Keiretsu


Eagerly, Neirah was the first one to mount the motorbike they shared, her palm gently patting the leather seat in front of her. "Come on, let's hit the road before those other riders show up, because if they're looking for a race, you know we'll have to leave them in our dust."

Rikio seemed confused by her demands. "So?"

A wry expression vivified the mischievous look of challenge in her eyes as she smiled back at him. "That doesn't sound like something that Kusanagi-san would be overly pleased with if he found out." There was music in her voice as she shimmied back and gave his seat another beckoning pat. "And you know he always finds out."

With an acceptant groan, Rikio threw his leg over the engine and knocked out the kickstand. "I guess you're right. I did promise him I'd be safe if you were on the back."

Before he could start the engine, Neirah reached out and interrupted his efforts. "Hold on!" After jerking her bracelet from her wrist, she straightened and gathered her hair on the top of her head, binding the tail tightly before feeding her arms back around his waist. "Okay, I'm ready," she cooed. "But we'd better hurry or lunch is going to get cold. You know how Ōta-san can be."

A muffled whine caught in Rikio's chest as he cranked the key over in the ignition. "After just sayin' that I'd be safe."

Before they'd even begun to move, Neirah threw her hands up into the air with a happy squeal. "Faster, faster!"

"We haven't even started moving yet!"

Once they'd begun their journey back towards town, their promised company had managed to catch up in Rikio's mirror. At first, a twisted smile found his lips when he felt Neirah tighten her hold around him like she was urging him to leave them hacking on their exhaust fumes. He tipped his curiosity over his shoulder for a moment as they banked around a tight corner, catching the sight of her wicked smirk, and it caused his heart to race beneath the pressure of the building adrenaline.

After coming out of their bend, he checked his mirror, interested to know if one of the four riders might have engaged their challenge. However, passing didn't seem to be their intent. Instead, they appeared intensely focussed on the way Neirah's sporty updo fluttered against the golden HOMRA insignia flashing between her leather-clad shoulders.

Soon, Rikio's racing heart began to palpitate with nerves instead of enthusiasm to notice the formation gathering behind them like a foreboding shadow. It became apparent that the riders hot in pursuit had no interest in passing them, and when he saw two passengers withdraw a couple of pipe lengths, his stomach churned.

A delicate moan stole Neirah's throat as she winced to the feeling of their speed lurching them forward, but before she could cheer, she noticed the grave look on Rikio's face in the reflection of his mirror. When she saw that, her concentration fixed on their visitors that shared the reflective frame, and her heart sank.

"Hang on, Neirah," he thundered. "I'm gonna try and shake them."

When she realized what was happening, Neirah withdrew from his comfort and threw her gaze over her shoulder to where she watched six riders approach between four motorbikes. Their helmets concealed their faces, but it was clear that they were focussed on she and Rikio when they too accelerated to keep up with the retreat.

She immediately clamped her teeth together, slightly bitter that her pleasant afternoon postponed until they could deal with the threat at hand. Then again, when she listened to one of the passengers beat a section of lead piping against his ride's exhaust with a threatening clatter, her bared grimace morphed into an eager grin. It had been a while since she'd stretched her legs, and the energy had more than gathered to overflowing.

"Rikio, keep us steady!" She hollered her command over the rumble of their engine, but before Rikio could defend against her lethal demand, she was already shifting.

A worrisome yelp caught in his throat as he felt her adjust her weight, carefully contorting her legs to one side of the speeding vehicle. "Neirah, what do you think you're doing!?"

"Something crazy." Neirah could hardly hear him for how loud the wind whipped past them, and she wasn't patient enough to ask him to repeat. Instead, she carefully continued, mounting the bike between their legs in reverse so that she could face their oncoming threat directly. Muffled commands began to fill her ears again from their visitors as she gripped the tail of the motorcycle between both hands to keep her steady. It was apparent that they were preparing for the altercation she'd unintentionally announced by altering.

When Rikio comprehended that she wasn't going to budge, he turned his fixed gaze onto the road and noticed that they were coming up on traffic. With the speeds they were travelling, it wouldn't be long before they had to retake the highway. "I'm gonna turn!" He was worried that she might not have heard him and that he would have to compensate for her lack of momentum, but after carefully observing their opponents, she'd picked up on their lean. When she felt Rikio begin to shift his weight against her back, she mirrored the effort fluidly, leaning into the sway of their bank to help keep them steady. She clutched the end of the seat between her legs in both hands, and she never took her fixed, burning stare from their enemies.

