Next chapter everyone! This is up so quickly because...well, we wrote it a really long time ago. In fact, it was written before we ever knew what was in the package that Azami delivered to Homra. Never mind the minor troubles we've had writing in order, though, it's posting perfectly logically, isn't it? This was the chapter where I discovered that I like Azami (her tattoo that just appeared a couple weeks ago makes me mad, but *shrug* what can I do? She's still pretty cool).
And, in honor of the newly released K: Lost Small World, neither Yata nor Fushimi are in this chapter. It's also two days late of the release because I spent all that time looking for Mew on Google Maps. *face palms* None of this has anything at all to do with the fact that you, the readers, have been dying from the suspense of where last chapter left off. Mwahaha...!
Anyhow, briefly, we want to thank all of you for making this our most popular story ever. With last chapter we reached 1000 views! That's something to celebrate! Brownies all around! Now, enjoy your virtual snack along with your virtual adventure.
Azami was not at all a fan of patrol duty at the docks. Maybe if she actually found something when she did it or had to chase down and beat a violator of her King's rules, she wouldn't mind it as much. Or who knew? One day maybe pirates would attack the harbor or she'd come across a strange ship and take down a smuggling ring.
Pfft, yeah right! Keep dreaming! Sometimes her mind wandered—went a little wild—letting her imagine things like if she jumped off a high enough building she'd be able to fly and she had to reign it in a bit. She was already accused by her King and clansmen of being overly reckless, which was probably why they put her on mundane tasks like patrol whenever they could. As it was, today's rounds were just like any other: keeping watch over the shipyards and surrounding warehouses which involved a lot of slow walk-throughs, thoroughly checking nooks and crannies and listening to the lapping of the waters. Not exactly a tune she could march to.
She paused atop a stack of metal shipping crates and studied the building adjacent to her. Parked at one of the back doors was a very conspicuous black Sedan. The King was not scheduled to be having any visitors and no deliveries were due to be made today. And the tinted windows were kind of a dead giveaway. Patrol duty may have just gotten a little more interesting.
As she moved silently into the shadows between two boxes, the door to the warehouse burst open and three men in suits hustled out, appearing to be restraining someone. There was the briefest glimpse of a pretty little face and strawberry blonde hair as the person thrashed.
"Let me go!"
Great. Just peachy, the Yakuza had started doing dirty business in their territory. The Green King would not be pleased. Azami paused in her thoughts and put her brain in reverse. Peachy…Where had she heard that term recently?
She looked again as the victim was calmly ordered "Get in the car" and her head ducked through the rear passenger door. Peach colored hair, flawless pale skin, and though she couldn't tell what color they were from this distance, her eyes appeared bright. She was really photogenic. It made Azami just a little jealous.
Wait…photo…
Pictures…
Pictures! That was where she had seen the adjective! That girl was the girlfriend of HOMRA's third in command! And she was being kidnapped in the Green Clan's territory!
"Shit!" Azami cursed and scrambled down the boxes and took after the car on foot.
At the end of the row of warehouses the car turned right, heading back toward the busier part of the city. If Azami didn't make up some ground to where she could keep an eye on the Sedan, she would surely lose it in the traffic. Running straight at the wall of a parking garage at the end of the line of buildings, it seemed she would hit it head-on, but instead she leapt atop a dumpster and used it as a springboard to an exposed AC unit.
The ductwork gave her something to climb to where she could reach the window and climb inside the garage. Then she was running again, leaping over concrete pylons and sliding over car hoods as she cut across the building and then vaulted into an opening at the other end and jumped out onto a neon street sign. The pole holding this sign also held several others in the shape of a two "+" stacked on top of each other. Azami slid underneath the one she held and between it and the next sign down, which she twisted around to grab next.
From that position, she didn't even have to look over her shoulder to know that the scaffolding was still there. Nobody knew these streets like she did. She backflipped and her heels caught the very edge of one of the braces and slipped. It didn't matter; she wasn't going to stay on that level anyway. She gripped a pole at the next level down and spun onto the wooden walkway, taking off at a run that was parallel to the stream of vehicles, her footfalls echoing into the space that was below the thin boards she crossed.
She could still see the Sedan, cruising along several stories below; it had taken a left. "Come on, where are you going?" she muttered, watching out of the corner of her eye and the lumber under her feet at the same time. Then louder, "Where are you going?" The car moved to the turning lane to go right and Azami growled, "Not that way!"
She paused just a second in her chase and scanned her position, seeking a way to get down and across the street at the same time. She liked to think if someone could watch her brain's activity, they'd be able to see it process things at an incredibly fast rate and highlight possible routes for easy access. She considered it a survivor's instinct, but her current option (a traffic light pole) didn't seem safe for her health.
