"," said Darius.

  Asayuki sat precariously on the railing. They were on the roof of a skyscraper, with the gleaming city stretching out before them under the sunlight. The air was cool and the wind was sharp. The blowing gusts tugged at the ends of their hair and clothes.

  "…Oh." Asayuki took a moment to register his presence. She turned her attention away from the long, long fall in front of her. "It's you, Darius."

  "Were you expecting someone else?" A cheeky grin to go with it.

  A small smile crossed Asayuki's face. "No. You always did have a gift for finding me when I went places like these…"

  Darius approached, leaning his arms on the rail as he looked out over the city. "What were you thinking about?"

  "Not that," she said simply.

  "Then?" he pressed softly.

  Asayuki adjusted some of the stray hairs getting in her face. She looked again—at the vast distance between her and the earth so far below.

  "I wanted to know if I would still feel it," she murmured.

  Darius didn't reply. He let only the wind speak its murmurs, and waited.

  "…I haven't in a long time," finished Asayuki.

  He smiled gently. "I'm glad."

  "If you tell me you're here to drag me to a meeting, I might consider it, though."

  That got a good laugh out of him. "No, but I do need a hand with something. Could I bother you?"

  Aside from the meeting room that dominated the top floor of Binding Association Headquarters, just below it were several offices dedicated to the top-ranking members of the organization. That said, Darius' office hardly looked like one at all. Rather, it looked like a cross between a saloon and a workshop.

  Asayuki couldn't hide the smile as she followed him in through the swinging saloon doors. "Do I want to know how much you spent on renovations?"

  "Personally, I'd prefer you didn't," he chuckled.

  Darius snapped his fingers. Bolts of light jumped, and a second, much heavier solid steel gate closed down on the office entrance. Asayuki wasn't perturbed in the slightest—that was his "do not disturb" sign against anyone who came to haul him away to briefings while he was absorbed in other work.

  Darius went from one messy table to another, tidying up the countless notes strewn about (Julian's lectures about security and confidentiality never stuck) and scrounging up what he needed. He waved her over to one table in particular—covered in blueprints, booklets, mechanical parts, and stray wires, with all manner of tools littered across its surface and a tall cabinet bursting with even more gizmos beside it.

  "Maintenance day." He dropped into the chair at the table and offered her the one beside it. "Normally, I'd have Julian lend a hand, but he had to scramble a deployment. Said he's scouting ahead. When he's back… you know what I mean."

  Asayuki sat down beside him. "I didn't know you need maintenance."

  "A little bit yes, a little bit no," he said. "It's hooked into my circulatory and it can siphon mana when it needs it, but the fact of the matter is, anything's gonna wear down a little bit. Especially when you use them as much as I do. Nobody's around, right?"

  "Just me."

  Darius hesitated a moment longer. Then, he took off his coat. Without the iconic flowing garment of the hero of light, he was down to his shirt and vest. Rolling up the sleeves as much as he could, he reached around and popped open his own bicep. Seams split in the artificial skin and metal partitions retracted, revealing the hidden control panel. Engraved on the inside, amidst the switches, was a short phrase: DXM.L 1300.

  "Let's see if I remember the order," he muttered under his breath as he fiddled with the buttons. "Magic circuit… blood line… neural interface… connectors."

  One last switch flipped, and there was a heavy clunk. Darius' left arm went totally limp on the table, thudding down and fingers relaxing.

  "Could you help me?" he said. "The clasps are a little troublesome…"

  As she did, Asayuki noted the metal arm was even heavier than she expected. His prosthetic detached from the mount installed on his shoulder. Even with his limb separated from his body, numerous wires and cables still held them together.

  "Top left cabinet," said Darius, "manuals 1 through 4. And can you hand me the size 4 wrench? Thanks."

  He worked at his arm. Within minutes, he had it fully opened—every skin-covered armor plate removed, telescoping parts expanded to full size, every joint of every digit separated. Asayuki couldn't begin to make heads or tails of the mass of parts, circuits, and cables that made up the innards of his prosthetic.

  "Can you turn it over for me?" said Darius softly as he worked. "Hold it up, a little further—yeah, that's perfect. Pass the oil. Mind holding this piece in place? I need to get at the plate underneath…"

  "How often do you have to do this?" asked Asayuki. Her voice had fallen to a quiet, subdued whisper, following Darius' lead without realizing.

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  "Once a month, usually. Depends on how much I use them—can go a lot longer if work slows down. The most important bits are integrated with my mana supply, but Lazarus couldn't extend that to every part, so these are the ones that wear out. Good thing, too, because these are all the parts I can actually replace. If the cores broke down, Lazarus is the only person in the world who could fix them. At that point, I might as well tear off these mounts and get regular myoelectrics… Thanks again for helping me."

  "It's nothing."

  "…I don't like it," he muttered. "Every time I do it just reminds me… I can't feel my left arm. I can try to move it all I want, but this piece of metal won't listen because it's not my arm." He scowled. "It's not my arm. If I took both of these off and threw them into the ocean, all I'd be left as is some…"

  He trailed off. Asayuki decided to think he was focusing on his work and let him do so in silence. When he sat back, let out a breath, and went the simpler task of shining the inner plates, she said, "I remember you excelled in construct manifestation."

