Chapter 430

"You idiot!" his sister cried, jabbing the cane out at him. He easily stepped away, as she stabbed through the steel bars a few more times in an attempt to him before giving up, pulling the cane back and putting the key in the lock. Moments later, she had the door open and was rushing over, enveloping him in an uncharacteristic hug.

He held her, stiffly, for a moment before the pair realised how uncomfortable they both were after the initial rush of emotion and stepped away. 

"So. Uhh... hi," Arthur said, coughing a little and looking to the side.

"Baka!" she growled, and he smiled a bit at her use of the Japanese word. Obviously, she was still into anime, though these days, the donghua works from China and Taiwan were just as popular, if not more so. "You said you weren't going to take that long!"

"I said it might take a few years, Ah An." Arthur crossed his arms.

"Don't remember!"

"You know that for most, the fastest was around five months. Being back in eight months is pretty damn good!" Arthur said. 

"Ngo m lei. You were gone too long." She looked him over, frowned. "Also, got so pale, ah?"

Noise from within the apartment had the pair look back. Realizing they were standing outside, they retreated into the small, cramped two bedroom apartment. His mother, of course, had a room all to herself and for a time, the pair had slept together in the other. As he had grown older, and spent more time outside, at the training hall with Sifu and running his errands, he had ended up moving onto the living room couch, giving her space. 

And there it was, the lumpy futon-couch that was his bed. Still as lumpy as ever though looking rather appealing at the moment.

He stepped inside, dropping his gear next to the couch in its usual spot – after shifting a chair and some junk out of the way. Arthur quelled the flash of irritation at seeing ‘his’ place invaded, but found himself looking around with a different pair of eyes.

This flat that he had grown up in, this tiny residence that they skimped and saved and struggled to keep worthwhile, it was both entirely luxurious and mean at the same time. Luxury in terms of hot water, a running toilet, stovetops and a fridge full of food. Air conditioning, turned down low and running automatically now as it drew upon the local solar panels, keeping the house cool.

At the same time, it was homey too, a place for more than rest and training. Snacks on the counter, pictures – physical ones, printed out at great expense – on shelves and walls. Books – his, his mothers, his sister’s, filling the shelves on the right. Folders of CDs, pirated works taken from streaming services and resold to them at night markets because then you could trade the CDs later with others, because it cost a lot less especially when you took into account the exchange rates.

Because the corporate overlords could not reach within and steal the works you bought – sorry, ‘licensed’ – or shut down your cloud services; because they objected.

“You hungry?” Bai An asked.

He chuckled, shook his head. “Ate already. Was at a party…” At her narrowed eyes, he sighed. “Wasn’t negotiable. It was a Climber thing.”

“Oh, so important now, ah…” She sniffed, looked him up and down again, assessing him. “Got bigger a bit. A few scars. But… you look good.”

“Thanks,” Arthur said. “I did well. More than well.”

A single eyebrow rose, but he glanced out the windows, into the dark of the night. Felt a yawn coming which caused him to crack his jaw, and that set off a chained reaction with his sister. “Tomorrow. We talk tomorrow. With Mama.”

His sister nodded after a moment, acknowledging the point. She walked back to her room, stopping at the edge to turn around and look at him. Offer him a smile.

“I’m glad you’re back.”

 

***

 

Arthur woke to the smell of fried eggs, the spatter of oil in a hot wok and the shuffle of feet. He rolled out of bed smoothly, kicking the blanket he did not recall putting off him and grabbed the kris that was by his bedside table in the same motion. Came to his feet, a hand held upwards to ward off a blow that never came, his mind only now cataloguing the changes and where he was after his little show.

A sarcastic, slow clap issued from his sister who was at the kitchen island that made up their dining table, the apartment not having a place for them to eat otherwise. It was either the crowded island, filled with bowls for fruit or snacks or the knife block, or the living room table that they ate around, Arthur and Bai An on the floor, cross-legged.

Unlike him, she preferred her Chinese name, choosing to use it rather than the English one they'd taken for ease of use and applying for jobs.

“Sorry,” Arthur muttered, slipping the cursed kris back into its sheath. He took a moment to stare at it, the Tower status information taking a little longer to come up out in the real world.

 

Cursed Kris of the Lost Warrior

Enchantments: Applies an instance of Toxic Yin Chi when blood is drawn. Effects of Toxic Yin Chi varies depending on resistances and individual but include clouding of senses, numbness, paralysis and respiratory or cardiac arrest. 

 

“So, you a Malay warrior now ah? Huang Tuah?” Bai An asked, sarcastically.

“It’s a cursed item,” Arthur said, wagging the sheathed kris and slipping it onto his belt with casual ease. The motion caught his sister’s eyes, the mid-teen girl frowning as she watched the easy way he did it, reading into the motion a dozen things. Probably none of them good.

Probably all of them fair.

“Don’t touch it, eh?” He gestured back to his gear. “Don’t touch any of it. That goes for you to, Ma. I don’t want you hurting yourselves.”

“Not even your dirty clothing?” A nose wrinkled, as his mother turned around with the wok held in one hand to deposit the fried egg on top of the bowl of congee. His mouth watered a little at the smell, since he could tell this was fish congee picked up from Ah Lok downstairs. A real treat, since it cost a little too much for routine eating.

“I’ll take those out and get them washed.”

“Okay.” Placing the wok back, she gestured for him to join them. Breakfast was wonderful, the addition of yuitao – the deep fried sticks of dough dipped in the congee adding a fatty undercurrent to the otherwise healthy meal.

Only when glass spoon scraped against bottom of empty bowl did his mother break the silence, worried eyes turning up, her own bowl only half finished. She was older than he recalled, aged in the time he was gone. Or perhaps, because he stayed with her so long, he was but seeing her again properly.

Hands liver spotted, her eyes always bagged. His mother worked odd-jobs, just like him, ever since she had been let go six years ago from her administrative job. The small advertising company giving in to technology and letting software take over the majority of her tasks. They still paid her to check over the work, spot checking for errors overall and on the major accounts, but it paid a pittance compared to previously.

“An says you brought trouble?” his mother said, softly. Disapprovingly.

“Not trouble. Not exactly.” What was that joke? That the Chinese character for disaster included the character for opportunity too? It felt like that, as he related the basics of his new status, what that meant, a little of the Clan he had built and his own standing.

Curious, what they might have to say.

Uncertain of what he wanted them to say.