Book 28: The Eden Conference

Chapter 3 | The Orchestra

July 10, 2022 - ?:??

National Zoological Garden, Pretoria, South Africa

From a bridge spanning the length of his new purchase, Iosef watched over the desolate zoo in the darkness of the night. His wax vessel disappointed the many mosquitos that braved the journey to his pale skin. He also remained unbothered by the stench of animals in the distance and relished in the whispers of swaying leaves.

Illuminated by a single streetlamp, he turned to two figures cloaked in shadow.

“Do you know why the Orchestra is called the Orchestra?” He asked. Both people shook their heads no.

“I didn’t think so,” he mused, “The Institute is the pillar of modern society, and yet so little is known about them. I’m not sure which is more human; the mass ignorance, or their sinuous deception.” The man produced a cigarette from the inner pocket of his fur coat and sighed as he gazed at it longingly.

“In the early days of the Institute,” he continued, “back when it went by a different name, the Families were at war. Eventually, they fought a battle so great, that the clash of that much atma was described in some older Rose Family texts as an ‘orchestra of carnage’. I truly wonder what it sounded like…”

“But did they even have orchestras back then?” The taller of the two, a boy, asked.

“No, I suppose not,” Iosef chuckled, “it was more of an approximate translation. But from that battle, the modern day Institute was conceived. As they were born from bloodshed, so too are the maestros they admit. Calling their entrance exam the Orchestra is symbolic of that fact.”

“Right…” the boy said, “but why the history lesson?”

“I have a contact at the Institute. A contact who, to my dismay, has informed me of changes to the whereabouts of my remains. As my complete resurrection is critical to the Ascension Plan, I’m sending you two to correct this misstep.” He rolled his cigarette between his thumb and index finger.

“So what would you have us do?”

“You’ll join tomorrow’s Orchestra. The appropriate paperwork will be in place by the time you arrive. Ensure that you pass and await further instruction. We won’t be stopped here.”

~

July 11, 2022 - 11:42am

Eden City, New Eden, Bir Tawil

Angelo Ricci stared obsessively at the door of the obnoxiously white waiting room where he and the other Orchestra contestants sat. The competition’s metaphorical doors would be shut in less than twenty minutes but the bloom boy and his cohorts hadn’t shown up yet. Dressed in a navy blue windbreaker and black cargo pants, his left hand wandered to the cybernetic replacement for his right. Its cool, dark gray frame hummed with atma, disguising the throbbing at his elbow where metal met flesh. The prosthetic may have looked crude, but was more than capable of the job it was gifted for.

He ignored the other people in the room as his mind constantly returned to his conversation with Yasu. As usual, she was cold and unforgiving, and only visited him to issue another mission. The last one she’d issue to him personally if he failed, she’d threatened. And although she was gracious enough to arrange for the prosthetic, her dissatisfaction with the results of their previous mission was made apparent in the arm’s simple build.

“Angie,” Esme rested a hand on the boy’s shoulder, derailing his train of thought and startling him, “are you alright? You look scary right now.”

“I’m fine,” he lied. You will fix this. Soji Ojo must not survive the Orchestra. Soji. That was the bloom’s name. Why’d she have to give it a name? Neither he nor Esme had killed someone before. That’s why I have to do it myself.

He’d have an easier time convincing himself that that bloom was not a person, it was only shaped like one.

“Are you sure? Is your arm hurting again?” The girl asked worriedly.

“I. Am. Fine.” He assured.

“Alright, Batman, sheesh.” Niko Rose sat down next to the duo and threw her arm around Esme. She kissed the girl on the cheek.

“Don’t be mean…brooding is his natural state,” Esme chuckled. Angelo ignored them.

Finally, the frosted glass doors at the end of the massive room slid open with a hiss. Soji and Angelo locked eyes instantaneously. The same blooms that killed your brother are the ones that gave that boy power. Yasu haunted the back of his mind. He’d vomited when she first showed him a picture of Franklin’s bloomed corpse. He almost vomited again, looking at the thing that did that to him.

