The night wore a liquid shadow.
Gulls cooed to their fledglings, the rhythmic strumming of the ocean against the docks and barges accompanying their soft lullabies. Salt hung in the air, flavored every breath.

Shadowy figures scuttled like crabs across a dock to deliver inconspicuous boxes, reassured in their actions due to the quiet hour, the solitude found between night and dawn.

But they were not alone.

From her vantage point, fingers pressed against wood made soft by decades of exposure to the sea-laden breeze, every drug mule was in sight- both through the intricate system of blood flowing through their veins as well as physical visuals, moving like sluggish game pieces on a chess board.
But with no King in sight, these pieces would only prove their might as pawns.

"What was that?" One asked in a gruff whisper. No one answered.
"Hey," His voice rose a decibel, glancing between the grimy freights they were supposed to be infiltrating. He lacked the care the boss had so consistently beat into his head as he dropped his boxed cargo onto concrete. The sound ricocheted into the silence, hiccuped somewhere to his left. Had someone else dropped theirs, too?

"Man, where'd you go?"

He couldn't remember whether or not he possessed a quirk. He couldn't really remember what his real name even was, or where he'd lived before the Collector had found him. The group had passed a series of abandoned shops earlier; in the glass of one, his breath caught at the sight of his grey, dusty skin reflected back at him, surprised to not even recognize himself. It was hard to remember much of anything, really, outside of the boss's orders. Who was he?
It didn't matter- the only thing that really mattered was the success of this job. Once completed, he'd be rewarded again.

But something lurked in the shadows, seeming to trace his very heartbeat like a honed-in panther waiting for the instance his guard dropped. There had been an entire horde of men with him- where were they now? A cool sheen of sweat prickled his neck. He looked to one ashen palm- could his strange appearance somehow help in this situation?
Every sound jumped his nerves. Cargo forgotten, he moved towards the safety of the pier, grey hand raised towards every sound as he inched backwards.

A rustle, like the soft landing of a cat, shot his arm in a one-eighty, fingers shaking.

It was no wonder he hadn't seen her; every curve of her imitated the movement of dark water, absorbing every moonbeam lighted in her direction.
No, there was real liquid- a million rivers flowing across her body, each no thicker than an eyelash. He marveled at the intricacy despite himself, distracted hand catching smoothly in the bend of one of her rising legs.

She paused, seeming impressed he'd noticed her at all.

"Hello, handsome," Her voice matched the fluidity of her appearance. Muscle memory reacted faster than his distracted brain, tried to pull from her grip only to find an uncanny amount of strength hidden within that obsidian limb. The mule's actions dulled with her slow smile, caught on the surprising light of her eyes. They seemed to be the only part of her that wasn't composed of nightfall.

Starlight, he thought. Even her fingers were stitched with darkness and water. One set moved to press against his chest.

"I'm going to ask you some questions," Her smile seemed to grow with the tick of his heart. "If you lie, I'll know."

If you ever want to feel this way again, you'll do exactly as I say.

"I- I'm not supposed to talk to-"
"Are you single?"

He was so thrown by the question he didn't even notice the pinprick of pain in the crook of his arm, right where his skin met the newly-exposed underside of her knee.

"Uh-" Was he single? A blurry image of redwood hair sat in a mental lock box. He only glimpsed it before the lid fell tightly shut. But if she was asking it was because she was interested in him, right? "Yeah, I'm single."

The curve of her lips made it seem like the right answer.

"What's your name?"
"Whatever you want it to be, baby." A clear deflection- he couldn't remember his name. Could she tell?
"Who do you work for?"

The discarded cargo drew his attention like a magnet. Those strange eyes followed his without moving another muscle.

Everyone knew there was only one drug king this side of Japan- his name was as well known as the League of Villains, but with far older roots, buried deep within the infrastructure and spanning a third of Japan's prefectures.

Jamon Azakuku.

Nearly untouchable through his many political connections and vast wealth left by a business tycoon father. Chasing his drugs off the street was like a dog chasing its tail; no matter the leads, despite the near-concrete evidence, Azakuku always escaped the pin through his seedy little insect heart.
He recognized his invincibility, lavished in his ability to flood the streets with crystal until the underbelly of Japan shone like the inside of a geode.

