“Perhaps sending the soul into a coma and tourniqueting the flow of magic could kill a curse…” Ignis rambled to himself. A young man, he stood in front of a large cauldron, adjusting the pointed cap settled on his head. The cap had two ribbons, billowing out from the golden brooch attached to the front. He adjusted the cloak on his shoulders and smoothed out the gloves covering his hands and arms; all four of them, to be precise.

“A compound similar to an anesthetic but enhanced with magic could potentially start the induction into a coma.” Ignis looked around the room, tapping his foot, before striding around, opening container after container. His eyes narrowed. He quickly pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose before continuing his search, cursing under his breath. “Out… out… out… Gods, why am I out of everything? Ginger!”

No response.

He sighed, stepping out into the hallway—fluorescent lights blinding in comparison to the candles flickering away in his room—shutting the door behind him and locking it, testing the knob several times before he was finally satisfied.

Trotting down the hallway, he peeked his head into several rooms and around several corners, before chancing upon a young girl in the kitchen. She was helping herself to the peanut butter and jelly, contents staining her white gloves.

“Ginger,” he spoke softly. When she didn’t seem to hear him he spoke louder, “Ginger.”

The girl jumped, round glasses falling from its perch on her face. Ginger repositioned them quickly.

“Magister Ignis…” her eyes shifted down to the mess she was making. “Sorry, sorry, I’ll-”

“Don’t worry about the mess yet, just clean it up whenever you are done,” Ignis cleared his throat, waving a hand. “Now, Ginger, I thought I sent you to fetch a list of herbs and ingredients from Rye’s stand. Did you retrieve them?”

Ginger blinked, shaking her head and rushing out of the room. Before Ignis could process her disappearance, she had already rushed back in.

“About that, Rye gave me this note…” Ginger procured a paper, turning it to show Ignis. He narrowed his eyes, turning his head away.

“Read it to me.”

Ginger nodded, adjusting her glasses again and reading the contents of the paper out loud. It was a notice and a warning, detailing the prohibition of trade.

Pacing around as she spoke, Ignis sighed. “Just grand…” he muttered. “Wherever shall I get what I need now? Those plants only grow in the Clubs Kingdom or–”

Ignis’ amber eyes lit up, ablaze with an idea. He strode to the window, placing a hand on its smooth surface and gazing out at the endless landscape before him, stretching for miles beyond the Hearts Kingdom. “The Outer Frontier…”

“But… uh… Magister Ignis, that place is too dangerous. I can’t–”

Ignis immediately whipped around, returning to Ginger’s side and cutting her off. He knelt down, placing a hand on her shoulder, expression and voice softening. “I won’t make you go out there, you’re far too young to run a dangerous errand like that. No… I shall see about collecting those herbs myself.”

“But–”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got magic.” Ignis flexed his thin arms. “And I’m sure I’ve still got some potions in the storage that’ll come in handy. Y’know… My master taught me chemistry and engineering. He taught me how to find a solution for any problem.”

Ginger nodded, but her worried expression was still plastered to her face. Noticing this, Ignis extended all of his arms, fingers curled in and pinkies outstretched.

“I’ll make a promise—a quadruple promise, in fact—that I swear I won’t break,” Ignis spoke softly, locking eyes with Ginger. “I swear that I will keep myself safe and not get caught, killed, or hurt in any way.”

Looking at his hands, Ginger hesitantly linked her pinkies with Ignis’, repeating the process for his other pair of arms as well.

“I accept your promise, but–”

“Good! Then I shall head out!” Ignis straightened up, clasping his hands together. “...now, be a good girl and clean up after yourself and go to bed on time, yes?”

“Wait!” Ginger shook her head, tugging on Ignis’ cape. “You can’t just leave right now!”

“Why not? I am in need right now. Am I forgetting anything…?” Ignis turned around, burying his chin in his hand.

“I didn’t say I wasn’t coming!” Ginger declared. “I just… I just didn’t wanna go alone…”

“Ah… wait what?” Ignis blinked at Ginger. “I don’t know, Ginger… I’m afraid that it’s far too dangerous for you.”