The low thrums of mingling contestants — and dispiriting thoughts — were extinguished with the infamous trio’s appearance. Soji, accompanied by Kuro and Monika took their seats on the opposite end of the room, ignoring the stares that followed them.

“So, you’re the bloom guy…is it true that you eat people?” A young Ghanaian girl next to them asked. She matched attire with some of the maestros in the room; an oversized windbreaker and cargo pants. A girthy white snake slithered along her shoulders, making her appear even smaller. Kuro jumped at the sight of the beast, changing seats to sit next to Monika on the other side of Soji. She chuckled.

“No, I don’t eat people,” Soji replied. He briefly thought back to the time he bit Victor. “But some people deserve it.” He crossed his arms.

“I agree. My mom works in research, and some of her friends give me the creeps. You should eat them.”

Soji was about to respond when Monika interjected.

“Sorry to interrupt, but how old are you? You look twelve.”

“I am twelve. I got into an M.I.I. academy when I was ten. It’s not as hard as everyone says it is.”

“Don’t get cozy with strangers, Dione,” an older Filipino girl with a shaved head and thick eyeliner put a hand on the twelve-year-old’s head. She was dressed similarly, save for two knives holstered on either side of her waist.

“But there’s lots I want to know. And mom said ‘information is a two-way street’.”

“Yeah, well,” she pulled her little sister’s ears playfully, “she also said not to talk to strangers.”

Dione opened her mouth to respond when a speaker hidden in the walls crackled with static.

“Congratulations on making it to the Orchestra!” An upbeat British voice exclaimed, “I’m sure a lot of you have been anticipating this moment. Well, the wait is over, so let’s hop right in! The exam is divided into rounds, where each round will grant you, the participants, points based on your performance. A minimum number of points will be required to pass the exam, and that number may change with each round. Furthermore, the passing mark will only be revealed during the last round.”

“That doesn’t seem fair…” Kuro observed. This is probably one of the schemes Tamara was talking about. The boy, of course, referred to the conversation they had on the jet. The administrators of this year’s exam would do everything in their power to ensure that Soji fails. The scoring system only reinforced what they concluded that morning; that Soji had to obtain the highest score. Kuro looked to his friend, whose eyes narrowed with the same realization.

The wall behind them suddenly started sinking into the ground, revealing a vast open field of green. It was simultaneously miraculous and uncanny that the Institute could get grass this healthy in the middle of a desert. Even the sun’s intensity was reduced to the comfort of a warm fireplace. White lines raced along the field, dividing it into three rectangles. At the end of it was a large scoreboard, momentarily blank. The voice continued, this time from unseen speakers, as the group spilled into the space. The wall behind them closed up, disappearing any trace of the building they were just in.

“The name of the game is Baba Ganoush! You all will be divided into two teams; catchers and runners. The game is simple; each time I yell ‘Baba Ganoush’ , runners have to make it from their rectangle to the one on the other side of the field while the catchers, who stay in the middle, try to stop them. Once tagged, you become one of the runners.”

The voice paused before continuing.

“However, every member on the runner's team starts with 20 points, while catchers start with zero. Runners will earn 10 points each time they make it to the other side without being tagged while catchers inherit half of a runner’s points with each successful tag.”

“Seems simple enough,” Monika said.

“Oh, but that’s not all, Ms. Rose.” The group looked around, surprised this invisible speaker could hear them too. “With every member the catcher’s team gains, the points earned per catch decreases. The reward for the last standing runner is that their points will double.”

The competitors, totalling seventeen, murmured amongst themselves. A short, tanned, American boy with a shaved head and tattoos running along the side of his neck smirked. His arms bulged out of his white singlet as he crossed them.

“I have a question,” he said with a deep Southern drawl.

“Go ahead, Mr. King.” The voice replied.

“If I, as a runner, am caught, do I have to wait until the next time you call out to begin acting as a catcher?”

“You do not have to wait. The moment you are tagged, you may begin acting as a catcher.”

“And how many catchers will the game start with?”

The voice paused for several moments before replying.

“How astute of you…the game will start with four catchers.”

