider’s legs, freezing it solid to the ground beneath it. It let out a grunt, trying to shift its limbs, but it was no use. Joe threw his pistol up into the air, caught it, and fired a bullet right into one of its joints, crippling it thanks to its inability to dodge. It was almost a little sad how the beast was practically a sitting duck, and Zha (who now sported a pale sea-foam green scar running up the length of her left thigh) only made things worse by performing her seductive sashaying dance, the monstrous spider’s dull green eyes spinning from her movements. Another round of Bufu spells and another shot in another leg joint from Joe later, it seemed that they had things taken care of. The beast couldn’t budge an inch. 

“I’ll end it thus!” Walter shouted, lunging forward with his sword reared back in preparation for a mighty swing, intending to chop off the demon’s head. At the last moment, however, it jerked its head, and one of the horns smacked him in the side. His aim was thrown off so badly that not only did he not inflict any massive damage on the giant enemy crab’s weak point, his blade instead sunk into where one of its limbs’ tips met the ground, breaking it free. He hissed through his teeth. “...Whoops.” 

“Walter!” Comus shouted, annoyed. Already, the Tsuchigumo was taking advantage of its freed limb, and its first order of business was to jab Zha in the shoulder with the point. She let out a cry and staggered backwards, dropping to her knees. 

Roky was glad to see it wasn’t a fatal blow, but before he could begin his retaliation, the Tsuchigumo emitted a low growl as it knitted its brow at the Ictinike. Sparks began to fly between its two horns, electrical connections running from bottom to top like a Jacob’s ladder, before a sudden bolt shot out and hit him right in the hand, conducted through his metal claws. “Gyaagh, fuck!” he shrieked, holding his fried wrist with grit teeth. “...You’ll regret that, you ugly piece of shit crab! Come on, Comus!”

“Right behind you!” he replied, and the two of them continued their onslaught of ice attacks more than ever before. In the span of only a couple of spells, the Tsuchigumo had become almost completely covered in a layer of ice, if not utterly frozen through. Comus huffed, looking over his shoulder. “Joe?”

“Already on it, Mr. C,” the hooligan replied, taking aim, steadying his grip…and firing a bullet straight through the Tsuchigumo’s frozen head, shattering it into pink pieces across the asphalt. The rest of the body fell as limp as it could in its rigid state. 

Roky sighed with relief as he took off his claw to shake off the minor electrical burns, and Comus pumped his fist. “Woo-hoo! Nice work, Joe! You too, Roky! Walter, you weren’t much help, but…wait, where’s Zha? Is she al--”

Walter, who had apparently gotten sidetracked after his slightly embarrassing mishap, walked back to the group with an odd look on his face. He gestured over his shoulder with his thumb, “She’s over there.”

Everyone turned to look. Zha was on her knees, her feet spread to make room for her sizable rear end, and appeared to be fiddling with something or other in front of her at lap level. Whatever it was she was messing with, she was constantly shifting and jerking where she sat. 

“Mnnhh--nnhh…haaahh…nng--! A-Almost…almost…!” she hissed to herself, her breath hitching in her throat, until she hunched over and moaned through her grit teeth, her toes curling as she tensed before relaxing. Her wings returned to her sides as she sighed, her head lolling over her shoulder as she giggled and cast a sultry look to the rest. “Mmmmh, sorry about that…I’m all healed up now…”

The boys stared in disbelief with varying degrees of blushes on their faces. Roky just snickered and crossed his thick arms with a lecherous grin. 

“Hot.”

~

Comus: 340 lb → 350 lb

Roky (Ictinike): 343 lb

Manola (Camazotz): 250 lb → 259 lb

Joe (Hooligan): 312 lb → 321 lb

Santana (Sandman): 230 lb

Zha (Gu Huo Niao): 248 lb → 257 lb

Costello (Morax): 283 lb

Shazamu (Kabuso): 268 lb

Taco (Naga): 238 lb

~

Jonathan and Isabeau weren’t able to track down the Ashura-Kai thugs, but by the time they got back, everyone was pretty much ready to move on anyway. If they weren’t letting Comus into the rather sizable work elevator with them on the observation deck, the other samurai certainly weren’t going to be letting him on now that he was fifty pounds heavier. Comus was content with that, and allowed them to go ahead on their own, but not just because of their desire not to be so crowded. He leaned against the kiosk containing the elevator, thumbing through his gauntlet and his demon roster.

“Queenie, who is this?” He pressed on the icon for a Naga, significantly weaker than the rest of his demons, and frowned. The naga--more skinny-fat than anything else thanks to his gangly frame--shadow-boxed at the edge of a long river. “It says his name is…’Taco’. What sort of name is that? When did we pick this up?”

“You’re asking me? Christ, you can’t even keep track of what demons you’re recruiting! Comus, seriously, I get that you’ve been facing a lot of enemies and finding a lot of new places, but--” 

“But what?” he interrupted, scoffing. “What about my questions? Where did he come from?” 

Queenie was quiet for a moment. “...Damn, okay. It was that Kabuso of yours, Shazamu convinced him to join up with her in exchange for giving him some excitement. It happened when you weren’t looking in Sakurada-dori. As for the name, don’t ask me.”

“How is that possible, though? I unsummoned her as soon as we arrived at Kasumigaseki!” 

“Look, I don’t fucking know, okay? I’m not omnipotent. I’m not God. I’m a fucking robot trapped in your wrist thing. All I know is, he’s here now, so--”

“The issue is, now I’m out of space. I’ll have to fuse someone with him, I guess. Hmmmm…” he hummed, idly poking through his available demons. Roky and Zha were rolling about in bed, no surprises there, Joe and Costello seemed to be getting along well enough as they shared drinks together with Shazamu pontificating to them…and, beside a verdant sinkhole, Manola and Santana sat close to one another. Santana had his hand on her knee, and she had one wing huddled around him as she nestled her head into the crook of his shoulder. 

“Santana seems like he’d add plenty of strength to whatever the result is. I think I’ll go with him. What do you think, Queenie?”

“...Are you serious? Look at him and Manola, they’re like two peas in a pod! You’d seriously split them up just so you could clear up some clutter? What the hell is wrong with you? Whatever happened to ‘valuing the friendship’ of your demons? You know, the whole reason you chose to just recruit one per area?” 

Comus huffed. “Well, this wouldn’t be an issue if you would allow me to expand my stock! Then I could recruit another demon, and there wouldn’t be any problem, would there be?” 

Queenie’s screen flickered. “You know what I think? I think you’re starting to lose the plot here. You’re more concerned about what a demon can contribute to you in combat rather than thinking of them as a person. All this glitz and glamour of Tokyo is rotting your brain.”

“Glitz and glamour? The food’s good, but really, the place is awful…everything is dirty, it smells like smoke, there’s blood everywhere--”

“YOU’RE MISSING THE POINT!” she screamed, startling him enough for him to knock his head against the wall behind him and wince in pain. “You went through hell in Naraku, and tons of your demons died. You gave each one a special funeral up there in Mikado blubbering like a baby. What happened when Beike died? You wiped your hands and went ‘oh well’, even though she’d been with you for weeks. Not even a funeral. The demons, I can get, they die and come back all the time, but YOU, I expect better from.”

“Excuse me? You expect better from me?” he asked, glowering down at the screen on his wrist. “Beike was…you know, she was…I-It’s hard to go back and forth from Tokyo to Mikado, okay?”

“There are terminals in every single major settlement in Tokyo, and each one has a direct link to Mikado. You could have gone up easily. It was just laziness on your part, that’s what it was. Laziness and apathy. You don’t even care that you want to fuse away Santana into some demon that won’t even remember who he once was, all you care about is not being inconvenienced.” 

“I’m only inconvenienced because I don’t have options! Like I said, if you would just expand your stock--”

“Unbelievable. Unbelievable, you’re still on that?! I can’t, okay?! I just can’t! I don’t have that functionality! The apps won’t work on me! It’s YOUR responsibility to manage your demons better!” 

“I like to think I’m doing quite a good job managing them on my own, thank you very much! And Queenie, if you have such a problem with how I do things, then what are you going to do to stop me, huh? You said you’d cut off circulation to my arm, but can you even do that?” He scoffed. “You’re just a navigational AI. You don’t have control over functions like that unless I give the command. Just like my demons, I give you commands. Not the other way around. Is that understood?” 

Queenie didn't respond. Then, in a softer tone of voice, she said “Alright…master. Whatever you say,” and she blipped out of view of the screen. 

Comus winced at his actions almost immediately. Where did that come from…? She was being harsh, yes, but she was only trying to…before his introspection could get at the heart of the matter, though, he heard a voice from around the corner.

“Comus…son.” Santana emerged with his hat in his hands, stoically approaching the surprised samurai.

“S-Santana? When did you…” 

“I was summoned partway through yer lil’ spat with Queenie.”

He swallowed. “So then, you heard…”

“I did. Yer plannin’ to fuse me with that snake feller, aren’t you? Even knowin’ that lil’ Miss Manola is the apple of my eye.” 

“Well, I…I was , but--”

“Ahh-bup-bup. Say no more, son. I see how it is. No matter how I may feel…them’s the breaks. Such is the fate of us demons, t’ be subject to our summoners’ whims. I knew it was either that or an ugly death sooner or later, just like Miss Manola said, even if I thought fer a minute that I’d be exempt. Was wishin’ it, anyway.” 

“Santana…” Comus said with a pleading tone, the guilt he felt for making such a decision already pooling in the center of his gut like ice water. “Please, I can fuse someone else, you don’t have to…”

“It’s alright, son. I’ve made peace with it. Just…” he placed his hat back on his head, “Just let me say my partin’ words to my dear Manola.”

“...Of course,” he said, unsummoning Santana and returning him to the lush forested area where he had been with Manola. 

He watched the scene unfold from afar like God watching humanity, not having any audio but able to watch as the Sandman approached Manola with his hat lowered. He spoke with her, and though she winced, she didn't cry: she knew this was coming too, after all. The two took each other’s hands and shared one final kiss before embracing one another tightly. The tears flowed, and Comus couldn’t swallow the lump that had formed in his throat. When they had stayed together for long enough for Manola to always remember their brief but genuine romance and the warmth of his touch, Santana parted. He turned and, with a wave of his hat, walked away into the wilderness.

The fusion process was short and quiet, Mido barely having the time to ask Comus what was wrong before Santana--turned away from the screen--and Taco, unsure as to what was happening, were transformed into nothing more than data and fused together. The gauntlet’s screen lit up, and a figure formed before Comus.

It was a rather tubby Koppa Tengu, the short sable-skinned humanoid’s white mask painted with yellow ‘Y’ shapes as his round body filled out his sleeveless gold-and-red-patterned kimono and breeches. A bound blue scroll hung around his neck. He bowed respectfully to Comus and said, in a shaky voice, “G-Greetings, master. My name is Gogoru, and--”

“Please…” he practically begged, “Please just…be quiet for a little bit.”

Gogoru nodded and said “Y-Yessir, whatever you say, sir,” capitulating immediately and folding his hands behind his back in silence. 

Now Comus was alone with his thoughts, and he slid down the wall until he sat, feeling a thick swirl of emotions pool in both his head and his stomach. No part of him felt good about what had just happened, and it was all his fault. He wanted to just sit and stew, but…he did have friends who were waiting down in the Counter-Demon Force Base for him. He couldn’t sit around feeling sorry for himself forever. He fucked up, or at least he felt like he did something short-sighted, and he needed to own up to it. 

“Queenie?” he asked, holding the gauntlet up to his face. 

No response, apart from Gogoru craning his neck a little to see what his new master was doing. 

“Queenie…I’m sorry. You were right, I…I haven’t been treating my demons right lately. I’ve been viewing them as tools instead of the friends that I claim they are, and…I’m making a change. I’m giving myself one chance. If I go somewhere and I can’t find someone who wants to join me of their own volition, then it isn’t meant to be. If I go somewhere and my stock is full, a fusion will take its place. Too many fusions have been occurring, and I haven’t been able to connect deeply with a lot of the demons I’ve met, and…Y-You were right,” he said, sniffling.

“...Damn straight I was. I’m always right.”

“Q-Queenie?” 

“Yeah, yeah, it’s me. I was listening, you don’t have to say all that again. I don’t quite believe that you’ve learned your lesson yet…so I wanna see you put it into practice. You better show me wanna make a change, ‘cause I need a reason not to believe you immediately like I want to.” 

“O-Oh…thank you, thank you, I…”

“And quit crying, will you? You’ve got a spectator.”

Comus wiped his eyes and looked up, seeing Gogoru standing over him with his hands still folded behind his back, bending down to look at him with the emotionless mask that covered his face. He slowly slid back up the wall until he was standing again. “...I apologize for that, you, uh…wrong place, wrong time, I suppose. No fault of your own. What did you say your name was? Gogoru?”

He didn't respond.

“...No? Then what was your name?”

No answer again. Comus furrowed his brow.

“How come you aren’t speaking?”

Gogoru inhaled through his nose and squeaked out, “W-With all due respect, sir, you did ask me to, um, be quiet for a little bit, so I was…waiting for the signal to, uh, stop being quiet.”

“Ah. I did say that, didn't I? Sorry. Uh, I’m Comus,” he said, putting out his hand for a handshake. Gogoru gave him a very weak and limp one, though that might have been because it was still somewhat wet from tears. “Say…would you like to come with me down into the Counter-Demon Force Base?”

“...I-Is that a command, sir?” 

“More of a request than anything else. You can say no, if you want…”

“There aren’t Counter-Demon Force members down there…c-currently, are there? Because, you see, I-I am a demon, and if they were to get a hold of me…”

“No, in fact, I believe it’s deserted.” 

“Then…I wouldn’t mind, I suppose.”

Comus smiled and gestured for him to follow as he turned the corner of the kiosk and pressed the down button on the elevator. Already, he was starting to feel better about how he went about things. This would help him, he felt. This would ensure that he didn't become apathetic or complacent…or at least, it would help prevent him from becoming so as easily. 

“Oh, by the way, Comus. One more thing,” Queenie said.

“Hmm? Yes?”

An immense, searing, indescribable pain that felt as through the fibers of his muscles were being ripped apart like a slab of beef brisket emanated through the forearm with the gauntlet wrapped around it, and he let out a cry of pain as he gripped his arm. 

“Just so you’re aware. Don’t you EVER fuck with me like that again. Capisce?”

“Y-Yes, madame…”

~

The entrance into the Counter-Demon Force Base was perhaps the dingiest, dustiest, most abandoned place that Comus had ever been through, which was impressive considering that they were in Tokyo and only one in twenty buildings above ground still had people in them. The metal floor was coated in a thick layer of dust, audibly creaking as Comus trudged through, and the less said about the cobwebs and demons that had made their homes in the crevices and dark corners of the passage, the better. Gogoru clung close to Comus, his side rolls rubbing against Comus’ own as he hid behind the human. Anytime a demon skittered past and Comus shot it with his pistol, Gogoru would jump where he stood. 

That being said, the passage was short, and soon enough they entered into the base proper: an open corridor with five doors (not counting the entrance they’d just passed through) connected to it, including one with the signature yellow-and-back banding of a terminal gate. Isabeau was standing beside it, on guard for demon attacks.

“Izzy!” Comus said, waving as he approached. 

“Ah, Comus. I was wondering where you were,” she replied with a slight bow. “Walter and Jonathan grew impatient and went their separate ways. I believe they’re in the only room here that isn’t currently locked…but I felt it would be more prudent to wait and see what course of action you’d suggest.”

“You…were waiting for me?” he asked, a little flattered. 

“Understand that it was merely because I feel we are safer as a group than separated. Plus,” she pointed to the terminal, “you are the only one among us who really knows how to operate these terminals. Jonathan told me there was some difficulty when you attempted to open the one in Ueno.”

“Ah, yeah…there was this strange fellow putting on a funny accent who attacked us, claiming to be the--”

“Did somebody say Terminal Guardian?!” a voice echoed, and the terminal doors suddenly opened to reveal a man in a green-and-white cap and an olive bomber jacket. He had the same amount of stubble as he did before, judging by the quick look they got of him before he grabbed each of them by their neck accessories--red and orange respectively--and yanked them into the domain within. The doors shut behind them, leaving Gogoru locked outside. 

He let go of the samurai as soon as the door closed, but Isabeau still whipped around and punched him square in the nose. “How dare you lay your hands on me!” she shouted, drawing her sword immediately. Comus was already raising his gauntlet and summoning his go-to demons: Joe, Roky, and Zha. 

“Gaahh--ow! Ow, ow, ow! My nose!” he cried, stumbling back. “Why did you do that?! My freakin’ nose, that hurts, that…hey, wait a minute.” The Terminal Guardian moved his hands away from his face, blinking at them even as blood trickled from one nostril. “...It’s you! The fat kid!”

“My name is Comus,” he growled.

“Whatever! What happened to curly-hair? What’s with the girl, and…holy crap, have you gotten bigger? Your demons, too. Wow. How are you even doing that, there’s like no good food down here…No! Wait! You know what? I don’t care. You want access to this terminal, and as ballsy of a move as it is to show your face to me again, I’m not gonna be making it easy. Oh, girls!”

The guard-like man snapped his fingers and, pouring out of every hole and crevice in the domain like a swarm of flies, a mob of Pixies and High Pixies emerged. They writhed and pushed past one another until all the demons were arranged in neat militaristic rows, standing at attention with the Terminal Guardian crossing his arms before them. 

“They may look like just a bunch of pretty faces…and they are, sort of, but I swear I’ll bury you under the alleys of Nagatacho when they’re through with you! Get ‘em, girls!” He snapped his fingers once again and leapt out of the way of the horde, allowing them to begin marching forward.

“T-There’s so many…” Comus marveled, before shaking the amazement out of himself. He clapped his hands together, and when his palms parted, a basketball-sized ball of fire had formed between them. He shot it at the pixie army and knocked out an appropriately-sized circle of troops while the rest advanced. “Fire and group attacks, people, fire and group attacks!” 