But he was getting careless.

The thugs as of late were thin as willow branches and bent just as easily, drugged out beyond all recognition. She felt it in their chests, blood lurching in arteries, irregularly pumping to their overstimulated brains. They hardly put up a fight even when she sprang directly into their midst, just to gauge their reactions.
Whatever they were on, it ate them from the inside out.

Her hair curved around her jaw with the raise of her chin, shimmering like waves under a midnight moon.

"Who do you really work for?" She asked.

The rhythm elevated from 125 to 150. Much more, and he'd probably go into cardiac arrest.
"Don't know who you think you are, bitch, but I ain't got nothin' to say to y-"

The body was nothing more than gauges and levers; stopper one, release a valve elsewhere, and suddenly blood could be diverted to a torn artery or widen capillaries after a dose of embarrassed adrenaline.

Or, in this particular case, swell a certain appendage.
It was a trick she'd only recently concocted. Based on the sudden widening of the man's eyes and breath-catching gasp, it seemed an effective one.

"I'm going to ask again: who do you work for?"
"I-I don't know!" He cried.
155. 159. 163.
He let out a moan.
"Collect..the Collector...Unshatter the teacup,"

The garbled mess made no sense to her. Before she could prompt him for more, a shiver walk through his body, though not by her doing.
He fell, limp, onto the dewy concrete. Whatever drug riddled his veins had intensified under submersion's hold and rendered him unconscious.

This one proved more helpful than the other mules and thugs she'd taken down these past few nights, even if his words were stitched together in nonsensical prose; from him should could at last glean a sample.

An orb of blood no larger than a marble rolled through the air, kissed the inner hollow of her knee. Instantly the exo-skeletal vein reappeared, now glinting crimson instead of the dark azure coloring of its neighbors.

Dawn roused the horizon with a pink caress.
The shroud of darkness was not around to see it's first yawn.


Jushina was kind of dramatic.

I mean, I knew we all shared a certain bond of pain- that's why we were here, after all- but I felt almost ridiculous in my attendance when the walking cactus joined our circle every other day, aloe tears brinking her otherworldly eyes before the meeting even began.

Somehow she always ended up seated next to me. I secretly relished the crisp smell she gave off, but I certainly did not enjoy the extra attention her presence drew every time she burst into molasses-thick tears.

I'd joked once about becoming a yoga guru, fleeing to the mountains to pursue the peace and tranquility normal-day life would never yield.
Who knew one day I would really go, seclude myself in a fortress of empathetic monks and other lost souls looking for redemption, or answers, or both, all caught in their own webs of conflict.
After a week I felt calmer, centered, but still a darkness circled me like a koi in a bowl, restless in captivity.

That restlessness led me to Yokohama.

Now, three weeks after my departure from fame, misfortune, and all my loved ones, I found myself attending grief counseling, tirelessly wandering Hokkaido by day, and- still under Gang Orca's agency- tracing the impossible trail of a drug syndicate that no one had been able to topple in half a decade by night.

I was no closer to exposing Jamon Azakuku's villainry than Jushina was to finishing her progress report without three boxes of Kleenex and a sun lamp.

"It's just hard, you know? I didn't ask to be born with this quirk. It's not my fault my boyfriend doesn't like the smell of my natural lubricant-"

It was probably dickish of me to belittle her pain- a major pillar of these programs focused on empathy and recognizing the vastness of the world outside of ourselves, after all. I'dfelt like a self-absorbed piece of garbage after nervously shuffling into my first meeting all those weeks ago, thinking I had the worst of infertility situations, quickly realizing my naivety.
It never crossed my mind to consider quirk-caused infertility before; beings who, despite their yearning, couldn't have children because their bodies were never equipped for the process to begin with. Some of the shares were so tragic I'd cried until my soul withered up like an iris in winter, as decayed as the hope it symbolized. Others had already trekked far longer, climbed mountains taller than Olympus, to achieve a sense of well being and sureness I could only hope to peak one day.