“So that’s the deal with this game,” he commented, drawing curious glances from the other competitors. The slender Brazilian boy next to him raised an eyebrow.

“What do you mean?”

“At a glance, it seems like a runner might have an advantage. But in reality, the runners are at a disadvantage. The longer you’re a catcher, the more opportunities you have to get more points. And, you never have to worry about losing them.”

“And you’re just telling us for free?” Soji chimed in.

“Of course. Now that I’ve shared with the class, how everyone chooses to act broadcasts all sorts of information about them.” He rubbed his chin with a look of superiority.

“He’s right,” Kuro thought, “as a runner, letting yourself get caught in the first round tells everyone that you’re not confident in your ability to evade sixteen other people. But it could just as easily be a bluff. Either way, this guy’s taken control of the battlefield by making everyone overthink their next steps.”

Angelo ignored the younger competitors. It didn’t matter to him the inner workings of this game.

~

“Why do we have to participate in this year’s Orchestra?” Isadora groaned, “We’ve been working as maestros for two years!” Angelo and Esme nodded in agreement.

“You never officially passed your exam two years ago.” Yasu replied, surprisingly open to questioning.

“Those were extenuating circumstances; Victor going on a killing spree shouldn’t disqualify us!”Esme cried.

“And yet it does,” the Elder said, turning a page in her newspaper, “because of that boy, we had to cancel the subsequent year’s Orchestra to restructure it. So if you’re worried about being too old, don’t worry, you’ll find your age mates there too.”

“What if we fail?” Esme asked. They all sat in Yasu’s office, dressed for duty and always on standby near the Elder for whatever she needed. She wasn’t the friendliest, but all three were grateful for her help after the 2020 Orchestra Incident. The old woman looked up.

“You won’t fail. Think of it as merely a placement test for you.”

~

The masked boy sighed at the memory. How could life turn to shit just a few weeks after that? He shook the weight off his shoulders and gripped his obsidian staff tightly.

“And now for the teams,” the announcer declared, “Our catchers are Esme Montoya, Angelo Ricci, Alex Fischer, and Niko Rose. Please step forward to the center of the field.”

“Yasu must really want us to pass,” Esme signed as she spoke. Alex nodded. He wasn’t someone they really hung out with, but tagged along for some of their missions. He was tall, chubby, and dark-haired with round, brown eyes. She almost cried sometimes at the thought of someone like him suffering the Orchestra Incident.

“You know, I’ll never get used to you being on a first name basis with my grandmother,” Niko said. She, too, signed for Alex to see. Today, she had only her slender weapon case. And I can’t believe we can’t use guns…how lame…

“I don’t think she will either,” Esme chuckled.

“Alright,” the announcer continued, “Everybody else, you’re runners, gather at the nearest rectangle.” The group did so in silence, with each member deep in thought about their next moves.

“Baba Ganoush!” Almost nobody moved. The Brazilian boy whispered to a silver soccer ball then launched it high into the air, towards the safezone on the other side. The moment the ball landed, he appeared next to it, resting a foot on it. The boy looked pleased with himself and the murmurs he got from the crowd still on the other side.

Slowly but surely, the competitors began their race to the other side. Some walked, others ran, very few used their techniques. Monika didn’t hesitate to use her atma to launch herself across the field, staying close to the ground and letting her atma burst to give her a speed boost. She felt the tug of Niko’s wings attempt to latch onto her just as she reached the safe zone.

“Agh, looks like pinning my wings on fast targets is still a pain,” Niko ignored the trickle of participants that made it past her, even smirking at the silver haired boy she noticed her cousin staring at so worriedly. “Speaking of…”

Suddenly, she felt a wave of heat overwhelm the field. She turned to see Soji in a runner’s position; hands on the floor and butt raised. His bandages burned with excessive heat, burning the grass he touched.

“So that’s the bloom kid.”

“He’s mine,” Angelo spat venomously, stepping ahead of the rest of the catchers. With that tone, nobody dared disobey.

Soji kicked off the ground with what he had hoped was blinding speed, but instead fell face first onto the grass, sliding towards Angelo slowly. He looked back at Esme who giggled mischievously, with the realization that she used her technique to reduce the friction of the ground. The catchers laughed, with the boy with the shaved head approaching the fallen Soji.

