4
There were exactly twenty-three and one half ceiling tiles in this room. Oni Lee knew, because he'd counted them many times. Twenty-three and one half.
This was one of the safehouses that was used more regularly than others. Nowhere particularly special, there weren't any notable businesses nearby or a greater distribution of ABB tags than normal, and that completely unassuming nature made it an unlikely target for their enemies. It helped that it was pretty centrally located to their territory; this was one of the places where the ABB's lieutenants met each week to report in to Lung. Earnings reports from different business ventures, front and otherwise, cartographic reports on the ever-shifting lines that separated the gangs in Brockton Bay, recruitment reports and disciplinary reports... all the details involved in owning and running one of the major powers in the city. Lung would check in on each representative of his forces during the week, but these gatherings kept everyone up-to-date and continually reminded of why they obeyed. That is to say, because Lung told them to.
"Good. Disperse." Lung grunted, keeping to as few words as necessary. He waited until the assembled men had left for their cars before pulling a cigarette from his back pocket and lighting it with a quick flick of a finger. "A typical week. Few surprises, save for the end. Lee— report."
Oni Lee obeyed. "A drive-by, perpetrated by the Empire or its sympathizers: the cars were unmarked, no license plates. Two of ours slain, all eight of theirs. The fighting attracted a Protectorate patrol. Dauntless and Chessman were spotted; I did not engage."
"Tch," Lung made a disgusted noise in his throat. "That was no crime of opportunity, then, the Empire knew the Protectorate kept to the edges of our territory only. They are trying to turn the Protectorate's attentions on us through retribution. Good that you did not take the bait. Now, I want you to—"
"I saw a shrine maiden."
Lung rocked back on his heels, head turning to face Oni Lee. Were he a lesser man, Lung might have been surprised. Oni Lee had interrupted him. Oni Lee never interrupted him. Oni Lee obeyed; that was how it had always been. "What was that?"
The teleporter was silent for a moment. "...among the peasants, near the battle. I saw a shrine maiden."
Lung rolled his cigarette between his fingers, then immolated the remains with a thought and a bare flex of will. "Your eyes play tricks on you. There are no shrines here, no maidens." Oni Lee did not dispute Lung. The dragon stared out through his mask. "You are tired. Go, for tonight. Find a drink, or a woman to fuck. Then come see me tomorrow, and we will plan."
Oni Lee obeyed.
* * *
The beer was bitter. It always was. Oni Lee drank it anyway. When he found the bottom of the bottle, he left the bar and walked off into the night. His current residence was not far, but when he reached his intended turn, he... kept walking. He kept walking, and his feet found a cracked sidewalk to follow. There were fewer streetlights here, but the dark did not bother him. His feet seemed to know the way, so he did not object. They led him deeper into the ABB territory, and something... bothered him, about it.
Along a disused road, between a pair of storefronts that had since been abandoned and looted, a roughly-carved wooden archway straddled a cobblestone path, the stones barely visible between the rampant overgrowth of weeds and discarded cans. Oni Lee stepped under the arch of the torii, but no further. Lung was not wrong, there were no shrines in Brockton Bay, but... there had been, years ago, when the refugee migration was fresh and the comforts of home were still clung to.
Oni Lee stood under the arch, and peered through the gloom at the crumbling komainu statues, at the distant shadow of the shrine building itself. He'd... walked here. Why?
...
Nothing. Nothing came to him.
Oni Lee turned and left, to return to his residence and wait for tomorrow.
* * *
The abandoned shrine was not on any patrol route. Oni Lee passed by it anyway, the next day. It was the same, the day after that. The nebulous thing that bothered him waned.
The third day he passed by, the torii had been repainted a bright and lustrous red.
Oni Lee stopped, and stood under the arch. A vine had curled up to try and strangle one of the stone dogs; he took a few moments from his patrol to cut the vine away, and brush a few speckles of moss from the statue. He had no reason to, that he could see.
He just... wanted to.