"This is going to happen fast," she cautioned. "When you feel it, just be ready to back me up."

His alarm brewed worry as he absorbed her demand. "What do you have planned?"

When her eyes locked on the reflection of a straight and quiet stretch of road in the mirrored lens of the lead rider's visor, she released the seat of the bike and began to uncoil the chain around her hips. She could feel Rikio tense behind her as she did, but at least the unspoken warning had allowed him to comprehend her meaning. After watching one more vehicle tear by them in the opposing lane, her focussed gaze flashed with hints of crimson. "Gun it."

Rikio's first instinct was to do the exact opposite of her command until she explained herself, but he was too nervous to act on the impulse. Instead, he obeyed her and caused the bike to buck with his sudden acceleration. Luckily, she remained steady with muscular thighs tightly hugging her perch, watching their targets curse as they grew smaller, but before they could rush and catch up, Neirah was beginning their operation.

She ripped back the dart at her tailbone, pitching it just in front of their rear tire in a sudden burst of flame that their enemies would be helpless to keep from powering into upon passing. When they had, it scrambled their order, causing them to attempt a go-around. After they popped out of the flames disoriented, Neirah was already sitting forward with her kunai in hand. Their arrangement couldn't be any more perfect, and after taking a deep breath, she launched her first chained dart into the front wheel of the motorbike on the far righthand side.

The moment the sharp edge punctured the tire and flipped the bike onto its front, her chain entangled in the fuss of the crash. She had anticipated that eagerly, and when the jarring momentum lurched on her links, she let it carry her out of her seat towards the commotion. She adjusted her sailing body towards the unavoidable collision, the heel of her boot powering her into the driver of the bike on the far left. During, the two centre riders suffered the clothesline of her links and jerked off balance until their machines skidded out of control across the asphalt.

The speeds travelled were hard to recover from, even after she'd stalled herself by impacting her target. She tried to recuperate by releasing her chain, dragging her blazing fingers against the pavement, but the force was too much, and she toppled onto her side with a delicate yelp. Neirah drew her arms against her front to protect herself as she rolled across the street, and as soon as she could regain her bearings, she slammed her boot into the concrete to jar her momentum.

That was the signal. The fresh tires on Rikio's motorcycle smoked as he braked with all he had in his best attempt to keep the bike from collapsing, and when he whirled to face the uproar, his chest couldn't contain his panicked bark. "Neirah!"

She could feel the approach of the truck coming up on the street behind her, and before it even blared its horn, she was on her feet and leaping back over her hands. Upon soaring, she dusted her fingers off of the truck's hood, instantly popping off the momentum to throw herself over the trailer behind. While she was airborne, she watched her enemies scramble to the same recognition, and by the time her heels struck the pavement again, she was back on her feet, ready for battle.

After raising from her braced crouch, Neirah's musical steps hastened on approach as she watched the threat begin to mobilize, so her first order of business was to disarm those who carried them. The nearest one was still on the ground, panicking when he heard the sharp click of her heels approach because, evidently, they were familiar with what that meant. He was quick to reach for his pipe before she was too close, but in his stupor, she managed to kick the article away before he could claim it. Once he straightened, her fluid movements saw her elbow into his chin, and once she'd bounced his head back, she chopped his exposed throat beneath his helmet. He dropped as quickly as he raised, leaving her to continue down the line.

Two of the drivers remained unconscious after their spill, which suited her just fine. That meant that she only had to neutralize three more before Rikio returned to her side. She watched her remaining targets assemble a little more stably than the first, but she didn't rush. Instead, her hips swung into the influence of her lengthened strides, her fiery gaze focussed on their approach as she bounced. "I'll have you know that I was having a lovely day up until you showed up," she drawled in a sultry tone. "It was rude of you to interrupt."

She ducked beneath the first strike of the man wielding the remaining pole, but while her centre was low, she snapped her leg out in front of her and took his feet out from beneath him. When she raised, she captured the next clumsy strike, knocking her palm into the joint of her assailant's elbow until it cracked the other way.