“But you’re okay risking your own life?” Ginger retorted. Ignis offered a weak shrug. “What if something did happen to you? And you left me here alone? I can help, I promise! I won’t slow you down! We can even hire a bodyguard or–”

Ginger was cut off by an abrupt knock on the door.

“I’ll grab it,” Ignis said, placing a hand on her shoulder to keep her from running off. Before heading to the front door, he straightened out his pointed cap and adjusted his cloak and gloves again.

The second knock was interrupted by Ignis slowly cracking the door open, peering out to see who could possibly be knocking on the door, eyes widening as his gaze tilted upwards.

In front of him stood a broad, towering man—perhaps seven or eight feet tall—with light pink hair tied back with white and red shimenawa ropes, showing off his red, pointed horns protruding from his forehead. His chest was bare, hardly covered by the navy blue ripped vest, matching the wide-legged pants that clung loosely to his hips. His feet were wide, only covered by the straps of his sandals. The most curious and striking feature about him, however, were the large, golden scars snaking across his body: his face, his pecs, his waist, his biceps… even his ankles were covered in glistening scars. Golden earrings pierced his pointed ears; the left one appeared to have a triangular chunk taken out of it. 

“Huge…” Ignis whispered, before he realized the word had left his lips. He quickly snapped his mouth shut, but it was too late.

“Hah… are you just gonna keep gawkin’ at me?” the man chuckled, pointed teeth protruding from his bottom jaw. 

Ignis tore his gaze away from the other man’s body, locking eyes with him—a piercing gold color, just like the scars decorating him—and swallowed.

“S-sorry… How may I help you?”

The man’s eyes narrowed, folding his muscled arms across his chest. “I’m looking for a great wizard known as Ignis Volare. Know of him?”

“Er… why, yes. That would be me.”

“You?” he snorted. He let out a louder laugh when Ignis pouted. “Sorry, don’t mean to laugh, but you’re… well… younger than I thought you’d be.”

“Ah… really?” Ignis straightened up. The door opened behind him, Ginger peeking out from the crack and staring up at the stranger, before stepping out to stand beside Ignis.

“Ah, Ginger, this is…” Ignis paused, turning back to the man. “Sorry, who might you be? And… what did you need with me?”

The man lowered himself, face drawing close to Ignis’, studying the magician intently. “I was looking for you because everyone says you’re some sorta… magic master.”

“Mm… I suppose I’ve heard those rumors…”

“Then… Do you know anything about breaking curses?”

“Oh!” Ignis perked up, before lowering his head. “Ah… sorry, I–”

“He’s actually trying to find out how to do that right now!” Ginger piped up. She nudged Ignis forward, causing him to stumble towards the stranger. “We actually need more ingredients from the Outer Frontier. If you protect us, we’ll help you out.”

“Ginger–”

“You’re strong, right? Unless those muscles are just for show?”

“Ginger-”

The man raised an eyebrow, before chuckling at Ginger. “I suppose that’s a fair deal, little lady.” He turned to Ignis, who had buried his face in his hands in disbelief, holding out a hand. “Name’s Kintsugi. Kintsugi Kenji. Pleasure to meet you.”

Ignis peeked out from between his fingers, before taking Kintsugi’s hand—his own dwarfed in comparison—before mumbling: “Likewise…”

─── ♡ ♢ ☀︎ ✩ ☽ ♧ ♤ ───

Golden light had filled the room for several hours now, sun hanging high in the sky. Gordon, however, remained stationary in bed, snoring into his pillow. A flat, white snake wrapped around his head, whispering near his ear: “Gordon… wake up…”

“Mm…” Gordon moaned. “Five more minutes, Hodie…”

“You’ve set that for the last three hours,” a second snake piped up.

“Shut up, Hesterno,” Gordon grumbled, turning over in his sleep and curling into an even tighter ball. He began snoring again, much to the dismay of the snakes looking over him.

“You idiots…” A third snake appeared, sidling up Gordon’s jaw. “I have an idea.”