“Way ahead of you,” Roky answered, thrusting his flabby arm forward and producing a bolt of electricity that spread from the pixie impacted--turning her into a burnt and stiffened corpse--from demon to demon in a fan until the charge had no more power in it. 

“I’ll aim for the ones with blue hair!” Joe said, sliding another magazine into his pistol and flicking off the safety. He shut one eye, took aim, and…Zha’s hips bumped into him as she side-stepped past him, throwing off his sight. He fired anyway, but the bullet went wonky and missed completely, burying itself in the ceiling. “Wh--Zha! Stay out of the way, will you? I could have seriously hurt you!” 

“Sorry…” she murmured, scooting away and muttering under her breath, “Weirdo.” 

“Huh? Did you say something?”

“...No…”

Isabeau chose to join Roky in the electrical onslaught, shooting a small bolt of lightning from the tip of her sword and knocking out a few pixies in the process. They had all been keeping their distance for the time being, and the Terminal Guardian was admittedly getting rather irritated by now. “Girls!” he barked, “Evasive maneuvers!” 

Immediately, the horde of pixies went from being in an orderly grid formation to scattering everywhere like bugs underneath a rock. They began to encircle the party, pushing them further and further together, and their attack proper commenced: punching and kicking whatever they could get their hands on. In this case, what they could get their hands on was Roky’s feet and calves, and though one pixie may not have been able to do much, twenty all punching at the same time could. “Gaahh! You little bitches! Get the hell offa me!” He raised his heavy leg and tried to stomp them out, but it was no use: they were too fast. The others managed to fend the squadrons attacking them off with a bit more fire, a bit more lightning, and a bit more lead, and they managed to thin their numbers pretty decently as a result: only one-third of the original army remained. 

This was not good for the Terminal Guardian. He stamped his foot and shouted, “Girls, fall back! Administer medication!” Following his instructions to the letter, as a single unit, all of the pixies fled from the party, dragging their dead behind them, and gathered in a circle with the corpses of their fallen brethren in the center. Then, in a baffling display of what was assumed to either be impossibly strong camaraderie or complete ignorance, they all held hands. Nobody interrupted them, mostly because nobody knew what they were doing, but once they saw the pixie corpses in the center stirring and reviving, they knew all too well. 

“Seriously? They heal each other by singing?” Roky questioned, grimacing. “What the fuck kind of Whoville shit is this?” 

“The kind of Whoville shit that works , pal! Giiiirls! Commence incendiary onslaught!” 

All of the pixies turned to the party and, as if lending someone their power, raised their hands. Once again, nobody knew what they were doing, but above them, a great plume of fire had begun to form that finally descended upon them in a massive wave. Comus and Isabeau were patting out fires left and right, Joe was forced to stomp on his beanie to put it out, and Zha was fanning herself with her wings to try and stop her hair from burning. The only one who escaped the attack was Roky, who had shielded himself with his hawk-feather cloak. 

“So, you like army tactics, do you? Then let’s see how you deal with close-quarters combat!” At a speed unbefitting of his size, Roky shot forward with his claws outstretched and began gleefully ripping pixie after pixie to shreds, blood splattering across his tattooed belly and chest. Their formation broken once again, the rest took advantage of the chaos Roky had created to resume their onslaught: Comus formed ball after ball of flame, two-handed tossing them at each group of pixies that entered his purview, and beside him, Isabeau took the close-quarters approach as well and began to slash wildly at every demon shorter than a foot that came near her. Joe’s magazine-based pistol wasn’t exactly suited for a huge number of small targets, but he was doing his best with what he had. Zha, who had been ‘healing herself’ over in the corner, was even beset by a small squadron, but she was able to shoo them away with a small leg sweep…before immediately returning to her ‘healing’. 

Altogether, they were whittling down the numbers once again, and the floor had now become strewn with the scorched and dismembered bodies of pixies. Now only twenty or thirty remained, and they weren’t looking so hot. 

Isabeau wiped her sword clean of blood and looked to Comus. “Shall I finish the job? If there are no complaints from the others…” she said, casting a glance Roky’s way and earning a scoff from him. Comus simply smiled and stepped aside with a slight bow. 

She bent down, took her stance, and readied her sword at ground level, aiming to slice all of them in half in a single stroke. It would be impressive if she pulled it off…and indeed, it would have been, had she not lost her footing and instead tumbled to the floor with her sword a ways away. She winced, and when she opened her eyes, she found the remaining pixie platoon staring down at her. 

“Now you’ve done it, missy.” The Terminal Guardian grinned and snapped his fingers. “Bring out the heavy artillery!” 

The pixies each pulled out gatling guns, each of their barrels aimed straight at Isabeau. 

She gulped.

Then a barrage of bullets no bigger than grains of sand rained down upon Isabeau, and she curled her arms over her head and her knees over her midsection in a defensive position, unable to move. 

Hesitating to open her eyes lest she have one of them be put out by a miniature round, Isabeau only barely wrenched a single eye open…and that was enough to see the looming figure of Comus above her, a flame in his hands and one eye staring down at the pixies. She closed her eyes again, there was a sudden burst of heat before her, and when she felt it was safe to open them once more, the pixies had all been reduced to ash. Comus shook out his hand with a grin. “No need to thank me.” 

“That’s good to know. Then I suppose I won’t,” she said, slowly dragging herself to her knees with Comus helping her. She was covered in small red perforations, and there was probably a good hundred or so rounds lodged beneath her skin, but a few life stones and/or healing spells would take care of that.

The last remaining pixie, missing an arm and with her wings on fire, slowly staggered away towards the Terminal Guardian, stretching her arm out…before Roky brought his foot down on top of her.

“...Oh, god, why did I do that? I’m not wearing shoes! Fuck, now I have blood and guts and bones on my sole, ew…” He ground the underside of his foot across the floor of the domain in an attempt to get the gunk off, but all he did was paint it red. 

Joe and a somewhat out-of-breath Zha regrouped with the rest of them, and the Terminal Guardian--seeing he was beat--sucked his teeth. “Crap, you seriously beat me?! Again?! I’ll remember this, jackasses!” 

Just like before, there was a huge flash of light, and when it had faded, the domain was gone and replaced with the interior of the Kasumigaseki terminal. The Terminal Guardian was nowhere to be seen…though the sound of the doors closing again behind them pretty much gave away what he’d been doing. Gogoru only had the time to peek in hesitantly before Comus unsummoned all of his demons, leaving just him and Isabeau inside. 

“Man, what a fight, huh?” he said as he stretched, leaning against the terminal railing. 

“Certainly,” she replied. “I expect we’ll be seeing that man at every new terminal we encounter.” 

“What a hassle…is he really being paid to just get in our way?” 

“I would assume so, otherwise we wouldn’t have run into him twice now. Should we meet back up with Walter and Jonathan? I’m sure they’re probably worried about us.” 

“You can go ahead. I have something to do real quick.”

~

Regarding Comus’ return to Mikado, the response was…mixed, to say the least. Some happily cheered the return of the samurai who’d killed the Minotaur, even among the continuing influx of demons in the kingdom. Others were in shock at seeing how much the formerly stringy young man had grown, staring as he walked past and tried (read: failed) to keep himself from wheezing under his breath. It wasn’t the others’ responses that he cared about, though, as he only had one destination. 

He returned to the shore of Lake Mikado, where he’d plunged the sword of Dies Irae into the dirt, and looked up at the tree beside him. Reaching up, he plucked one leaf from its branches and, closing his eyes, traced Beike’s name into it with his finger. 

“Beike…I’m sorry it took so long to give you a proper send-off. I thought I could put it off, but that isn’t fair to you. Demons may be impermanent creatures who accept the realities that come with death and fusion alike, but…you deserved better.” 

He clutched the leaf in his hands. 

“May you find peace, wherever you go.” 

And he let it blow away in the lakeside breeze.

~

Comus: 350 lb

Roky (Ictinike): 343 lb

Manola (Camazotz): 259 lb

Joe (Hooligan): 321 lb

Zha (Gu Huo Niao): 257 lb → 266 lb

Costello (Morax): 283 lb → 292 lb

Shazamu (Kabuso): 268 lb

Gogoru (Koppa Tengu): 284 lb

Chapter Text

Comus: 350 lb

Roky (Ictinike): 343 lb

Manola (Camazotz): 259 lb

Joe (Hooligan): 321 lb

Zha (Gu Huo Niao): 266 lb

Costello (Morax): 292 lb

Shazamu (Kabuso): 268 lb

Gogoru (Koppa Tengu): 284 lb

~

When Comus returned to the Counter-Demon Force Base, he found Walter, Jonathan, and Isabeau gathered in one of the side rooms. It was empty for the most part, a grate covering much of the floor and lockers like the ones they had seen at the employee work area in Naraku, but set up in lines behind a glass display case were…

“Ah--!” He started, and Walter--who had been leaning against the wall--laughed in response.

“Hoy, Comus, don’t give yourself palpitations. I was equally as shocked. They’re the spitting image of the Black Samurai’s armor, are they not? Albeit in much more conventional sizes, I should say.” 

That was embarrassing…indeed, on closer inspection, they were little more than empty suits. He let out a sigh. From behind him, Jonathan and Isabeau approached and explained what they had learned from their Burroughs’ AI databases. 

“The vambraces on these suits seems to function much the same as our gauntlets,” Jonathan said, gesturing to his own gauntlet. “Supposedly, they are outfits called ‘Demonicas’, which were once the uniforms of the Counter-Demon Force.” 

“The Counter-Demon Force itself was established when Tokyo’s government sought to eliminate the demons that had suddenly appeared in the area, but it has long since been dissolved,” Isabeau elaborated. 

Comus crossed his arms. “So then, was there a time in Tokyo where there weren’t demons? Much like how Mikado once was…”

“It’s entirely possible that this Black Samurai may have once been a member of this group…or perhaps not,” Jonathan said with a sigh. “After all, no suits in her…ahem, ‘size’, are held here.” 

Walter piped up, “And neither are any suits in your size, Comus. My deepest condolences.” 

“Oh, very funny, Walt. Did you help in gathering information too, or did you sit over there twiddling your thumbs while Jon and Izzy analyzed things?”

“Information? No,” he said, standing up, “but I did happen to find this. This small thin plate is what Burroughs calls an ‘Ihd Card’. Perhaps you can make better use of it than I could. Not only that, but I happened to stumble upon this in a back corner. It was separated from one of the suits, and since your face isn’t quite plump enough to keep you from wearing a helmet such as this, I figured you could make use of it.” He had in his hands a Black Demonica helmet, and handed it off to Comus, who took it with a bit of a sour expression. The red glass in the eye holes unsettled him somewhat. 

“Walter, really, there’s no need for such mockery…” Jonathan cautioned him. “I’m certain Comus already has his own share of feelings regarding his recent physical changes, you shouldn’t goad him further.” 

“Jon, it’s fine,” he said with a roll of his eyes. “I know it’s all in good fun. This helmet may actually come into use, though, if I can--”

He flipped it over to have the neck-hole of the helmet facing him, and the instant he did so, eight cobalt-blue snakes emerged with a chorus of hisses. Jonathan drew back, as did Isabeau, but both Walter and Comus let out unmanly yelps. Comus himself immediately dropped the helmet, and it bounced along the ground until it came to a stop…whereupon it hovered up into the air and turned so that the snakes had a solid view of the samurai around it. Everyone was scrambling to draw their weapons, but the snakes all cut them off in a simultaneous raspy voice. 

“Halt! Before you sssorry humans try and kill me, you should know I hold no enmity towards you all. In fact, I am nothing but grateful! Do you all know how long I have been trapped in this room, my meager form lacking the dexterity and weight to activate the door out?! It must have been agesss, at least…I must expresss my thanksss to the one responsible for granting me my freedom. Who among you hasss chosen to liberate me from thisss sssteel prison?”

Jonathan looked away. Isabeau kicked her feet. Walter turned around and scratched his head. That pretty much only left Comus, who stood watching the Toubyou with a neutral expression. All of the snakes lowered their heads and flicked out their tongues.

“Oh…I wasss hoping it was not you, fat one. Wasss it truly you who hasss chosen to release me?”

Comus put his hands on his hips. “If you’re going to continue being rude, then no.” 

“W-Wait, wait, I do! I do. My apologiesss. Even though I have…reservationsss, about following one such asss yourself, I pledge to you my loyalty. I am called Kitaro.” 

“Well then…I’m Comus. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Kitaro.”

“I wish I could sssay the sssame, fat one. How have you even become so large, in a hellish place such as thisss? It bogglesss the minds…”

“Okay, you’re going in the gauntlet,” he said with no small amount of bitterness and a substantial blush on his face, and promptly unsummoned Kitaro. He looked around at the other samurai. It was obvious that they all had the exact same question on their minds, but before any of them could act on it, he cleared his throat and produced the ID card that Walter had given him.

“Are you all done ogling, or shall we continue?”

The card he’d been given handily unlocked every door in the facility, and while most of them were just copies of the room they’d been in earlier--Demonica suits, lockers, grates, possibly more snakes--one at the far end of the central hall contained something much more impressive.

Past its entrance was an almost cavernous room lined with chairs of alien construction facing odd mechanical devices whose large screens and bulky bodies brought to mind the smaller and thinner devices the Ashura-Kai thugs had been using to summon their demons. Glass diagrams, maps, and shattered screens filled almost every inch of the walls, and though the place was in obvious disarray, it was remarkably well-preserved on account of being sealed off from both demons and the public for decades. 

“What a place…” Walter murmured, looking around. “It’s like what I imagine the throne room at the castle to be like…”

Comus brought his gauntlet up. “Queenie, could you scan this area and identify it for us?”

“Hey, why not? Let’s see…beep-boop-boop…ah, this is the briefing room for the Counter-Demon Force. It…hmm. It feels oddly familiar to me.” 

“Familiar?” Jonathan asked, pushing a chair around and marveling at how the wheels on the bottom allowed it to easily be moved. “How is such a thing possible if you haven’t ever been here, Burroughs?” 

“That’s Queen B to you, buster. And don’t ask me, I just know how I feel.”

“...But do you not lack--”

“Emotions? Say another word and you’ll be lacking teeth, Jonny. Anything else? …That’s what I thought. You guys made it to the Counter-Demon Force Base, so let me update the Monastery with everything we’ve found so far…”

Only a few moments later, a call came in through Queenie’s receivers, and a video screen popped up. There was a fair-looking woman in a blue and white habit within its boundaries. “Glory be to you, blessed samurai,” she said in a measured tone. 

Walter, sitting on one of the desks, put his chin in his palm. “Remind me who this is, again?”

“Walter!” Jonathan snipped. “Have some respect! That is Sister Gabby of the Monastery! She works closely with Abbot Hugo. You recall seeing her when we were given our mission to capture the Black Samurai, do you not?”

“Please, forgive me. So much has happened that I’ve neglected to remember a woman I’ve seen and heard only once before.” 

Gabby, either ignoring or not hearing the bickering of the two men, continued. “We’ve received communications that you all have found the Counter-Demon Force Base. You’ve done very well. Abbot Hugo of the Monastery has seen fit to task you all with another mission regarding the retrieval of certain mystic relics. When next you happen to return to Mikado, please accept them from K’s Tavern. That is all for now. Until we speak next, blessed samurai…” 

“Wait, what about--” Comus began, and was shut down just as quick. Oh, how he’d missed that wonderful abruptness of communication that was so common in his homeland…not. 

Walter’s groan echoed Comus’ sentiments exactly. “Collecting more relics? If I didn't know any better, I would suspect that these ‘missions’ are simply to line the Monastery’s pockets! What will we be tasked with next, searching for gold with a rocking-plate?”

“Calm yourself, Walter. We are still serving our kingdom with this mission, no matter how pointless you may feel it to be,” Jonathan said, rubbing the side of his nose with his thumb. “The relics we bring back to the Monastery could only enrich the lives of the people of Mikado, as they seem to have enriched the lives of those in Tokyo. They wouldn’t be valuable otherwise, and Abbot Hugo knows the positive effect they may have on our people. I’m certain Comus feels much the same way.” 

Comus rubbed his cheek, trying to ignore how it filled his palm. “Well…I can’t deny that I’ve been finding a lot of interesting and rather valuable things scattered around Tokyo as if they were less than worthless. Perhaps it isn’t so bad that we’re bringing some things back…?”

“That answer is no surprise,” Walter chided, “considering you’ve likely been non-stop stuffing your face with Tokyo’s foodstuffs ever since you arrived. No wonder you’ve blown up so dramatically!” 

Jonathan chose not to scold him for that one, considering he was probably right, but he did try to assuage his friend’s frustrations by saying “The peace we have had in Mikado up until now can be attributed quite heavily to the efforts and interests of the royal family and the Monastery alike. We serve our kingdom, and so we serve our people: we don’t know what’s best for the people like they do.” 

“Ughh, I suppose I can’t argue with that…So then, what shall we do now? Shall we return to Mikado and receive these errands with gracious indignity?” 

Comus crossed his arms. “Mmmm…I think I may stay in Tokyo for a bit longer. The Monastery can wait for a little while. There are other places I haven’t yet explored, and I think it’d be prudent to map out some more of our surroundings before going treasure-hunting. Plus, there are some errands of my own I must take care of.” 

“Wise words,” Walter said, “I believe I may do the same. Tokyo is a big place, and if I happen to stumble onto whatever relics the Monastery seeks before they issue the demand, perhaps I could impress them in much the same way Comus has impressed K, eh?”

Jonathan cleared his throat. “I myself will be receiving the quests post-haste. I wish not to keep Abbot Hugo waiting. I suppose I shall see you all when I see you, then. What of you, Isabeau? Will you be accompanying me?”

“Hoho, I see how it is, Jonathan. Inviting the lady along with you for a nice leisurely trip back to Mikado…?”

“W-Walter!!” 

Isabeau, more annoyed than anything else by their squabbling, just sighed and glanced back at Comus. He shrunk a little into himself self-consciously. “...I feel I may wander as well, though I may regroup with one of you sooner or later.” 

“Then it’s settled,” Comus said, clapping his hands. “We shall go our separate ways once again for now…unless, Isabeau, you wanted to…?”

“Perhaps another time.”