“Don’t touch him!” Angelo scolded, “Let him pass. I’m not done with him.”

He locked eyes with Esme as he said that last part, reiterating for her not to do that again. Soji managed to roll over as he continued sliding, staring blankly at the sky as the catchers parted to let him pass. Dione giggled as he floated past her, giving him a little wave.

“You should definitely eat him, bloom boy!”

“Yeah…” He eventually came to a halt at Kuro and Monika’s feet whose expressions wavered between concern and holding back laughter.

“That was…” Monika began.

“I know,” Soji stopped her.

“Between my cousin and that girl, the two of them could catch almost everyone if they wanted. Niko tried to use her technique on me but couldn’t. I think you can avoid her if you’re moving fast enough. As for that girl with the Aria— ”

“Baba Ganoush!”

“Dammit!” Monika yelled as she used her explosive atma to skate along the slippery grass. She’d been tempted to take a step but heard the girl’s melodic atma humming quietly on the ground. Of the ten catchers waiting for them in the middle, only the original four and the tattooed American were able to move normally. What monsters.

The ability to exempt targets from an Environmental technique like Esme’s was quite impressive. Tamara had taught her that techniques that affect an area took extremely fine control to avoid specific targets. The change in the pitch of her atma told her that was what was going on. That the American used his own technique — whose nature she could not discern — to counter so quickly was a feat of its own. These five would be formidable in the future rounds.

“Did Monika say Aria?” Soji asked. No way a Saint is competing with us…how is that fair?

The Brazilian boy threw his ball once more, effortlessly making it to the other side. The other three competitors slowly made their way across, with two just giving up, hoping to net points the next round.

“We’ll find out after,” Kuro replied, “hold onto me. Your mobility sucks.” He was tempted to forfeit now and net a couple points for Soji and himself.

“It does not,” the boy replied, latching onto his friend’s shirt, “it just sucks right now.”

Kuro unsheathed his machete and poured atma into it. Taking a deep breath, he slashed the blade at the ground ahead while taking a step. The space before them warped and distorted, folding then expanding to spit them out a few meters ahead, still sliding across the grass. Awe at the boy’s technique temporarily stunned Angelo. What kind of…?

The anomaly continued the process, slashing and sliding while the catchers tried unsuccessfully to chase them down. Niko tried repeatedly to pin her wings on them, but the boys would be zipped several meters away by the warping space. Monika waited for them excitedly on the other side, clapping her hands and hopping up and down in glee.

“That’s your technique?! That’s so cool! How are you even doing that? What are you doing?” Her excitement made Kuro blush.

“I-it’s not that complex. I can erase the space between me and my target with any blade. The thing is, the space attempts to repair itself. How I cut it determines what reappears where. It’s kind of weird, but it feels like Tamara’s shuffling. It’s not so much teleporting, and more spatial displacement.” Kuro began muttering to himself. The discovery of his technique was a jarring experience in the pit, and was still jarring to use.

“Can’t say I’m surprised. Big Si— Tamara, did say you anomalies have weird techniques,” Monika replied.

“That’s the white hair stuff, right?” Soji asked, “What’s so weird about fire and lightning?”

“Boy, you three do talk a lot,” a girl’s voice interrupted. The trio turned to see Dione’s older sister.

“I feel like I know so much about you just listening to you talk,” she closed the distance between her and Kuro, “although, you probably shouldn’t explain your technique for everyone to hear.”

“Baba Ganoush!”

Penny fell into her shadow with a splash, the darkness swallowing her up like an unexpectedly deep puddle. She emerged from the shadow of the furthest catcher, a short girl with blonde hair and waltzed nonchalantly to the safe zone before anybody realized what happened.

“Damn…” Soji accidentally said out loud, earning a side eye from Monika, “I’m sorry.”

“Soji,” Kuro called, “get caught on purpose.”

“Huh!?” Monika and Soji exclaimed in unison.

“There’s no way any of us can beat that girl’s ability in a game like this. She will win.”