The next approach was noisy, too noisy for her liking. She quickly beat her wailing prey to the ground with the flat of her sole, twisting and swinging her leg over her head until it knocked into the attack approaching from behind. When her assailant dropped the reclaimed length of conduit they were sharing, Neirah caught it with swift reflexes and weaved it between elegant fingers before cracking her next attacker across the ribs. She had made contact with all her conscious enemies, which filled her with reassurance as she dropped the pole over her shoulder and postured above their groaning masses. "Wonderful," she cooed. "Since you've all calmed down, maybe now we can talk about why you felt the need to-"

The pain ripped through Neirah's head so sharply that the strike disoriented her, leaving her dizzy as she listened to the loud clatter of her polearm rattling against the pavement. She faintly comprehended the sound of Rikio calling out to her, but shortly after, she saw red. The sight of fresh blood spilling over her face from her crown was how she knew she was stricken with something other than a hand, and the comprehension was nearly insulting.

"Back off!" After Rikio had managed to catch up with his impulsive partner, he dropped down between her and her aggressor, rolling his scorching kick into the man's collarbone. When his target lost balance, he seized him by a fistful of leather between his shoulders and bounced his face off his raising knee. Finally, the man dropped the helmet he'd removed to beat the woman over her head and fell to his knees, where Rikio shoved his limp mass face-first into the street.

When the second attacker approached, Rikio didn't give him the chance to get near his partner before he was acting. He bounded off his toes, raising his heel above his head before the axe dropped, and the flames attached were hammering into his target. He sensed one more nearby as his peripherals peeked over his shoulder, and before they could strike, he swept his tight forearm through the air and interrupted the man's unsteady breath. At first, they were persistent enough to have held a grudge, but they were silent now.

With a bitter groan, Neirah clutched her palm to her bleeding brow, wincing over the grinding of her teeth. "That was embarrassing," she whispered.

After whirling to face his friend, Rikio's panic caused him to fluster. "Are you okay?" He leaned towards her stagger and helped to steady her on her feet. Once his palm met hers against her brow, he jolted to the feeling of it sticking and jerked his bloody hand into view. His worry had his tone low but accelerating to rush out his concern. "Shit… He got you good."

Despite his obvious worry, Neirah still offered him a meek smile. "I'm sorry, that was clumsy," she muttered sheepishly. "I always forget that this is the kind of thing that happens when I'm feeling too sure of myself."

Once she was back on her feet, her expression hardened as she observed the mess of riders sprawled around them, taking an interest in the one who had removed his helmet. "I wonder what they want with us," she murmured curiously. "I don't recognize him."

In case she became disoriented after suffering the blunt force of her assailant's strike, Rikio made sure to keep a steadying grip on the woman. "Do you think they might be with a group who's holding a grudge against, Mikoto-san?" As soon as he'd gotten the words out, the two alerted to the sound of an engine gearing up and immediately swung their gazes to face the retreat of squealing tires. "Damn it! I thought they were all out!"

"Oh no you don't!" Neirah dove out of Rikio's arms and tumbled across the street towards where she'd left her single throwing knife. After trying harder than usual to focus her vision, she ripped it back, carrying it with her momentum until she could throw its glowing golden spike towards the retreating motorcycle. A menacing flash reflected in her eyes as the dart pierced the tire and maliciously ignited the bike until the fuel tank was combusting, showering the quiet street with fibreglass shrapnel.

Rikio cowered slightly behind her as she approached the flames with a predatory growl, unsure if he felt safe chasing after her. "A-ah… it's all fun and games until someone pisses off HOMRA's hunter." Taking a moment to consider her mood, he determined that he should probably keep her from exhausting herself in her injured state. It had nothing to do with his sympathy for the men who dared to provoke her ire. "Neirah, wait up!"

When Neirah joined the commotion, she reached out with jagged claws to snag the collar of the man trying his best to crawl away from the heat of his smouldering escape. Even as he let out a desperate yip, she persisted, dragging him across the street out of traffic before pitching him onto the shoulder of the road. "Okay, I tried to be cute, but you couldn't appreciate my leniency," she rumbled lividly. The flicker of lively crimson flames crawled over her skin as she narrowed her sights on her flailing target while he tried desperately to scramble away. "Now you have until the count of seven to tell me what you have against my king. One."

On the ground, the man's whimpers echoed behind his helmet as he watched the flaring woman approach behind the dark visor. "No! No, please! Not again!"

"Two."

From where he watched Neirah chase after the helpless scampering of her target, Rikio's brow suddenly knotted to the sound of the man's pleas. "Wait, not again?"

"I'll warn you." Neirah reached down towards her prey and grabbed hold of his helmet, jerking his face towards the furious glower in her burning eyes. "I'm not a very patient person."

