Desert Company: Retrospective

“Just what are you thinking? Getting a job?!”

Suruj and his brother, Koi Zundui, cowered in the corner of the house to the sound of their frustrated mother. Knocking pots and porcelain plates, enraged at the news.

“But mom, we want to help-”

“It doesn’t matter if it’s a part-time job. Taking hours off your academics will cost you your grades,” Rosa Zundui responded back. “Helping out in the food stall is one thing, but two of them?”

“Mama, I want to eat pandesal,” Koi whimpered behind his older brother. “Koi can do it. Koi and kuya.”

“Sorry pogi. You can’t be too busy. You need to go to school in order to be successful and rich like dad.”

“But where are we now, mom,” Suruj interrupted her, holding it together. “When dad disappeared he left us with crippling debt. Was all of that studying in the university really worth it?”

“It is. Only education can help you two escape the slums of Dyak-ar-salaam. And that’s why my meaning in this world… is to take care of my children, to make sure they grow up healthy and study well, make sure they get a good job, and make me proud…” She softened down while hugging them both. “No jobs, alright? You two already have a job and that is the Zundui’s family restaurant. Take totoy to bed, okay?”

“Yay! Kuya carry me!” Koi hopped in Suruj’s arms, while grinning.

“Okay bud. But don’t wake up in the middle of the night, or the Mu Mu’s gonna get ya.”

 

Suruj carried Mouka’s body into the dark corridor of the stadium. As the shadows casted over, the last of her memories had already entered his mind to remember. He understood why Mouka did not convey her feelings, with the fear and damage instilled from her childhood. If that had happened to him, his entire people killed, surely he would behave the same way, although he had no idea what it felt like for her.

“Are you serious?... We need to get someone to fix that barrier.”

As Suruj was about to turn the corner, he heard the words of the KWKK leader, Qiemi. Carefully leaning Mouka’s lifeless corpse on the wall, he took a peek at what the commotion was. They spoke in the vernacular dialect, making it difficult for him to understand clearly.

“Sir, I’m afraid that recreating that would require a user with a high saharic mastery,” Tsuchiya, the spokesman, raised his nervous hands.

“Why don’t we get Toya to fix it?”

“... If we lay a single finger on her she will murder us all, and the same goes with the Laoyuang Prince.”

“Then what have you been doing to keep the Laoyuang restrained? You’re the official that bridges the gap between Al-Wa and the KWKK, imbecile,” Qiemi slammed his fist on the concrete wall. “How about the boy that fought earlier?”

“Suruj Zundui? According to his file he is only capable of using one spell, sir,” Tsuchiya kept his eyes down as the Chief Director tightened his fist.

“Listen. We’re losing profit, Tsiishch'lli. Our clients are pulling out faster than ever before due to the Rebellion. And soon, the mob will storm Tengerleg Stadium. So we need a new barrier now.”

“Roger sir. I will find someone adept enough to perform the task,” Tsuchiya bowed before walking past Qiemi. Making a right turn, Suruj decided to take a step forward.

“Tsuchiya.”

“Well isn’t it a bad time, Zundui,” He flinched, before looking at the body behind him. “Do tell, was she a sibling? A lover?”

“She… was my best friend,” Suruj grasped his wrist. “What of it?”

“That explains why you two were glued together every time I saw you. Do you know how she died? You are free to guess.”

Suruj thought about it before answering. “Saharic overdose?”

“Precisely. Through that black bracelet, the loser of the vote will be flooded with so many particles that it will result in the loser’s violent, fatal death. Having just the right amount of sahar is a good thing, but going over the human’s natural sahar level will result in this atrocity,” Tsuchiya explained, impressed by Suruj’s deduction.

“When a person exceeds their sahar level they will experience nausea and vomiting of blood,” Suruj added, “And too much destroys the person’s organ tissue.”

“You seem to be well informed in saharic particles. Anyhow, I came to offer my condo-”

“Who’s side are you on?” He questioned with a serious look in his eye. Tsuchiya went silent. “Kwazhak told me all about you.”

“I better not say, because the walls have ears,” He pointed to the hologram recorder at the end of the hall. “Laoyuang must have put in a good word for me.”

“Then I trust you enough that I want the body of Mouka Toqemur to sleep peacefully.”

“... And where do you want her corpse to be sent?” Tsuchiya raised an eyebrow.

“Send her to the Laoyuang House.”

“Would you mind giving a reason why?”

“It’s a secret.”

“As you wish,” Tsuchiya bowed, before turning around. “Leave her there. I will send my personal guards to pick her up intact, rest assured.”

Thanking him, the boy said his final goodbyes to the last Kalyk Khoitan. He had a lot to do, and a lot to report. The information gained was shined value to whatever remained of their original group. The last round of the Minor, Izdaha versus Ashojan, would take place directly after Suruj and Mouka’s match. After that, there would only be five of the original ten. And that number was certain to decline.