The Brazilian boy once again readied his silver soccer ball to launch it across the field. Gripping it with one hand, he cocked his arm back. Just out of his vision, he didn’t notice the ball sprout two wings when he threw it. It soared along its usual path, but just before it entered a safe zone he could land in, pivoted sharply. He appeared next to it as it shot into Niko Rose’s palm. The girl tapped his head smugly.

“How!?” He yelled. The trio just looked on as the catchers closed in, hungry for points.

“Soji, get tagged first, then tag Monika, and Monika tag me,” Kuro commanded. The catchers seemed to have wisened up, each of them staring at the trio with ravenous eyes.

“Alright, I’ll—” Before Soji could finish, his friends watched in horror as bright white wings threaded themselves onto his back. Niko’s wings violently pulled the boy towards her outstretched hand. He didn’t have the time to register what happened, let alone react, when a familiar staff welted the side of his face, sending him spinning before he hit the ground.

“Gotcha,” Angelo knelt over the boy, and planted his Instrument on his chest. Even disoriented, Soji could feel the maestro’s ash-colored eyes smoldering over him, like they might burst into flames.

“You’re like, my number one fan,” Soji managed to gasp. The staff pinning him to the ground must have been made specially to kill blooms, as a deep blue inferno of atma sent jolts of pain throughout his body each time he tried to call up his power.

“The crazy kind that wants to smell my hair, it seems,” he continued, looking at Kuro and Monika. His eyes widened when he saw wings appear on them, one after the other, and drag them towards Niko. The other catchers seemed to have given up on earning more points this round, either satisfied with what they had, or too wary of the older competitors that seized control of the game.

“Shut up,” Angelo growled. He pressed the staff harder into Soji’s abdomen. The burning pain intensified. He felt as though the blunt Instrument might just pierce flesh as he cried out.

A large hand pulled the older boy off.

“That’s enough,” Alex signed, “it’s over.”

“Over indeed!” The announcer yelled. Impressively, his fantastical surveillance extended to sign language. “What a swift and exciting warm up to this year’s Orchestra. I hope you’re all feeling loose and energized. If you look to the scoreboard, you’ll see your current score and rankings! Feel free to mingle while we set up the next round.”

Freed from Angelo’s obsessive hold, Soji scrambled to his feet, looking for his friends first. There was no need to check their scores; the big fat zeroes would’ve been disheartening.

The other contestants however, congratulated one another, and themselves.

“Sorry that happened,” Dione said. She was seemingly disinterested in her score as well, likely from the confidence that she performed well.

“It’s whatever,” Soji replied.

“True. This round probably gives the lowest number of points anyway.”

“What makes you say that?” Kuro asked, finally making his way through the crowd of maestros. Monika trailed behind him, running her fingers through her hair for the blades of grass tangled in it.

“Well, I’m sure the M.I.I. already knows what some of us can do. However, I think they’re more interested in how we interact with each other’s techniques when faced with different situations,” the little girl said.

“Agreed,” the American interjected, a satisfied smile planted on his face, “which leads me to believe at least one of these rounds is gonna be team-based.”

“Who are you, even?” Monika asked, irritated by his smugness. It reminded her too much of Niko.

“David. King. I’m David King.” He stumbled over his introduction.

“Well, David King, what do you want?” she interrogated.

“Yeah, what do you want, David?” Penny emerged from Dione’s shadow and placed a hand on her sister’s shoulder.

“Ah,” he chuckled, “I can see why you’d be wary. Listen, I was just trying to look cool last round with all that talk of control and all that. Right now, I want to propose an alliance.” He raised his hands up in facetious surrender, offering up a charismatic smile to go with it.

“An alliance…” Soji repeated, urging him to elaborate.

“You see, if one of these next rounds is gonna be team-based, I think we ought to work together.”

“First off,” Kuro started, cautious of the stranger’s smooth voice and sweet smile, “why would we want to work with you? And secondly—”

“Secondly,” Dione interrupted, “they’re definitely not gonna let us choose our teams. How would your alliance work then?” Kuro would’ve been irritated if not for the fact that the girl asked the very question he was about to ask.