But if I had to hear the same story about Jushina's weak-constitution boyfriend gagging into her vagina one more time, I might just suck all the liquid out of her body and solve the problem for her.
All eyes roved towards me with the sudden snort produced by my ridiculous mental threat. I balked, choked on the sound to make it seem more like a sob and less like a mean-spirited titter.

"Since we have two newcomers today, why don't we go around and introduce ourselves? Akua, would you like to go next?" Hitomu, the group counselor, asked me kindly. Originally, I'd been surprised to find a male leading a fertility grief counseling group, once again finding myself stained in ignorance.

Jushina sniffed. Apparently she hadn't quite finished today's newest woes. Stop being an asshole, Chiyo.
I lifted a hand in an awkward, pointless wave. With everyone already eyeballing me, it's not like they needed help pinpointing the next speaker.

"Hi. I'm Akua Tsurihito. Due to an accident, I had to have a partial hysterectomy in order to prevent a furthering, potentially deadly infection. I can't carry a baby now, but I can plan beach vacations without worrying about hitting a period day."

The two newbies chuckled; awkward, surprised sounds, like when a teacher surprised you by knowing and using a slang word correctly. I'd learned joking about my situation- albeit lightly- seemed to put others at ease, which in turn made me feel better, too.

Sharing at first had felt like a game of tug of war; the more I gave, the more ground I seemed to lose, plucking my emotions- shame, embarrassment, the fear of it being used against me- like ripe fruit from a forbidden tree.

It didn't occur to me, at first, that those hands on the other side of the rope were pulling me to safety.

"Is there anything you would like to share today?" Hitomu spoke in such a manner you wanted to lean in, just to make sure you caught every syllable, every sound of his quiet, friendly voice. He always seemed genuinely interested in the answers and well being of those he spoke to. "Last time you mentioned suffering from panic attacks, in the past. Have you felt anything similar as of late?"

"Honestly, ever since I started attending these meetings, I haven't, no," I still wasn't used to the absence of my river-long hair, fingers quickly running out of material as I tucked a piece behind one ear. Already my bangs nearly grazed my eyelashes; soon my new nervous tick would be blowing my breath at the tickling ends. "There are moments when I kind of freeze up, like when someone makes a comment about 'child-bearing hips' or Oh, you already have a mom haircut! which, you know, screw you, but otherwise I'm doing pretty good."

Another round of chuckling- this time with added accompaniments. Even Jushina looked a little less prickly with me. Another pun. When I laughed through my nose this time, no one gave me a second glance.

When the session ended and Jushina was allowed ten more of our designated forty-five minutes to cry erratically over whether or not to take a suppressing medication for her natural lubricant (there was a pill for that?), I found three new text messages waiting patiently for me;

-You were right- there was more than the commonplace methamphetamine in the blood. The chemical is unknown to the database. Keep digging.

-Also, I took your advice and incorporated a rhyme in my conserve, recycle, preserve motto. I heard adolescents sing-songing it even after their departure! Thanks.

-Kids**

"Bit of a giggler, aren't you?"
I nearly boomeranged the phone across the room. What was the point of finessing all my heroic skills if I still startled as easily as a cat in October? I caught my cheap little payphone by one corner, just as it tried to embrace the thinly-carpeted concrete.

It was the new girl- one of them, anyway. My surprise must've ricocheted into her, too; her eyes went wide, irises the color of buttercups.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you-"
Ouch. Frightened? Is that how I looked? "No, no! You're fine. Sorry, I'm just a natural idiot,"

My brain grappled with her name but quickly lost interest, too distracted as her eye color melted into a vibrant blue-green, like the eye of a peacock's feather, grounded around the black of her pupils. This time my fingers were tight around my forgotten phone, even as my senses softened.

"Wow. Your eyes, are they-" I shook my head, suddenly embarrassed. For a minute I'd almost thought she'd changed her eyes to match my hair. Could it be some sort of reflective quirk?

Why would they have turned yellow then, idiot.

"Empath," She answered easily, as carefree as her unhidden smile. "-Well, in a way. Did you ever have one of those gaudy mood rings as a kid?"

