Cliff inhaled sharply. Now that Ouka mentioned it, he recalled thinking this morning that the letters on Gandolf’s forehead had been a funky color. The innocent blue glow had started to become tinged with red, like blood.
“No way! How could it happen so fast?!”
“You can’t go around usin’ a Golem that doesn’t fit your stature. Alloy Golem lifespans are short even under normal circumstances… Well, it’s been destroyed, so that’s that. You’ve learned your lesson, yeah? Go back to your normal life.”
Cliff didn’t say anything to him. What he had been brooding over was thrust into his face by a third party. For some reason, that fact devastated him past recovery.
Ouka didn’t let Cliff go once he fell silent. Instead, he dug for more information. “On another note, you seemed familiar with that Jair fellow. Who in the world is he? What’s your relationship with him?”
“He is…my master and teacher.”
“That’s what you called him back there, too. Do you have any idea why he had that cube on him?”
“I don’t. My only connection to him is that he’s been teaching me how to make Golems since we met three years ago. But…he felt like a totally different person.”
“And what name do you know him by?”
“He went by ‘Roche’… At least, if he’s really my master.”
Ouka studied Cliff’s face carefully. He seemed to be debating whether Cliff was lying or not. After an awkward staring contest, he appeared to garner what he wanted from Cliff’s expression. He hummed, “Hmm,” and then walked away, heading for wherever he was going next.
Left behind, Cliff stood there stiller than a statue. Eventually, his solitude was broken by the other street children.
“Oi, oi, Cliff! We’ve been wonderin’ where ya went off to, and it turns out you’ve stuck your head into some big trouble, huh?”
They surrounded him with carefree smiles. Cliff cast a look at the ground and quietly said, “That’s all over now.”
“I wouldn’t bet on it. You ain’t getting outta trouble that easy once the Rabbis set their sights on you.”
“Speaking of which, you guys punched the Rabbis,” Cliff pointed out. “Did you forget? It might not end well for you either.”
“Don’t matter a lick. We’ve been pissed with the Rabbis for ages. It was a good chance to sock it to ‘em.”
“That’s not the problem here. Why’d you guys act so reckless?”
The street children fell silent at Cliff’s question. After a short lull, a different street boy answered him.
“…Entertainment to take our minds off of life, I guess?”
“You did it to amuse yourselves? Is that really enough of a reason to invite the Rabbis’ wrath?”
“Why not? Is there any better entertainment out there for kids fighting tooth and nail to survive at the bottom of society than beatin’ the Rabbis up?”
They made a very good point. Cliff had, on more than one occasion, wanted to knock a Rabbi’s lights out. But he’d kept his anger in check for the sake of making his dream come true someday. He had no other choice than to put up with it.
The other street children were the same. But one of the street boys who fought the Rabbis riveted his eyes on Cliff and said, “Say, Cliff, did ya know we’ve got no way to break outta this hellhole? The most we can do is distract ourselves with a lil’ fun.”
“…!”
“But, Cliff, yer different from us. Yer Golem finally came alive and set foot outside these walls, yah? Don’tcha think it’s a little pathetic for its run to come to an end, right off the bat, because the Rabbis say so?”
“So…that’s why you all rescued me?”
The street children exchanged looks and cracked up laughing.
“STU-PID. Did the Rabbis punch yer head so hard y’can’t hear anymore? Like we’ve been sayin’, we wanted a little release to amuse ourselves.”
“Anyways, hurry up and go, Cliff. If yer Golem’s broken, ya’ve gotta get to fixin’ ‘im up.”
“If ya don’t, y’all wind up back in this station no better than when ya left it.”
Cliff felt his cheeks pulling into a smile as he listened to their scolding. “Haha! Wouldn’t want that now, would I?! I’m so done and over with bein’ teased by you guys, day in and out!” he exclaimed while running up the stairs. Halfway up the staircase, he shouted down to his street friends, “I’ll treat you guys to a meal when I get back!”
“STU-PID! Don’t you ever come back again, y’hear?!”
“Kids who kick up trouble are banished from this station!”
“Don’t look back, Cliff! Run forward as fast as ya can! Push yer way down yer own path!”
Cliff grinned at his friends’ encouragement and dashed up the rest of the stairs. His dash changed into a full-blown sprint. At maximum speed, he raced to the refinery where he had left Gandolf.
But when he arrived, he found the refinery caved in on itself. A mountain of debris was all he could see; there wasn’t a shape or shadow belonging to Gandolf.
His legs nearly buckled. But the encouragement from his friends steadied him. Cliff anchored a steadfast gaze upon the wreckage and asked, “Are you there, Gandolf…?”
No answer. But Cliff could sense he was there because Golems and Golem Tamers shared a mental link.
At the top of his lungs, Cliff shouted the exact words of his very first command, “Stand, Gandolf!”
The mountain of rubble violently shook. The metal giant sleeping below mightily rose to his feet. He had lost his arms, was covered in nicks and gouges, and bore even more resemblance to something fished out from a rubbish heap.
But Cliff asked him all the same, “Can you still fight?”
Gandolf looked like he nodded.
“Will you fight by my side once again?”
He ran over to Cliff, scattering pieces of the mountain of wreckage and rubble underfoot. Cliff could feel him saying, “I’m good anytime you are, buddy.”
“…!”
Cliff understood when he saw his Golem up close. Gandolf was telling him, his own heart was telling him—both were shouting as loud as they could, stand up and fight!
Screwing his face up, Cliff gave Gandolf’s arm stumps a smack. “In that case! We’ve gotta start by fixing these arms up!” he declared and walked off. He was followed by his mute comrade in arms.