Rikio startled the moment she roughly jerked the helmet from her enemy's head, revealing the sight of petrified tears streaking his face. When he first considered the view, it didn't seem too unexpected in the wake of their lion's wrath, but when he watched Neirah's raised arm clumsily drop the helmet that she'd just torn from his face, he panicked. "Hey, what's wrong?!"

The flames immediately extinguished as Neirah's wild gaze stared down into the mortified look on the man's face before her. Her heart raced as she staggered back a step, her thoughts growing woozy from the pain and overwhelming realization that she'd seen it before.

Her hands began to tremble as she took another step back, colliding with Rikio's protective hold on her. She'd recognized the face at her feet while it begged her to spare his life for a second time. She'd known him from days before HOMRA.

Clutching her tightly in his embrace, Rikio let his eyes shift between their target and the overwhelmed expression on her face. "Neirah, talk to me. Do you know this guy?"

She didn't take her eyes off the blubbering mass in front of her as she tilted between rage and guilt, her aching head desperately trying to process the reunion. Finally, after a moment of suffering a mild anxiety attack similar to her early days with HOMRA, she slipped out of Rikio's arms and reapplied her deadly scowl.

"Neirah?"

She hastily stepped towards the man at their feet and slammed her boot into the centre of his heaving chest, pinning him against the ground beneath her flames. "I thought I told you the last time I saw you that I never wanted to see your face in Shizume City again." She could feel the pressure of Rikio's concern observing her, but she didn't soften her tone. "Yet here you are."

"I'm sorry! Look, you don't understand-!"

Rikio winced to the sound of the man's jaw cracking beneath the kick of Neirah's toe.

"I let you live, and this is how you repay me?!" The next merciless strike of her heel against his chest cavity caused his ribs to crack beneath her pressure. "This is why the Hikawa was always beneath us! You never know when to quit!"

Terror caused Rikio to rush to her side. "Oi, that's enough!"

Neirah repeated, stomping on the fracturing joint again with a wild look in her eyes. "You have no business showing up here now when I'm finally at peace with those days!" Her tone began to elevate outside of her control. "Do you want to die?!"

"He's not worth it!" Despite her wrathful squealing, Rikio locked strong arms around the deranged woman in an attempt to calm her ire. "Nē-chan, listen to me. Just let it go."

Big sister. She was the one who was supposed to hold it together in the face of disaster, and Neirah felt tears pricking the backs of her eyes as she glowered fervently at her whimpering target, her heart aching with pent rage as she struggled against Rikio's hold. Then, after one final exclamation, she set her feet back on the ground beneath her and stared at the pitiful sight Rikio had to drag her away from with a bitter grunt.

She was shaking against him, and even if she acted lividly, Rikio knew that what she was feeling was fear. When she turned in his arms, he tightened his grip, watching over her bleeding scalp as their enemies lingered incapacitated. Something spooked her, and by the way that she'd spoken, it sounded like it had involved her past.

"Ri-chan…"

Rikio shuddered to the meek tone of her voice as it whispered her exhausted words against his chest. "Yeah, what is it? Are you feeling lightheaded?"

"I want to go home," she muffled vulnerably against his shirt. Lightheaded could be considered an understatement as her blood marked his shirt from where it spilled from her brow. She wanted to get off her feet, she wanted a bubble bath, and she wanted Tatara. "Can you message Ōta-san and tell him that we won't be able to make it for lunch?"

His stomach roiled as he read between her lines and heard her heart's desires. "Yeah," he reassured her kindly. "Yeah, I'll let him know."

"Thank you…"


"IDIOT!"

To the sound of a rumbling crash, Rikio winced as Misaki tossed him over a table across the bar. With nothing left but to surrender, he rolled over his aching shoulder before flopping onto the ground with a pained whine. He slowly opened one eye, staring towards the sight of Misaki's shoes stomping on the flooring that he barely connected with since a couple of their clanmates had apprehended him. Unfortunately, he didn't have a defence, and a part of him felt like he'd deserved the punishment. Neirah was hurt, and it was all his fault. "I-I'm sorry, okay…?"

"Sorry!? Sorry doesn't cut it!" Misaki snarled his words wrathfully as he struggled to break away from the hold Yō and Saruhiko had on him. "Stupid Bakamoto! How could you let someone do this to Tsukiyo!? Guys are supposed to look after their girls, so just how the hell did this happen?!"

As he waited in reserve, Saburōta cautiously approached in an attempt to tame the vanguard's wrath. "It probably looks worse than it is," he calmly reassured. "It can't be all Kamamoto's fault. I mean, he wouldn't just let somebody hurt Nē-san." Being someone who had found himself in a similar situation the summer prior, he could sympathize with what Rikio was going through.