“For the first question, I’ll be straightforward. I’m good at what I do. Real good. Ask Monika. I noticed her noticing me.” Both Kuro and Soji’s eyebrows scrunched up as they turned to Monika with whiplash-inducing speed.

“What are you…?” So he’s that good? She cleared her throat, “I have no idea why this guy worded it like that, but he’s talking about when that girl with the Ar— hoop-headed spear used her technique. He was the only catcher who reacted on time and was able to counter it with…whatever his technique is. How did you know I noticed?” I definitely don’t trust this guy now…

“You had such an intense look of concentration right as you flew by. And then you only looked up at the four original catchers, and then me. Coincidentally, the only people who were not slipping. ”

“Damn, it was obvious?” Monika mumbled.

“As for your second question, I already thought of that,” David said.

“Of course you did, o wise king David,” Soji retorted, earning a snicker from Penny.

“Anyway,” he ignored the comment, “I was going to suggest that we look out for each other, even if we’re not on the same team. If it so happens that we can help each other gain points, we should.”

Nobody said anything.

“That could be nice,” Soji thought, “as it stands, we definitely have more enemies than allies.”

“I’m down,” the boy concluded. “But, if you get in the way of me and my friends getting in…I’ll eat you.” Soji threatened, unsure of how much he was joking. His nose for what people want told him that David’s words were true, but ulterior motives lurked beneath the surface. Dione giggled.

“Scary,” David mocked.

~

July 11, 2022 - 12:18pm

Eden City, New Eden, Bir Tawil

Yasu’s old eyes bore into the large wall-mounted screen of the Elders’ Chambers. She watched the Orchestra’s competitors talk among themselves as attendants brought them water. The woman shamelessly fixated on the small group around Soji. Vera Fadel Habib and Hedeon Cain sat next to her, albeit with much less hatred, and much more amusement on their faces as they chuckled and whispered to one another. Children.

“Why so glum, Yasu? Aren’t your minions winning?” Hedeon asked. He had light brown skin and sandy blond rivers of hair. If he and his sister Tamara were to walk side-by-side, nobody on planet earth could guess they were siblings. Even their names bore no similarity, no doubt thanks to their late father’s extensive philandering.

“So the rumors are true, then? You’re not actually blind? How else could you possibly know I’m ‘so glum’, as you put it?” The old woman replied. One thing the Cain siblings did have in common was how easily they got on her nerves.

“Don’t need eyes to sense that bad energy, sensei.” The man, in his early 40s, exaggerated. He did, in fact, have eyes but there was the small matter of them not working. A minor quirk that almost gave his father a heart attack when he was born.

Yasu sighed.

“Do you see what the bloom and his friends are wearing?” She asked, pointing at the screen. He turned his head to her.

“No.”

“That’s the uniform of your sister’s old squad. The black outfits, the cargo pants, compression shirts, combat boots. They’re just missing the masks and the insignia. She’s sending a message.”

“She could be, but she’s also self-obsessed. Tams probably thought they’d look cute dressed up like her,” Hedeon waved away the old woman’s fretting.

“You mean to tell me that those get-ups were not intentionally put together to taunt me?” Yasu growled.

Hedeon shrugged. “They definitely are…”

“Wouldn’t know a thing about it,” the man yawned, putting his feet on the table. Vera slapped his thigh before Yasu could tell him to fix his posture.

“Vera? You recently spent time with the girl, didn’t you? Have you no input on the matter?” she asked.

“We mostly discussed business, as I wish to do now,” the armored woman replied. Her constant neutrality irked Yasu.

“Why do I bother with these two?” As if she had a choice. Edgar disappeared years ago and left her in charge, while Dhruv was almost always sleeping to maintain his technique.

“Specifically, the dwindling number of applicants,” Vera continued.

“That’s true,” Hedeon chimed in, “this is the first Orchestra in two years and we only have 17 candidates worldwide?”

