"What's it sayin' to her?" Tristan asked, squinting to see what the weird dragonlike headmaster was saying to the geologist chick with the punk aesthetic.

"I don't know." Rori took a step towards the two. "I mean, I feel kind of bad eavesdropping-"

"We're ghosts, shitbrain." Tristan walked right up to the conversation without hesitation. It wasn't like they knew he was watching or anything, so it wasn't a problem.

"So?" the dragon-thing was asking.

The chick had one hand on a hip, the other up by her lips in consideration. "Hm. Yeah, no. In what sick world d'you think I'd do that? Go eat crocidolite."

And with that, she turned on her heel and walked away, her long brown braid whipping in the wind.

"Got anything?" Rori inquired.

Tristan shook his head. "Nope."

"Well, it can't be good, whatever it is. I wish there was a way to warn everyone about this." The survivalist's eyes then lit up. "Wait. There's a what's-it-called here, right?"

"You're gonna have to specify," Tristan told him flatly.

Rori fumbled to find the word for a moment. "A... uh... y'know, who talks to ghosts? A- oh, a medium! Yeah, a medium."

He had a point. Who was the medium, again? It was one of the guys, that was for sure. Dark hair, definitely.

...oh.

"It's the demon one, ain't it?" Tristan grimaced.

"It's the demon one," Rori confirmed, then added defensively, "But I'm sure he's not as evil as he claims to be! I mean, he hasn't pulled anything yet, so maybe he'll be happy to help."

"He thinks. He is. A demon," Tristan said slowly.

"He's gotta be the Ultimate Medium for a reason!"

"Fine, fine."

The two of them made their way towards the line of cottages, looking for any signs of the medium.

"You can't just phase into people's cottages!" Rori objected as Tristan emerged from the third cottage.

"Hey, it's efficient. And it's not like they know or anything," Tristan shot back.

He peeked into the fourth cottage and stopped. Sitting on the bed and holding a handheld mirror as he applied makeup with the other was the Ultimate Medium, whose name escaped Tristan. But something seemed off about the guy. For one, his long, dark hair was held up in a loose ponytail, and he was wearing a simple baggy shirt and pajama pants. And without the eyeshadow and weird marking on his face, he looked much younger than normal. As soon as Tristan phased through the door and into the room, the medium snapped to attention, dropping the mirror and jerking his head to look around.

"Hello?" he called.

"Can he see you?" Rori asked Tristan as he joined him.

Tristan shrugged before approaching the medium and poking him as gently as he could- or at least tried to, because he was a fucking ghost and his hand just went right through him. "Can you see me?"

The medium recoiled, his hand moving to where Tristan had tried to touch him. "...you're there. I can't see you, but I know you're there."

"Okay, better than nothing," Rori mumbled.

"I assume it's either Tristan or Rori," Florian, or whatever his god dang fake name was, continued. "I can't... I can't communicate with you right now; I don't have the materials. I'm sorry."

"Then get the damn materials!" Tristan spat in his face. Of course, Flower couldn't hear him, so he turned and left.

"Maybe at some point, he'll be able to talk to us," Rori reassured him.

Tristan was already getting sick of this bitch. Plus, the more he saw his face, the harder it was to contain his anger at the survivalist for murdering him. He had said he was going to put it behind him for the sake of company, sure, but internally he still wanted nothing more than to turn Rori double-dead. He had the right to still feel that way, right? The guy had killed him, for god's sake! He'd murdered him!

Rori's amber gaze flicked across Tristan's face, and he frowned. "...I take it you still hate me?"

"Damn right," Tristan growled. "Of course I hate you! Ain't nothing gonna change that. But I'm gonna put up with you for the sake of my own sanity."

"It's weird to me why you'd rather spend time with me than be alone."

That caused Tristan to stop and sigh. "...I'm used to havin' people around."

"Did you have a big family, then?" Rori asked slowly, as if trying to carefully prod for answers.