"Yes! I loved those," Wait, gaudy? Was I being uncool in my over-exuberance? By the deepening blue, I'd say she didn't mind.

"I'm kind of like that. Which made it really hard tricking my parents as a teenager, but-"

"Oh, man. Is there a mood ring color for, like, turned-on-ness? That would be awkward," I laughed like the idiot I'd already claimed to be, right before my brain slapped me silly with reality: a. Half my college courses in ethics consisted of treating everyone fairly and not undermining, ridiculing, or generally shitting on a person's by-nature quirk, and b. We were still standing in the middle of a grief counseling center. Just because I was fine cracking jokes at this point in my life didn't mean other people were.

She seemed to be enjoying my internal panic like someone watching a kid getting reprimanded at the grocery store- only I was both the parent and child. I hiccuped out a laugh, shook out the thought spiral.

"Um, I'm sorry, but I don't remember your name."

"Sara," She offered a slight bow. Her hair rustled with the movement, tossed a wave of lavender in my direction. The smell matches the color. "Sara Sokonashi. You're Akua, right?" Her peculiar eyes glanced at my hair. "The name fits."

"Mom's always had a knack for those sorts of things," I answered, breezing one hand through my bobbed hair. How long would it take to grow back? Long. Too long.
For half my life I'd begged Mom to let me cut it, free myself of the heavy curtain always rushing to blur my view or the braid as thick as my fist, snagging on car doors or catching in their windows, sending me into a whirl of panic. What would it be like to not find a bundle of foot-and-a-half long hair caught in my shirt seams- or worse places?

Well, now I had my answer.

In order to fully break from the media- at the risk of me suing, they could still photograph me off duty as a civilian, though only the most seedy of sources would do such a thing- and better integrate myself in this underground case, a change of hair seemed one of the easiest ways to masquerade myself into anonymity. Add bangs and a box of peacock-blue and I was all but a different person.

I realized with great reluctance now, however, why Mom was so keen to keep my hair long- I felt incomplete without it. Not in the I-need-it-to-hide way, but in the ghost-limb, constantly-reaching-for-it manner. My hands fell from my head too quickly when I went to rinse out shampoo; I was in a constant state of attempting to tie it all up, only to find the strands several inches too short for such a feature. If anything, more hair seemed to coat my clothes and belongings like a snake shedding its skin.

I'd dared defy my mother's warning, and now paid the price.
At least it looked cool with my hero suit. And my alias fit snugly with the new aesthetic.

Minor silver linings, my mind grumbled.

Sara's eyes were turning the pale pink of ballerina tulle. I promptly shut out my mind's inner workings to really, truly focus this time.

"So if we stay here Jushina will sniff out our idleness and lead us down a dark, winding path into her hysteria. Do you wanna grab lunch, or something? Coffee? I don't particularly like the stuff, but I can watch others pretend to enjoy it."

"Pretend?"
I snorted, sliding my phone into a pocket before meandering towards the exit. "You can't convince me people actually like that bitter dirt water. You only pretend to because everyone else does, and by then you're addicted to the caffeine." I sniffed airily. "There are better ways to sate one's caffeine needs."

"Ah," Sara said with reverence. "Please, teach me your ways."

And that's how we ended up in a high booth at a fast food joint, sucking down sodas like Japan might one day soon run out of the carbonated elixir, testing the unsure waters. We felt each other out like a preliminary round of a brawler game, asking polite questions, leaving our juggernaut characters for later. You never started with your All Stars; you worked your way up to that point, inquiring over easy ones like What do you do? and Where did you go to school? These questions gave me a secondary layer of alias- who would suspect a woman from a non-quirk school, working as a teacher, to be a recently felled hero?
She parried with do you have any pets?, and I took a step closer.

"You have an ambiguous name and a particular accent. Are you from around here?"
Her eyes had remained a deep blue velvet since we'd left the meeting. Amber flecks glimmered on the edges.
"Very perceptive! No, I'm not originally from Hokkaido, but I've lived here for a few years now. Do I sound like a country bumpkin?"