  "Trust me, I've thought about it," he said. "Even if we ignore Absolute Zero, they're too complex. So many moving parts. A lot of pieces that need just the right amount of softness, flexibility, all slotting into each other exactly the right way or none of it works. Building a grand piano is miles easier. And they need to be strong too. Even I get tired, you know?"

  He set down his tools and went in with his bare hand. Light flashed on and off at his fingertips, tiny streams of searing white flame welding the replacement pieces in place.

  "More importantly," said Darius, "I can't run a set of arms at full capacity all the time. I figured out a few different models already—regulated strength, so I can manifest the one with as much power and mana cost as I need at the moment. But always thinking about which fake arm I need to put on… calculating which one has the right output for the situation… switching between the combat set and the civilian set every time I step on or off the battlefield…"

  He exhaled sharply and set his right hand firmly on the table. He didn't trust himself to finish welding at this particular moment.

  "Waking up every morning," he said, "trying to pull back my sheets and rub my eyes, and then reaching over to see if you're already up… only to realize I can't do any of that… that's the sort of thing that would drive me mad before I knew it."

  Asayuki reached out and stroked his back.

  Darius took a moment to collect himself, and then returned to his work. "Sorry you had to see me like this."

  "It's fine," she said quietly. "I'm glad you trust me. Moments like these… I want to be there." She leaned forward, catching his gaze. "I can't have you doing all the heavy lifting, after all. That's a competition I don't plan on losing either. So, call on me, okay? For this, or anything else."

  Darius' mouth was slightly open. He closed it. He swallowed, and he nodded. "…Thank you, Saya. We're done with this one, by the way."

  She helped him reattach the prosthetic to its socket. It snapped in place with a satisfying click-click-click. Darius flipped the switches, and Asayuki watched as a surge of light pulsed through it.

  Darius raised his left arm. He moved it to and fro. He flexed his fingers. Then, he clenched his fist and willed the black lightning to manifest.

  "How is it?" she asked.

  "Like I just had the best stretch in ages," he said. "Okay, onto the other one."

  "DXM.R 1300," noted Asayuki as she helped him detach his other arm, her eyes on the engraving in its control panel.

  "Deus Ex Machina, Right, Version 1300," said Darius, rattling off its original project name.

  "Subtle."

  A humored chuckle, and then it faded as his thoughts wandered while he worked. "It's strange. Lazarus told me back then—there's no such thing as two Affinities. Not really. Not even when she can reach into their head and pull out two discs. When someone has two powers they use in equal measure, all that means is they haven't truly figured out their soul's calling yet."

  "Is that so?"

  "I can size up the others just fine. Goukei is 'death' that foresees the end of mortal lives. Lazarus is 'electricity' to the point of manipulating human bioelectricity—and the soul is just one step away from the brain."

  "And Julian?"

  "Hmm." Darius kept working on his maintenance as he thought. "If you think of the Reverse as another 'space' with slightly different rules, it's not too far off. But then, what is mine? Light and void… Fire and absence… if I don't know that much, do I really even know myself…?"

  He let that one linger in the air for a long time. Eventually, Asayuki scooted her chair closer.

  "Whatever that may be," she said softly, "I was happy to meet the you who's still chasing those questions."

  "Oh, don't go making me blush." Darius smiled and lightly nudged her with his shoulder. "I'm trying to focus over here. One misstep and I'm back several million yen before you know it. Just because I can replace the parts doesn't mean they're cheap!"

  "I was wondering where all those paychecks were going. So you do spend your money responsibly."

  "Just what kind of person do you think I am…?"

  "I remember another thing." Asayuki let him off the hook and changed subjects. "The others were titled, weren't they?"

  "They sure were," said Darius. "Samson, Lazarus, Ehud, all that slop."

  "And you?"

  "…Eve did get one out," he muttered. "Right at the very end."

  "What was it?"

  Darius held out his hand expectantly. She gave him the wrench and he went right back to work. The silence stretched on between them, broken only by the quiet tinkering of metal on metal.

  "…Doesn't matter anyway," said Darius eventually. He scoffed and added, "Lazarus and Eve always loved their stupid little nicknames."

  "You're not much better." Asayuki smirked, and lightly jabbed him, "Mister Sunset Over the Golden Praries."

  "At least I pick cool names."

  "You call that cool?"

  "You know what," said Darius, a small grin forming. "Great new Western flick came out yesterday. Next time we're on the couch, we're not watching your silly Sengoku dramas."

  "Don't disrespect this nation's glorious history. I'll kill you."

  "Can you hand me the type 2 screwdriver?"

  "Here you go."

  "Thanks. Love you, Saya."

  "Love you too."

  "All right, that's the last plate reattached. Help me put this on?"

  A series of clicks, latches closing and locks engaging, and Darius stood up.

  "How do you feel?" Asayuki watched him turn his hands over.

  Darius didn't reply with words. He extended his hands, motioned, and light burst to life. Strands of white fire stretched, split, connected, and hardened. Before she knew it, a glowing grand piano of solid light stood in the middle of the workshop saloon.

  "It's been a while," he said, seating himself at the keys. Those warm brown eyes found her. "Why don't we take a break, Saya? I've got a new song I've been meaning to show you."

  Asayuki smiled. She settled into her chair, and enjoyed the one-man concert presented just for her.