She bent down between two pieces of the metal framework and wound around and through the maze of supports. Sliding down, twisting, and climbing while making use of all of her limbs, Azami could have been labeled as fireman exotic dancer of some distant relation to a chimpanzee if it weren't for the sheer grace of her movements. In no time flat and without injury, she had arrived at another walkway even with the traffic light. But that was only the beginning.
Now it got tricky. With a bit of a running start and a quarter turn of her body, Azami landed sideways on the pole and with a bit of pinwheeling of her arms, maintained her balance well enough to catwalk her way to the end of the traffic light—heel, toe, heel, toe. There were a couple gasps below when she stepped off into thin air, only to step smoothly onto a slow-moving semi, hop onto a Fex-Ex truck, and then do the balancing act on the opposite traffic light as the Sedan made its right-hand turn.
A banner waving its long tail in front of her drew Azami's attention and she took a flying leap toward it, fingers clenching into the tough outdoor fabric. She swung her legs forward as hard as she could and the momentum added to the slight breeze of the day and the flexibility of the banner, hurtled her straight toward an awning over a produce market.
As soon as she felt her feet sink in, she kicked off and sideways toward a second awning over a bakery. Though it may have appeared like she face-planted, the actual intention was to distribute her weight over a larger area so she didn't punch a hole in it with her landing. Instead she slid off like rain water and rolled to her feet.
She was still too far behind. At the speed they were going, she needed to get ahead of them to keep up the chase. She was pretty sure they would keep straight to go back into the city; that's what Azami would do since a left would take them back into a construction zone and industrial buildings. That Sedan was too clean and fancy to be from there.
She sprinted down the stairs to the subway, knowing that, if she was fast enough, she could beat them around the turn. There was a shout from a security guard as she hopped over the turnstile, but she paid him no mind. She knew he couldn't catch her even if he dared to follow where she was going. He probably thought she had a death wish when she dove onto the track in front of an oncoming train, but no. It was clear she was just really good at what she did as her front handspring brought her out of the way and onto the opposite platform just in time. More likely, she was just an adrenaline junkie.
She caught her balance on top of a bench and, utilizing large steps, trash cans and other benches, she traversed the whole floor in seconds. Snaking her way around exiting and boarding passengers, she passed in one side of a stopped train and out the other. A couple more strides brought her to the turnstiles on the other side where she promptly dropped to her knees and slid between the legs of a tall businessman.
A somersault brought her back to her feet and she took the steps two at a time. She could feel a familiar burning beginning to start in her chest even though she was keeping her breathing controlled. It felt good but she knew she'd have to buy some time to catch her breath soon.
She emerged into the sunlight again and looked toward the straight away. No Sedan.
"What?" She looked farther down the street toward the left turn. Still not the black car she was looking for. They hadn't gone to the industrial district just like she had predicted, but then where had they…?
She looked the opposite direction and frustration cut a burning path down her neck and shoulders to clench her fists. "No!" The driver had not done as she had wanted and had turned right with the flow of traffic, gaining quite a lead over her and they were now in the lane to turn left.
"There's nothing that way! Where the hell are you going?" she muttered, squinting furiously at where she expected the driver's head to be, as if she could see right through his skull and into his thought process.
She was wearing down. The chances of her catching them by her own stamina were slim to none now, but there was still one option left, if she could bear to hurry just a little more. She ducked around the corner of the straight away she thought the driver would have taken and put her last burst of energy into a full-on sprint only interrupted as easier routes presented themselves. As they were still on the edge of the Green Clan's territory and thus the city, the objects to climb and jump were still fewer and farther apart.
"Please be on time, please be on time," she chanted as the tracks came into view.
She ran along a short brick wall containing some flowers, did a front flip onto a drinking fountain laid into a mosaic feature and off onto the back of a bench, scaring the shirts off of a couple who were passionately saying goodbye. She couldn't help but smirk and then she drew in a breath and shot toward a bit of decorative molding on a gazebo housing the description of the train's routes. The metal dug into her skin while she heaved herself up with a grunt and then she rolled herself over the peak and slid down the incline of the other side, right onto the waiting branch of a sakura tree.
The screeching of metal on metal as the train began to leave met her ears and she scrambled around the trunk to a branch hanging close to the tracks. She barely had time to think before she had to leap out onto a passing car. Her knees met the sturdy metal with a solid crash and Azami grit her teeth to keep from shouting a curse that would reach the ears of young children at the station behind them. She'd like to see that skater boy keep up with her doing that.
The thought brought a small smile to her lips and then she remembered why she was expending herself so vigorously. Raising her eyes to the passing scenery, she scanned the area for the black Sedan. If she was lucky, it would be stopped at one of the crossings.