"Not at all," Because, actually, her dialect held a golden fluidity I still hadn't begun to master. I'd thought the light way she spoke might've indicated a diverse set of languages she knew. Sokonashi held herself in a manner Mom would approve of, all straight spined and soft limbed. I felt near slobbish in comparison.

"Have you lived here long?"
My turn to deflect. "No," My hand itched to muss my hair. "I've...been traveling, for the past few weeks. My life had become a Rubik's Cube. With every move I made, it only seemed to become more...complicated. Twisted." I gave a breezy shrug-and-grin combination. "So I hit the road."

Sara turned her paper soda cup slowly with her fingers. She'd order a medium, the newbie. Then; "What jumbled the cube to begin with?"

Was there a concise answer to that? When did this all begin, my life tugging every direction until the bound ties all freed themselves and left nothing for me to hold on to? Mom, and her desiccation? Maybe it was the discovery of my twin and all of his warped beliefs, or the sudden, blaring spotlight put on my life that quickly burned all my "normality" like dandelion fluff in an incinerator.

Maybe it was all of it combined.
Maybe it was none of it.
Maybe it all started that day in an oily green pool and slowly, with each new pulled string, everything unraveled.

What jumbled the cube to begin with?

"Fear," Her question almost went unanswered. I took a long breath at my XL cup, already mostly drained of soda. "Fear that I was inadequate. Fear that I couldn't live up to the vows I'd made. When I- After my accident, when I surrendered over the terms child-bearing hips and mom hair, I was afraid I'd given up more than just the singular ability to reproduce; I'd lost a significant chunk of value. I feared I'd branded myself with a mark no one could overlook."

I'd also let those fears go unchecked, run rampant until the circus of my mind closed down and the carnies broke free from their debts. Sara's indigo eyes followed my rising jaw.

"But I was holding myself to an archaic sense of societal value- not my own, or even those I love. I'm not defined by one particular aspect of myself." I opened my arms as if holding the galaxy, complimenting the milky way with a cheesy grin. "I'm composed of infinite features and flaws; why stop at just one?"
"You're very good at that," Sara admitted. Her mouth curved with my brow. "Deflecting with humor."

I'm even better in water, that little idiot part of my brain joked. I froze my rolling eyes just before they bobbled out of sight.
"What about you? This is the first time I've seen you at Group. I noticed you didn't say much,"

A few more golden drops diffused her eyes. She waved off my apologies with one short-nailed hand. By the looks of it, she was a nibbler.

"It's a stupid overreaction, but my boyfriend and I had a fight recently and I just wanted a safe place to go and think. Without a continuing string of arguing, or judgment, or annoying waitresses who won't let you alone with a thought for five minutes before they're mean mugging you out the door." Sara gave a furtive glance around, in case one mysteriously showed up in this fast food restaurant. "I didn't realize the group mostly dealt with fertility issues, but I have been considering the idea of children, and the kind of person I would want to share that sort of experience with."

He slipped in my mind like a page from a pop-up book, rising without warning. I felt the contents of my cup suddenly lose their gravitational pull and wrapped a careful hand around the base. The lid would at least stop them from rising into Sara's sight.

I'd left without so much as a good-bye.

Every day, from the moment I'd left, had been a constant struggle of not sprinting back to his apartment and melting into a pond of apologies and pleads at his feet. Like a magnet, fighting back against the natural attraction. I stretched and heard his answering yawn. I blinked and saw the grey of his eyes, crinkling at me over something silly. My heart beat and his ribs echoed the call, sending Morse Code messages to his corresponding body.

But I hadn't left because I didn't love him- I left because I did.

"I'm sorry, this is really callous of me," Sara apologized in real time, witnessing my unchecked features frost over like grass after the first fall chill. "I shouldn't pretend to have problems when there are those who are really suffering-"

"Suffering isn't a piece that goes into a shape-sorting toy," I hated how regulated my voice sounded, even if I'd given up that antic for weeks now. A smile softened the edges of sudden frigidness. "We all experience suffering; putting a scale to it doesn't change its impact, or how we feel about it. Yours is just as real as mine and everyone's else's in that room."

"Except maybe Jushina's."

I blinked, then burst into laughter. Sara drew towards cobalt.
A vibration drew the last few giggles from my throat before I glanced at my phone, hidden safely under the table's edge.