Even if Misaki was secured, he was wily. Without warning, he used their comrade's hold on him to support where he raised his flailing legs and beat Saburōta onto the floor with his struggling. "Fuck you!" He seemed to redirect his wrath when Saburōta struck the floor, his seething rage uncontainable. "From what I remember, you're just as fucking reliable at keeping her safe!"

"He deserved that." Saruhiko casually remarked his indifference as he tightened up his hold on his frantic friend. "Only a complete moron would provoke you when you're like this."

Misaki hissed out a livid growl. "And just what's that supposed to mean?!"

"Does it have to mean anything?"

Saburōta was quick to scramble back to his feet, ignoring his bloody nose to shake his fist at the raving Misaki from a recalculated safe distance away. "Well, the way I remember it, they had to drug me up before they made off with her! I don't know about you, but Kamamoto looks fine to me!"

Rikio growled defensively behind where Saburōta had immediately switched sides. "Oi! At least I brought her back with me!"

"Yeah! All fucking covered in blood, you useless shit!" Misaki snapped in redirected wrath.

"Yata, that's enough," Izumo thundered impatiently. "What's done is done. Busting up my damn bar isn't going to change that."

Nearby, Anna sat alongside Tatara, gently passing him medical supplies as he cleaned and dressed his roommate's wound. When Kōsuke delivered them more supplies from the back, she gratefully accepted them and let him hover nearby in case there was anything else Tatara requested. Still, there was sadness on her tender features to consider how quickly her friends tempered. "So noisy," she murmured. "Misaki is so upset."

"I think we're all upset," Kōsuke whispered by her side. "But, you're right about him being the most vocal about the whole thing."

"Yata-chan, you should listen to Kusanagi-san before he gets angry," Tatara kindly mused. "Besides, Bandō's right. It really does look worse than it is." Tatara startled the moment Neirah winced with a delicate whimper, recoiling from the disinfectant he used on the split. "How are you holing up, Nei-chan?"

Her pride hurt more than anything else as her friends fussed around her injury. With a shaky sigh, she gently raised her hand to his wrist and guided it to lower for the time being. "I'm fine," she murmured. "But that was embarrassing, for sure."

"You and that pride of yours," Izumo wryly pestered. "Could you do me a favour and say that a little louder so that Yata stops tearing down the walls?"

A small smile brightened her expression as she redirected to the sight of Misaki fighting to break free of Saruhiko's hold. Yō had since abandoned the cause after suffering a bloody lip from the elbow Misaki threw him in an attempt to escape. That left Masaomi to play doctor, much to a fussing Yō's dismay. Yō wouldn't stop reiterating that he thought Neirah would make a more appropriate nurse.

"Yata." Her smile broadened when the feisty ginger swung in Saruhiko's arms to face her quiet address, and when he did, she offered him a reassuring smile. "You know, you look pretty cute when you're all fired up like this."

She wasn't sure who looked more impacted by her words, Saburōta or Misaki. Either way, her reverse psychology worked in an instant, causing Misaki to clamp his teeth around his tongue and blush madly with his resistance. After a moment of flustering, he quickly shrugged off Saruhiko's hold with a bitter snort, leaving the scene to pout.

It left Saruhiko to immediately throw his impatient glare over his shoulder towards the frisky brunette. "Now, why couldn't you have done that sooner?"

Neirah giggled softly to the sound of Masaomi's voice, claiming that she must have hit her head harder than they thought. "Much better," she whispered. "I can hear myself think again."

With a gentle sigh, Mikoto leaned forward in his seat across from the woman, his temper skillfully obscured. "Are you ready to tell us who did this to you?"

Before she spoke again, Neirah was careful to make sure that when Rikio sheepishly climbed to his feet, he wasn't in any immediate danger from Misaki's escalating wrath. "A persistent type of low-ranking thugs who are constantly butting heads in the Yakuza ranks," she muttered softly. "As you might've guessed, this isn't my first run-in with them."

Masaomi turned from where Yō was hissing to the application of alcohol burning his open wound, unsympathetically grinding the swab into the cut beneath his finger as he diverted his attention. "Does that mean these guys were with your old gang?" he pried. "But I thought we wiped them all out in Minato?"

