One possible reason for the Restrictor’s operating failure could be that a fissure had damaged the shell… The other possibility was one Ouka didn’t want to think about, but was the far more likely suspect.
He quietly ground his teeth. Unsettled by the abrupt silence, Cliff urged him along by asking, “How did you stop that monster…?”
“The Namer Alita challenged Sephiroth with his life on the line. ‘Whether I win or lose, it’ll stop him,’ he said. And then Sephiroth crushed him to death.”
Alita had tried to take on the berserker Sephiroth, and Ouka had tried to stop him from doing it. But Ouka hadn’t been able to stop him—he didn’t make it in time.
“…But even Alita’s death didn’t stop Sephiroth. That was the one thing nobody knew going into it—Golems powered by those cubes don’t stop moving after their Namer’s death. What stopped him in the end was Heaven’s Gunner’s bullet.”
The bullet had pierced through the thin plate covering Sephiroth’s chest, knocking the cube loose seconds after Sephiroth crushed Alita. “I didn’t make it in time!” Spinoza had spat out through his teeth, his hand on his face.
“…The incident was enough of a reason for the Church to freeze further development of Sephiroth and research into the cubes. The development team, with less than three members alive, was abolished too. Kiriko and Spinoza were transferred to the Civil Obedience Order, and I quit the Church.”
It was since then that Kiriko had developed an extreme hatred toward Illegal Golems. Crudely pieced together Golems posed the highest risk of going berserk, after all.
Kiriko abhorred Illegal Golems and feared berserkers, yet she still couldn’t bring herself to leave the world of Golems. She placed stringent Restrictors on her Golems, kept them under supervision at all times, and continued walking the path of a Rabbi. She faithfully stuck to what she believed was right and just.
By extension having failed to bring Kiriko out of the Church with him, Ouka chose his own path in life.
“And so, I became an Illegal Golem Artificer. Because there are people who need Golems, whether the Church permits it or not. Because as long as I keep a sharp lookout, I can surely prevent any from going berserk.”
It didn’t matter if no one believed it—those were the real motives behind Ouka’s choice. He had created Dram to run throughout the island preventing Golems from going berserk. He couldn’t think of anything else he could do to help.
“…If Kiriko’s a clean, silk handkerchief, I’m fine with bein’ a dusty old rag. They might look different on the outside, but they’re still both cloths for cleaning up messes. We both just wanted to do whatever we could for this archipelago.”
Ouka’s long monologue came to end. Silence fell between them. Eventually, Lovel asked in a small voice, “…What happened to Sephiroth after that?”
“The military pulled out of Sephiroth’s development too, and the research facility was locked down. He ended up being sealed away as the monster no one could Tame.”
“But Jair can control him…!” Lovel firmly insisted, conviction ringing in her voice. Ouka knitted his brow, frowning at her. She persisted. “You saw what he’s capable of! I’m telling you, Jair can control Golems powered by the cube, like the Ebens! It’s not too much of a stretch that he’d be able to do the same with Sephiroth!”
“That’s the thing that bugs me… How can Jair control Eben? It shouldn’t be possible.”
“It’s not something you can create in an experiment. It seems more like a predisposition. Jair isn’t the only one who has it, either—I’m positive I can do it too.”
“A predisposition, you say?” The answer couldn’t be so ridiculous. Jair had to have some sort of secret that let him do it. Did Lovel know what it was? Her reasoning was questionable.
“The Church will fall without much of a fight if he gets ahold of Sephiroth. You know that better than anyone else, don’t you? Then, we’ve got no better choice than to let me name him first.”
“…Tch.”
“So please, Ouka! Lead me to Sephiroth, before Jair gets to him!” Lovel’s expression was urgent and tense.
Ouka saw it and smiled weakly. “Hey, Lovel…won’t you stop with this now?”
“What?”
“I’ll cooperate if you’re going to fight Jair. But please stop trying to reactivate that monster.”
Dang it, saying crap like this ain’t who I am, Ouka thought, but those were indeed the words he had said.
“Ouka, why do you care so much…?” Cliff asked, suspicious.
“Sephiroth is the symbol of our mistakes. I don’t want to make Kiriko see that abomination ever again. If defeating Jair will settle everything, I’ll fight alongside you kids.” That was the totem of his resolve: to face the past he couldn’t escape.
Cliff and Lovel wore apologetic expressions. Ouka bowed his head to them anyway. “…Thank you for understanding.”
“I’m sorry, Ouka…”
“Ugh, shut it. You don’t gotta say stuff like that. Kids shouldn’t be considerate of adults,” Ouka said with his usual attitude, earning dry grins from Cliff and Lovel.
These kids most likely had their own set of problems. Lovel’s problems were big from the start, but Cliff had it pretty hard too, fighting the boy he admired enough to call Master. Ouka wanted to protect them, but he had more pressing matters to attend to.
Just as Ouka thought that, they finally arrived at the front of his factory. He picked up Kiriko and went in. Calling over his shoulder to the kids outside, he said, “It’s a promise, kids. I’ll help you out as soon as I resolve my own problem here.”
“What problem’s that?”
“Don’t sweat it. I’ll finish things up lickety-split. So do me a favor and wait outside for a bit,” Ouka said, closing the door and locking it behind him.
“Hey! Ouka?!”
“Come on, Ouka! What’s the big idea?!”
Cliff and Lovel shouted at him outside the factory.
Ouka answered them calmly, “I’ve got somethin’ I want to speak to Kiriko about alone. We’ll be having some adult time in here.”
“You’re screwing with us again…” Though Cliff and Lovel complained, they patiently settled down outside.
Ouka was grateful to them. This was the one conversation he wanted to have somewhere without any distractions. He laid Kiriko on the couch and lit a cigarette. Tobacco smoke curled in the poorly lit room. He followed the trails with his eyes for a while.
“…You really are an incomprehensible person,” she said at last. He looked to his side, where Kiriko stared at him from the couch.
“You were awake?”
“How could I sleep with how loud you were?” Kiriko shifted her attention to the ceiling and said quietly, “Ouka…did you quit being a Rabbi because it reminds you of Alita?”
“I quit because I came to hate the Church,” he replied without hesitation. A sad and lonely smile fell over Kiriko.