"...if you mean biological family, then no. My gang was my family. Never went nowhere without 'em," he answered, his voice lowering to a slightly softer and more thoughtful tone. "My title is th' Ultimate Street Fighter, but I'm actually considered the Ultimate Street Gang Leader in some parts as well."

"So you're like a double Ultimate?"

"Yeah. I guess you could put it like that." Getting to boast a little to Rori was starting to make Tristan feel a little better. He did like asserting his dominance- after all, he was a double Street Ultimate for a reason.

In fact, it made him hate Rori a little less. Because the guy was a listener.

"I dunno how the hell you just sit there for so long and just listen," he commented after about half an hour of telling him all about his gang.

"Spending so much time in the wilderness means having to stop and listen a lot to become more aware of your surroundings," Rori explained. "Especially when it comes to identifying birds, since they often sound really similar to most people. Paying attention is crucial if you want to figure out what you're listening to."

"Huh. That's weirdly impressive."

Rori's smile faded after a second. "...can I ask you something?"

"Eh, sure," Tristan agreed.

"...you said that your gang was your family."

Oh, he knew where this was going. And hell if he was gonna let that happen.

"Yeah, so what? They are," he said insistently. "That's all there is to it."

Rori seemed to understand to back off, another reason why Tristan managed to slightly tolerate him. They didn't talk a whole lot for the rest of the day, until they began heading back to their cottages for the night. Tristan found that like the floor, he didn't phase through his bed unless he wanted to; it was only humans that they could never touch no matter what.

"I'm gonna head to bed now," Rori yawned.

Tristan noticed how the survivalist's hand went yet again to the animal tooth necklaces around his neck. He'd previously done this several times, mostly when things got quiet.

"Somethin' on your mind?" Tristan asked him.

Rori seemed surprised by the question, and he looked away. "...my mom. I just miss her a lot, y'know?"

Before Tristan could say anything, he continued, "She's always been a hiker and an explorer. As a kid, she'd bring me to all these cool landmarks and views, and teach me about all the cool plants and wildlife. She's the reason I got into wilderness survival. I mean, I'm still learning stuff from her. ...or at least, I did. Until all this happened."

Even after Rori's allusion to his murdering Tristan, Tristan couldn't find it in him to be angry about it again. There was something about his words that really stuck with him.

"...you're a god damn lucky kid, y'know that?"

Rori looked up at him, confused. "What?"

"Sounds like you have an awesome mom, and there's a helluva lot of people out there who'd give an arm and a leg just to have more time with theirs." Tristan fought against the nagging feeling in his heart as he spoke.

"Oh," Rori said, realizing the implications of the words. "...I'm sorry."

"Relax, kid, that's one loss you ain't responsible for," Tristan responded, looking away to hide the expression on his face.

Rori looked as if he were about to say something, but stopped, looking past Tristan. "...that's weird."

Tristan followed his gaze to see one of the cottage doors slowly open, a tall dirty-blonde emerging into the moonlight.

"I thought it was officially nighttime," Rori mumbled.

"It is. But I think she's well aware of that," Tristan said.

They watched as Ryn- yeah, that was the vet chick's name- quietly slipped over to another cottage, where the light still seemed to be on. She then removed a folded paper from the pocket of her shirt and slid it under the door before knocking and then quickly rushing back to her cottage.

"I don't like where this is going," Rori commented. "Who's she trying to communicate with?"

Tristan shrugged. "I'm not gonna take the gamble, we'll find out in a second."

Just as he said that, the door to the second cottage opened, revealing the tall, slender frame of one Ultimate Dealer.

"Well, speak of the devil," said Rori.

The two watched as the dealer picked up the letter and unfolded it. As their yellow eyes scanned the page, their expression remained unchanged, but the tightening of their grip on the paper signaled something their poker face didn't. They then checked the digital handbook in the pocket before tucking it away again and setting out down the rows of cottages.

Rori watched them leave. "Where are they doing?"

Tristan nodded in the direction of the dealer. "Why don't we just follow 'em, dumbass?"

***

(1503 words)

In which Tristan realizes that handling his emotions is harder than he thought.