It flicked its tongue in and out of Gordon’s ear.

Gordon shot up, legs tangled in his sheets, hand shooting up to cover his ear. “What the hell, Cras!?”

The three snakes let out a sound, a mix of a hiss and a laugh, before wrapping themselves around Gordon’s head, arms, and legs, their flat bodies similar in appearance to bandages.

“Let’s go, Gordon,” Hodie hissed. “There’s something we need you to do for us.”

Gordon grumbled as he slid out of bed and collapsed onto the floor. “Can’t it wait ‘til I wake up some more?”

“No.” 

“Please? At least let me play a game for fifteen minutes or… two hours…?”

Cras snorted and Hesterno shook its head. “Gordon, it is already two in the afternoon. Perhaps you should consider going outside.”

Gordon grumbled again before finally standing up and stretching, taking his sweet time much to the annoyance of the snakes. He pulled a hoodie over his head, sweatpants over his legs, and jammed his feet into a pair of slippers.

“C’mon! Let’s go get something to eat first,” Hesterno suggested. “How about Branzino’s?”

“You just want some chicken,” Gordon scoffed. “I don’t have the money for that right now.”

Cras hissed in frustration, “Maybe if you got a job, then you’d have more money.”

“You guys are the ones who get bored at jobs!” Gordon cried. “You’re the ones that make me play games for you!”

“There’s no need to dwell on the past,” Hesterno added.

“That’s literally all you do!” Gordon protested. He sighed in defeat, shuffling to the front door and exiting his apartment. “Fine, fine… we’ll get food for you guys and then go do… whatever it is you guys are wanting me to do.”

“Fantastic!” Hesterno cried out. “Perhaps we can order the chicken strips?”

“No no, the nuggets are better,” Cras argued.

“You fools,” Hodie cut in. “The wings are the best option.”

Unfortunately, their lunch plans were shot down, for when they arrived at Branzino’s, they found it closed. A notice was pasted on the door, stating: “Due to the sudden trade ban, we can no longer get certain ingredients fresh each morning. We will be closed for now.”

“What?” Cras spat. “How despicable! Go on, Gordon, call up Branzino and let him know that we will not be returning to eat here anymore!”

Gordon rolled his eyes. “I don’t have his phone number, Cras. Besides, look… the Queen has simply closed off all the trade routes. They can’t get any of their ingredients from the Clubs Kingdom anymore, it’s not their fault.”

“Then we must simply kill the Queen so we can get more chicken,” Hesterno decided.

“That’s… a bad idea,” Gordon said, eyes darting. “And don’t say stuff like that out loud. Look, none of us even need to eat. I’m dead, you three are immortal, and we don’t even get hungry. Why don’t we just go do whatever it was you guys wanted me to do in the first place?”

The snakes looked at each other, embarrassed, before Hodie spoke up. “Gordon, you must head to the Outer Frontier.”

“Okay,” Gordon responded mindlessly. He froze. “I’m sorry… the Outer Frontier? You guys know it’s illegal to enter without a permit, right? Not to mention it’s dangerous.”

“Oh, please…” Cras lifted up their head defiantly. “We can bail you out of any jail, even if you get sentenced for life.”

“No thanks. Why do you even want me to go there anyways?”

Hodie whispered, “There’s a problem in the Outer Frontier. We sensed it this morning… the magic is becoming unbalanced. A corrupted type of magic—known as Miasma—is growing.”

Gordon sighed. “I’m just a gamer. I can’t help.”

“No, no! We will guide you!” Hesterno pleaded. “We’re immortal, we can’t get hurt. Plus… perchance the imbalance is the reason the trade routes are all closed. If we solve it, perhaps we can come back and have-”

“I can cook you chicken, y’know.”

Hesterno turned their head away. “Not as good as Branzino.”

Throwing up his hands in defeat, Gordon surrendered. “Fine! I’ll go to the Outer Frontier and check it out. But tomorrow, I’m sleeping in until three!”

The snakes agreed with this arrangement.