-New lead. Ayamari Pier. 2:00

"Hey, I've gotta run," Two AM? He wanted me perched around a stinky-ass pier at two in the morning? I'd need an old-man nap before then just to make sure I didn't fall off a telephone pole via dozing. Isn't midnight late enough?

Sara slipped out of the tall booth when I did, eyes lighted on mine. I smiled, silently pleased to find her only an inch or so taller than myself. With heels on!

"This has been really nice- I don't think I've ever hung out with someone from group before,"

"Yeah. Will I see you again Thursday? Maybe I can show you a place that doesn't give cheap toys away with the meals?" Sara said coyly. I clutched at my heart, wounded.

"With this final cheap toy, I now have the completed collection. You'll be eating those words when I sell them online ten years from now and become a millionaire."

Lavender hair fell like a curtain with her graceful bow of defeat. I gave her a pardoning nod, as any good queen would.

"Actually- and you can totally say no- but would you like to see a movie tomorrow? There's a new psychological horror film I'm really keen to see." My hands raised to display surrender. "Again, you can say no; the film's probably going to be a slow burner-"
"I'd love to."
The way she said it made me believe her. A strange excitement used my ribs like monkey bars until it slipped, caught on the flash memory of fox hair and green, green eyes.

What's she doing, right now? Have they all move on without me?

Sara followed me out towards the nearest bus station, conversing all the while. I waited with her until a double-doored monstrosity screeched to a halt before us. Bus stairs were their type of danger, steeper than average and tricky when you're a klutz, but Sara glided up them like some chameleon swan, turning for one final good-bye at the top. In that moment her grace faltered, the heel of one sandal catching on the grooved, hateful stair. Instead of using Submersion to simply keep her upright my body pulled towards hers, foolish in its insistence over logic or thought.

She was warm in my arms.

It was rare to find someone whose blood ran like mine, summer living right beneath the skin. Fifteen years of regulation had beaten clear, unbarred pathways to every last finger and toe until they were second nature. Was her skin balmy from a quirk, too?
Before I could ask, Sara Sokonashi let out a sound that drew the attention of every nearby passenger. It shivered out of her like an echo from a cave deep underground, chilled the air. Her body went boneless.

"Hey," I smoothed her hair back. Someone on the bus began shouting for help. Sara was pale, but the staccato of her heart felt strong; whatever this was, it wasn't life threatening. "Sara. Sara. Can you hear me? Squeeze my hand, if you can. Sara."

She didn't squeeze my hand.

Instead two pupils found mine, surrounded in such a shade of violet every other color of life seemed fickle.

"Oh," I breathed. Then, realizing how bizarre we must look, her in my arms and me falling into her eyes, I snapped back to the present, gently steadying her to stand on her own. Warmth hadn't tickled my cheeks since that Last Day, when Shota had rolled over in bed to find me reading under the covers well before our alarms went off, but I felt the heated touch now as embarrassment pinched my cheeks.

Those petaled eyes drank me in like a honeyed molasses.

"Are you okay?"
"I'm fine. Sorry," Sara somehow matched the color with her tone; calm, bottomless. Purposeful. The bus driver, sensing no impending danger, honked his horn in impatience. I stuttered back before the mechanical door took my nose off.

"I'll see you tomorrow, yeah? Noon at Kuroi Beru!" She shouted the last bit through the closed glass door. I waved again and then she was swallowed by traffic, nothing more than a wisp of purple hair.

Kuroi Beru- The Black Veil? I hadn't heard of such a place. I'd have to do a little sleuthing to make sure she wasn't walking me into a mosh pit of teenage punks or a cultish soiree. I glanced at my phone's clock.

But first, a nap.


These thugs were different.

All men, but that wasn't surprising- you didn't see a lot of women involved in drug shipping, even with muscle-bound quirks making the lugging more manageable.

But these men were peeled-eyed serpents, armed to the teeth and hyper-aware of the surrounding darkness. Darkness I, up until this point, had been able to hide in so easily I hadn't needed more stealth than the welcoming shadows.

