Screeching to a halt at the Tauveriin station, Yamaguchi anxiously ran through his mental checklist. Did he find somewhere safe to store the box? Yes, he had entrusted it to Bokuto, who was keeping it in the train's safe. Did he and Kageyama have some sort of protection? Yes, Kageyama and Yamaguchi both had their knives on them, and Yamaguchi even had a staff disguised as a walking stick. Did they have disguises? Also, yes, since looking like a bunch of rich people in a shantytown was an awful idea, Kuroo had provided the two of them with grease-stained commoner clothing as to not draw attention. Everything was set, everything was safe, they had a plan. A plan Hinata seemed dead set on ruining.
Before Yamaguchi and Kageyama could even step off the train, Hinata was there, glaring and blocking the exit. "You shouldn't be headed out there; it's dangerous."
Yamaguchi sighed and stomped on Kageyama's toe to prevent him from instantly jumping into an argument, "We know, Hinata, but it's an emergency. There's things in Tauveriin we really need to do."
Hinata huffed and stamped his feet like an offended rabbit, "Oh yeah? Like your totally real, not at all bogus, spy stuff?"
"Sightseeing, actually." Retorted Kageyama, looking rather smug with himself.
"Yep, sightseeing. The Foxfire Gardens are supposed to be in full bloom this time of year, we'd like to see them before completing our mission and returning to post in 16-B." Yamaguchi was suddenly grateful for his research; even if the flowers weren't set to be in full bloom, he at least didn't have to make up a place to see.
"That's stupid! Don't you know slavers run wild and unchecked in that city? You're going to get yourselves snatched right up!" Why Hinata even cared if they got grabbed by slavers, Yamaguchi didn't know, but the information was new.
"Slavers are nothing, Tadashi and I have fought off thousands of them, we're going to see those gardens." And before Hinata could retort about safety, Kageyama grabbed Yamaguchi and pulled him out into Tauveriin.
Wandering around, Yamaguchi saw many a beautifully organized stall. Candy shops, bakeries, bookstores, the works. Everything a person could possibly want had a stall dedicated just to that item. It was in the marketplace that Yamaguchi saw a clockwork shop. If anywhere would have the delicate tools to work with a fine-tuned trap box, it was that clock store. They needed to go there. If Yamaguchi and Kageyama ever wanted to see what was important enough for an espionage attempt, they would need to get Yamaguchi those tools. So, taking a slight detour, they agreed to head inside. There, in the building, was the largest collection of beautiful mechanics Yamauchi had ever seen. Finely crafted cuckoo clocks, pocket watches, even more than a few artifacts, although none that Yamaguchi recognized. It was exactly the type of place Yamaguchi imagined he'd like to run someday. Walking up to the front desk, he set upon haggling a price for the tools. Getting a decent price took longer than Yamaguchi had hoped, the shopkeep drove a hard bargain. Even after bringing the price down a few gold, it still cost a pretty penny to purchase. Holding the toolset in his hands, however, made Yamaguchi realize just how worth it they were. Everything was needle-thin and made of the finest materials; if these couldn't work with the box lock, nothing could.
Content with his new toolery and more than a few coins lighter, Yamaguchi led Kageyama to where rumors of Miya were most common. The farther into the city they went, the dirtier it became. Polished cobblestone and colorful brick made way for materials so covered in grime that they were nigh unrecognizable. Garbage and suspicious needles littered the alleyways, and any empty patch was taken up by beggars and criminals. Already it was noon, and despite being fall, the sun beat down upon them in a sweltering burn, accentuated by the thick smoggy air. People from the alleyways eyed both boys, likely only keeping their distance due to Kageyama's sour face. Even in their engine grease-stained apparel, Yamaguchi and Kageyama looked more well off than the people wandering the streets. Being robbed was not on Yamaguchi's to-do list, and he clutched the handle of his knife tightly in the pocket of his trench coat. Every sound made him jump, every moving shadow brought a new wave of unease, back alleys, and shady buildings were not within the area of Yamaguchi's expertise. They were getting closer to the abandoned warehouse that Miya was said to frequent, but it brought him no comfort.
The problem with rumors was that one had no way of telling if they were true or not. There, standing in front of a run-down and decrepit storehouse, it occurred to Yamaguchi that Miya might not even be real. Attempting to draw him out, Kageyama shook his coin bag ever so slightly, letting the coins jangle merrily against each other. As if on cue, out from under a fallen support bream, clambered a man. His face was smeared with soot, and his eyes a honeyed brown; the rest of him was fairly innocuous. Black fluffy hair, broad muscular shoulders, tall figure, and calm smile, the person seemed right at home amongst the rubble. The man grinned cheekily at the two scrappers, before inclining his head and crooking his finger in a 'follow me' kind of motion. Glancing at each other in confusion, Kageyama and Yamaguchi shrugged and then scrambled over the rubble to follow the ruffian.
Under the support beam from which the man came was a crudely dug tunnel made of packed dirt and rock. All three men had to crouch to walk through, and visions of collapsed dirt and suffocation flashed through Yamaguchi's mind. The way was cramped and damp with goddess knows what, Yamaguchi blindly grabbed onto Kageyama's coattails to keep himself from panicking. The walk took only a few minutes, and as they went longer, the tunnel expanded into more of a hallway. The walls became covered in moss and winding vines, and the air down below felt somewhat clearer than it did on the surface. Eventually, they reached the end of the passage, the tunnel widening to the entryway of a room. The room had floors of heavily packed dirt and walls of lichen-covered cinderblocks. There, in the center of the area, was a cushioned black chair and a finely finished wooden desk. Off to the side, flush against the far wall, was a large safe, to hold money no doubt. Aside from a carpet and some dimly glowing oil lamps, the room was otherwise bare. The man, presumably Miya, lounged comfortably in his chair, appraising the two before he finally spoke.