“R-Right. Right, of course.”

~

Comus: 350 lb → 361 lb

Roky (Ictinike): 343 lb → 352 lb

Manola (Camazotz): 259 lb

Joe (Hooligan): 321 lb

Zha (Gu Huo Niao): 266 lb

Costello (Morax): 292 lb → 316 lb

Shazamu (Kabuso): 268 lb

Gogoru (Koppa Tengu): 284 lb

Kitaro (Toubyou): 252 lb

~

Comus returned to the bar at Ueno and, after indulging in plenty more croquettes and dropping off a few pints’ worth of Strix blood he’d gathered into empty soda cans on the way back for a quest, opted to pick up a new quest the following morning…or at least, what ‘morning’ existed in a land where the sun never rose or set. It seemed simple enough: ‘Deliver the Film’. Low-intensity, he felt…and God knows he could do with a low-intensity quest at the moment. 

He was reminded of it every time he turned in for the night in his little abandoned room of choice at Ueno Station, taking off his armor so he could sleep in peace. The food in Tokyo had caused him to balloon, gaining over sixty pounds in what couldn’t have been more than a week or two of exploring. He couldn’t exactly look at himself in a mirror thanks to how most of the glass that remained in this country was in the form of small shards, but he knew even without the visual just how big he’d gotten. 

Last night, he’d spent a while--perhaps too long--just exploring his body. Running his hands along every new square inch that had appeared on him, looking down as best he could with his prominent goatee-scruffed double chin blocking the way. The obvious stand-out was his belly, of course: round and with a horizontal dimple where his navel was, it was substantial enough to overflow both his hands when he lifted it and felt its disarming weight. As he did, it bunched up in rolls that curved down beneath his arms, prominent love handles sticking out to the sides. This gut of his, if he wanted to be charitable in calling it that, had begun to overshadow his crotch almost entirely when he wasn’t stuffed into his armor. Atop it sat two breasts… his breasts. The fat that had been filling out his body so dramatically as of late had to find someplace to go, after all, and the development of moobs was something he was expecting sooner or later…just, not so soon. Even his arms, though muscle could still be felt far beneath them, were coated in enough softness to force them out to his sides. His forearms now wouldn’t naturally brush against his hips when his arms hung to his sides. Not to mention those thighs of his…each one of them was thicker than his waist before he’d left Naraku, and he found now that they constantly rubbed and shifted past one another just beneath his groin. The fabric of his pants was starting to wear out, embarrassingly enough, and his widening ass wasn’t helping in the slightest. Sure, he was never hurting for a comfortable seat, but the more door frames he could feel himself brushing past, the more impossible it was to ignore. 

Not to say there weren’t the bad parts as well: taking a proper look at himself for the first time in so long, he could plainly see the scars from when he’d fallen in battle himself. One dark circular mark on the northeast of his belly where he’d been speared through by a Naga, a lingering and slightly tender lump where Wu Kong had smacked him on the back of the skull, and a variety of small cuts along his arms where the tengu horde at the first terminal had taken him out. Queenie and his gauntlet were really miracle-workers, as any of these attacks were more than enough to kill him, but somehow, he was able to remain alive…somehow. 

That was just what one could gather from a look, too: against his wishes, you could hear the slight effort behind his breathing as he stood. Something as simple and meaningless as standing now made him feel the slight strain on his body, the pressure on his feet. He’d known it was true before, but it was unavoidable. He wasn’t fat. He was obese. And with the way things were going, he likely wouldn’t be returning to being that beanpole that he once was…

…And yet, as he sat on the broken mattress behind him and (with a furtive glance back at where he’d set his gauntlet containing Queenie down behind him) lifted his belly, jostling it from side to side and watching the soft flesh ripple from side to side, he felt no fear. He felt no disgust. If anything, he was happy. Overjoyed, even. It felt…oh, he couldn’t pretend, it felt incredible being as big as he was. He could feel how his breaths became heavier the more he toyed with his flab, a grin appearing without his knowledge while he squeezed his moobs and watched the hanging fat of his arm quiver and shake with his movements. This felt right. God, it felt so right. This was what he’d always wanted. It was what he’d always, always desired…

And he’d only get bigger. He’d only get bigger, and his demons would only get bigger too…He’d kept himself from being intimate in any way with his demons out of some moral objection that remained in the back of his mind. ‘Isn’t it immoral?’, ‘Is that a breach of contract?’, ‘How would I even bring it up to them?’, all of these questions had stood in the way. The most he’d allowed was Nena humping him in his sleep, but that was then…and this was now. Should he…?

That question would be answered another night. He had his own issue to take care of, and it was one that resulted in him being exhausted, sweaty, and satisfied enough to head to sleep that night. 

Now, having squeezed himself into his uniform once again, he emerged from his room with Costello the Morax in tow. The slovenly bison-demon clearly didn't care much for hygiene or manners, and the consequences of their breakfast at the bar were seen in how he continued to pick scraps of food from the hair around his mouth, lumbering heavily forward and belching every now and then. Just from the sound of it, his gut must have been working overtime, to the point where it actually worried Comus slightly.

“Costello…” he said, looking over his shoulder. “Are you alright? Your stomach doesn’t exactly sound happy.” 

“Hwuh? Oh,” Costello murmured, snorting and rubbing what portion of it bulged against his trousers, “it always does that. I think it’s telling me it wants more food.”

“You just ate seventeen croquettes from the bar! You’re lucky I have enough macca saved up to allow such feasts for us, what with your appetite…I swear, you eat more than anyone else on the team.”

He shrugged, “That’s what I’ve always figured it was trying to tell me. The only time it stops making noise is when I’m full, so…”

“Probably because it doesn’t even have the freedom of movement to do so,” Comus said, half putting forward a serious theory and half thinking out loud. A slight blush accompanied the comment.

“You think so? Maybe,” the demon said, then let out another rippling belch. 

Costello was certainly…an interesting one. No modicum of manners, no sense of decorum, seemingly only cares about food…time would have to tell if he’d be of any use in a fight, though. He kind of reminded Comus of Rhayader, that dog-like myrmecolion from Naraku. Comus’ thoughts were still on his old friend as he approached the item shop counter. Come to think of it, he’d never actually visited an item shop in Tokyo before. The woman behind the counter, with thick curly locks dyed sapphire-blue coming out from under a black beanie, peered at him through a thick metal grate and at least one layer of glass. 

“Oh, hey! You’re that big guy I’ve seen walking around here, aren’t you? What can I get for you, courtesy of the Ashura-Kai?” 

“You work for the Ashura-Kai too?” Comus asked.

“Natch. Every service down here is run by them, after all, except for maybe the Hunters Association. Didja want something, orrr…?”

“You got any snacks?” Costello asked, bending down to speak into the small opening in the grate. 

“...Uh, no, sorry. Just healing items and elemental stones.” 

“Healing items are fine. I can eat those.” 

“N-No! No healing items, not yet,” Comus protested, tapping the counter. “I, er, accepted a quest from you, I believe?”

She gasped. “Oh, so you’re Comus? Awesome! Okay, hold on, let me…” The clerk disappeared for a few moments, and from behind the till, loud rummaging could be heard. When she returned, she slid a small black cylinder through the hole in the grate. “There we go! That's a roll of film for a film camera, y’know. Stuff like this is pretty rare nowadays thanks to the chaos in Tokyo, so I had to put in a special order for it. The girl who wanted it is into photography, apparently…I know, I know, but she told me as much herself.”

Comus had no response, because he did not know what photography even was. 

The clerk continued talking anyways. “She should still be in the area, actually. She did tell me she was gonna stick around until it arrived, maybe go investigate some temple or shrine or something that’s nearby…I dunno. But, you’ll get it to her, right?”

“Of course,” he replied, taking the film and tucking it away in his bag. 

“You be careful with it, okay? Like I said, that stuff doesn’t come cheap!”

Comus was indeed careful with it, but to be fair, he only had it in his possession for about ten minutes. He knew exactly what the item shop clerk was talking about, after all: a short ways away from Shinobazu Pond, there was an empty abandoned shrine that he remembered investigating while searching for the Peallaidh a while back. Queenie’s scanners had called it the Gojoten shrine, he recalled, and even though he and Costello couldn’t exactly make use of the vent-to-manhole shortcut they’d found back then anymore, the travel time was still incredibly quick. 

Comus and Costello wandered in alongside one another, the demon scratching under one of his moobs as Comus shouted. “Hoy, is there anyone in--”

“Wait--!” a feminine voice managed to get out, before there was a sudden flash of light and a clicking sound. The two men rubbed their eyes, murmuring in shock, while the voice said “Ugh, great. You totally photobombed my last shot!” 

The sound of boots against wood approached them, and when Comus had stopped seeing white, he saw that there was a woman standing in front of him. She had fair skin and long blonde hair, and was dressed in a red motorcycle jacket with matching leather pants wrapped in straps, black combat boots, and two mismatched leather gloves: one black on the right, and one brown on the left. An intimidating shotgun hung at her side on a sling connected to a belt of ammunition. She had one hand on her hip, the other holding a squarish object Comus didn't recognize.

The woman squinted at him, scrutinizing him and his hefty form from top to bottom, then doing the same to Costello, who sniffed himself. 

“...Who the heck are you guys? Are you hunters?” 

“I-I mean, I am,” Comus said, digging into his bag and retrieving the film. He tossed it in his palm and held it out to her. “I was told to deliver this to you, actually. At least, I assume it’s you that wanted this, right?”

“Hmm? …Oh! Camera film! I’ve been waiting for this for, like, ever, yeah! It’s about time too, I put in that order a while ago…” She tucked it away in one of the pockets of her utility belt and smiled. Comus felt she had a nice smile. It made him think of his mother. “Uh, sorry for yelling. I’m Nozomi. Who’re you?”

“I’m Comus, and this is one of my demons, Costello. Say hi, Costello.”

Costello stifled a burp with his fist and raised his hand, “Yo.”

Nozomi’s nose wrinkled, and she wafted away the resulting stench with her palm. “Eugh, rank…but, Comus, huh? That’s kind of an odd name. What are you, English? American, maybe?” Comus was about to tell her he didn't know what those places were, but she cut him off before he could say anything. “Never mind, sorry. That’s probably rude, right? Wherever you came from, you’re kinda stuck here now, so…them’s the breaks, I guess. Thanks for dropping this off for me, though. I needed more film for my camera.”

Comus crossed his arms. “Am I supposed to know what this ‘camera’ is supposed to be?”

“You…don’t know?” she asked, giving him a look that was instantly recognizable as her wondering ‘what sort of weirdo doesn’t know what a camera is in this day and age’, before sucking on her cheek as she turned the camera in her hand over. “It’s…you know, it’s…a way to instantly capture how things are…at a point in time in an image.” 

“Like painting a portrait?” 

“I guess so? If painting one took, like, two seconds…what are you, a time traveler or something?” He certainly felt like it, but in response, he just shrugged. “I’m just asking ‘cause, you know, I’ve actually been seeing some strange folk around. People in clothes I’ve never seen before, ducking in between buildings…I’m wondering if they might be fairies or something, but I don’t remember any fairies that wear blue.” 

“Don’t ask me, I wouldn’t have the first clue.” 

“Yeah, I can…kinda tell from your choice of partner,” she said, glaring over at Costello. “A-ny-way. Cameras are pretty fun to use, so if you really have never used one before, you should try it out…oh, here!” She reached into one of the straps wrapped around her left leg and pulled out an adorable little white square with a black circle on the front, a chipped and faded rainbow leading down from it into a narrow horizontal slit. “This kind of camera can produce an image immediately after you press the button to take it! It should still have plenty of film in it, and I don’t use it much ‘cause the quality’s not up to my high standards, but you ought to give it a shot!” 

“Oh, er…thank you,” he said, taking the instant camera and turning it around. He wondered what button would allow you to change your paints and brush… 

“I gotta get going, but you stay safe, alright? See ya!” 

Nozomi waved and said her goodbyes, exiting through the open shrine entrance, and as she clomped away, Comus peered into the slit in the camera, struggling to figure out how the thing worked. 

“I don’t…understand. Is there a switch or something that activates the brushes inside? I know it works using ‘film’, but is film like a canvas or something?”

“Give it here,” Costello suddenly said, nudging Comus with his gut as he leaned over. Comus got enough of a whiff of the unwashed bison’s musk that he folded immediately, handing it off to the demon. He looked at it, turned it around, and then said “You press this button here on the top to-- uuooorp, to take the picture. See, watch this.” 

He pointed the camera at Comus’ face and clicked the button on the top, causing the lens to produce a blinding flash. The human rubbed his eyes, cursing, but once he’d regained his sight, he watched as a full-color photograph emerged from the horizontal slit. It would have fallen right out onto the ground if Comus hadn’t quickly snatched it out of the air. 

“That’s…incredible! It really is like a professionally-done portrait completed in seconds! So much detail, so much color, so much…so much…uh…” 

Costello leaned in and looked at the photo.

“...Urff. Not exactly a flattering shot, huh?”

“No. No it isn’t. My eyes are open, but perhaps it’d have been better if they were closed.”

“Your mouth is open too. It looks like you’ve got some crap stuck in your teeth.”

“Oh, like you’re one to talk, you slob!” Comus protested, then just as quickly began picking at his teeth with his fingernail. He sighed. 

“I think I’ll…I’ll just throw this away. The camera I’ll keep, though. Who knows, maybe it’ll be good to capture some of the scenery around here? If I could have the camera, Costello…Thank you. Oh…oh, it’s sweaty. Oh, it’s--it’s sticky? How did it get sticky? Oh my god. I’m wiping this off once we get back to the room. You are disgusting.” 

~

Comus: 361 lb → 371 lb

Roky (Ictinike): 352 lb

Manola (Camazotz): 259 lb → 267 lb

Joe (Hooligan): 321 lb → 330 lb

Zha (Gu Huo Niao): 266 lb → 275 lb

Costello (Morax): 316 lb → 326 lb

Shazamu (Kabuso): 268 lb → 277 lb

Gogoru (Koppa Tengu): 284 lb → 293 lb

Kitaro (Toubyou): 252 lb → 271 lb

~

Now able to return to exploring the western parts of Tokyo, Comus traveled back to the Kasumigaseki terminal and set out from Sakurada-dori towards the west. Apart from frequent demon attacks, though, there wasn’t much to see: the most interesting things that happened involved having to pay some Ashura-Kai thug to allow them to cross the river on a boat, and getting told that he would be paying for replacements if his fat ass caused the thing to capsize. That was nice. Once they crossed the river to where the man had explained was Shinjuku, they were forced to wade through a vast area that was just coated in toxic waste, resulting in numerous poisoning instances and at least one time where Comus had to apologize to the river for throwing up in it. It wasn’t pleasant and it was also a long ways away, so Comus wasn’t a fan, to say the least. 

That being said, once all the trials of travel had passed and he had finally arrived at what Queenie’s sensors called Shinjuku Station, he was more than happy to get to their bar and terminal and rest. The squarish building lined with broken glass windows loomed above them, though the only thing it held was probably a boat-load of demons. He placed his palms on his ample hips and sighed, looking up at it. The settlement would be underground, just like the one in Ueno and the Counter-Demon Force Base, so if he wanted to get some rest, he’d better get a move on…

“Pardon me! Comus!” a voice chirped from his gauntlet, and for once, it wasn’t Queenie’s rough tones. It was familiar, though, and when he brought up the screen, Mido had his cheek pressed up against it. “Ho-ha! There you are! I was beginning to fear that you had gone deaf!” 

“How long were you calling for me?”

“Oh, not long. I get worried easily, is all. Anyways! I must inform you that you’ve reached an appropriate lev…er…ahem, ‘level of power’, to make use of a special fusion recipe!” 

“A…special fusion recipe?” 

“That is what I said, yes. You see, a normal fusion only incorporates two demons, but special fusions can take three or even four! It’s a high cost to incur, but it’s worth it, as the demon you receive is stronger than its peers! Though, of course, the one you’re able to perform now only requires two demons.”

Comus scratched his cheek, humming. “I don’t know…wouldn’t I be basically sacrificing two demons to make one? That feels like a rather cheap deal…”

“Perhaps I should mention that simply having a memory of them in the compendium will do? And that the other demon required is a certain…obnoxious otter that you’ve been toting around for the past few hours?”

He looked down at his side, where Shazamu the Kabuso was picking her teeth with a claw. She snorted loudly and spat on the asphalt, wiping her paw on her chest. “Hey, what the hell’s taking so long, human? Quit talking to your wrist thingy and let’s get a move on, or else I’ll just go off without you.”

The samurai hummed louder, before sighing and unsummoning Shazamu. She returned to her Japanese shrine, where within a pond the Demonica helmet Kitaro the Toubyou resided in bobbed lazily. She seemed less irritated and more relieved she didn't have to lug herself around anymore with a human in tow.

“So it shall be. Why not?” Comus shrugged. “Let’s do it.”

“Marvelous! Then, with a small donation to make use of the gauntlet’s memory of your dearly departed Napaea…Jona, was it?”

Hearing her name stung a little, still, as did seeing the image of her face--only just barely rounded--in the compendium’s archives. “Yes, she was always the practical one…” He couldn’t help but wonder what she’d think of him and his team if she was still around today…but he couldn’t linger for too long on the subject as Mido jittered with excitement. 

“In that case, without further ado…let us commence the special fusion!”

In one tube, Shazam appeared, turning in a circle with a look of vaguely superior annoyance before dissolving into data, and in the other, a mass of ones and zeroes representing the gauntlet’s copied memory of Jona the Napaea sloughed down into the pipes beneath. The two mingled and mixed together until, with a flash of light from Comus’ gauntlet, a feminine figure crawled out from his gauntlet limb by limb…promptly falling onto the asphalt.

“Gah!” she yelped, and once she managed to brush herself off, she struck a pose with two victory signs. “Aaaand I’m good! No scratches, bruises, or anything!” 

