Machi moved carefully through the crowd, avoiding eye contact yet maintaining her course to track down the other Ryodan members. The marketplace was busy and full of people. Yet, she was glad for none of the individuals had qualms about letting the world know about their presence.

Baka… Hisoka no baka…

She could not lie to herself. She was still upset by the encounter with Hisoka. In fact, it was rather tempting to go on a killing spree to relieve some of the anger. But that, in addition to useless brooding, was probably what the deranged psycho wanted. So she welcomed the noise of the marketplace as a convenient distraction instead.

…Touch me again and I'll stitch your lips together…

Focus. The Dancho wanted everyone at the meeting. Machi's brow furrowed in concentration as she sought out each member of the Phantom Brigade.

It was her duty to keep track of the Spider, which she did by placing thread on each of its eight "legs". When the Spider had been first formed, this had been accepted as the quickest way to get in touch for a meeting. In the past, though, the practice had been disbanded because of complaints of "privacy".

As if, Machi thought contemptuously, she had cared about what they did in their private lives.

But now, with the chain-user posing a clear threat, her position had been reassigned. Machi felt one of her threads nearby. Feitan. But before she could hone in on it, her concentration was suddenly broken as she got jostled by some rude bypasser. With an impatient snarl, Machi returned the favor and tripped him after dealing a severe blow to his stomach.

"Go—gomen nasai…" the man wheezed in pain, glancing up at her in fear.

She said nothing. Didn't spare the pitiful fool another moment and with a dismissive air, continued on her way. All in all, fetching everybody was a rather bothersome if not a total pain-in-the-ass task. 

The trail led her to a weapons shop. Feitan sensed her just as she entered, turning at her footsteps. Machi briefly noted that there were no other customers present. Behind the counter, an old, shriveled man was shaking as he explained the swords in the exhibit behind him.

"A-and these are over tw-two hundred years old, sir, made by an ancient culture across th-the ocean…"

Feitan put up a hand. The man's frightened speech halted as his head had been abruptly sliced off. Evidently, though, he was well-aware of the possibility.

"Break's up. There's a meeting in about an hour," Machi said curtly, "Your presence is required."

The man nodded and a voice, subtle and chilling, issued from underneath the black bandanna around his mouth, "Hai. I'll be sure to attend."

"If you see any of the others around, let them know," she informed him, "The Dancho wants everyone there as soon as possible."

"Hai…"

She left him with that.

Walking stealthily once again on the streets, she quickly located another member of the Ryodan. Following the trail, she soon found herself standing in front of a fairly large café shop. The kind that reeked deliciously of coffee and seemed to be designed for poetry readings, artistic discussions, and topics of that nature. It was the sort of place that attracted college students like bees to nectar.

And definitely not the hang-out she had expected.

Machi paused in front of the door, a tad uncertain before finally confirming the presence.

Computer boy. Shalnark.

She caught a whiff of mocha, sweet and subtle, as she entered and her ears were assailed with chatter just as noisy as could be found outside. Scanning the room, she spotted the blonde, talking earnestly in a crowd. For a moment, she hung back. He blended in well. He was speaking animatedly, a light in his eyes that was astonishingly alive and excited. The light that was common in students when they were discussing a beloved subject, not the light found in a killer that was used to manipulation and massacre.

It was so unusual and unexpected that she almost didn't want to put it out. Almost.

She edged close and the transformation was instant. He was immediately aware; the light faded as if it had never been. His speech slackened and his shoulders tensed visibly.

"Dai-chan?" a girl questioned with concern, "Is something wrong?"

"Yeah, you seem nervous, all of a sudden," another member of the audience observed, "Want more coffee, Daisuke?"

…Daisuke? So he had given a false name. Machi watched passively as Shalnark responded to more worried suggestions of "Get another cappacino, Daisuke!" and "Wanna lie down, Dai-chan?"

"I'm fine," he assured them, flashing a fake grin, "Just suddenly… cold, that's all."

The effect was somewhat humorous. Several girls blushed and shoved their warm drinks in his direction, urging him to accept their generosity. Machi studied the scene carefully and concluded that Shalnark was not using his Nen on the people. She realized with an uncomfortable jolt that the offers, the friendliness, the fond regard directed in his direction—all of it was real.