If they have a thermal-tracking user, this could be bad.

Picking them off one by one had been my M.O.; I didn't see any point in changing that now.

The key was keeping their heart rate as consistent as possible. By placing a careful hand on their chest, the valley between their shoulders, I could stop the muscle for one-point-five seconds- just enough time to signal the brain.
They snuffed like candles into peaceful unconsciousness, none the wiser of my presence.

"Black, what's your status?" The body of my victim murmured from a shoulder radio.

Shit.

Hiding above was dangerous- one sensory user and I'd be swarmed. Instead I slipped over the nearest edge into water as black as coal, murked by the hour and constant, illegal dumping of chemicals and barge residue, oil unaccommodating to my submersive quirk.

Sakamata would have a fucking field day over this.

I glided as fluidly as my mentor beneath the water's surface until directly beneath Black. Within seconds a bask of crocodiles was upon him. Their faces looked sickly between the wooden boards, like drowned men brought to life.
These were not the creatures of past drug takedowns- they were still in an earlier stage, enhanced by the drug rather than debilitated by it. Wilder.

A goblet of water elevated me to the pier, hovered like a familiar around me. As soon as the final mule began his trek back to the freight, I struck. Silently, like an underwater whisper, his body was embraced and rendered unconscious by my liquid friend.

Only, the radios were all connected; as soon as my watery touch dampened his device, an ultrasonic sound pulsed from the sphere and shattered the night.

"Well, well."

They were on me instantly.
And something told me these guys wouldn't be like the drugged-out zombies I'd dropped so easily before. In fact, I was sure of it. I took a step back onto the wooden docks, practically walking the plank.

"Boys," I greeted. They sneered at the term.
"What's a pretty thing like you skulking around these places at night?"

Was this the ringleader? Wiry in build with skin like waxed paper, his mouth sported a set of tiny, sharp teeth, spread farther across than the average human's. A mutant-type quirk, by the looks of it. Some type of lizard? I took another careful step backwards. He stepped off the concrete along with his men, cutting off my access to dry land, eyes running across my body.

"Very nice outfit. Curious to see what's under it, though."

Someone grabbed my arm before submersion promptly knocked them unconscious. The ringleader wrinkled what I imagined he considered to be a nose, skin shining in the low light. Definitely a salamander.

"Oh, the Collector's gonna like you."

That word again. "I'm rather interested in meeting him," They slunk around until I was bound in a septagram seal, careless over their newly-fallen brethren. I let my head fall to one side, smile coy. "You think a big, strong man like you could show me the way?"

"Oh, I could show you a few things, alright," He prowled nearer. I counted to ten. When he slipped a dime bag out of a hidden pocket, contents glittering like crushed glass, the other mules forgot me entirely. I felt their lungs expand in a unanimous inhale at the sight of what must be Azakuku's new strand.

"How 'bout it, pretty?" Everything about him seemed coated in grime, sickly sweet, like caramel left too long on the stove. But there was something wild about him- about all of them. Feral. Think this through, Chiyo.
What were they doing here? Was there a hideout nearby? They didn't seem to even be carrying drugs, other than the small taste the salamander had.

I need that bag.

"Red," One of the skeeze's warned. Red? The salamander heeded the warning, drug bag hiding slipping into his coat once more. I feigned sorrow, much to his pleasure, and he took the final step necessary to land in my own sealing circle.

Crash.

Coiled turrets of water ripped through the mold-eaten dock wood. Three men were swallowed instantly, barely able to let out a scream; four, including the salamander, jumped back just in time.

"More than just a pretty face, huh?" He hissed with a slimy laugh. I ignored the jab and cratered in the face of the closest assailant, watery veins lightning fast and too deft to counter. The next- a man with skin like copper and teeth to match, threw a handful of sharp spines my way. With the tightening of my fist water ripped from my forearm, creating a shield for the projectiles to absorb into; a new trick of mine. I threw them back with a submersive force.

"Very good, very good!" The salamander sang false praises. His air of confidence held the same notion; he only skimmed the perimeter, watched as one final cretin advanced in my direction.

My second to last opponent- his face- the dark, wide pits of his eyes, the young bones- couldn't be older than twenty.