She was tall, but reasonably so--only maybe half a head taller than Comus himself--and was pretty much indistinguishable from a human being. Her pale sandy skin was decorated with purple designs consisting of two concentric rings, which also appeared on the fan that covered her eyes as well as the two in her hands and the one that pressed against her stomach. A somewhat skimpy sleeveless white-and-lavender whose legs stopped right at her hips had a thick purple-and-yellow rope wrapped around it, and flowing white silks covered her white vambraces. She was quite thick as far as demons went (though having everything below the hip basically completely exposed would make that obvious to anyone with eyes) and had a more evenly-distributed pear shape when compared to Zha’s absurd wide load of a rear end. 

Comus swallowed. Not another pretty female demon…not that he was complaining, but where were all the hot male demons? Was he missing them or something? Roky had a certain appeal, yeah, but he has a beak over his face. Joe’s missing teeth, and Costello had a bison face. Gogoru’s masked, and Kitaro is just a bunch of snakes! Always with the scantily-clad women… “Er, hello. I’m--”

“You must be Comus, right? Pleased to meetcha!” She dove in and took his hand without a second thought, pulling him in and spinning him around by the top of his head, his curly hair fluffing out to the sides before smacking him in the face. When he parted from her, she splayed her fans out. “Who am I? I am the goddess of dancing and mirth!” She struck a pose with her fans. “I am the Great Persuader!” Another pose. “I am she who brought Amaterasu out of her cave!” Another. “I am…Ame-no-Uzume!” 

He blinked.

“...But you can call me Bokashi!” 

“Pardon me? But…aren’t you Ame-no-Uzume?”

She nodded, “Last time I checked!”

“...But you are also Bokashi?”

“Yup!”

“How can…you have two names at once?” 

Bokashi shrugged. “The way I see it, it’s like a hot dog. Those can have mustard or ketchup on them, right? Well, think of me as one that has both mustard and ketchup on it! Get the picture?”

Comus rubbed his head. “I don’t…know what a hot dog is. Or what mustard and ketchup are.”

“You don’t?! Oh man, I’m definitely taking you to a weenie cart if we somehow find one out in this dump. Amy knows you’d probably get a kick out of it, soft boy!” She quipped, giggling as she put her hands on his stomach, feeling how his armor curved out. It was really starting to become tight on him, now more than ever, and he was due for a replacement sometime…but as it stood, he just blushed and didn't exactly tell her to stop. 

However, another female voice piping up did make them part. 

“‘Scuse me!”

They both looked over near the entrance of the terminal, and there was…a girl. A schoolgirl too, maybe around senior age with long brown hair and amber eyes, wearing a gold-and-blue school outfit that was remarkably unbesmirched considering the state of the world around her. Almost instantly, it seemed she was right beside them. Comus leaned back, seeing how she smiled at the two of them. “You don’t look familiar,” she tittered. “Where are you from?” 

“Personal space much, girlie? Step off unless you wanna get whacked!” Bokashi warned, waving her fans around in a show of intimidation. Comus patted her on the shoulder to politely get her to stop. 

“Uh, well, I’m from…” he glanced upwards, “I guess, the surface? Up there and all.”

“Up there, huh…? Oh! You and your friends must be the angels everyone is talking about!” She giggled in a way Comus hadn’t heard come out of a girl since he was playing with the other children in Nelymar. “How neat! I’m Hikaru.” 

“Ooookay. I’m Comus, and this is Bokashi,” he said, gesturing to her and sighing as she made an ‘I’m watching you’ gesture from behind her fan. Considering her eyes weren’t visible, the effort kind of fell flat. 

“Comus…I’m interested in you guys. You and your friends are after the Black Samurai, aren’t you?” she asked, her hands folded behind the small of her back as she looked up at him. Before he could reply, she continued, “I may not know where she is, exactly…but if you’re looking for books, there’s no better place than the Juraku Bookstore in Ikebukuro! Why not check there?”

Comus scratched his head. “I…suppose we could? How did you know about the Black Samurai?” 

Hiraku just giggled again, that disquietingly childlike giggle of hers. “Like I said, I’m interested in you guys. Maybe next time, I’ll get to meet your whole group! For now though, I gotta go. Bye!” The schoolgirl just skipped away, turning a corner and vanishing from sight. 

“That girl gave me real creepy vibes,” Bokashi said, crossing her arms. “You know? Like, when you look at someone and you just get the ick from them. She was giving me that. She was so…clean. I don’t trust anyone who’s that clean. I trust you, Comma, ‘cause you have a bit of stink on you, but that girl? Totally clean.” 

“I just wonder why she brought up books in the first place…wasn’t the whole thing with the Black Samurai handing out literature only something that was known to samurai in Kiccigiorgi? How would a girl from Tokyo know about that?” 

“Don’t ask me, man. I just got nasty vibes. But c’mon, we gotta get you a weenie! Shinjuku Station’s just right down that way!” she said, pointing to the entrance.

“Yes, yes, I will, I have to inform Walt, Jon, and Izzy about where I am and what I’ve been doing anyways…do, uh, do you really think I stink?” He lifted one of his arms and sniffed it. “O-Oh my God, I do stink. Maybe they’ll have a wash-basin or something I could use, because I want to take care of that as soon as possible…(and hopefully they’ll have some kind of soap, too…)”

~

Comus: 371 lb → 390 lb

Roky (Ictinike): 352 lb

Manola (Camazotz): 267 lb → 276 lb

Joe (Hooligan): 330 lb

Zha (Gu Huo Niao): 275 lb → 284 lb

Costello (Morax): 326 lb

Gogoru (Koppa Tengu): 293 lb

Kitaro (Toubyou): 271 lb

Bokashi (Ame no Uzume): 296 lb

~

“And this seemed, for all intents and purposes, to be a completely normal girl?” Jonathan asked, his video screen showing him seated within the Monastery up in Mikado. 

“Pretty much,” Comus replied, slicing off another slab of suspiciously dark pork belly before bringing it up to his mouth. He was seated at the bar of the Hunters’ Association kiosk in Shinjuku Station and had his arm resting on the countertop, three video screens showing Walter, Jonathan, and Isabeau. Walter seemed to be near the Arakawa River north of Shinjuku, and Isabeau was in the bombed-out wastes northeast of the Sky Tree. Her camera shook a bit as the ruins behind her scrolled past, showing how she had it recording while she walked. Comus spoke before he swallowed, covering his mouth as he did so. “She--mmf--looked like she was around our age, honestly. Totally clean too, no scratches or stains on her clothes or anything. She stuck out like a sore thumb.”

Walter scratched his cheek, grinning stupidly. “Long brown hair, charming amber eyes, right around our age…Call me boorish, but I believe I’m quite jealous of you now, Comus. It sounds like she was quite the young lady…”

“Walter, really! It is impolite to speak of a woman’s appearance, especially behind her back…” Jonathan scolded.

“Were you not just describing her as a ‘completely normal girl’, Jonathan? Surely you can’t accuse me of something you were doing yourself.”

“W-Well, that may be true, but I was simply--!”

Isabeau shot at something off-screen, the only evidence of her encounter being the distant crack of a gunshot and the barrel being smoking when she returned it within the bounds of the camera’s shot. “What she looks like couldn’t matter in the least. According to Comus’ summary, she knew not only of the Black Samurai, but her connection to literature. How could she have knowledge of such a thing?”

“It’s entirely possible that word has simply spread of us. She referred to us as ‘angels’ as those miscreants from the Ashura-Kai did, after all, so perhaps it was simple word-of-mouth,” Jonathan replied.

“Word of whose mouth, precisely? I don’t believe any of us has so much as mentioned literature among the citizenry down here…”

While the other samurai discussed the encounter with Hikaru, Comus continued to eat, cutting away another bit of pork. He’d dropped off the raw materials for this meal just an hour or so earlier, having scavenged the meat off of passing Katakirauwa pig-demons he had slaughtered. He was intending to cook it himself if he had no other option, but when a quest was put out requesting it, he was more than happy to supply them with the ingredients so long as he would get a share. He had no issue eating the flesh of demons, anyway: if anything, it tasted a bit more tender and flavorful than the pork he’d had in the past. He sipped from a cylindrical mug a thin, watery beverage that the bartender explained was called ‘Yulmu-cha tea’, from a place called ‘Corea’...or at least, Comus thought that’s how it was spelled. He only heard it spoken, after all. It was warm and sweet, tasting like some nuts he remembered picking off vines as a child, and he couldn’t get enough. 

“Might I say, Comus,” Walter said with a grin, “You’re also looking…healthy. I can only assume you’ve been continuing to shove whatever you come across down your gullet? Or would you still say it’s simply a matter of predisposition?” 

Comus blushed. “S-Shut up, Walter.” 

Really, he couldn’t get enough of any of the food down in Tokyo, and with the arrival at a new settlement came a new set of clothes…and a new chance to see just how heavy he’d become. His constant consumption of life stones and just-as-frequent gluttony at the Hunters’ Association bars had only caused his weight to continue spiraling, and now that he’d traded in much of his armor for something that would at least allow him some extra freedom, it was all the more obvious just how quickly and dramatically he was changing. 

He’d put away the yellow camouflage bandana in favor of a cream-colored helmet with a darkened visor, and though the upper portion of his curly hair was once again hidden, what was now revealed was a thick double chin that never left his chest and shoulders no matter how he craned his neck. He could even feel how it bunched into rolls at the back of his head when he looked up, which was a little mortifying and a lot arousing the first time he’d felt it. Instead of the thick Japanese-inspired plastic armor he once wore, he now had on a simple if durable short-sleeved shirt of the same tone as his helmet with its front absolutely littered in pockets and satchels for holding various items. He almost didn't need his trusty messenger bag with the convenience it provided, but he opted to keep it for convenience’s sake. It was bad enough when his belly had become large enough to keep him from seeing his own crotch, but now it sagged over the area completely, pinning the strap of his bag beneath its overhang. It strained against the black silk undershirt beneath the pocket-laden garment and forced the rest up to account for its roundedness. While a fingerless glove covered his right forearm and his gauntlet covered his left, a strip of pale upper-arm flab bulged out from between the two and the sleeves they led up to, proof enough of his heftiness on their own: even his arms were becoming too fat for clothes he’d just gotten. He didn't have the money to replace his pants, so the place where his thighs now permanently chafed only grew wider and more threadbare…though considering his stomach now hid it from view, perhaps it wasn’t so bad after all. Even still, the fabric camouflage trousers were on their last limbs and tended to creak with the sound of tensing threads when he shifted his fat behind on the stool. He had to be matching Zha’s hip size at this point, since he practically took up three stools on his own with how anyone who wanted to sit on the ones beside him would be forced to contend with his spilling ass-fat pressing against their thigh. 

Isabeau watched how his cheeks bounced as he chewed and how the light goatee on his double chin was like a single dark island in a lake of fair flesh…and when she found herself blushing, she cleared her throat. “Ahem. Did anything else happen in Shinjuku, Comus?” 

“Not much, frankly. I ran into a friend of Nozomi’s--the girl I mentioned who gave me that ‘camera’--who asked me to run an errand for her. It’s nothing huge, just take a picture of the Counter-Demon Force Base, but apparently she needs it for a report she’s giving to Mister…what was his name? Fuji…it began with Fuji. Fujiyama, I think it was. That sounds right. I also messed with some training battles for a bit…” 

Jonathan sighed. “If the terminal was activated, we could simply come over and talk with little issue…but alas, you feared it was too strong for you, right? Perhaps it would be best to wait for at least one of us to accompany you, as we typically do.”

“Yeah, I think that’s for the best.” He sipped his walnutty tea, then set it down with wide eyes. “Mm--I remembered something! When I got in, half the settlement was shuttered, and the guy guarding the shutter said that it’d stay closed until the ‘corpse issue’ was over and done with. I was asking around, but all I got were comments about this guy named Tayama.”

“Tayama, hm? That’s a name I think I’ve heard mention of in passing,” Walter said. “In what context were you hearing him referred to?”

“I think he’s the leader of the Ashura-Kai…? The people didn't exactly seem keen on him, though. There were a few who were eager to pick up something he was responsible for manufacturing, though. I think they were called ‘red pills’...”

Walter scoffed. “Not exactly a descriptive name. Anything else?”

Comus just shrugged. “People just seemed eager to get them. Something about them seems to pacify demons, or at least to keep them away…in any case, selling enough would get you in good with the Ashura-Kai, hence why I figure he’s the one responsible for making them.” 

“I see…” Isabeau said, stopping her travels. “I feel we have a bit more information than we once did. This Tayama and his Ashura-Kai group are worth investigating in further detail, and Comus, if you’re getting more information about them, you must be closest to where they can affect the people. When we regroup again, we’ll see if we can find Ikebukuro and zero in on the Juboku Bookstore.”

“Juraku,” he corrected. “Juraku Bookstore.”

“...My apologies,” she said, a little annoyed.

“But, that sounds like a plan, Izzy. I’ll keep scoping out western Tokyo and see if there’s anywhere else of interest, and I’ll keep you all posted, alright?” 

The four were in agreement, and after the others had hung up, Jonathan raised his hand. “Er…Comus. If I may? I’m growing quite concerned about your recent…um…”

Comus sipped his tea, staring silently at him.

“...Your weight gain. You’ve become larger than anyone I’ve seen, and in such a short time, it’s…it’s not healthy. Surely you must see that, right? How are you feeling? Is it not becoming harder to fight? To move?”

He tapped the rim of the mug. “...It is, a little. Walking long distances tires me out much quicker than it used to, and I feel more sluggish than I’ve ever been. But when it comes to fighting, I’ve been relying almost entirely on magic,” he said, producing a little flame in his palm for emphasis. “I haven’t needed to draw my weapon in months now, and I haven’t had an issue so far, so…”

“But…aren’t you concerned about the effects your weight will have on your body? I admit, the doctors at Mikado haven’t had the opportunity to study cases such as yours in any kind of depth due simply to a lack of experience, but from what they’ve told me, you may be at risk for many diseases if you--”

“Jonny, are you really tattling on me to the doctors at Mikado Castle?” Comus asked with a small laugh of disbelief. “That’s corny, even for you.”

He frowned, raising his shoulders. “...I only did so because you’re my friend, and I’m worried about you. The doctors know more about the human body than I or you ever will, so why shouldn’t I have gone to them to know what was best for you?”

That stung a bit. He shouldn’t be so hard on Jonathan, really…he knows this isn’t normal. Far from it, and he also knows that his reaction to it isn’t a normal one. He’s the outlier, not Jonathan, so he shouldn’t treat the guy like he’s crazy just for being concerned. Still, he had made his decision, and sighed. “I appreciate your concern, but I know what’s best for me, Jon. When I feel the point has come where I must lose weight, then I will work to do so. But let’s just say, for every disadvantage that being this size brings me, there are certain…advantages, as well.”

“What manner of advantage could come from being grossly overweight?”

“That’s for me to know and for you to wonder about,” Comus said with a little snicker, and Jonathan just furrowed his brow before saying his goodbyes and hanging up. 

The stool squeaked beneath him as he turned around, shifting bit by bit until he was facing away from the counter, and he could already feel the bit of strain under his breath from just that as he hefted himself up off the stool. His belly, no longer piled in a heap by his wide thighs, flopped between his legs, and he met it with his palms, pressing into the flesh beneath the black silk with a grin.

Oh, yes. He was really starting to enjoy this, now…

~

Comus: 390 lb

Roky (Ictinike): 352 lb

Manola (Camazotz):  276 lb

Joe (Hooligan): 330 lb → 339 lb

Zha (Gu Huo Niao): 284 lb

Costello (Morax): 326 lb

Gogoru (Koppa Tengu): 293 lb

Kitaro (Toubyou): 271 lb → 280 lb

Bokashi (Ame no Uzume): 296 lb → 305 lb

~

Nothing like wandering on foot across half of Tokyo to make someone reconsider how much they’d been enjoying their recent weight gain. That was the case for Comus, who had trudged as far south as he could conceivably go and was now stuck trudging through the sandy wastes south of Shinjuku. He wasn’t quite at the point of requiring some additional transportation, but he was certainly coming close: his feet were killing him. Along with everything else. 

Behind him, Joe--the tubby Hooligan with the ‘ELIMINATORS’ beanie who, though he’d certainly grown over the course of their travels, was now vastly outweighed by the human he once rivaled in size--struggled along in much the same way. On the way there, he’d already been taken down by a stray Mudo spell, and he now had a spiderweb of pale vein-like scars emanating from his navel. “M-Mister C…where are we goin’, man? I’m running low on soda cans and snacks, and we’re so far away from any other human settlements that if anything happens…”

“Nothing’s going to happen,” Comus puffed out. “And we aren’t, hff, going anywhere. We’re just…just, hahh…exploring…” He coughed. “A-A decision I’m…steadily regretting…”

A short ways behind them, Bokashi and Zha were completely unaffected by the long travels. After all, both of them could fly, so there was no need to fatigue themselves. Zha had one wing slung around Bokashi’s shoulder, pressing the side of her ample hip into her. 

“So…I hear that you are the goddess of dancing, and revelry…I like that…would you be willing to, perhaps, perform a dance for me…?” 

Bokashi stretched and folded her hands behind her head. “Aaaahhh, well, you know, that was kind of a one-time thing for Amaterasu, you know. I had kind of a crush on her, so I got caught up in the moment and stripped naked to dance…heh, I was thinner back then, though? Like, scrawny thin. Definitely happier with all this,” she replied, and patted the thick rope around her stomach for emphasis. 

“Mmmm, is that so…?” Zha moaned out, one wing coming to overlap with her hand. “I must say, I’m happier with it too…I want to… explore it in more depth…”

She blushed beneath the fan. “Y-You…really? Wait, hold on, I’m not really…I’m not ready!” 

Zha almost responded, but then the whirling sand began to pick up, and she was forced to shield her face to keep from swallowing mouthfuls of sediment. “What the…”

Bokashi covered her mouth with her fans, Joe took off his beanie to put over his mouth and nose, and Comus just used his hand, thankful for the visor on his helmet. “I-It seems to be some kind of sandstorm!” he shouted. Visibility was so poor that he could barely make out the hand in front of his face, it being little more than a dim silhouette. “Okay…we’re heading back! Everyone turn around!”