“Fewer and fewer students care to take the M.I.I. exams. It’s getting harder to identify and enlist new maestros. And of those that do choose the M.I.I. route as their post-secondary option, few meet the criteria for combat, and even fewer wish to fight. Especially after news of the Orchestra Incident.” Yasu rubbed her temple. Hedeon preemptively rested a hand on Vera’s knee, knowing she was burdened by guilt at the mention of that incident.

“Why not look for older maestros?”

“Maestros your age have no problem joining up, but they don’t— can’t — stay for very long. For most, one bad mission is all it takes for them to reconsider. Younger maestros are usually more tenacious, malleable, and their atma potential is far greater.”

“So, if we don’t have many options, why not just admit all these applicants?”

“Not everyone is useful, and not everyone…fits our organization’s culture. If you cared to show up to our budget meetings, you’d know that each admitted maestro costs hundreds of thousands of dollars yearly to train, feed, and equip. Therefore, we can only select those who produce at least that much value annually.”

“Wow…metrics. And here I used to think our purpose was to rid the world of blooms,” Hedeon rolled his eyes.

“That is our goal. This is simply how it has to be done. Our cause is just,” Yasu replied, adding the Institute’s mantra for good measure. A moot point, really. The Cain hung on the word goal. It had a vastly different meaning from purpose.

“Our cause is just,” Vera repeated. Hedeon hesitated before he sighed.

“Our cause…is just.”

~

July 11, 2022 - 12:27pm

Eden City, New Eden, Bir Tawil

Between the pain in his stomach, and the raucous laughter from the group around him, Soji could’ve almost forgotten his life circumstances. The six of them sat in the grass, resting up, and discussing strategy. Penny and David went back and forth, flinging insults at each other as if they’d known each other for years. Dione and Monika would instigate further each time it seemed like their verbal duel was coming to an end.

“Look at your haircut, man. What is that?” Penny said. This was the third time they came back to each other’s bald heads.

“You just want to be me so bad. But you just ended up bald and terrible.” Even Kuro snickered at David’s comeback.

“I know, you’re not laughing, grandpa. Really, you got the craziest haircut out of all of us.” Penny shot. Monika’s furrowed brow was a call to action.

“Maybe from where you’re sitting…you’re the same height as a twelve year old,” he taunted, gesturing at the girl’s sister with a nod.

“I am not,” the girl stood up, “Dione, stand up!” The little girl’s snake, Naga, reacted to the noise before going back to sleep.

“How did you get shorter when you stood?” Kuro asked, shuddering at the creature’s movement. Everyone cracked up.

“Alright!” The announcer returned. “Seems like everyone’s all rested up, so if you all could gather in the middle rectangle, that would be super!”

He continued as the participants clambered onto their feet and made their way to the specified area.

“Now, this next round is my personal favorite. But be warned; there is a non-zero chance of fatal injury.” Angelo held his breath. This is it…

As soon as the last person entered the white-lined rectangle, an explosion of greens and browns surrounded the competitors with a forest of towering banyan trees. Thick branches adorned with leaves filtered out the sun, and dragged them into partial darkness. Even the ground distorted and warped to align with what was typical of a forest floor.

Incredible. Soji and the other contestants looked around in awe. This was the kind of power that the Institute wielded. Dominion over nature itself. For games, no less.

“This time, the game starts the moment you leave that rectangle. This challenge is a hunt. You’ll be split into four teams, all tasked with taking down blooms that we’re letting loose into the area. Their Ranks range from 1 to 2, with the exception of a single Rank 3. With each elimination, your team will be awarded 2, 10, or 50 points respectively. In addition to this, you can also hunt players on other teams. These personal points, or PP, won’t be shared with your team, and will be yours alone. Every player is worth 20 points.”

Soji and Monika giggled at the mention of PP.

“What counts as ‘hunting’ a player?” Dione asked.

“We’ll keep that definition loose. Anything that prevents the player from continuing the current round is fine.”

“So this is an elimination round,” David concluded.

“Indeed it is, Mr. King.”

“I have a question,” a small European girl with dark hair called out, “do we get bonus points for hunting the bloom boy?” Soji felt a dozen eyes focus on him. Kuro, meanwhile, memorized the girl’s face, making a mental note of her.