"Or under the bridge," she realized and looked in that exact direction. Sure enough, the Sedan was cruising down the curving road to an old cemetery.
Azami drew herself up and leapt off of her speeding ride. She should have judged the landing better. The grass down below, though soft was lushly covering a steep shoulder along the tracks. She realized this too late and once her feet hit, shooting pain up her legs, she had enough time to tuck into herself before she tumbled down the hill and straight into a creek.
But I bet he would have loved to see that wipeout, she thought as she held down a shriek when the chilled water met her bare flesh. She slogged forward to a flat rock and climbed out, skipped across several more and then snuck swiftly to the wrought iron gate of the cemetery that was the boundary of her territory. She crouched against a tree with a deep "V" shape.
She leaned against one of the arms of the "V" and peeked out at the scene beyond. The men in suits were standing before four others.
No…the Black Clan? The four others were not easy to mistake. The two in the middle were dressed in wispy layers of black with white gloves and white masks molded into the shape of skulls. These "Reapers" were the more elite fighters of the Black King while the two on the ends—ninjas by any stretch of the imagination—were specialty clansmen used for missions that requested stealth. Basically they were Black Ops or whatever.
Azami couldn't hear the words being exchanged from this distance coupled with her own heart in her ears and the breeze whistling through the trees. It had been rumored that the Black King, labeled as the one with the blurriest of scruples, had been doing business deals with the city mobsters, but nothing had even been investigated. The whole thing could explain why the Red King had to step in to thin out the crime, primarily in his territory anyway. Could that explain why they had taken the girlfriend of one of Suoh Mikoto's veterans?
Azami did a sweep of the area. The other female was not in the car any longer, nor visible in the immediate area with the men. How could they have moved her so fast?
"Sonofabitch!" Azami cursed quietly to herself and slipped away from the dangerous situation. She would have to go into another clan's territory today. While she did not look forward to speaking to her King in this state, she had to ask permission first and this was a time sensitive matter.
It was a brisk trip back to their base and by the time Azami got there, her face was red and she was out of breath. Her King, though appearing uninterested when she entered initially, picked his head up instantly upon hearing her raspy breath and water dripping off of her person.
"Azami…? What…" He stifled a laugh behind his hand. If there was one thing the Green King had never seen, it was Hayashi Azami look disheveled. Even when she didn't have time to style her complicated hairstyle on busy mornings, she still did her best to look presentable. "What happened to you?"
Between pants Azami made her request. "I need permission to go into the territory of Suoh Mikoto."
The Green King's smile faded instantly. "And what, pray tell, would you need to do that for?"
Kusanagi was actually not surprised to have received the call. Reluctantly, he informed his king—Totsuka was in the hospital. The boy had no immediate family, but the bar owner had been his emergency contact long before Totsuka's stepfather died. It was not the first time a nurse had called his bar in regards to their friend. This time, Kusanagi's feelings on the matter were stronger than the last.
He was irritated at Totsuka for going out alone even in face of known danger and mad at himself for thinking that way about someone who was hospitalized. Another reason he was mad was because they hadn't done enough to protect him. He knew he should feel bad for someone who was attacked like that. What he experienced instead was more like hatred toward the ones who had done it. If he felt that way, he could be sure Mikoto's anger was even stronger. That scared him a little. All of that compounding inside him, he felt like he needed a drink.
Instead of following through on that urge, he went to Mikoto's room and told him the bad news. The red king took it surprisingly well, simply rolling over on his bed with a groan. Kusanagi was not expecting that reaction at all, he decided as he walked back down the stairs. Still, he got ready to leave and waited by the door. After the few minutes it took the blond to smoke one cigarette, the redhead made his appearance on the main level.
"Who are we killing?" He asked frankly as he passed by the bar owner and flung open the front door.
Stubbing out what was left of his cigarette, Kusanagi pushed away from the wall he had been leaning on. "That wasn't exactly what I had in mind. Why don't we go see him first? Let him explain what happened."
Mikoto neither agreed nor complained. He just ran his fingers through his hair once, the hair that Totsuka had cut for him. It was obvious that a fire burned within him over the attack of their friend. There was a restlessness, a need to do something about it, but he kept that contained. It remained evidenced by small changes—he kept his hands busy when he wouldn't normally. Whether it be touching his face for a second, fiddling with the lighter he had little need for, or—just like Kusanagi—smoking or drinking, there would always be something in his hand when he was upset.
Anna came up between them, reaching neither man's waist in height. "I'm coming too," she stated as if it could not be contested. She was all dressed, already wearing her tiny shoes, hat, and coat.