The party did as asked, and found that visibility was just as bad behind them.

“Um…are we lost?” Joe asked, squinting as his long blonde hair whipped in the wind. “Like, lost lost?”

Bokashi coughed. “I think that’s probably a safe bet. Any of you guys got GPS?”

“Wait,” Comus said, squinting. “Wait, I think I can see something coming towards us…it looks like…another human? Or at least, another citizen of Tokyo!” He coughed, then waved his hand. “Heeeey! Over here! We’re lost and we need directions!” 

The figure, masculine in shape, turned to look at Comus and his demons. 

“Do you know the quickest way to get back to Shinjuku?” he asked. 

The figure began to approach them, flanked by two taller, thinner figures who seemingly emerged from beneath the ground itself. Comus immediately felt a pit form in his stomach.

“Is he bringing his friends?” Joe asked, trying to see past the sand. “If so, dude has some really lanky friends…”

Zha clung to Bokashi, her eyes wide behind her wing. She clutched onto the garments of the goddess-demon so hard that it seemed as though she’d rip them right off, but it wasn’t out of ecstasy: it was out of fear.  

“M-Macabre…” she whimpered.

“McCob?” Bokashi asked, confused. 

She almost let out a scream, but before Zha could get even a sound out, a scythe came flying out from the sand and stuck itself firmly between her shoulder blades, stymying her shriek and reducing it to nothing more than a gasp as she fell forward. Bokashi yelped and flew back, watching as the color drained from the Gu Huo Niao and her torso rose and fell in haggard breaths. 

When she turned to where the scythe had come from, she saw two lanky clownish figures sashaying towards them, their faces little more than vague impressions of human visages and their over-long bodies dressed in purplish-black bodysuits with skull patterns and a ruffled collar. They flanked a male human, indeed, but this human’s violet kimono was undone, and he wielded a katana as he stepped forward. There was no expression on his face. 

“It’s an ambush!” Comus shouted, drawing his gun and firing at the Macabre as best he could, but the visibility was just too bad to even tell where he was firing…or if his bullets were traveling at all past the sand. At the least, they seemed to jerk and wince as though they were hit, but it didn't stop them from advancing. 

Bokashi got to her knees and set Zha on them, trying not to turn her back over due to the huge weapon sticking out of her, but it was clear the bird-demon wasn’t doing well. Her green skin had become sickly pale, and she let out harsh, ragged coughs that resulted in speckles of blood coating her thighs. It was the tell-tale signs of poison. 

“B-Bokashi…” she harshly whispered.

“Zha, just hang in there. We’ll get you fixed up. Comus! Toss me a Dis-Poison or something, Zha’s hurt!”

Comus and Joe fired their guns as best they could, but their aim was shot from the sandstorm. The Macabre and the Tattooed Man simply advanced further. Comus opened his bag and quickly felt around, but…nothing. “I…I-I don’t have any!” 

“You don’t?! But then, then…” Bokashi sputtered, looking down at Zha. 

“I-It’s…okay, Bokashi…don’t worry about me…I had a nice little life, full of pleasures and joys…that was all I ever really wanted…” 

“But we just met , and I…I…I never got to…”

One of Zha’s wings shakily reached up to cup the side of her cheek, and she just managed a blood-soaked smile. 

“Focus…on…the fight…I-I’ll…be fine…” 

Just then, the scythe was ripped from her back, and she arched it to let out a gurgling gasp of pain before falling limp over Bokashi’s lap. Blood spurted from the gash in her back, and the Macabre whose weapon it had sent her way now was re-armed and staring impassively down at Bokashi. 

“You mother--! Eat this!” she screamed, and after throwing Zha off of her, Bokashi delivered a stunning roundhouse kick to the side of the Macabre’s head. It went flying in the sandstorm, bouncing off the ground a few times until it fell in a crumpled pile…but, like a marionette with tangled strings, it jerked itself upwards bit by bit until it was upright once again. She glanced down at Zha one last time, then began to push her way through the sand with her fans. She’d lost sight of her master and that guy with the beanie, and if she didn't group back up with them, they may very well meet the same fate. 

“Comuuuus! Jooooe!” 

Comus and Joe had become turned around only a short ways away, and were now facing the other Macabre and Tattooed man with their guns drawn. They were practically back to back with one another, and were reloading just as fast as they were firing. The Macabre seemed to be affected more than the man by their bullets, as it was now dragging itself forward with a limping limb and one arm that refused to lift, but they were still in deep trouble.

“Mister C, i-is this gonna be it for me? I-I don’t wanna die! Please don’t let me die!” he pleaded.

“You aren’t going to die, Joe, calm down!” Comus said, more for his own peace of mind than actually believing it was true. “Just keep firing, and if anything happens, I’ve got healing items and revives for you, alright?” 

“Bro, I’m scared…I-I’m so scared…!” Joe cried, wrenching his eyes shut as he fired. “Just get away from me, you freaky clown things! G-Get the hell away!” 

Unfortunately, firing with your eyes closed isn’t the method most people recommend for hitting your target, and his efforts were in vain. Instead, the Macabre effortlessly weaved past the bullets and raised its scythe in its working arm. The blade glowed with a bubbling violet energy, and in a fluid flick of its shoulder, it threw the scythe boomerang style. The weapon whirled in a circle around Joe and Comus before returning to the Macabre’s hand, though not without incurring its blight on the two men: Joe’s clavicle had been slashed open, and now a waterfall of blood poured out from his chest as he began to shiver, and Comus received a deep gash running diagonally down his chest that would undoubtedly be enough to make him bleed out in a matter of minutes. They both fell to their feet, gasping.

“O-Oh, oh no…oh no, I…oh…” Joe stammered, touching his chest and looking at the blood on his hands. A stream trickled out of the corner of his mouth as his whole body began to grow cold from the poison. “Oh man…oh man, oh man…Mister C…? I think…I think I might be a goner…”

“D-Don’t, nggh, talk like that, Joe! I’ve got healing items in my bag, we can fix you right up. Let me just…” 

Comus only managed to open his bag before there was an ear-splitting scream and a blade suddenly emerged from his stomach. It turned, shifted, and carved horizontally across his midsection before being yanked back out from behind. Comus was kicked forwards into the sand, and standing behind him was the Tattooed Man with blood on his sword. 

Joe almost wanted to cry out, to scream, to run away, but his near-death body ensured that he would take another route: action. Instantly, he drew his pistol and fired one shot into the Tattooed Man’s head, bursting his skull and dropping the former yakuza killer. Then he immediately dropped his pistol, both because he was too weak to continue holding it up and because the weight of what he’d done immediately pressed down on him.

“...A-Aw, shit…I killed a human being again…haha, that’s my streak broken, I guess. S-Sorry, Mr. C…” 

He laughed in spite of himself, and never even saw the Macabre rearing up behind him with its scythe held high. 

“Comuuuus! Jooooe!” Bokashi called with a hoarse sand-grated voice, trudging through the sand and calling for them. It felt like she’d been walking for hours, even if it had only been a few minutes, and still there was no sight of them. The only consistent things in her vision were sand and the Macabre that still tailed behind her, which she constantly kept an eye on to ensure that she wouldn’t meet the same fate as Zha. 

Then she tripped over something. 

“Gah--! Piece of…stupid rock!” she muttered, pulling herself to her feet. “I’m kind of busy right now, so why don’t you just…just…” 

Bokashi trailed off upon seeing that the ‘rock’ was Joe’s disembodied head, half-buried in the sand. She swallowed. Shit. Shit, that answered one question. She put her hands up and stepped back, but it only took a few more steps before she tripped again, this time over a large lump. Learning from last time, she held her tongue before she saw what it was, and she was thankful for it. This lump was Comus’ body, bleeding out into the sand. 

“Comus…what the…?” she murmured, but she had no time to ask or wonder what had happened: there were two Macabre that required her attention, and both were closing in on her. She grimaced. “Alright, you string-beans, come at me! We’ll see who comes out on top! Hit me, I dare you!” 

The two Macabre looked at each other, as if surveying their next course of action, and brought the blades of their scythes together. Then, together, they both sent out their own spinning blights in a piscis shape, intending for both scythes to come together and either stick into Bokashi’s body at the same time, or pass by another after slicing her to pieces. 

She knew their game, however, and rather than ducking or trying to block the weapons, she instead darted forward into the space created as the two weapons parted and caught the two off-guard. She delivered a clothesline punch to one of them, knocking it flat onto the sand before stomping its head into oblivion. The whole thing popped as though it was little more than an inflatable. The other Macabre frantically tried to recall its scythe, but instead it was met with a bare-soled dropkick. It went down like a potted bamboo plant toppling over, and once she stomped its head, it met the same fate as its friend. The scythe traveled far enough to reach Bokashi, but disintegrated into nothing but fog just as it would have hacked off her head. 

Bokashi blew a raspberry. “Assholes! Serves you right!” 

The sandstorm finally seemed to be dissipating: she could see the lights and fires of Tokyo once again in the distance. She looked back at Comus’ body, then Joe’s head, then his body (whose location had been revealed by the fading sandstorm), and finally the direction she’d come from where Zha’s body now lay utterly buried. She only had the strength to lug one home, and even if he was the heaviest…he was also the one with all the healing items. She had no choice.

“Alright, Comus, up you go…” Bokashi squatted down and wrapped one of Comus’ arms over her shoulder, taking a few short breaths to prepare for the task of hauling him back to the nearest terminal. “One, two, thr--nnnn nnngh! Shit, you are heavy! …Okay, Boka-chan, you can do this…just picture him like a big bag of rice. Bag of rice, bag of rice…okay! Heaaaave… ho! Nope. Nope, can’t do it. Okay. Let’s try a different approach.” 

It took a bit of maneuvering and a lot of experimentation, but the best way she could find to carry Comus home was to just drag him by his wrists. She apologized for ruining his pants and probably scuffing up his heels, but there wasn’t a better option. Not only that, but since the terminal in Shinjuku wasn’t unlocked yet, she had to drag him aaaaaall the way back to Kasumigaseki. It was a huge hassle, but coming across cars she could pop the wheels off of and put under him made it a lot easier. 

Of course, she could have easily healed Comus at the Hunters’ Association bar in Shinjuku, but…well, she forgot. The terminal thing kind of ruled out the Shinjuku location as a whole for her despite how it would have made things a bit easier, and so she instead lugged him all the way to Kasumigaseki and into the terminal room there to take him back to Mikado.

Before she did so, though, she dug into his bag and took a picture of the control room in the Counter-Demon Force base for him. It was only fair that he shouldn’t have to worry about that, right? While they were here.

He’d probably need all the convenience he could get when he woke up…

~

Comus: 390 lb

Roky (Ictinike): 352 lb → 361 lb

Manola (Camazotz): 267 lb

Joe (Hooligan): 330 lb → X

Zha (Gu Huo Niao): 275 lb → X

Costello (Morax): 326 lb → 335 lb

Gogoru (Koppa Tengu): 293 lb → 302 lb

Kitaro (Toubyou): 271 lb

Bokashi (Ame no Uzume): 296 lb

~

Comus, now having picked up a new horizontal scar across the crest of his stomach, stood beneath the tree beside Lake Mikado with his demons. The rest had done him good, but unfortunately, the damage was done. Joe and Zha had fallen in battle, and now the least he could do was pay his respects. 

Roky stood stoically with his arms crossed, knowing he would miss Zha both for what she contributed and what she put out but refusing to speak on his emotions. Manola and Gogoru stood beside one another with their eyes closed, Gogoru having his hands together in prayer and Manola having her wings folded in front of her. Costello, not wanting to disturb the funerary practice, leaned on the side of the tree opposite from everyone else. Bokashi had her shoulders slumped as she cursed herself for not being able to act faster, and held the Demonica helmet that held Kitaro within in her hands. 

The samurai shook his head with a sigh. “Roky.”

“Yep,” the Ictinike responded, plucking two leaves from the tree above and handing it to Comus. 

“Joseph…Joe,” he said, tracing out Joe’s name onto the leaf, “you were the first demon friend I ever made in Tokyo. You were friendly, you introduced me to a lot of great food, and you knew the place like the back of your hand…I’ll miss you a lot. Hopefully your streak can continue unbroken wherever you are.”

“And Zha,” he continued, tracing her name as well on the other leaf, “you were…interesting, to say the least. Even if you could make things awkward, you were…” he glanced back at Roky. “You were great fun, and you cared about us just as you cared about yourself. I hope you’re able to enjoy yourself however you want, wherever you are.”

Comus took the leaves into his palms and held them tight, closing his eyes.

“May you both find peace.”

And the leaves scattered away in the wind. 

It would be a while before he went ‘exploring’ again. 

~

Comus: 390 lb

Roky (Ictinike): 361 lb

Manola (Camazotz): 267 lb

Costello (Morax): 335 lb

Gogoru (Koppa Tengu): 302 lb

Kitaro (Toubyou): 271 lb

Bokashi (Ame no Uzume): 296 lb

Chapter Text

Comus: 390 lb

Roky (Ictinike): 361 lb

Manola (Camazotz): 267 lb

Costello (Morax): 335 lb

Gogoru (Koppa Tengu): 302 lb

Kitaro (Toubyou): 271 lb

Bokashi (Ame no Uzume): 296 lb

Gomezu (Nozuchi): 317 lb

~

Comus was getting looks. 

That was to be expected, of course, considering he was probably the heaviest person Mikado had ever seen by this point, but they weren’t even trying to hide it at this point. He was still clearly recognizable as the samurai Comus--that curly hair and aquiline nose set him apart from the rest even when he was thinner than his peers--but the more they saw him in his obese state, the more people began to whisper. The more rumors began to spread about him. Is he being affected by some kind of curse? What did the Unclean Ones do to him? Could it be some demon messing with his appetite? None of them could really know the truth, and Comus didn't know why himself, but the ‘why’ was secondary to how it made him feel. Which was, barring travel, fantastic. 

It felt less fantastic breaking one of K’s wooden barstools in full view of the other samurai, who roared with laughter, but the more he found himself thinking about that moment, the more he began to ruminate and the more an odd emotion emerged. Something like…pride? What manner of person would feel pride when he humiliated himself in front of others? He couldn’t dwell on that for too long. 

There were other points of interest in Mikado other than the stares he received, though. The samurai seemed to be much more comfortable having demons around them, each one having a companion beside them. Samurai sitting across from Apsaras as they ate, shadow-boxing with their Fomorian in the city square, managing their finances with Melchom…it seemed that with the flood of demons coming into Mikado, their presence was not only widely accepted, it was now considered an obligation for the samurai to keep their own in full view. Most samurai had them, after all: they just simply kept the demons to themselves in the town before recently. Even these single companions seemed to be kept on tight leashes, however, and the Casualry and Luxurors alike were wary of their usage. Much like giving police officers assault rifles, it seemed excessive for a group dedicated to keeping the peace to make use of such death-dealing things, but if it was allowed by King Ahazuya, then it was to be allowed without complaint. 

“Pardon me, Sir Comus, but would you be so kind as to provide me with one of your comestibles? I am ever so famished and would appreciate the gesture greatly.”

The ‘companion’ Comus himself had brought along was the one who had spoken, the fusion result of combining Joe and Zha. It was a Nozuchi, which (apparently) was a ball of flesh covered in thick brown hair with two squat grey legs and an elephant’s trunk. He’d called himself Gomezu in his overly flowery and polite introduction, and though Comus could tell he was clearly weaker than both Joe and Zha, he wasn’t willing to just throw the guy out. So, Gomezu was here. 

Comus rolled his eyes and stabbed a scrap of meat--demon meat, judging from the taste--with his fork, passing it down to Gomezu. He sucked it up through his trunk, and even though it really ought to have been his nose that the food went into, the Nozuchi hummed happily nonetheless. “I thank you, Sir Comus. ‘Twas most delectable indeed.” 

“You’re welcome,” he responded, a little curtly. He was now being forced to stand at the tavern countertop, and being on his feet so long was becoming cumbersome. He’d already had to take a bit of a financial hit to pay K back for the stool, and this was just the icing on the cake. The one-eyed veteran samurai still looked over his shoulder at him, which was a sour feeling…although, he also knew K was pretty annoyed about the Monastery using his blackboard once again to foist relic-gathering quests on the four samurai. And it was the four samurai. Nobody else had gone down into Tokyo other than Comus and his friends. Not that there weren’t pretty pressing issues to deal with in Mikado, that is to say, but Comus at least felt like he could probably be making better use of his time in Tokyo than gathering…what was it? Laptops? Refrigerators? What even were these things? 

“Ahem,” a voice said from behind Comus, tapping him on the shoulder. “Pardon me, but…I cannot see the blackboard with your vast form blocking the way. Might you be so kind as to waddle yourself somewhere where you won’t be an obstacle to others?” 

He sighed, dropping his fork onto his plate and half-turning around to look at the speaker. “I can’t possibly be taking up every spot from which you can see the blackboard. Find another, and leave me…huh?” 

Standing before him was…if it wasn’t him, it was the spitting image of Navarre. Although now he seemed quite a bit more put-together, the shadows under his eyes having faded partially and his Luxoror-bred build of indolence having gained a noticeable layer of muscle beneath it. His hair was just as stupid as it was when they had last seen each other, not having changed in the least, but Navarre himself had a bit of a different look in his eyes. That being said, he was just as shocked as Comus was, and staggered back with his mouth agape.

“‘Swounds…it can’t be, it’s…is it really you, Comus?” He rubbed his eyes just to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating. “Or have I gone mad once again and am distorting my memory of you?” 

That voice was unmistakable. This certainly was Navarre. Comus sighed, turning fully around and leaning lightly on the counter with his elbows up (taking care not to put his full weight on it). “Yes, it’s me. In the flesh, in fact.”

“Well, I can see that much. What in God’s name happened to you?! You’ve practically doubled in size!” 

“I was only about 300 pounds when we last saw each other, and I’m only 390 now, so you’re off the mark by an extra 110,” he said, snickering. 

“You…you’ve been keeping track? I don’t…” Navare sputtered, waving his hands in front of his face. “No, no, forget that! I needn’t understand the sordid details of your life! Knowing such frivolities is beneath me, and whatever perverse reason you have for cataloguing your spiral into obesity is none of my concern.”