"Well, well, well. What business do two little street rats like you have to ask from a Miya like me?" Miya spoke casually, but his eyes gleamed with a hunger that made Yamaguchi rather uncomfortable.
"We need information." Kageyama simply stated as he warily eyed the broker.
"Of course, you do, why else would you come to me? What information do you need, and how much coin do you have to pay for it?"
Kageyama showed his coin purse as Yamaguchi spoke, "We're looking for Firefly men, ones sent out by the empire recently. They search for something, and we search for them. Where is the closest one that you know of?"
"The empire folk are always about, always searching in places for things that are none of their business. One came here recently, poking around and meddling in our affairs. Give me everything in that coin purse, and I'll tell you where to look."
Yamaguchi looked to Kageyama and nodded, they had both known the information would be pricey, and Yamaguchi had left some spare funds in their car back on the train, so they didn't lose everything. Wordlessly, Kageyama tossed the money onto Miya's desk and waited as the man counted his earnings.
After unlocking the safe and storing away the coins, Miya turned once again to face his guests, "Yes, that'll do. The one you seek frequents the northwestern edge of the city. Look for someone of short stature and blonde hair, that's your best bet."
While Miya spoke, another person silently slipped out from the tunnel and into the cavernous room. He had the same face as Miya, same build, same hair, same height; the only difference was his stony gray eyes. Suddenly, Yamaguchi put together how Miya knew so much of the world. Scant sources would claim the man was in two places at once, always flitting about but never without an alibi. Clearly, Miya had a twin; while one secured deals, the other must be out collecting more intel. After all, what was a more trustworthy source than the eyes of your own kin? The second, gray-eyed, Miya leaned down to where his brother was seated and whispered something to him before showing off a pouch of coins and tossing it into the safe. Almost instantly, the original Miya's face split into a hungry grin, self-satisfied like the cat that caught the canary.
"My friends, I feel generous. Business is good today, and I have been brought wonderful information. Tell you what, I'll give you more than what your money is worth for my good mood. The Firefly spy you seek is due west of here, on the very far edge of the city. Look for the men dressed in black with scarlet sashes for belts; they will take you where you need to go." Miya's generosity with information was surprising but in no way unwelcome. With such detailed instructions, how could they fail?
Thanking the Miyas, Yamaguchi and Kageyama hurried back up the tunnel and all but sprinted westward. They were so close, so close to completing their unwanted task. All that had to be done was to explain their situation to the Firefly man. Surely, he would take any lead possible; they could lead him back to the Nekarasi, give him the Firefly box, and do away with the whole mess. If he didn't believe them, Yamaguchi could always pick the box with his new tools and prove their truthfulness. With a little luck, they might even be given an award for bringing back an important empire item. Yes, soon they would be free of the stressful task of clueless espionage. So gleeful in their close freedom were Yamaguchi and Kageyama, that they almost missed the red sashed man. He stood against the framing of a house, relaxed and occasionally looking around. His entire body was covered in black, pants, shirt, even a balaclava, but the gossamer sash stood out like an apple in a well of ink. Was this the firefly man they so searched for, or would he simply lead them to him? It mattered not, because either way the box would soon be off their hands.
As Yamaguchi and Kageyama walked closer to the man, his attention snapped to them. It took only a second for recognition to flash in his eyes before he rapped his hilted sword against the brick wall. Then, like termites out of burning woodwork, came other sashed men from the alleys and buildings. They poured out in vast numbers, Yamaguchi counted almost three dozen, and surrounded the two boys. Without a single word spoken, the men acted as one and surged upon Kageyama and Yamaguchi like a tidal wave of darkness. In the fading light of twilight, it was nigh impossible to tell what was man and what was empty air, for the streets were not lit with lamps, casting the whole area into a dark haze.
As Yamaguchi swung his staff wildly, it occurred to him that the Miyas might not have been truthful. Where did the second one get his bag of money? It was far more than what Kageyama had offered; did it come from these men? The Miyas had sold them out, sent them right into a trap, Yamaguchi realized, as he was pushed against a wall and bound at the hands. Slavers, that's what these men had to be. Preying on the weak and unassuming, who was a better target than two lone teenagers, out where they shouldn't be. They should've listened to Hinata's warnings, should've asked for a guard to accompany them. As it was, both Yamaguchi and Kageyama were bound and gagged, herded to a covered wagon with guns at their backs.
Yamaguchi's head slammed against the untreated wood as the slavers shoved him and Kageyama into the wagon. By the time he came out of the daze, they were moving away, carted off by slavers and horses. Sitting near the open back, was a slaver, paying little attention to his cargo as he watched the scenery pass by. Aside from him and the two men in the front driving the wagon, Yamaguchi and Kageyama were alone. Or, almost alone. Turning over and shaking a cloth bag from her head was a young woman, about the same age as Yamaguchi and Kageyama. She was petite in frame but bound just as tightly as the other two, her blonde hair mussed from rough treatment. She did not speak but stared at the two boys with combined determination and pity. But her determination was not the only interesting thing about her, for there on her collarbone, exposed by a tear in her clothes, was the Mark of the Firefly. In a roundabout way, the Miyas had led them to their Firefly man.