"Really, I'm feeling better," Shalnark's voice broke through her thoughts. The blonde was smiling politely, "Arigatou, minna, But I'm afraid it's time for me to leave."

"But Dai-chan, you haven't finished your explanation on Kitogome's novel!"

"That'll have to wait. Maybe next time," he replied with such an apologetic expression that even Machi couldn't figure out whether it was genuine or not, "Gomen nasai."

Groans of disappointment flooded the air.

Shalnark departed from the group. Machi waited patiently as he approached. He was sober now, even somewhat glum. The smile was gone, replaced by the darkness she was used to seeing in her fellow Spiders. Upon greeting her, he raised his eyebrow apprehensively, "I suppose you'll want an explanation?"

"Hardly," she said flatly, "What you do in your free time, whether you call yourself Daisuke or Shalnark, none of it matters to me."

He laughed a bit at that, evidently relieved. "No, I suppose not." He added, "You probably wouldn't have understood anyway."

She remained unruffled, "There's a meeting in a hour."

"Hai…"

"Notify the others, if you can."

"Hai…"

They quieted their voices. Somebody was heading directly toward them. A man dressed in a clean, neat black suit and wearing a pair of fashionable sunglasses stopped before them. Hanging on his arm was an attractive woman. She bore a haughty air and was glaring pointedly at them.

Machi crossed her arms and stared coolly back. But most of her attention was remained on the man. A sudden suspicion nagged her in the back of her head. He looked familiar. That in itself was unsettling.

"Daisuke-san… who's your friend?" the stranger's voice was smooth, "She's very pretty."

Machi openly ignored the compliment.

 "I'm glad, Dai-chan," the woman purred, "For a while, you had us all doubting your sexuality."

Machi looked curiously at Shalnark to see his reaction to such rudeness. Those who knew who they really were wouldn't dare such a feat. Those who carelessly insulted the Spider never survived the consequences. Indeed, it was uncommon – indeed, very out of place -- to see a Ryodan member addressed this way.

A look of fury flashed briefly on his face before fading to controlled passivity. But the blonde's Nen had risen slightly and Machi could tell that he was bristling underneath the calmness.

"Do you want something, Jacobs-san?" Shalnark asked, feigning courteous interest.

"Well, if it isn't too much trouble, I wouldn't mind being introduced to Machi-san."

"As you wish," Shalnark began, "This is my friend, Kira Togashi. Kira, this is—"

He stopped abruptly, having just processed the implications of the stranger's request. His forehead furrowed with surprise as he stated disbelievingly, "You know her real name."

He turned questioningly to Machi, who had narrowed her eyes and whose lips were set fiercely.

"Let's go," she said icily. Without waiting for a response, she started to leave.

"It was pleasant meeting you again after all these years." The voice was as cheerful as she remembered. It drew her as it always had done, stopped her against her will. Her feet had gone motionless.

"I must admit, I was very surprised to see you again …Machi-san."

"Yuki-chan…" the woman interrupted, having missed the whole exchange. She was pouting like a spoiled child, "We're going to be late for the party. You promised this stupid book discussion would only take a few minutes."

Her features hardening, Machi resumed her sojourn toward the exit.

Within seconds, Shalnark had caught up, looking somewhat dazed. "What happened back there? You know the guy?" 

"That's none of your business," she snapped.

Shalnark stared at her curiously. Her Nen was no longer surpressed but flaring wildly, warning off any potential pickpockets and even frightening a couple of experienced murderers lurking in the crowd. She was agitated. That much was obvious but it was a rare occurrence. The thread-using girl was usually quite composed in all situations. He had never seen her this bothered. By a small, almost insignificant incident, no less.

"Ano… if you don't want to talk about it…" he said tentatively.

"I don't."

"I don't know him very well. He doesn't come very often to my, er, discussions," the blonde looked away as if embarrassed by bringing up the topic again, "But Jacobs-san has a good reputation. Very wealthy, or so I've heard. He owns one of those classy auctioning companies."

"So?" she glared at him, "Just drop the whole thing, okay?"