"Alright, fuck off with that shit already!" Yō barked intolerantly. He groaned and touched his swelling lip, sucking on the distended flesh before casting Misaki an aggravated scowl. "Who the hell cares who did it? I'm gonna bust all their heads open for what they did to Nē-chan!"

To stifle his agitated yapping, Masaomi beat his friend over the head with an impatient snarl. "Idiot! If Nē-chan's old clan is head-hunting her, we've got bigger problems!"

Neirah gently shook her head. "No, they're different," she reasoned. "These ones are with Hikawa, a clan that was notorious for trying to leapfrog through the Yakuza ranks. My clan was much larger and far more revered than theirs, not to mention constantly bothered by their incessive meddling. So, one night my employer despatched me to encourage them to fear us."

Rikio's expression grew sombre. "They sent one young girl?"

Her expression grew saddened by reminiscence. "It was one of my first jobs, and I let one of them walk away with a warning because he wasn't much older than I was. He was there today with the others, and the first to try and flee."

"Well, I guess mission accomplished," Mikoto rumbled casually.

"King! Don't be so insensitive!" Tatara scolded.

"It's fine," Neirah evenly refuted. "Honestly, I'm better now. It just startled me to remember that this used to be my life. Constantly looking over my shoulder and waiting for someone to take revenge."

Misaki immediately leapt back into the conversation with passionate ire. "Well, they just screwed with the wrong clan!" he commanded. "Don't you worry, Tsukiyo! Chitose's right! We'll make every last one of 'em pay for what they did!"

"Who died and made you king?" Masaomi growled intolerantly. "Don't get me wrong, I'm all for beating the snot outta anyone who'd hurt Tsukiyo, but that doesn't sound like that's what she wants right now."

He hated it. Misaki absolutely loathed the fact that he was the only one who couldn't see between the lines of the woman he fought desperately to understand. "But-!"

"He's right, Yata," she gently cooed. "Honestly, they're not worth the effort. Even if we roughed them up and scared them away, they'd just come crawling right back when things settled down again."

"That might be true, but you tussled with them back when you were with the Yakuza," Izumo reasoned. "Sure, you were a higher-ranking threat, but you were still human."

"That's right!" Misaki eagerly cheered. "I get that you were scary back then, but it's one thing to face a kick-ass chick with a knife and another thing to mess with Mikoto-san!"

He hated to agree, but Saruhiko could sympathize with what Misaki was saying. "That's true. The Red King is revered even among other kings and Strains. Facing that threat is something else entirely."

"Are we seriously gonna do this?" Kōsuke turned his skeptical gaze towards where Rikio was still moping about his failures. "After the blues just came down on us for picking fights?"

"Fuck the blues!" Misaki roared. "It's none of their damn business what we do on our turf! That bastard hurt Tsukiyo-san, and we can't just let them get away with throwing the first punch!"

"Set it to simmer before I knock all your damned heads together," Izumo growled around his igniting smoke. "Dewa's right. Even if it's completely unacceptable, Neirah seems content letting bygones be bygones, and we should respect that."

When Misaki turned his sad eyes to meet with Neirah's, she offered him a displeasing smile that surrendered her interest. "Wait… so we're really just gonna let them get away with it?"

Neirah tilted her smiling face to one side to reassure him. "As far as I'm concerned, this was a real eye-opener. It showed me that I've been getting lazy since my trip and should pay more attention when I'm out and about."

Misaki dropped his disappointed gaze with a dull groan, watching his balled fist shake with pent aggression in need of release. "But… I just-"

"I bet that hurt."

With a soft whimper, Neirah raised her gaze to trace Mikoto's casual rise from his seat across from her. He stretched his shoulders out and rolled his neck like a lion climbing from its sunny perch on a rock.

"But the real wonder here is that you forgot you can't hide things from your king while you were sightseeing on the other side of the country." Mikoto tilted his wicked grin back until his head had flopped over his shoulder and connected his sharp amber leer with her deceitful gaze. "They did humiliate you in broad daylight. They're probably laughin' about it right now."

Catching Mikoto's intent, Izumo recoiled and shifted his impatient leer towards his king's instigation. "Oi, stop that."

Mikoto shrugged his arms to either side and closed his eyes over his knowing grin. "I'm just sayin'. That would piss me off."

Izumo's teeth clenched around the filter of his cigarette as he growled his warning. "Neirah's not you."

Without taking his eyes off his hunter, Mikoto ignored Izumo's instigation and let traces of his ruby aura spill around his shoulders. "What am I saying, it's not a matter of would. It does," he rumbled purposefully. "It really gets under my skin to think that these punks got away with stompin' around my territory, picking on my pride."