Interesting how he immediately clocked it as ‘perverse’. Poor Jonathan was still lost in the dark on that front, even if he suspected Walter and Isabeau knew to at least some degree. Comus sipped the tea he had ordered with his meal. It was flat and bitter. He missed the Yulmu-cha tea from Shinjuku something fierce…

Gomezu lifted his trunk to sniff Navarre, the samurai leaning back with a wrinkled nose at the demon’s movement. “Ah, you must be Sir Navarre, yes? I’ve heard tales of your escapades spoken of by the samurai in this establishment.”

“You have?” Comus asked.

“You have?” Navarre asked, a bit more pressingly.

“Indeed. Whilst my master consumed, I have listened intently to the conversations of those around us, and from what I have gathered, you’ve made something of a name for yourself as a ‘comeback story’ after an initially very poor showing. You’ve solved many a demonic quandary in Mikado. Even if the word on the grapevine states that you tend to favor the Luxurors’ neighborhoods when it comes to where you decide to protect…”

Navarre crossed his arms defensively. “Clearly, some form of unsavory gossip has been spreading about me…”

Comus just rolled his eyes. It seems Navarre’s classism couldn’t evaporate as easily as his confidence could in the face of a demon attack, but at least he was doing good for the people of Mikado. Even if he was a bit selective, it could be worse. He could be dead in a ditch. 

“What are you thinking about me, Comus? I see that look in your eye…” 

“Oh, nothing,” he said with a snicker. “In any case, I’m glad to see that you seem to be doing well, Navarre. I admit, I was worried you wouldn’t ever be able to recover from that Alraune attack, and yet here you are, fit as a fiddle.”

“Hmph, of course. It’s in a Luxuror’s blood to be able to adapt to any situation, is it not?”

“...Is it? I wouldn’t know,” Comus laughed, “being a Casualry and all.” 

“Oh, yes. I very nearly forgot. Though it seems that you’ve been able to make do on that addlepated ‘dream’ of yours, to live as a Luxuror would…I assume the Unclean Ones’ country has been treating you well, then, otherwise you would not be here in all your corpulence.” 

“I’m confused on whether you’re amazed or disgusted by me, Navarre, but considering it’s you, I doubt that I care which is which,” he replied. “Needless to say, though, the culinary relics and traditions of Tokyo are something to behold for sure…I’d say you’re missing out, staying in Mikado and all.” 

Navarre scoffed and lifted his chin with a haughty smirk. “If I were to turn out such as yourself as a result, I don’t believe I’m missing out on anything at all.” 

Another figure emerged from the tavern doors: a female one, which spoke in a piercing voice. “Navaaaarre! I’m back from raiding Tokyo! Look what I got! The monks said these were labeled ‘fish’, ‘chicken’, ‘soup’, so I must have gotten some real good stuff…” 

Stumbling through the doors with her arms full of metal cans was Ludovica, Navarre’s demon partner. The Fortuna, who once was so timid she depended on Navarre’s approval for something as simple as a handshake, seemed to have come out of her shell in more ways than one…notably how she seemed to have thickened up something fierce as well. Though of course her midsection was taken up entirely by a spinning wooden wheel, her fair-skinned limbs had obviously become larger since they last saw her, transformed into roll-laden cones of fat that would wobble and bounce if she wasn’t simply floating across the floor. Her breasts, already substantial by human standards, now were large enough to risk indecent exposure if they so much as slipped an inch out of their strained white confines. Without any stomach to steady them, they swayed heavily within their prison from her momentum. 

She dumped all of the cans on the tavern counter and slammed it with her hand, “K, my man! Please prepare a feast worthy for a Luxuror out of these pre-packaged ingredients! We shall pay handsomely for you and your cooks’ services, of course…” 

K just looked at the cans, looked at Ludovica, and sighed with a shake of the head as he gathered them up. Navarre, who didn't have the time to tell her to be quiet, now almost seemed to shrink in size as he slouched and swallowed. Comus’ smile was wide enough to be seen from space, and he leaned towards Navarre.

“So, Navarre…”

“Not. A word. I beg of you.” 

“Hey, aren’t you Comus?” she asked, bringing her arm up and literally using Navarre’s head as an elbow rest as she hovered in place. “You’ve gotten so much bigger, wow! All those extra chemicals and preservatives and fats in Tokyo’s food must be hitting you something fierce.” 

...Wait, was that why he’d been gaining weight so quickly? That would make sense, if there was some kind of additive to the food that his body wasn’t used to…though, he was already 300 pounds before even leaving Mikado, so he doubted it. He just shrugged. “Speak for yourself. What have you even been up to, hm?”

“Vica…please…” Navarre begged, covering his face.

“Oh, you know. Seeing as Navarre is still too scared to go underground but demons are showing up anyways, he appointed me as his personal servant and bodyguard! So, when he goes to bed, I go down into Tokyo and grab up whatever food I can, then I bring it back to cook for us! Though he keeps complaining about eating ‘Casualry food’, so I always get the leftovers…not that I’m complaining myself, heh! Of course, working for him is reward enough, isn’t that right?” she teased, tousling his pompadour with a catlike grin. 

“So then,” Comus began, trying to keep from laughing, “I suppose you two spend a lot of time together during the day otherwise?” 

“We do no--”

“Course we do!” Ludovica chirped, leaning in to press her chest against Navarre’s shoulder. Her teat overflowed enough to rub against his neck. “When we aren’t out on a mission, we spent pleeeenty of time together, ain’t that right~? He may act all sophisticated and put-together, but trust me, he’s a hot mess behind closed doors…For a guy who’s terrified of demons, he sure doesn’t mind being around them so often, if you catch my meaning,” she said, sticking out her tongue.

Navarre just groaned, beet-red behind his hands.

Comus--in an attempt to keep himself from cruelly teasing that his encounter with the Alraune seemed to have left him with a lot more than lasting trauma--pushed himself off the countertop and stretched, sighing. “Well, I do believe that’s our cue to exit. Gomezu, are you ready?” 

“Ready as I shall ever be, Sir Comus,” he responded with a slight bow of his hairy body. 

“It was very nice catching up with the both of you…especially you, Navarre. Give my regards to Ludovica, you two enjoy your meal, and…” 

“Er, w-wait,” Navarre said, lowering his hands. Comus stopped to hear him out. “Before you leave, I did actually want to ask you something…while down in the country of the Unclean Ones, have you seen a Samurai not among your flock? As far as the Commander has stated, only you and the three others are officially on the mission to capture the Black Samurai, but the other samurai have said they’ve been getting reports of one unknown to their ranks showing up in and out of Mikado. A young man with a ponytail, I believe was their description…”

“Oh, yeah, and I saw him too!” Ludovica said, slapping Navarre on the shoulder and making him wince. “It was when I was leaving the Sky Tree, I saw him slaughtering demons…I stayed out of his way, that’s for certain!” 

A young man with a ponytail…why did that description sound so familiar? Try as he might, though, Comus couldn’t recall having met anyone like that. He said his goodbyes and continued to rack his brain over the issue as he left the tavern and started towards the entrance of Naraku. 

No matter how he tried, he just couldn’t remember. 

~

While Comus was up in Mikado, he figured he could at least make the most of his visit by addressing a quest that he’d picked up at some point along the way. Frankly, he had completely forgotten where he’d gotten it from (though he wanted to say a Strix had mentioned it to him and Gogoru somewhere in the Counter-Demon Force Base), but he was more than happy to take care of it now, even though Queenie warned him against taking on such a quest. The patron was shored up in a room on the second level of Naraku, and seeing as it had been quite a while since Comus last went through the caves, he took his time. The demons, of course, were of no concern: the poor emaciated things could barely scratch him and his party…especially since his party were practically three times the weight of any of the demons they encountered each.

It was something of a sight to behold: Comus strolling forward and almost being reduced to waddling as he huffed and puffed his way down the many stairs of Naraku, fatter than likely anyone else on the continent, and trailing behind him, two demons who were also approaching his level obesity. Roky, whose moobs and flabby upper arms had only grown and who muttered curses under his breath as he felt them bounce and slap against the rest of his flesh going down the stairs, and Costello, whose noisy gut and frequent belches made him an unignorable presence even as he used his planet-tipped staff to support himself as he stood. He wasn’t quite at the level of needing to use it as a cane simply to walk, but did use it to lessen the load on his feet every now and then. Gomezu seemed to be the fittest out of all of them, in fact, and led the way as he rolled trunk-over-haunches down the stairs. 

“I do believe our patron should be right through this door,” he intoned, waving his trunk at the others. “Shall we greet them and receive further information about their predicament?” 

Roky leaned against a wall. The Mudo scar on his shoulder, branching like a spiderweb, throbbed under his palm. “Shut…the fuck…up…” he wheezed out, slamming his fist on the wall. “Motherfucker…Comus, why the fuck does your kingdom have so many god-damn stairs?! Haven’t they…hff…heard of ramps?!” 

“I-I think that--” Comus began, then coughed and bent down on his knees to catch his breath. God, he was sweaty. He didn't much like that part of being so big, he had to admit. He was definitely due for a bath when he returned to the barracks, as were his demons. “...I think the lack of anyone our size around here is more than enough reason…but I agree. It is quite annoying.”

“Listen to yourself. ‘It is quite annoying’, it sucks! It fucking sucks and I hate it and I’m gonna rip whoever thought it was a good idea to shreds. Costello, you good over there…?” Roky asked, looking over to the Morax. 

Costello languidly rubbed his gut with one hand, trying to soothe its angry churning, and groaned. “T-Too much movement, man, my gut hurts…I’m hungry…” 

“Yeah, yeah, aren’t we all..?” 

Gomezu folded his trunk before him politely. “Then I shall wait until you have all taken an appropriate rest. Do take care not to keep our patron waiting, however!” 

“I said…shut…up!” Roky hissed, swatting at him from five feet away. 

Once the band of overfed hunters had managed to return to a more normal rate of breathing, they entered into the room one by one and found within it a humanoid demon--a feminine one, judging by the voice--kneeling on the floor with her face in her hands, sobbing. She had dark skin decorated with golden ankh markings, wore a gold, black, and indigo stepped headdress with an uraeus on the front, and though it was unclear whether it was simply the clothes she was wearing or a facet of her biology, shimmering golden feathers covered her arms and chest. The rest of her was covered by a white dress accented in the same black and indigo as her headdress. 

“Whoa, babe alert,” Roky whispered, lightly nudging Costello in the side with a snicker. The small impact made him let out a long, wet, rippling belch, which was enough to get her attention. Costello annoyedly shoved Roky in response.

“Are you…the ones who took my quest?” she asked. 

Once he was done glaring at his demons, Comus nodded. “We are, miss.”

The demoness cleared her throat, making an effort to compose herself as she rose to her feet. “M-My apologies for presenting myself in such a way to you all…I am Isis. You see, my husband, Osiris, is dead. He was dismembered.”  

“Our humblest condolences, madame,” Gomezu said, bowing with his trunk.

“Oh, no, it’s quite alright. I can revive him with my powers. However, his sarcophagus was thrown into the river further up on the surface by his brother Seth, and it drifted down into the depths of Naraku where I cannot reach. All I ask of you all is to return the sarcophagus to me so that I may bring my husband back…will you do this for me? I promise I will reward you for your efforts.” 

“Naturally,” Comus said, taking her hand and nodding. “It’d be our pleasure, trust me.” 

“Hold on, hold on.” Roky crossed his arms. “What’s stopping you from bringing it back yourself, lady? You aren’t just trying to get us to do your dirty work, are you?”

“The realm of the lower reaches of Naraku are crawling with demons, and combat is…not my strong suit. Not only that, but I lack the strength to carry the sarcophagus back to the surface by myself.” 

“Then why not just pop the casket open where it is and revive him there?” he asked. 

Isis looked away. “That…is the cardinal issue. Seth seeks to prevent his return by any means possible. I don’t stand a chance against him in battle…and neither do you. He will be keeping a close watch on the sarcophagus, and once you dislodge it, he shall take flight…whatever you do, do not confront him.”

Costello scratched his beard, licking his teeth. “I think we could take him, probably. Guys named ‘Seth’ tend to be pushovers.” 

“And you got experience in that regard, gashole?” Roky asked. 

Costello just shrugged in response.

“Do not take this lightly!” she stressed, clasping her hands together. “Even being cornered once could spell certain doom for you all. Please just do your best to avoid him, and return the sarcophagus to me. I shall take care of the rest from there.”

“No need to worry,” Comus said, hands on his hips. “We’ll be extra careful. I mean, how difficult could it be?”

~

“Holy shit, this thing is heavy.”

Comus let out a sigh as he dropped his hands onto the lid of the sarcophagus, recovering from the effort of trying to lift it. It was an immense marble casket inlaid with gold, semi-precious stones, and shimmering jewels and gems, which made it beautiful to look at but incredibly weighty. True to Isis’ word, it had floated down the river all the way into the fourth stratum of Naraku, and judging by its position, it had probably been launched straight through the waterfall they now stood behind and lodged itself into the dirt. It wasn’t stuck tight, thankfully, but the sheer size of the thing was enough to make it an issue. He scratched his head. “Okay…how are we going to get this thing back up to the second stratum?”

Roky cracked his knuckles, smirking. “I got an idea. Watch and learn, boys. You’re about to see what it looks like for a guy to work smarter, not harder. There’s a stiff inside, but all the lady needs is the stiff to revive him, so if I just shove off the lid…” He put his palms on the side of the lid, lowered himself, and pushed as hard as he could. No dice. “...If I just…shove off the lid…” He tried again, his face turning red, and this time the lid budged just slightly. As in, maybe a millimeter. Roky gripped onto the end, curling his fingers. “Stupid motherfucking heavy-as-shit piece of garbage sarmophogus…”

“Sarcophagus,” Gomezu corrected, “and I feel as though the only solution to an issue such as this is a team effort. Each of us must carry a corner, and so the burden of the weight is distributed evenly among us all. Is that reasonable?”

“You gotta be shittin’ me…” Roky groaned. “Comus, can’t you summon someone else to do it? Or at least get everyone else out here…”

“I’d like to, but…I’d be kind of worried about Seth catching anyone who lags behind. Besides, who are our other options? Manola and Bokashi aren’t that physically strong, Gogoru is kind of a wimp, and Kitaro doesn’t have arms. You all are our best bet.”

Costello, who had been snacking on a life stone, wiped his mouth and huffed. “Alright. Guess there’s no way around it. Here we go…” Then, surprising everyone present, he bent down and took hold of one of the corners. Even if he had to expend quite a bit of effort, he was able to lift the sarcophagus. “Everyone take a--urp, take a corner.”

There wasn’t much room to argue. Everyone took a corner, Gomezu opting to carry his on his ‘head’ while using his trunk as support, and though it was still absurdly heavy, it was much more manageable when they were working together. 

“Alright…” Comus grunted, “let’s go. Everyone takes a step at the same time until we get the rhythm, okay? One, two, three--! One, two, three--!” 

Working together, they managed to move the sarcophagus half a foot or so at a time, trying to ignore the burning sensation in their muscles. 

“Hey, nnghh--! I just realized--nnggh--something,” Roky said between heaving the marble casket forward. “How--nngh--in the fuck are we going to--nrrrrgh--get this up the ladders to the third stratum?” 

Everyone stopped. Comus loudly groaned. 

“...God damn it. Okay, everyone, set it down. Let’s figure something else out.” 

Exhausted, the group just dropped the sarcophagus. It seemed that that on its own was enough to pop the lid just a tad, however, and with that small amount of leverage, they were able to crack it open. The gratitude among the demons and samurai was plain on their faces: lugging a mummy around was a lot easier than lugging a giant marble sarcophagus. 

Comus picked up the stiff human shape wrapped in natre-soaked gauze, holding it bridal-style, and sighed. “Thank goodness…alright, now we can get going. Let’s just hope that Seth doesn’t show up for a bit and we can--”

“Uh,” Costello stammered, pointing over his shoulder.

He turned, and visible behind the flow of the waterfall was the immense blurred silhouette of a black dragon, its wings spread wide. It let out an ear-piercing shriek and, just as everyone was processing that it had likely been watching them this whole time, it dove its head in--its oblong whale-like head--and stared at the group with beady yellow eyes. It puffed hot air through its nostrils. 

Comus gulped, holding Osiris’ mummy up as a shield. Then he screamed.

“RUN!”

You would think that three obese men, one of whom is carrying a dismembered corpse, and one weird hairy elephant snake thing would be able to get past a monstrous dragon god without much issue. Unfortunately, there was much issue. 

Evading Seth was almost the easy part, as the cramped crevices and halls of the caves made it difficult for him to maneuver compared to Comus and his demons, but it turns out that scaling a ladder while hauling around a dead body was harder than one would imagine, and he dropped Osiris many times in the process. The first time he did so, the gauze broke apart, and his corpse scattered into pieces across the cave floor. They panicked, but thankfully, Gomezu was small and quick enough to gather everything up while evading the dragon’s slashes.

Once they were up the ladders, the stairs were no better. Seth getting lodged in the cave entrance bought them some time, but they were still forced to sprint (as best they could) up the stairs and through the winding corridors of Naraku, even having to get down and crawl through crevices that they were much too big for to avoid the corridor of poison gas. Comus, Roky, and Costello all got stuck, and Gomezu was forced to assist in yanking them through using the suction of his trunk.

All the while, there was much screaming. There was much shouting and cursing and arguing and panicking, and by the time much of the confusion had given way to an attitude of ‘let’s just get this done’, Comus saw the large cylindrical chamber with the stairs leading back up into Mikado. They’d gone too far.

One argument later, they circled back down to the second stratum, and Isis was startled by Roky shoulder-checking the door open, stumbling in and shouting “Go, go, go! C’mon, inside!” to the others. He made sure Gomezu, then Costello, then Comus with Osiris were able to enter, and then slammed the door shut behind him, holding it closed with his body. Seth banged harshly on the other side once, twice, bouncing Roky in the process, before letting out a roar of anger. The slow, heavy stomps they heard after the fact were the only proof he’d given up on the chase. Roky sighed and immediately dropped to the floor, sitting and trying to catch his breath. Costello was laid out on his back, and Gomezu followed after Comus as the samurai staggered towards Isis.