"Ah, a maternal heart," The salamander cooed.

I'd faltered at the sight of someone so young, allowed him close enough to spat in my face before a wave of ocean water knocked him back.

But the damage had been done.

A wet, slithering noise followed the ringleader; his tail on the pavement, drawing a narrowing circle behind him.
"He's a black, this one. Not me- that was never really my thing."

What is this.

"But I could see how his quirk could be used in his, ah, pursuits."

Someone had taken control of my face. The muscles in my jaw pulled in every direction like tadpoles in too-small a puddle; sweat began to drain from every pore. I croaked a breath, staggered a few feet from the approaching adolescent. The paralysis began to ebb through my shoulders, my arms. What the fuck is this.

"Black here can produce any chemical compound known to man- even synthetic ones, if he's ingested a core element. Water, for example." The salamander seemed to stand on tiptoe once the boy drew closer, sharp, plaqued teeth grinning out the next words, "Or VX."

It was in his saliva.

Submersion hissed at my request, braiding through capillaries, tweezing through the muscle tissue and flesh alike.

"I suppose I'll let him do his thing, then I'll do mine."

There was no reservation in my actions this time.
His pupils already edged their sclera; they narrowed only a fraction when his pale, cold hand grazed my face. Nothing else about him moved, ensnared in my hold, now. Submersion caught his tongue before it could betray me.

"He figured it was just one person cleaning up her messes. Never thought it'd be a dame, though."

A rustling. Please, please don't tell me he was about to deplete the dime bag. I moved the kid closer to me, tried to peek over his bony shoulder. The smell of fried hair and metal assaulted my senses. His eyes gave a hateful flash.

"Shouldn't be surprised I guess. Women are startin' to worm their ways in all manners of life, ain't they? Shit, when I first heard where the drugs was comin' from, I couldn't believe-"

A taloned harpy fell from the sky, ripped the very words out of the salamander's mouth. For a split second I mistook the entity for Tokoyami's Dark Shadow and a new kind of fear gripped my arteries, but no- there was only one silhouette, lethal and shrouded in night. I released submersion and the kid fell, immediately unconscious, flayed out on the damp wood.

The salamander was weak- far weaker than he tried to let on- and with a garbled plea lost consciousness at the hands of a shadow.

No, not a shadow.

Was this an assassin of the Collector, come to quiet a mule with too loose of lips? Or have they come to eliminate me?

I wouldn't- couldn't- leave without that bag.

The air was thick with moisture so close to the ocean; with the slightest glance it circulated, clung to one another in a hardened embrace, prismed around my target like stepping stones. I braced my legs and flew forward, catapulted up in order to slam a heel into the shadow's blind spot. It deflected and an excited bundle of nerves tittered in my ears. No matter; the veins of my right arm had already burst into a sickle upon my somersault landing, thirsting to strike.

Whoever it is, they're bound to know more than the drug mules.

Water pushed the wing of my shoulder with inhuman velocity. The shadow wouldn't die, but there would be no second round after this kind of damage. A calm sense of clarity kept my limbs smoothed, my eyes focused. My hair crackled in anticipation like electric eels about to make a deal.

Something, though, faltered the devastation.
Instead of a blade the shadow met my fist, swallowed the momentum with its palm and a set of long, slender fingers. My movement lost half its speed somewhere along the line; its footing barely faltered with the attack, let alone sustain any damage. Before I could rip away, summon a tidal wave to distract and destroy, a heartbeat tunneled through our connected flesh.

A heartbeat I recognized.

Skin like moonlight, hair a tangle of defiant brambles, elevated by lack of gravity.

"You're a difficult woman to track down," He said.


Author's Note: Akua means aqua, and Tsurihito means angler; a word with a double meaning, both symbolizing some aspect of Chiyo at this time.
The grief counselor, Hitomu, has a name which roughly translates to single dream. Jushina, or Jushi na, translates to succulent, which I found quite fitting for her plant-based quirk (and problems)
I don't know if I have any Vigilante readers out there, but you might recognize Hokkaido holds some significance. (*embarrassing eyebrow wiggle*)