"Ah, I'm starting to see it now, Kusanagi-san," Tatara sang spiritedly by Neirah's side. "King is a bad influence on Lion-chan."

With a gentle puff of breath, Neirah tossed her nose up into the air to defiantly dismiss her king's ardent grumblings. "King-sama is not a bad influence if I don't let it get to me," she interjected. "I mean it. I'm not interested in wasting my time with them again, so there's no need for HOMRA to get involved." She'd begged their aid in her first battle for freedom, but she wasn't going to do so a second time. It was nothing she couldn't handle.

"We were involved the moment those guys started tailing us on the highway," Rikio calmly refuted in support of their advance. "Whether we fight them or not, they just made an enemy of all of us."

"That's right!" Misaki hollered in anticipation. "I mean, the guy coulda clubbed Bakamoto, and it would have been the same."

Upon pointing his finger towards the riled vanguard, Saburōta's brow knotted beneath his cap while he watched Misaki rave. "Are you sure you wouldn't have just teased him for it?"

Misaki whirled and decked Saburōta a second time. "Whose side are you on?!"

As badly as he wanted to claim the one that didn't get him hit, he poked his head up and choked out his desperate rebuttal in Neirah's defence. "It's like Kusanagi-san says!" Saburōta groaned as he struggled to peel Misaki's forearm from across his throat. "If Nē-san doesn't want to fight them, then we should respect that."

Misaki added his second forearm into the effort and heaved on the gagging Saburōta's windpipe. "Dumbass! If Mikoto-san says we fight, we fight!"

Neirah groaned and touched her aching head with delicate fingertips the moment Tatara finished with her treatment, her focussed leer staring off into the abyss of her resentment. "Yata, let Wolf-kun go or so help me…" She just didn't have the patience to put up with their surging tempers.

"My mind's made up."

Neirah raised her defiant pout towards her king's sly expression as he instigated her fury.

"You can stay here if you want, but HOMRA submits to no one." Mikoto's devious smile broadened to the sound of anxious flustering filling the room in anticipation of his command. "But I know you want it," he prodded.

Izumo slammed his hands flat against his bar, his teeth grinding around his half-smoked cigarette. "Mikoto, I swear-!"

"An eye for an eye."

"She just said they're not worth it!"

"Blood for blood."

Tatara recoiled, but he wasn't surprised when Neirah climbed to her feet and threw her bared grimace over her shoulder towards her king's encouragement. A heavy curtain of soft auburn tresses dusted past her face as her passionate glower matched her king's with ardent purpose. "No! It's time that they realized what makes us different from the others!" she commanded. "We don't leave any!"

Misaki could hardly contain his excitement. "Yeah! That's right!" His fist was already trembling, and tight from bearing his anticipation, so he threw it up into the air with an energetic cheer. "No blood! No bone! No ash!"

Mikoto filled with triumph when the entire bar echoed with the sound of his pride gearing up for the impending confrontation, repeating the chant like a war cry in honour of their wounded hunter. The wave washed through the bar, each member within equally wounded that anyone would dare step out of line against their family. When his smugly satisfied expression tipped to face his aggravated second, Mikoto repeated the words encouraging Neirah's quiet burn by his side. "No blood. No bone. No ash." He waited until her scorching gaze raised to meet his, her agitation peaking until the rage boiled over. "You know the way, don't you?"

"I can smell fear a mile away," she nearly snarled.

An intent smirk brightened Mikoto's expression as he ignored the dramatic sound of Izumo cursing beneath his breath and throwing his arms up. "Show us," he rumbled.

A sadistic grin tugged her lips up to one side as her face twisted with lively notes of malicious pleasure. "Anything for my king."


Somewhere across town…

Poker chips scattered to either side of the room to a choir of thundering curses. "Are you sick in the fucking head?! You made a move on the Red Lion in broad daylight and managed to let her see you?!" Bystander's flinched as the reprimand delivered to the bikers who made the foolish mistake of making their move against HOMRA. "Everyone knows she's the monster's prized pet! Getting pushed around by the other clans wasn't enough, huh!? Now we're gonna have them breathing down our neck any minute now!"

The raving man had barely gotten the approximation out of his mouth when Misaki was kicking down the door. His skateboard was centred in the flaring slab as it struck the floor off its hinges. The surge of flames subsided to reveal him crouched squarely in the middle of his board with one wrist rested on his bent knee and a menacing snigger breaking the petrified hush to steal the musty room. "Damn, Tsukiyo. You sure work fast."