“A-Are you all alright…?” she asked, looking concernedly at the group.

“Fine. Just fine. Here,” Comus said brusquely, handing over the mummy of Osiris…or at least, what was left of it. Repeatedly, he had been knocked against rocks, battered against ladders, scattered into pieces, shoved through holes, and used to whack away incoming demons, and as a result, the human shape of the mummy had been reduced to something more resembling a sack of disparate parts. “Sorry we weren’t able to keep him intact…or get the sarcophagus…but it was either this or nothing.” 

“Oh…” Isis said, holding the remains of her husband in her hands. Comus was bracing for the waterworks, or at least some scolding, but instead she hugged the bag of flesh and bones to her chest and smiled, tears pricking the corners of her eyes. “My dear husband, you’ve been returned to me…! Thank you all so, so very much! I know it was difficult, but please know that your efforts were not in vain. With your aid, I can bring my husband back to life, and he can seal away Seth for good.”

He put his palms on his knees, coughing. “S-So then, you aren’t mad…?”

“Why would I be? He was already in pieces before you got to him.” 

“Thank God…” Comus muttered, and as they said their goodbyes and left Isis with her mutilated husband, exiting the room where she stood, everyone took a seat against the wall and rubbed their faces. They were exhausted from running, exhausted from panicking, and exhausted from everything else.

Costello, who had been breathing shallowly, dove behind a rock and threw up. The rest followed suit. 

It was not a fun mission, to say the least. 

They would definitely be heading back down into Tokyo…after sleeping the rest of the day away, of course.

~

Comus: 390 lb → 400 lb

Roky (Ictinike): 361 lb

Manola (Camazotz): 267 lb

Costello (Morax): 335 lb

Gogoru (Koppa Tengu): 302 lb

Kitaro (Toubyou): 271 lb

Bokashi (Ame no Uzume): 296 lb

Gomezu (Nozuchi): 317 lb

Chapter Text

Comus: 400 lb

Roky (Ictinike): 361 lb

Manola (Camazotz): 267 lb

Costello (Morax): 335 lb

Gogoru (Koppa Tengu): 302 lb

Kitaro (Toubyou): 271 lb

Bokashi (Ame no Uzume): 296 lb

Gomezu (Nozuchi): 317 lb

~

A day or so after the ordeal that was the recovery of Osiris for Isis, Comus returned to Tokyo with the intention of heading back to Shinjuku. He’d been putting off taking care of the ‘thing with the corpses’ for a while now, mostly because he really wasn’t looking forward to doing more people’s dirty work, but also because he still couldn’t travel easily to Shinjuku. If he wanted to stop by, he really had to make it count.

Before swinging back there, Comus opted to take the ferry north of the Sky Tree into Minami Senju, seeking out the rumored Orcus. There was someone asking for its blood to make use of in armor, and even if he was dreading coming across something he and his demons couldn’t handle, him having worked out a strategy to deal with the Macabre and Tattooed Men that had killed Zha and Joe in the past made him feel a lot better. The Orcus--some manner of living stone gate with horns and red eyes--went down surprisingly easily too, and Comus was able to collect the black tar that seeped from its wounds in an empty juice can for the shopkeepers at Ueno. He rewarded himself and his demons with a small feast of croquettes, rested a bit longer, and then began to make the trek back to Shinjuku.

There was little incident, which he was glad for, and once he returned, Bokashi was nice enough to remind him that while he had been knocked out, she had taken the liberty of taking a picture of the Counter-Demon Force Base for him to pass on to Nozomi’s friend. He thanked her and passed the photo on to the friend, and though she was somewhat concerned by Comus’ corpse being in full view at the bottom with his guts spilling out, she had what she wanted. As a reward, she gave him an old olive-green military helmet she no longer had any use for, and Comus happily traded out his old visor-attached helmet for a new visorless helmet for, if nothing else, novelty’s sake. 

From there, there was nothing else to do except to take up the job. After all, if he didn't do it, who would? 

Comus, accompanied by Roky, Bokashi, and Gogoru (the tubby little Koppa Tengu struggling to keep pace with the others), approached the eastern stairs heading up into the Shinjuku district proper, and was stopped by a man built like a brick wall. He sniffed, looked down at the four of them, and sneered.

“You fatasses here for the quest?” he spat.

Roky barked a laugh. “Ha, we’re the only people who even want to do this quest, it seems, so it’s either us ‘fatasses’ or nothing, fuckwad. What’s it gonna be?”

The Ashura-Kai guard grit his teeth and glared at Comus. “Your demon’s got a mouth on him, and tits to match. You better keep him in line, or else I may decide killing you is less trouble than you’re worth.” 

Comus cleared his throat and nudged Roky in the side rolls with his elbow. “Ahem…what he means to say is, yes, we’re here for the quest.” 

He rolled his eyes. “...Fine. But you better not be pullin’ my leg. Let me see that techno-thing on your arm.”

“Why?” Comus asked defensively, pulling his arm in and turning away slightly. 

“‘Cause otherwise, you just wanna muscle your way into Ashura-Kai turf, and I gotta blow your fucking head off. Now give me your goddamn doohickey!” 

The man reached forward and grabbed Comus by the wrist, yanking it towards him to forcefully extend his arm. An appraising look to his demons was met with little more than a laugh from Roky, a shrug from Bokashi, and Gogoru backing away with his hands up. Some friends they are…of course, however, there was one ‘friend’ Comus couldn’t shake even if he tried.

“Hey, hey, hey, HEY! What the fuck do you think you’re doing, you blockhead?! Get your filthy paws off of my screen, you’re smudging me!” Queenie shouted, her vague figure able to be seen slamming her fists against the ‘screen’ before her. 

“What the…” the guard murmured, almost grinning in disbelief as he poked and prodded at the screen. “Some kind of virtual assistant, maybe…and with one hell of an attitude, too. You must attract loudmouths like shit attracts flies, fatso. I’d ask if you’re with ‘them’, but you don’t have on those stupid orange robes, so I figure…Whatever. Let’s see…’Quests’...”

“I said…hands OFF!”

Hundreds of volts suddenly coursed through the man’s body, causing his limbs to seize and him to convulse with a pained groan as smoke poured off of his body and out of his mouth. Like a plank of wood, he dropped to the ground. 

Gogoru covered his mouth over his mask. “O-Oh my gosh, is…is he dead…? Did you just kill a guy?!” 

“Who cares? If he was stupid enough to ignore obvious directions, he didn't deserve to live. Comus, you accepted the quest, it’s logged with the Hunters’ Association, it’s fine. There’s seven Corpse demons, kill ‘em all in one go, that’s it. Just get moving before people start staring more than they already are.”

“...That would probably be a good idea, yeah.”

Comus gingerly stepped over the unconscious man and started trudging up the stairs. Roky followed after him, kicking the man for good measure, and Bokashi and Gogoru hovered after, even as Gogoru stared down at the scorched guard. 

~

“So,” Gogoru began, walking after the group, “We’re hunting ‘corpses’? Aren’t corpses just dead bodies? I mean, that doesn’t seem too bad. Is it just cleanup, or…? Oh, I hope it’s just cleanup…”

After scaling the stairs and catching their breath, they seemed to have come out at what was once a busy intersection, though many of the roads leading out had been blocked by chain-link fences. It was there that they got the first look at the demons of Shinjuku, and…for once, Comus was surprised. 

The demons here were fat. 

In Naraku, they had been emaciated at best, forced to subsist on the lichen on the walls, each other’s flesh, and the meat of whatever poor samurai met their end within its corridors. In much of Tokyo, they seemed healthy enough for a bunch of roving man-eating delinquents: a bit of variation here and there, and oftentimes the larger ones would be drawn to him, but for the most part, the demons he encountered on the streets were of average build. 

Here, however, there was something different going on. Jack Frosts resembling rounded snowballs waddling about with dazed grins on their faces, Ippon-Datara whose stomachs bulged against their ‘4’-stamped rubber aprons and struggled to hop along on their single foot, Night Stalkers waddling along and wiping their blood-soaked mouths as they huffed and puffed…even the Caladrii, the blue-and-white birds skilled in healing magic, seemed to keep mainly to the ground and lower surfaces, too fat to fly any distance on their own. Comus kept a close eye on them, partially because it was just novel, and partially because he was just…confused. What was it about this district specifically that seemed to be fostering growth like this? 

The more he watched, the more he formed his theory. There was something he had been noticing flashes of here and there, after all…

“Not corpses corpses, Gogo,” Bokashi said, floating past as she reclined. “Corpse-type demons. Basically, think of a…a hot pot! But the ingredients are humans. And the broth is connective flesh.”

Gogoru gulped. “T-That sounds…horrifying…”

“Yup! It’s preeeetty scary…but you aren’t gonna wimp out, are you?” She playfully prodded him on the top of his head on the black tokin hat he wore. 

“...I might. I’ll have to see. It kind of depends…I mean, the demons here don’t look all that scary. Or threatening. Maybe the corpses won’t be so bad either…? Heh, maybe I was getting all worked up for nothing! Heheh!” 

She sucked her teeth. “I wouldn’t bet on it. If there weren’t any issue, the Ashura-Kai goons wouldn’t be sealing this part of the city off. That means they’re dangerous enough that humans aren’t allowed in.” 

Gogoru slumped his shoulders. “Can’t you at least let me enjoy lying to myself for just a little bit longer…?” 

Comus, who had been trying to spark up a conversation with a Pyro Jack and only got mild burns for his troubles, sighed and patted down the ember on his shoulder. “This is really weird. Why’s everyone so…round? Not only that, but they seem a lot more…I don’t know, placid, than usual? There’s still ones attacking us, of course, but less so. I wonder…” 

“Hey,” Roky said, gesturing with his thumb, “looks like there’s some lights over there. A chain of stores or something. We’ll probably find some of those Corpse things over there.” 

The hunter looked over his shoulder at an Obariyon struggling to piggy-back onto an Ippon-Datara due just how far its suction-branded belly stuck out and shook his head.

“Let’s go, then.” 

Kabuki-cho was what this part of the city was called, apparently. A large red sign, still shining and surrounding mystic script, heralded their arrival into a land of neon signs, glass doors, and blinking lights. It was enough to give Comus a headache. Somewhere, music he’d never heard before seemed to be playing, and it was just slightly loud enough to be a nuisance. To cover a bit more ground within the tight entertainment district, and with less risk of sudden demonic attacks knocking them all out, Comus made the decision for everyone to split up and go searching inside the storefronts. Then they would regroup and share what they had learned. 

Comus pushed the door of what was once a convenience store and blanched at what he found inside. There, sprawled out on old sacks of rice and potatoes, was a truly immense pale-skinned cat-like demon--a Senri, apparently--who was so large that he would be surprised to see that she could even walk. Laid out as she was, her sizable belly spilled out from beneath a leopard-print fur coat and hung between her legs, the lower swell just about reaching her knees. If she had anything on to cover the space between her legs, it was totally hidden. Her huge breasts, each at least as large as Comus’ head, were the only things covered by the fur coat, and even that failed to hide her prominent double (going on a triple) chin. Her kasa straw hat sat askew over her striped face, and from beneath her, the visible tip of a smothered tail thrashed about. In one pudgy claw-tipped hand, she toyed with a small red grain of something or other. 

Nuzzled up beside her was another humanoid female demon, a Yomotsu-Shikome, though this one was slightly smaller…if only slightly. She was stuffed into a purple-black furisode that once had a patterned obi belt around its midsection, though that had been cast aside to allow her own double-rolled belly to flood out and squish against the side of her companion’s. Her skin was darker with yellow-green undertones, and though her face was obscured by a black veil hanging down from a wooden headdress, her cheeks were still visible jutting out past the sides of it. Dark raven hair fell messily around the two of them. She looked more than happy enough to just be tracing her sharp-nailed fingers around and across the swell of her companion’s belly, enjoying the soft give of the flesh beneath her digits. 

Comus flushed red and averted his eyes. “O-Oh, er, excuse me, ladies, I’m sorry to barge in, I…”

“Ohhh…Is that a human?” the Senri slurred out, looking over at him from beneath her askew hat. “Don’t worry. We’re--mmph--cool with humans. We won’t eatcha. Prommy…” 

Prommy? What was ‘prommy’? Comus side-stepped in, only glancing at the two female demons when he felt he was able to muster up the courage to, and was thankful he himself had gotten big enough he could hide his more personal feelings on the scene before him. “I-I was actually wondering if you had seen any Corpses around…? As in, the demon. Me and my own demons are looking for them, y-you see…”

The Senri’s stomach gurgled beneath her partner’s palm, and she winced. “Mmm, I couldn’t tell ya. I’ve just been in here eating Reds and stuffing myself silly…though I had to stop ‘cause I got a wicked tummy-ache. My girlie here is tryin’ to help me, but it--nnh--ain’t workin’ out so well…” 

He peered through the gaps in his fingers at her. “Reds? What are Reds?”

The Senri held up the little red grain. It was roughly globular in shape, maybe slightly oblong, and was bright scarlet in tone. “These little godsends is what Reds are. They’re the most delicious thing in Tokyo, hands down…at least, they are for me and Shiksie here. Humans don’t seem to be into them. Wonder why…?” With a shrug, she popped the Red into her mouth and swallowed, seeming to sink further into her decadence until the hat covered all but her ecstatic smile as she hummed with pleasure. 

Reds…that would explain what he’s been seeing. Little red things that the demons would pass to one another, popping them into their mouths and seeming to slow a little more afterwards. Comus vaguely recalled a hunter in Shinjuku Station mentioning having to sell Reds to get paid enough to buy a ‘phone’...so then, were the Reds a creation of the Ashura-Kai…? 

“Psss, hey…human guy…couldja come over here a sec?” the Senri murmured. “I need your help with somethin’...” 

Comus, remembering where he was, momentarily considered just running away…but of course, his lower half’s motivations prevailed, and he approached until he was standing over them. This close, he could hear the bubbling within her ample midsection. It sounded like what Costello’s gut sounded like…all the time. Hmm.

The Senri stuck out her tongue. “My tummy’s really not feeling well…I think it’s gas. Might be from the dried-plum onigiri I had…or the torikatsu tenders…or the inarizushi I dipped in ponzu sauce…whatever. The rubs feel amazing, but it isn’t solving things. You’re a heavy guy…would you mind if you just put your weight on my stomach? Just use your palms and press. I think that should take care of it…” 

He swallowed. “Y-You, uh, you want me to…but what about…? I mean, isn’t she…?”

The Shikome demurred and draped one of her heavy arms over her companion’s breasts. “Shiksie’s too gentle to do something like that to me…which is cute but also super inconvenient. Come oooon, it’ll only take like five seconds…” 

“...Alright,” Comus said, almost not believing what he was being asked to do, and spread his palms out in front of him as he kneeled down before her. He tried not to think about how, at this angle, the belly before him filled his entire breadth of vision. How he couldn’t see her face past the swell of lard before him. How it churned and bubbled before him…well, he was failing, but he still was being asked to do something, so he’d do his best. He leaned forward and, placing as much of his body weight as he could behind his palms, pressed as hard as he could into her midsection. His hands sunk in deep, much deeper than he was expecting for someone supposedly backed up, and even if he did hit firmness eventually, his fingers nearly disappeared in the marshmallowy flesh. With how he leaned in, the overhang of his belly kissed the stretch between her navel and her own overhang, and he tried as hard as he could to keep his hips from moving any closer…

Once the pressure was applied, there was a sharp gurgle, and then the Senri let out a loud, long, rippling belch, right into Comus’ face. It was more than just rice-scented hot air, though, and as it went on longer than any belch rightfully should, a cloud of red escaped from her lips into the air. With that, she finished, and the Senri sighed with relief as Comus’ hands sunk in just a bit further, his fingers disappearing completely. “Fuuuuck, that hit the spot. Thanks so much, human guy…um…hey, are you alright? Your nose is leaking that red stuff I used to drink before I got on the Red trend.” 

“Whuh?” Comus mumbled, a stupid grin on his face as blood trickled out from his nose. He blinked and pressed a finger to his lips, looking at the red that stained it, and unsuccessfully tried to wipe it off with his sleeve as he staggered to his feet. His knees were wobbly for a reason other than his weight for once.

The Shikome nudged her companion and pointed to the corner of the convenience store where the red mist was now circling. “Ohhh, no wonder I felt all oogy. Some dummy Mou-Ryo must have been hiding in one of the snacks I had…” 

“Mou-Ryo? Wait, then that’s…?” he asked, finally starting to regain his composure, and when he turned around, he was face-to-face with a ghostly red visage. He yelped, putting his hands up in shock. 

“Whoa, whoa, dude…I’m not gonna bite,” it spoke in a leisurely voice, floating back a foot or so. “I just wanted to thank you for getting me out of that chick. I had, like, noooo room. Those Reds must give you the munchies something fierce, I swear, ‘cause she just would not stop.” 

“Speaking oooof,” the Senri chirped, petting her companion’s long hair. “Shiksie, could you go and get me some rice crackers from the shelves over there? Thanks a bunch.” The Shikome nodded in the affirmative, but getting up from her position was a different matter which would take quite a bit more effort and time. Comus watched her struggle for a bit over his shoulder, then looked back at the Mou-Ryo.

“Anywaaaay, as thanks, I was wondering if you’d let me hang with you for a while? If you got the space, I mean.”

“I believe I do, actually…” Comus mused, before shrugging. “Hey, why not? Welcome to the team, er…”

“Dailing,” it said, making a circle around Comus’ head. 

“Comus,” he replied. “Pleasure to meet you…hm?”

Judging from the tap on his shoulder and the sudden heat behind him, ‘Shiksie’ had managed to maneuver herself into a standing position. She leaned in and whispered in his ear. 

“Another quest…? What is it?”