The announcer paused.

“In the case of Soji Oji, hunting him grants 70 PP to the player that hunts him, and an additional 30 to the overall team score. I will now— hey, what are you —”

“Hi, this is Tamara Cain, Soji’s guardian,” Tamara’s voice rang out with incoherent yelling in the background, “I was going to wait until later to announce this, but to those of you that pass, I am actually going to be your dean! I just want to let you know that if anything should happen to my ward— oop, gotta go! Good luck guys!” The mic clattered on a hard surface. The previous announcer cleared his throat and continued.

“As I was saying…the teams will be as follows: David King, Monika Rose, Israel Stone, and Sandy West will be team one.” The four mentioned maestros gathered, and Kuro smiled at the realization that the weasel-faced girl he now sought to hunt was not on his team. Sandy…

“Adesoji Ojo, Dione Teixeira, Penthesilea Teixeira, and Alex Fischer will be team two.” Soji cringed at the butchering of his name. Penny, too, shook her head.

“Nobody calls me that,” she sighed.

“Team three will consist of Akorede Adesanya, Anish Talia, Javier Javier, Olivia White, and Niko Rose.”

“The final team, team four, will be Angelo Ricci, Esme Montoya, Penny Otta, and Mitchel Beez.” Penny looked around to identify which one her namesake was.

“The round,” the announcer continued, “will end when a team reaches a total of 200 points. Don’t worry about keeping score. We have cameras all over this forest that will automatically add the points to your team’s scoreboard. You may begin by stepping outside the safezone!”

Nobody moved. Instead, the teams huddled around one another to discuss strategy.

“Our whole group is going to be targeted. If they get just Soji, they’re already halfway done. They’d just need to pick us off. We have to stick together,” Penny formulated.

“Agreed,” Dione said, “we should focus on hunting blooms, and with all the players targeting us, it won’t be hard to get us all some personal points.” Alex signed something.

“Oh! I know ASL! Is that ASL?!” she signed back excitedly, to which the boy nodded. She proceeded to let him know the plan. He shook his head then signed back.

“He says, they’re not after us, they’re after Soji. We should give him space, and let them think he’s alone. Penny can hide and ambush them with her technique.” Dione translated.

“That’s not a bad idea, either,” Soji replied, “what about getting team points?” Dione signed back to Alex.

“I will go. If things get too hectic, will you be able to reach me, Penny?”

The girl nodded.

“Then Dione, trail behind them, try and pick them off as they come.” Alex signed.

“I’m the perfect one for the job,” she smiled as she produced a small, wooden slingshot from her cargo pants pocket. Pebbles rattled in that pocket.

“So it’s settled,” Soji said. The group turned to leave when they saw Angelo’s team disappear into the darkness of the woods. As they left, Soji heard Kuro’s voice raised in an argument, likely in an effort to defend him. He would’ve liked to let his friend know that he’d be fine, but knew that in doing so, he’d be alerting the other groups of their planning.

“There’s no way you expect us to go ahead with that plan of yours just to protect your friend,” Niko scoffed, “between him and the Rank 3 bloom, we’d be guaranteed the win.” The rest of the group murmured in agreement.

“Fine,” Kuro sighed, walking away from the group, “do as you please.” He unsheathed his machete and dissolved into the forest. Niko ascended above the trees while the rest of their team dispersed.

Monika’s team followed suit, likely for the same reasons. As David walked away, however, he winked.

“I hope that means what I think it means.”

The girl was alone when she finally stepped out of the rectangular safezone. Maestros and blooms hummed all around her. She tried to listen for Soji’s sound, but there was far too much noise in the way.

Suddenly, a bloom sauntered out from behind a tree. It was completely unremarkable in appearance; a thin humanoid creature with black cloth for skin and a featureless face, save for a row of sharp, yellowed teeth in an abnormally wide mouth. The thing managed only a few steps before it disintegrated. As it returned to dust, it revealed Esme standing behind it, hoop-headed spear in hand.

“Round two?” she asked. Monika smiled.

“I won’t be so gentle this time.”