Heaving a worried sigh, Kusanagi questioned the little girl, "Are you sure you're prepared for what you'll see?"
She responded without a doubt, "Are you?"
Tired of waiting, Mikoto clicked his tongue and walked out the door. They no longer had time to discuss whether it was better to let a child see someone in Totsuka's condition or leave her at home alone. Her words implied she had seen worse things than Kusanagi had. Sadly, he didn't doubt it. They hurried after their king.
The hospital was all white on the inside. Kusanagi thought it must be rather like the way Anna saw the whole world: in white and grey. The only color she ever saw was red. Now it was basically the only one he saw also. Mikoto's hair stood out as a guiding flame, the only passion at all in this bleak environment. Anna sat next to him in her equally bold, red dress while Kusanagi tried to get information from a group of useless nurses on break.
Two bursts of red, they were entirely different even as they both stared at Totsuka's bed. He was boiling over, trying his best to contain an uncontrollable fury within, but venting nonetheless, as if tension could be released through the crease in his brow. She was peaceful, composed, opposite to the temper common to most of Homra's members. Her passion was in her care, no matter how hard it had been to earn—and her love for their flammable personalities. Both expressed these deepest feelings with the tiniest of demonstrations, which at this moment meant each had their fingers laced together in their laps as they stared at Totsuka's bed.
Having no luck with the nurses who had no intentions of doing any work on their break, Kusanagi returned to the front desk. The girl working there had only told him which room their friend was in, adding not a single extra word, but at least she had told him something. She seemed like his best chance for information now.
"Excuse me. Would you be able to lend me a hand once more?" He asked, at least trying to be polite in spite of the circumstances.
Her eyes had been fixed on paperwork she was entering into the computer, but she looked up at him and attempted a pleasant smile, "How can I help you?"
"No one will tell me the condition of the patient in room 209," Kusanagi explained. "Could you page whoever is in charge of him, or something?"
Even though she knew the proper way to handle irritated clients, she broke formation for a second, rolling her eyes and scoffing, "Unfortunately, the doctors are in a meeting, and those nurses won't lift a finger until they come out. The only way to get help would be to stage an emergency."
Spying the type of details written on her paperwork, Kusanagi went out on a limb, "You wouldn't happen to know anything, would you?"
"That depends," she responded, almost sounding like she was teasing him a little. "Are you a family member?"
"I'm his only emergency contact," Kusanagi answered shortly.
"What's his name?"
"Totsuka, Tatara."
After typing a few search criteria into her computer, the receptionist described, "It says here that he's unconscious, with weak but stable vital signs. They have him on just oxygen and saline to regain strength."
Kusanagi waited a while after she finished speaking. He was expecting a lot more, but it quickly became clear that she was done. "Is that all? Shouldn't it say what happened? Or why?"
"It should," she agreed, scrolling through the page in case she missed something. "But what it says is, 'Cause Unknown.' It mentions something about a police case, but it isn't very detailed."
"No it isn't." Even though the conversation seemed to have reached its end, Kusanagi stayed at the desk to think. If the police were involved, then Totsuka had obviously been attacked by those people who had been following him. On the other hand, average mobsters like those used weapons that left noticeable marks. The doctors would know exactly what was wrong. Totsuka wouldn't look like Sleeping Beauty—physically untouched but locked in the unconscious realm. Kusanagi wondered if the "unknown cause" was really the powers of one of the clans. There was still one more question he needed to ask.
He watched the short haired brunette work for a second and then spoke to her again, "Could you possibly do me another favor? Did Totsuka come in with anyone else?"
Leaning forward, the girl replied, "That is a very vague question that I probably can't answer. What exactly do you have in mind?"
"His girlfriend," the man clarified. "Haruna, Emi. Is she here too?"
"Technically, I can't tell you that, but there are no patients here by that name," she answered.
Surprised, Kusanagi headed back to room 209. Where was she? They were both in the pictures; they had both left that morning for the date. If she wasn't here at the hospital, what had become of her? Kusanagi wondered this as he sat beside the others, joining them in waiting for Totsuka to wake up.
"What did you find out?" Mikoto asked without looking at his oldest friend. He was glaring at his lighter as if it was its fault the hospital forbid smoking.
The blond gestured with difficulty to Totsuka's unchanged body on the bed. "Only he knows."
So what do you think? Naming chapters as "By K" or not is starting to get complicated as we blend in all the characters' plot lines. I wrote the part at the end with Kusanagi and the others. Kateracks wrote the rest.
+Best Part: Azami deliberately face planting! Oh, and also a quick question to poll the readers: Do you think Yata likes her, or hates her?
Until next time! Ciao.