Gogoru slid open the paper sliding doors of what seemed to be a ‘ninja trick house’, a place where ninjas would hide behind painted scrolls, you could throw shuriken at targets, and avoid spikes from floor traps. He was extremely thankful that the spikes were just cardboard, but he wished that he hadn’t screamed and cried as much as he did when he was stabbed and thought he would die. That was very embarrassing. The place seemed to be empty, but when he turned the corner into a line of torii gates with some potted plastic cherry blossoms flanking them, there was a demon lounging against one of them. 

Funnily enough, it was another Koppa Tengu, though this one’s mask had blue spirals compared to Gogoru’s yellow…and it was also probably twice, maybe even three times his weight. Its obi was fully undone to make way for the burgeoning flesh within, and even then, it was practically overflowing out of its clothes: its white sleeves clung to its pudgy arms like sausage casings, rips all along its overstretched trousers revealed the white fabric within, and its sleeveless vest-like upper garment was little more than scraps on its flabby, misshapen torso. It had the general shape of a stack of roast beef, and laid back wheezing as its wings twitched. 

Gogoru blinked. “O-Oh…wow. Hello there. I, um, wasn’t expecting to see another Koppa Tengu around here, let alone someone so…” 

The immense Koppa Tengu turned its pudgy head languidly. 

“...Oh my god, I’m so sorry. P-Please don’t kill me. I don’t know what I was thinking, I, I--” 

“Relax, will you?” it grumbled out, resting its swollen forearms on the shelf of its gut. “I’m not gonna kill you. I’m not in the mood…or the shape,” it added somewhat bitterly. 

Gogoru let out a huge sigh of relief and sat down at the opposite end of the torii the much fatter one was seated before. He knew he was quite soft and pudgy, he wasn’t denying that, but seeing the demon before him was like looking into a funhouse mirror. 

“Are you the guy I heard screaming earlier?” it asked. “The hell happened?”

“O-Oh, I…uh…fell. On a sword. But it was just a flesh wound. It hurt a lot though, so…I screamed. That was what happened,” Gogoru stammered. 

“Uh huh,” it rumbled, and that was it. 

Gogoru pulled his knees to his chest, the two of them awkwardly sitting in silence for a short while. Eventually, he remembered that he was there for a reason before he had gotten sidetracked by the size of the demon before him. “Um…so, have you seen any Corpses around the area? Big, uh, bunches of humans all glommed together…”

The other Koppa Tengu stifled a burp with its fist and huffed. “I saw one or two skulking around Kabuki-cho, yeah. That was a while ago, though, and frankly, I don’t really care where they went. I doubt they’ve got anything to do with what I’m dealing with right now, anyways.” 

He glanced at the other’s sagging breasts, watching them heave up and down with its heavy breaths. “What…are you dealing with?”

“I’m out of Reds. Been out for a while now, and I’m freaking starving…those Ashura-Kai dweebs are supposed to show up to pass them out, but they haven’t been around for the past few weeks, and I’ve used up the last of my supply.” 

“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that,” Gogoru replied, not knowing what Reds were but knowing that this massive demon probably had little chance of procuring them itself. It looked like it would have trouble standing, let alone walking… “So, is your, uh…size, a result of the Reds?” 

It grumbled. “More like a side effect. Reds are the most delicious thing I’ve ever had, but they make you hungry as hell. It’s like you never get full, it fuzzes your brain, and all you want to do is eat, and eat, and eat…until you end up like me,” it said, slapping its belly for emphasis. The mass of blubber rippled like the surface of a lake. “Guess I at least have an excuse for giving up on becoming a Karasu Tengu now, right?” 

“You…you weren’t planning on becoming one?” Gogoru asked, shocked. After all, Koppa Tengu were nothing more than the retainers and students of more powerful tengu, the weakest of the weak among tengu-kind: it was every Koppa Tengu’s dream to become powerful enough to be a Karasu Tengu…which wasn’t the highest tier or anything, but it was a step up from being the bottom rung, and that was all that really mattered. “Why not…?”

The morbidly obese demon shrugged, jostling its form. “Why not? I never saw the point in it. All you’d be getting is a bit taller and a new uniform. It’s easier when you haven’t got any eyes on you. No expectations, no duties, just…Reds, Reds, Reds…ugh, seriously, do you know anyone who has some extras still on them? I’m craving them real bad.” 

“I-I mean, I don’t, but, what about…for yourself? Y-Your pride? Your status as a tengu?” Gogoru asked, rising to his feet. “Don’t you feel ashamed, being content to just grow fat and accept you won’t make anything of your life…?” 

It just scoffed. “Better to accept it now than spend my life trying to convince myself I would.” 

He didn't know exactly why, but that statement struck a chord with him. Gogoru couldn’t come up with a response that wouldn’t end poorly…so he just shook his head and went “I-I believe I should get going. My master is waiting for me.”  

“Yeah, alright, see ya. Don’t come back unless you have some Reds for me, will you?” 

Gogoru wanted so badly to say ‘don’t count on it’, but instead what came out was “Will do.” 

He spent the walk back outside cursing himself and thinking about his own lot in life. He was a coward and a pushover, he knew it, but was he going to be like this his whole life? Was he going to let himself be like this…? He could almost feel something changing within him, a realization of the values he treasured most…

Then he stepped on a panel and some fake arrows shot out, making him scream again.

“G-God damn it!” 

Roky opted to duck past the destroyed doors into the wide building labeled as the Shinjuku Batting Center according to the red neon characters over the roof. A vertical sign with a baseball at the top stood beside them. 

“Yelloooo? Any assholes here?” Roky said as he stepped through the destroyed lobby, thumbing the revival bead he’d been given just in case anything happened to him. If he went down, he was to swallow it immediately and high-tail it out of there the first chance he got. “If you ain’t got anything to say, then I’ll assume you’re my enemy and I’ll kick your ass…” 

“Over heeere,” a sing-songy voice called, and Roky followed it through a few hallways until he came to a wide-open space paved with astroturf. There was no back wall, but there was a green net that acted pretty much the same way with a bunch of pitching machines in front of it.

Leaning against one of the machines was a Macabre--a faceless humanoid figure with a squiggly red marking on its face, a purple-black jumpsuit with a ruffled collar and skull motifs, and a scythe in its hand--but they were quite plump. Not quite to Roky’s level, though even Roky would be outweighed by some of the other demons around, but it was clear that their prominent stomach was finely contoured by the tight full-body suit. 

Roky jogged for about two steps, and when he was too sick of his moobs slapping against his stomach, he just chose to speed-walk. Even that tired him out after a bit, though, and by the time he was right by the Macabre, he was a little winded. “Ugh…so. What, you’re just hanging out in this empty batting center by yourself like some kinda weirdo?”

“Weirdo? Nooo, no. I’m not a weirdo. I come here for peace and solace from the hustle and bustle. And to indulge in the trendiest thing this side of Tokyo, of course…” they said with a snicker, waving their fingers and producing a Red with some sleight of hand. 

He glared down at the little pill. “The fuck is that? Some kind of jelly bean?”

“Mooore than a jelly bean, my buxom acquaintance. It is a Red. The hottest thing on the market among demons, I’ll have you know. Folks just can’t get enough of them, and as I am also ‘folks’, I also can not get enough of them.” 

“And how the hell do you eat one of those? You ain’t got a mouth, brainiac.”

The Macabre lifted the Red to where their mouth would be, and--like a bubble--the pill popped into liquid, which splattered against their face and sunk into the skin. “Mmmhmhm, yeeees…” they giggled, wiggling their hips. “You must try one. You simply must…but none of mine, okay? You cannot partake.” 

“Yeah, wasn’t planning on it,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair and sighing. “Listen, you seen any human souffles around here? Like, just a bunch of chumps melted together. Me and the boys are looking for Corpses.” 

“Huuuumans?” they intoned, leaning in and waggling their finger. “Mmm, no, no. Eating humans just isn’t cool anymore. It’s so five years ago. Out of style. Reds are in, you see? They taste better than humans, too…” 

Roky wrinkled his beak, leaning away. “Okay, you are freakin’ me the fuck out, dude. Thanks for the info, but I’m gonna walk away and never talk to you again. Alright?” 

“Nooo,” the Macabre said, spinning its scythe to hook it behind Roky like a cane around an unpopular performer, “I don’t believe you will. There are demons here. Demons with reds. And I’m running low. You’ll help me procure more, won’t you…? Otherwise, I’ll fall behind. I’ll be lost in the crowd. You’ll help me, right?”

“...Get your gut off of my gut right now, or so help me, I’ll smash that skull of yours into meat paste.” 

“Mmmm, nooo meat. No meat here. Only desire.” They opened their hand, and a ball of swirling black-and-purple Mudo magic formed. “You’ll help me, right?”

He swallowed. Roky may be arrogant, but even he knows when he isn’t in a good position. The Mudo scars on his shoulder throbbed just looking at it…and it seemed like they’d be getting some new friends joining them. 

Just then, however, he heard a familiar voice approaching. A female one.

“Rokyyyy!” Bokashi’s voice was calling. “Where the heck did you go? I found a secret tunnel and wanted to show you! Plus I found some of those weird Corpse things, and you gotta see ‘em. Like, seriously, they’re sooo nasty. I knew about them beforehand, but seeing them in real life is a whole different matter!” 

“Boka--!” was all Roky got out before feeling a cold, spreading pain right on his sternum. 

“Mooore friends?” the Macabre sung, allowing Roky to drop to the floor and writhe in pain. “Perhaps they’ll have Reds…perhaps, perhaps, perhaps. Someone has to be cool around here. You, however, are uncool. You will be dead soon. I’ll keep an eye on the woman, though…maybe she will--” 

“Kiii-yah!” Bokashi cried out, and delivered a double knifehand strike into both of the crooks of the Macabre’s neck with her fans. They were sharp enough and had been applied with enough force, it seemed, to pierce the Macabre’s skin, and much like the others she had defeated, it deflated like a balloon with a whistling hiss until it was nothing more than a pile of rubber. The Ame-no-Uzume cracked her knuckles, frowning down at the demon. 

“That oughta teach you, you creep! …Roky? R-Roky!” she cried, kneeling down beside him. His eyes were blank, and the Mudo mark on his sternum bubbled and fizzed with liquid tar-like darkness. She shook him, trying to rouse him, but received no response. “Dammit, I was too late…sorry, Roro…” 

While she was trying to figure out how she was going to drag Roky back to Comus and the others, though, she spotted something glistening from between the Ictinike’s stiffened fingers. Delicately, she pried them apart…and found the revival bead he’d been carrying within. She grinned. 

“Lucky bastard! Let’s hope this works…” 

Bokashi popped the revival bead into Roky’s mouth, and in a matter of moments, the Mudo energy dissipated and the light returned to his eyes, accompanied by a deep inhale and cough. “Oh--koff, koff, fuck, what the hell…? What’s…ow…” He brushed his fingers onto his chest and felt the new scar that had formed. Great. That made two.

“Rorooo, you’re alright!” Bokashi cheered, pulling him into a hug (or at least as much of a hug as she could with their sizes). “Clever thinking, keeping that revival bead on you. If you didn't have that, you would have been a goner for sure.”

“I, uh…” he muttered, his face heating up as he felt her breasts smush against his shoulder. Really, Comus was the one who told him to bring it, but… “Heh, yeah. Pretty damn smart of me…but, thanks.” 

“Aw, it was nothin’. But, like I said, I found a secret passage and a Corpse! We kind of have to take the roundabout route to get to it, but there is one here. Come on, let’s go meet back up with the others.”

“Whoa, whoa, hold on,” he said, grabbing one of her sleeves, “we don’t have to go just yet. I mean, we are still alone, and…y’know, I figure a verbal ‘thanks’ isn’t quite enough to show my gratitude. Why don’t I show it another way…?” he growled with a lecherous grin, grunting as he sat up. “I’ve been achin’ for some female company ever since Zha bit it, after all, and the bat chick still won’t put out…”

Bokashi gave him a pitying smile. “Aw, gee, y’know, I appreciate the offer, I really do, but…I don’t really have any interest in guys. I mean, heh, you have the boobs to pass as a girl, but the voice and the equipment don’t match. Sorry!” 

Roky frowned. “...Seriously? Fiiine. Weak. In that case, can at least you help me up?”

“You can’t stand on your own?”

“O-Of course I can! I just got socked in the chest with dark magic though, so I’m not exactly in the best shape, here…now if you’re done staring, take my wrist and help me up.” 

When they regrouped, each had very different feelings about what they’d seen. Comus--accompanied by Dailing, who had been leisurely floating along after him--seemed flustered, Gogoru was quieter than usual, and Roky had picked up a new grotesque scar on his chest as Bokashi floated beside him. 

The low-down was this: it seemed that some group (likely the Ashura-Kai) was producing small pills called Reds that supplanted the hunger for human life force in demons, replacing it with a pleasurable high and an increased hunger for regular food. They were quite addictive, though, and long-term usage could result in certain…side effects. Rather strange side effects for a pill to have, Comus wondered. Was it just an unforeseen consequence, or was this something the Ashura-Kai were actually intending on…?

Regardless, they followed Bokashi towards the underground passage. 

~

Comus: 400 lb → 405 lb

Roky (Ictinike): 361 lb

Manola (Camazotz): 267 lb

Costello (Morax): 335 lb → 345 lb

Gogoru (Koppa Tengu): 302 lb → 311 lb

Kitaro (Toubyou): 271 lb → 280 lb

Bokashi (Ame no Uzume): 296 lb → 314 lb

Gomezu (Nozuchi): 317 lb

Dailing (Mou-Ryo): 345 lb

~

At the mouth of the passage, Comus realized that, thanks to Dailing forcing itself into his party, he was entirely out of room in his gauntlet. If he wanted to pick up a new demon companion, he’d have to fuse two of his old ones. And considering that there were two demons who he hadn’t used in battle for quite a long time, the choice was relatively simple. 

With Roky keeping watch and Bokashi chatting with Gogoru, Comus leaned against the mouth of the passage and opened his fusion app. Mido’s familiar visage swung in. “Greetings, Comus! Back again for another fusion, hmmm?”

“Why else would I be seeing you if I wasn’t?” Comus said with a snicker. 

“Fair point, fair point…then, who would you like to fuse together?”

He looked at the demons in his stock. Each demon still had their own personalized ‘habitat’ for them to spend their time in when they weren’t being actively summoned, and he peered in each: Costello was alone in a Gothic castle, messily gorging himself on whatever digital food was being summoned for him (regardless of if it really had any kind of nutritional value or not), and Gomezu was dutifully sweeping the Shinto shrine he resided in as Kitaro--still in the Demonica head he’d decided to be his home--slept atop a stone lantern. Dailing lingered about the Chinese-style pagoda in his ‘habitat’, and he seemed happy enough. 

In fact, the only demon who didn't seem to be content in their holding was Manola, who sat alone at the edge of the lush sinkhole that was her home, looking down into the darkness. Comus winced upon seeing the Camazotz. He still felt awful for fusing away the demon she’d fallen in love with, the Sandman called Santana, but there was no going back…and what was she doing now? Just sitting in the stock all alone, too weak to really be brought out in a fight. Maybe he’d be doing her a favor by fusing her like this…

“Mido, would you mind if I summoned Manola for a quick goodbye?” 

“Why, not at all! Please, take all the time you need.”

Roky raised his eyebrows, looking up and watching the samurai but saying nothing as Comus pressed a few buttons and brought Manola out. The matronly bat stood with her wings around her body, looking up at him. “Oh, hello there, Comus. Did you need something from me?” 

“Manola…” he began, but before he could find the words, he dropped to one knee and brought her into a tight hug. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry for what happened with Santana, it’s been killing me ever since I did it, and…I know I can’t undo what was done. But I wanted to let you know I’m planning to fuse you with another, and…I wanted to say goodbye to you. You’ve been with me a long time now, and even though it’s been a while since we’ve talked one-on-one, I…I-I…” he choked out, starting to sniffle. 

She pat him on the back and said, in her comforting voice, “There, there…it’s alright. I know how you’ve been feeling, and…I forgive you. I know fusion is simply a part of life for us demons in contract with humans.” Manola parted from him and looked him in the eyes. “I would rather it end like this than me dying and not being able to pass on my memory to someone new.” 

Comus swallowed and wiped away his budding tears. “I…t-thank you. I hope you and Santana can reunite somewhere, wherever your souls and minds may go after fusion.” 

Manola gave a knowing smile. “I know we will.”

Roky turned away, trying to hide what emotion he was feeling, while Gogoru prayed for the Camazotz and Bokashi was struggling to keep from bawling from behind her fan. She allowed herself to be unsummoned, and Comus exhaled to collect himself once again.

Then he poked around a bit longer, held a button down on his gauntlet, and said “Gomezu, you’ll be fused with Manola. Is that alright?”

“Very good, Sir Comus,” his digitized voice replied. “Will that be happening presently or forthwith?”

“Er…presently?”

“Very good.”

Mido appeared once again on the screen, clearing his throat. “Then, if all is taken care of…I shall commence the fusion!”

The fusion process began in earnest, and while Gomezu sat politely in his ingredient chamber before he was converted back into base data, Manola stood and waved one final time at the screen. Comus waved back with an emotional smile. The two’s data swirled and twisted and mingled with one another, and just like before, Comus’ gauntlet screen lit up…

…And out popped into his hands the basketball-sized upside-down head of a baby with two stubby arms, connected to eight more talon-tipped yellow-and-black-mottled arachnid limbs. 

Comus stared at it.

It stared back at Comus.

Then, from somewhere, it produced a thick cigar and a lighter, flicking it open and setting the end of the cigar alight as it took a puff. It said in a gruff Brooklyn accent, glaring up at him, “Take a picture, bub, it’ll last longer.”

Comus screamed, throwing the Ubu at Roky. Roky caught it, then screamed and threw it to Bokashi. Bokashi held it out at arm’s length and jumped from one leg to the other going ‘ew, ew, ew, ew’ while Gogoru put his hands up and stumbled backwards. The panic continued until Comus managed to fumble with his gauntlet enough to unsummon the little demon, and once it was gone, everyone just sort of stood there trying to calm themselves down.