Puer Aeternus

The last Sin...

Sinclair sat on the dilapidated bus, not in his usual seat. That seat was long gone, as part of Mephistopheles now had a gaping hole in its side, the outer metal curled inward from a heavy explosion. Sinclair let the memories of days long past flood his mind while his eyes wandered over the remains of the old bus. He caught sight of something sticking out from behind a piece of torn metal where he once sat. Sinclair stood up with an audible "Ouch," leaning over and walking to the small piece of yellowed paper sticking out. Reaching down to pull it free, he realized it was firmly encased in the steel that enveloped it. Pulling out his knife, he compared its blade to the steel, shook his head, and went about searching for something better suited to the task of prying metal. Surprisingly, old Mephi had not been stripped clean. Sinclair supposed it was partly due to the reputation of its former inhabitants or perhaps the superstitions surrounding it. What he didn’t know was that it was, in fact, reverence for the Sinners themselves. For many, this place was sacred, a site of pilgrimage to pay respects to the 12 Sinners. He corrected himself, 13, we cannot forget Lapis. He walked toward the front of the bus and stopped. Above the driver’s window was her oar, still locked in place but covered with little carvings. He moved closer, squinting. Cursing his eyesight, he reluctantly pulled out the glasses he kept hidden, partly out of vanity and pride. Putting them on, he saw the oar was full of names, initials, and small notes of gratitude and blessings, all carved into the old wood. A tear escaped the stoic mask he had carved to shield his true feelings. “Lapis,” he said aloud. Looking down, he noticed a large knife lying there. This must have been left to carve the letters into the oar. It had a fine edge, fit for a Fixer. In fact, the handle was red. Could it be? Ignoring the thought, he grabbed the knife and walked back to where he had once sat. The gaping hole and the small piece of paper still called to him. This blade will do, If it is what I think it is, its edge will never dull, and no metal will match its strength. Sure enough, he pried open a folded section of Mephi, just enough for the paper to slide to the ground. He grabbed it fast, lest the wind carry it out through the hole. He looked at the it. All these years, there she was again: Beatrice. Sinclair found one of the few remaining seats, sat down, and focused on the old letter. The flattened metal had kept it well preserved, safe from the elements all these years. Sinclair pulled out his glasses, glancing around out of habit, to ensure no one saw him. Of course, no one was there. He began to read:

(see attached note at the beginning)

Sinclair put the note down and touched the ring on his left hand, turning it slowly as he always did, a soothing gesture to calm the turmoil inside. Tears formed, he turned to look once more to ensure no one could see him. Sinclair sat on old Mephi and cried for Bee, for Lapis, and for his long lost friends.

he bellowed, charging forward, jumping over a table, ducking under some vines, heading straight for kitchen, well, that was his plan, until long vines of ivy grabbed his enthusiastic limbs, stilling them as he dangled from the air.

Ren walked slowly by the dangling Sakura, fingers deftly tapping out a message on his phone. Sakuras phone vibrated in his pocket, he managed to free a hand and look at it. Rens message opened, “Stealth…now?” Morgana followed, head turned, eyes squinting and tongue sticking out at him. A restrained Grrr was heard. Kotoha followed and stopped to look up at him, arms crossed and tapping her foot. "Whats w/ the look he hissed back, ya wanna take this outside!" She then crouched and made an exaggerated sneaking motion suppressing a giggle as Sakura freed himself from the vines bondage and began to creep slowly behind the two.

Ren reached the double kitchen doors first, he turned to look at the group. Morgana whispered, this is the entrance to the palace, dont be alarmed, you are about to see the famous Phantom Thieves as we step through that door.

Sakura smirked, thats not what I see from here, Kotoha pinched his ear and pulled him close, "I suggest we do as they say, its ok to let some one else lead for a change, watch and learn" it was her turn to glare.

They all entered, Sakura and Kotoha stared, not at their surroundings but at Ren and Morgana

“Stealth, Sakura. We slip in, snag the heart, out before the Shadows blink.” Looking over at Ren, His cool demeanor was pure finesse, every step a calculated glide.

Sakura smirked, "whats w/ the costumes?"

Ren and Morgana looked at each other again, not sure what to make of this, this is the first time they had to second guess their look, their identity as Phantom thieves was stripped away by Sakuras inner wounded child...and that kinda hurt.

Morgana tried to explain,

"When a person is pushed to a psychological or emotional limit, often involving shame, betrayal, powerlessness, or injustice.

This moment forces them to confront a truth they’ve been avoiding or suppressing. it forces you to take off your mask, your persona, and reveal your true self."

Our friend Ryuji awakened when he was humiliated and physically threatened by a teacher.

Kotoha had watched Ren glide forward, watched Sakura stumble, watched Morgana explain. And for once, she didn’t want to be the one who held the tray, who cleaned the mess, who stayed quiet. “I’m always the one who waits,” she whispered. “Not today.”

At that moment, Kotoha seemed to get it, a mirror appeared behind her.

It shimmered, then split like a cleaver through bone.

A voice rang out sharp, deliberate, and searing with truth...

“I am thou, thou art I. Thou who feeds others, the friend who sacrifices, I rise, the blade that carves through pretense. Let the world taste the steel of my resolve.”

Her Phantom Thief form was striking, a fitted black chef’s jacket with crimson stitching, short apron skirt layered over white tights, and knee-high doc martins. the chefs kiss were her Twin butcher knives hung at her hips like, with obsidian edges.

Her mask, half of obsidian steel, the other side shattered in a burst of gold. She stepped forward, knives drawn, eyes blazing.

Morgana gulped. “Remind me never to critique her cooking”

Sakura looked at Kotoha, she had one word "acquiesce" Sakura's face softened, he felt the experiences of the past few months overwhelm him. The acceptance, the kindness, inclusion, family and her....Kotoha, his steady hand admist it all. His squire and guide before each battle, that reassuring voice. He felt it all surface, this was hard for him, so many emotions surfacing, as he braced for impact. He remembered the first time Kotoha handed him a plate without flinching. The way she stood beside him through it all, She never asked for anything. And now, she had a mask.

A mirror appeared and cracked open behind him, Sakura’s reflection smirked.

A voice surged through the air, fierce and rhythmic:

“I am thou, thou art I. Thou who strikes first, who burns with motion. From chaos, I rise I am the fist that learns restraint. Let the world feel the rhythm of my resolve.”

He slammed the mask on. It shattered in a burst of golden light. His Phantom Thief form stood tall black fingerless gloves, yellow body suit with dragon-scale trim, short green leather jacket, with gold trim, running shoes sealed the look . He breathed heavy, hopping side to side ready to fight.

Morgana blinked. “Okay, okay, not bad for rookies.” Ren gave a rare smile. “You’re learning.” Kotoha twirled one knife. “Let’s see if you two can keep up.” Sakura cracked his knuckles. “I’m not just gas anymore. I’ve got brakes too, we winked unsarcastically to Kotoha, like a shared secret was exchanged, she smiled back.