Kang led Bakari into the basement, Yuri's weight heavy on his shoulder. Bakari froze, his eyes scanning the room. It was a stark contrast to the tailor shop upstairs.
The basement was a strange mix of rustic and futuristic. Exposed wooden beams crisscrossed the ceiling, painted a matte black between the supports, lending a sense of age and solidity. The walls were a patchwork of rough-hewn wood paneling and smooth, dark gray concrete.
In the center of the room sat a heavy, scarred wooden table, but instead of being covered in tools or clutter, it held a display of Plutonian technology. A sleek, obsidian cube rested on the surface, its purpose unclear.
The walls were covered in a chaotic collage of pictures, newspaper clippings, and diagrams, all connected by a web of red string. It looked like a detective's conspiracy board, a visual representation of Kang's thoughts and investigations.
"You can rest him here," Kang said, gesturing toward a worn leather sofa.
Bakari carefully laid Yuri down on the sofa, then turned to survey the room again, his mind racing. This place was a puzzle box, just like Kang himself.
Kang retrieved a glass jug from a small, stainless steel refrigerator. He poured out two glasses, the liquid swirling with a mesmerizing rainbow of colors. It looked almost ethereal, like liquid starlight.
Bakari took a glass, his curiosity piqued. "How did you get this?"
Kang held up the jug, its shape distinctive. It was slim and elegant at the top, widening to a fat, round bottom. "I saved some. Just in case I ever had a drink with… people who appreciate it."
Bakari said, "Mh," and took a sip.
The taste defied description, a symphony of flavors that both surprised and comforted him. It was sweet, like pure mana, but with a complexity that unfolded with each sip. This was Halo, the ubiquitous drink of Pluton, yet somehow, each time he tasted it, it felt new, a unique journey for his taste buds. A warmth spread through his body, chasing away the chill from the fight, leaving his tongue with a pleasant, icy tingle.
"You do know that we're half-breeds," Bakari said, the statement hanging in the air.
Kang took a sip from his own glass, his gaze unwavering. "Why are you telling me something I can already *see*?"
Bakari hesitated, then a small smile touched his lips. Maybe Kang wasn't as bad as he seemed. He gazed into the swirling rainbow liquid. "In Pluton, half-breeds aren't treated so kindly."
Kang sighed, swirling the liquid in his glass. "Reminds me of a certain demography of people here on Earth. They were treated badly because of the color of their skin."
Bakari, remembering the Celestials and their chilling plan, pressed on. "I heard you say you'd help us. You'll help us fight them?"
Kang said, "My fighting days are over." He pointed at Bakari. "But I can train you two."
Bakari scoffed, his pride stung. "Train? Do you even know how strong we are?"
Kang's eyes narrowed, a dangerous glint appearing in them. "Strong? I took you both down with one blow. And the Celestial energy I'm feeling from both of you is barely a spark. You're potential, untapped."
Bakari felt a wave of shame wash over him. He glanced at Yuri, who was snoring softly on the couch, a slight frown creasing his brow. *He's going to hate this,* Bakari thought.
He turned back to Kang, a reluctant agreement forming in his mind. "Alright," he admitted, the word tasting like ash in his mouth. "You're right. We'll let you train us."
Kang stood, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "You'll *let* me? As if you have a choice. Once the training is over, I will need a favor from you two."
Bakari's eyes narrowed, suspicion creeping in. "What kind of favor?"
Kang clapped him on the back, the force of the gesture surprisingly strong. "One step at a time, young blood," he said, his voice carrying a warmth that belied his fierce demeanor. "Let's just say I live here, and I can't exactly have Celestials causing a genocide on my doorstep, now can I?"
Bakari smiled, a genuine warmth spreading through him.
"We could use the help," he admitted, taking another long drink of the Halo. He lowered the glass, then added, "I have to ask, how long have you been here, really?"
Kang casually pulled up a stool and sat down. "Mh, probably a decade now."
Bakari's eyes widened in surprise. "Blast!"
Kang chuckled. "Yeah, I'm pretty old."
"How old *are* you?" Bakari pressed, unable to contain his curiosity.
Kang sighed dramatically. "I knew you'd ask that."
"So, tell me!" Bakari insisted, nudging Kang playfully with his elbow.
Kang leaned back, considering. "How old are you?"
"Me? I'm sixteen by human standards, at least," Bakari replied.
Kang's eyes widened slightly. "Sixteen? I'm close to nine hundred by human standards, at least."
Bakari's jaw dropped. "Blast! You're as old as my lineage!"
Kang laughed, a hearty, genuine sound. "That's funny."
Bakari shifted closer, a comfortable silence settling between them. They talked about Pluton, about Earth, about the differences and surprising similarities between their cultures.
Kang spoke of his travels, his voice laced with wisdom and a hint of weariness. Bakari, in turn, shared stories of his childhood, his dreams, and his anxieties about the future.
He showed Kang his good side, his optimism, his loyalty to Yuri, and his deep-seated desire to protect others.
The conversation lulled, and Kang's gaze drifted to the reddish burn scars on Bakari's face and arm.
He hesitated, then asked softly, "Those scars… what happened?"
Bakari's expression clouded over, his eyes turning towards Yuri, who was still sleeping soundly on the couch.
"Two weeks ago," he said quietly, "we fought a Celestial.
I had to make a decision. In the moment, I wasn't even thinking. It cost me my arm… and my best friend's eye." He paused, a flicker of pain crossing his face.
"He doesn't say anything about it, but I know he feels a type of way about it."
Kang looked ahead, his expression unreadable. After a moment, he said, "You made a choice.
You protected your friend. That's all that matters. Don't let guilt eat you alive. Learn from it, and be better next time."
He stood, patting Bakari on the back with a surprising gentleness. "Get some sleep, kid.
You'll need it." He turned and ascended the stairs, leaving Bakari alone in the dim basement, the weight of Kang's words settling in his heart.
The old man was gruff, yes, but there was a depth to him, a wisdom forged in the fires of time.
Bakari knew, with a growing certainty, that he had made the right decision in trusting him.