 "Hai, hai, I guess that would be best," Shalnark nodded somewhat apologetically, "It's just… I wasn't expecting that kind of encounter. I didn't expect that you would know any of the people there."

 "Hmph," she snorted with a disdainful glance at him, "Well, I wasn't expecting to find you here either."

He shrugged sheepishly, "Yeah …it is rather unusual, huh? For a member of the Genrei Ryodan to be visiting cafes and talking about novels; not your typical assassin thing to do. But I guess it's probably Pakunoda's fault…"

She stopped at that. Noone had spoken about Pakunoda's death yet. Though it wasn't technically grieving, her loss was mourned on many levels. Pakunoda had been valuable, her ability to read minds irreplaceable. Besides that, or perhaps more than that, she had always been the gentler side of the Genrei Ryodan. The less disturbed and more peaceful side anyway. It was long whispered among them that she sometimes cried for her victims when alone in her room… Now they knew she had…She had been the proof that they were still human, after all…

"What do you mean?" Machi demanded, uneasy, "How is Pakunoda to blame?"

Shalnark refused to meet her eyes, "The memories that she gave us. I think they have some sort of influence over us. At least that's what I suspect."

"What?"

"Along with the information about the chain-user, I think she may have given each of us fragments of her personal memories. Memories of her past and …all that come with it," he explained, a distant, dreamy look in his eyes, not unlike what Pakunoda used to wear.

"I still don't understand."

"Well…" he hesitated before stiffening his resolve to share what he knew, "… Pakunoda used to be a kindergarten teacher."

Machi scoffed disbelievingly, "A teacher?"

"Hai, and this wasn't before she joined the Genrei Ryodan."

"Are you telling me," she said as realization dawned, "that when Pakunoda wasn't helping us slaughter and loot, she was teaching a bunch of brats how to share?"

"She taught them many things," Shalnark answered seriously, still with that faraway expression, "She wanted them to remember her and she wanted to teach them not to become like her."

There was a pause.

"Shalnark, don't be stupid. She's not like Feitan." Feitan had wanted to experience what it would be like killing the same person twice. For this express purpose, he had once paid her three million dollars just to stitch a decapitated head back onto the body. He had been curious as to whether that would bring the person back to life, despite her warning that such a feat was impossible.

"I should hope not," Shalnark remarked, "Nobody's …quite like Feitan."

Machi stated bluntly, "What I meant is that she couldn't possibly be that twisted. Phinks maybe, not Pakunoda."

"Point taken. People like us shouldn't be allowed around little children, neh?" The blonde smiled wryly, "That's what my initial reaction was, too. I was confused at first. I didn't know why Pakunoda would do such things. But I've gone through these memories a couple of times and I think I'm beginning to understand…"

Silence followed as they walked side-by-side, each deep in contemplation.

After a while, Shalnark asked, "What memories did you receive, Machi?"

Ones that she did not want, that's for sure. The purple-haired girl's expression darkened as her interest in the conversation dimmed sharply. "I don't walk to talk about it." 

Briefly, it seemed as if he would protest. But Machi wore a straightforward, stubborn look that said her refusal was final and there was nothing that could be done to change it. She would not yield and they both knew it.

"Well… alright, if that's how you want it." Shoulders slumping and somewhat regretful, Shalnark bid her farewell before departing towards the meeting.

Emotionlessly, Machi watched him go. She knew she was being unfair. He had confided in her, after all. But she had never been comfortable with sharing secrets, especially ones that privately unnerved her. Her nature wouldn't allow it. No matter how painful and lonely things got, certain revelations would never pass from her lips. She had promised herself this a long time ago. 

But such promises had their price and for the slightest moment, there was a fleeting emotion that made her sigh quietly to herself.

"Mommy," a nearby child whispered solemnly, staring audaciously at the oblivious killer, "The pretty lady… Her eyes…"

"Huh? What did you say, Tammy-kun?" the mother said off-handedly, busily inspecting merchandise.

Blink and it was replaced by steel-like determination. She had orders to carry out.

The Dancho was waiting. Machi strode off in a business-like manner. The closed, furtive mask was in place once more.

The child watched her go, astonished by the sudden transformation, "Nevermind, Mommy. She doesn't look sad anymore."