A threatening grin flashed across Misaki's face as he raised his fiery gaze to examine the facility they'd taken by storm, both wrists flopping over the metal bat he rested against his nape. When he tipped his head back to straighten, he dropped the sportswear to his side with an ominous ringing against the floor. His nose raised high in the air while he ridiculed their organization. "But are you sure this is the right place?" He spat out a sarcastic laugh. "What a dump! No wonder the other clan's think you're a fucking joke."

"And you're seriously only gonna put one guy at the front door when your boys are out picking fights with HOMRA?" Dragging the limp mass of flesh that he'd disabled through the door, Yō dropped their only defence from where he'd palmed the man's face. "Geez, it's like you're not even trying."

From where he stood by Yō's side, Masaomi quietly popped his hat off his brow to rake his fingers through his bangs, slicking them back before returning the accessory. Afterwards, he tipped the sharp leer of one peeking eye out from beneath the brim of the cap he steadied against his head beneath his palm. "So, we heard one of you has a problem with our hunter."

Not once, but twice, the man trembling in the wake of their sweltering resistance had survived the hunt in which Masaomi referred. As soon as Masaomi had mentioned the event again, his lead encouraged his allies to scramble. "Not again!" he wailed. "The hell with this! You guys are on your own!"

Catching sight of the disturbance, Saruhiko was quick to act with lightning reflexes. He launched one of his darts energetically towards the back door, igniting it in a powerful surge of flame to detour their scamper. "I wouldn't do that if I were you," he droned. When they turned their frightened gazes towards his dull proclamation, Saruhiko straightened and summoned another dart to his palm in a warning. His stony expression remained void as he honed his sights on them with a cruel spark in his focussed blue eyes. "Some of us get off on a game of cat and mouse."

A low wave of foreboding laughter mocked the terror on their prey's faces for a moment before a catty merowl hissed from within the crowd. Soon after, Mikoto was stepping through the doorway between his vanguard. Misaki anxiously nudged forward a step, chomping at the bit for a scrap, whereas Saruhiko surrendered his lead to their foreboding king. That recoil put him directly next to Neirah, who tailed her king like a grim shadow.

"I guess that makes me the cat. Doesn't it, Fushimi-san?" she purred mischievously.

Tsk.

Even though the men before them clamoured pitifully as horrified eyes scanned the building for escape, Mikoto's heart couldn't feel sympathy. All he could see at that moment was red, the red of the blood they spilled from his pride. It was on Rikio's shirt, in Neirah's hair, on Tatara's hands, and it was deep in his veins. It was his blood, their blood. When he couldn't bottle the rage anymore, he felt it spill from his core in the swell of his crimson aura. The brilliant burst ignited the room and highlighted the determined features of his pride at his back. It was his unspoken command, or to Misaki, the sound of the clamp releasing on his leash.

Misaki's sinister sneer intensified as he placed one foot alongside his skateboard and lowered his centre of gravity in preparation to launch. His wringing grip twisted on the handle of the blunt-force weapon he was ready to stain. "No blood… no bone… no ash…" he growled. The chant repeated in low and intensifying waves between the members until the thundering warning could be heard in the streets by innocent bystanders passing by.

Outside the building, Izumo dropped the butt of his light onto the pavement, hissing out his last breath of toxin as he smeared the remains against the asphalt with the toe of his shoe. "No blood. No bone. No ash," he hummed softly to himself. "Sorry, boys, but you messed with the wrong little lion. I can only keep the peace for so long."

With every escape route intercepted and burning eyes fixed, Mikoto finally removed his first hand from his pocket to rake his fingers back through his hair. The way things were going, they wouldn't be out long, which was reassuring, because knowing that Tatara and Anna were somewhere alone together worried him. With that worry weighing his heart, he rumbled his command certainly among the hushed crowd to sentence their enemies to cremation.

"Burn them."

And Neirah's wicked beam twisted.

I guess I felt it from the start, what Kusanagi-san saw first, my capacity to be like my king. But I'm not like him. I was never in control. No matter how tightly I clung to those final traces of sanity, it was only a matter of time until I lost the only battle that really mattered.

Who am I talking to? Where am I?

Why did you touch me?

All I wanted was to be like you, but as it turns out, I'm far too violent.

There is a fine line between pride and purpose.

Who knew it was so flammable?