Children of the Virus

37: Luna

Dawn's light filtered through the tattered curtains, casting a lattice of shadows over rumpled sheets. Kura lay inert beside him, the prosthetic fingers twitching as if dreaming of actions yet to be taken. Toshiro's right hand, however, was very much awake, tracing the outline of Ren's serene face.

"Ren," he whispered, but no response came from her slumbering form. Her chest rose and fell with the steady rhythm of deep sleep, her dark hair framing her face like a raven-wing halo, red tips seeming to pulse with a life of their own.

A pang of guilt twinged in Toshiro's chest as he watched her, his thoughts drifting to Luna. He eased himself out of bed, careful not to disturb Ren. The cold floor sent a shiver up his spine, grounding him in the decision that had kept him restless throughout the night.

Taking the broken Luna token from his nightstand, he verbalized into the empty room: "I must find Thaxter." The words solidified his resolve. He dressed quickly, mind racing with thoughts of Luna and the desire to reconnect with her. A backward glance at Ren stirred a soft sigh from his lips. What would she think if she knew the truth about my heart?

With the stealth of a shadow, Toshiro slipped out of the room and into the awakening streets, the city's heartbeat quickening with the approach of day. People bustled about, wrapped up in their own worlds, yet Toshiro felt an urgency that set him apart.

He caught sight of a stranger leaning against a wall, idly watching the passersby with disinterest. Toshiro approached, clearing his throat to command attention. "Excuse me, I'm looking for someone named Thaxter. Have you seen him?"

"Thaxter?" The stranger's voice was rough, like gravel churned by heavy boots. "The one with all the gadgets and gizmos? Yeah, I've seen him. Always tinkering with something or the other."

"Thank you," Toshiro replied, a note of relief threading through his tone. "Do you know where I can find him now?"

"Last I heard, he holed up in that makeshift workshop of his. Just follow the trail of discarded metal parts and you'll find it. Can't miss it." The stranger pointed down an alleyway cluttered with refuse and spare parts that glittered like technological breadcrumbs.

"Thank you. And, if you don't mind me asking, how recently was this?"

"Oh, just a couple of days ago. He's probably still there, buried under a mountain of his projects." The stranger shrugged, as if the whereabouts of a man like Thaxter were of no consequence.

"I appreciate your help," Toshiro nodded, turning to follow the path. His gaze was fixed ahead, the image of the Luna token etched into his mind, its repair tantamount to the deeper connection he sought.

The alleyway narrowed as Toshiro approached the ramshackle structure that served as Thaxter's workshop. The door creaked open at his touch, revealing the inner sanctum of wires, screens, and metallic clutter that was Thaxter's domain.

"Ah, Toshiro, what can I do for you, my friend?" The man with a short-stature peered over his spectacles, pushing back a tangle of errant curls with grime-stained fingers.

Toshiro's throat tensed. "I...I need your help to fix this." He carefully placed the token on the workbench, its once smooth surface marred by fractures.

"Ah, the Luna token," Thaxter murmured, recognition sparking in his eyes as he lifted it with a reverence that belied his otherwise erratic gestures. "Do you have some light mix?"

"Yes." Toshiro's hand delved into his pocket, procuring the small vial filled with a luminescent substance. He set it down next to the token, watching Thaxter's reaction keenly.

"Where did you get this?" Thaxter's voice held a note of awe, his usual playful demeanor giving way to solemn curiosity.

Toshiro hesitated, his thoughts drifting to Damian. "It's a long story," he said finally, unwilling to reveal more. Toshiro's words were clipped, betraying the urgency that pulsed through him like a live wire. "Just fix it, please."