Warnings: Some, like… implied torture off-screen? No details whatsoever beyond what your mind can conjure in the absence of detail.
Lucky Child
Chapter 96:
"Secret Doors, Demons & Disguises"
As Botan's soft snores filled our shared room in the early morning dark, I crept from my bed and padded on quiet feet into the living room. No one else was awake, judging by the drawn curtains and the sound of Atsuko's log-sawing filtering from under her door—and while normally I'd relish a bit of alone time, that morning the concept of sitting alone in the dark filled me with anxiety. Not that that's abnormal, but...
Today was the day of the semifinals against Team Uraotogi, and if today was to go to plan, my party needed to be very, very late to the match.
Waking up early was, therefore, disadvantageous. If we were on time (or even, heaven forbid, early) we'd risk not finding Yusuke's sleeping body outside the stadium after Genkai dropped him off, and that was something I did not want to fuck up. Plus, if I showed up early and the Beautiful Suzuka spotted my ass in the stands, I didn't want him to start flapping his gob about the breakfast we'd shared earlier in the week. And flapping his gob was well within his character to do.
It also didn't hurt that I was supposed to have a scheduled meet-cute with Jin during the "protect Yusuke's sleeping body" incident.
Anyway…
Standing in the dim living room, I weighed my options. Cooking breakfast might be good, but I didn't want the clatter of pans and plates to wake my friends too soon. I'd like some tea, but the whistle of the kettle was a BIG no-no. And watching TV was right out, of course, as was doing homework; any light creeping under their doors could give the game away, waking them before they needed to. But if I couldn't watch TV or cook or do homework, what was I supposed—
A knock at the door stopped my wondering in its tracks.
My feet moved before I could consider the merits of looking through the damn peephole; I skidded toward the door, ripped it open, and shoved my way into the hall entirely because I didn't want the knocker to knock again and chance waking up my friends. The maid in the hall leapt back with a start as I shut the door on my foot to keep it from slamming, and when I shot her a look of silent urgency, she smoothed down the edges of her frilly apron and bowed in my direction.
"I'm looking for Yukimura-san," she said.
Should I admit that that was me? Too bad; no time to think; she needed to go away, stat, and in a rush of forced cheer I chirped, "That's me. Can I help you?"
"You have a message at the front desk."
"Oh. From whom?"
She smiled demurely. "I'm afraid that is confidential, Yukimura-san."
With that, the maid (a woman I had only just clocked was a demon, given the scales on her cheeks and the webbing between her fingers) gave me a polite smile and… waited for me to reply. She probably expected me to follow her, but that probably wasn't a good idea. And yet, the front desk was a super public place, so it couldn't be too dubious to go with her… right?
Apparently I took too long to overthink it, because she was bowing again before I could make a choice.
"You may collect the measure at your leisure. Thank you very much for choosing Hotel Kubikukuri," she said, and with that she took off toward the elevators. "Good day, Yukimura-san."
Well, that was certainly a no-pressure tactic if I'd ever seen one. I waited for her to board the elevator before slipping back into my hotel suite, and after a few seconds of consideration, I grabbed my key, put on my shoes, and headed downstairs to the lobby. The woman at the front desk barely glanced at me when I said my name, handing me a white envelope without looking up from her computer screen. That suited me just fine, though, because it allowed me some modicum of privacy as I slipped my thumb underneath the envelope's flap and tore it open.
The note inside read: "Hidden door in phone vestibule leads to staff's quarters. Left-hand side between third and fourth booths. Press the divot in the molding with your shoe. See you soon."
The note was signed, "Sincerely yours… Ears."
Cryptic, yes, but the mention of staff and the signature told me precisely who the note was from. Stuffing it into my pocket, I headed for the phone vestibule, where I'd placed a call to Minato and Kagome a few nights prior. The series of phone booths inside the vestibule were all empty at that hour, so I didn't bother sneaking to the spot between the third and fourth booths. Took me a minute to find a subtle indentation in the baseboard against the wall between them, granted, but soon I located it and gave it a sharp nudge with my toe.
The wall slid to the side at once, revealing a large room behind that hidden door—not to mention the sight of Otoha sitting atop an overturned bucket.
She shot to her feet, the scales on her neck and cheeks gleaming the color of sakura blossoms. "There you are! About time you found me!"
"Very cloak and dagger, Otoha," I said, smiling. The wall slid shut behind me after I stepped through the secret door. "I'm impressed."
"Secret doors are cool," she said, pleased with herself. "And secret doors to places the tournament backers can't eavesdrop are even cooler. But we'll discuss that later. There's someone else you need to see."
I frowned. "Who—?"
"No time to explain!" She grabbed my wrist and tugged me after her. "Follow me!"
Otoha's secret door had led us into a gigantic industrial laundry where huge vats of linens swirled behind thick plate glass, machine motors humming and clanging as the tang of detergent hung thick on the humid air. She led me between the towering stacks of laundry machines to a big set of double doors, which opened onto a large storage room where a slew of chattering demons in maid uniforms (including the one who had delivered the message to my room that morning) sat polishing silverware and cutlery. They gave Otoha a nod as we passed, but none of them paid us much mind as we breezed through that room and into an enormous kitchen, and then into a big room full of cots and bunks where I presumed the staff must sleep each night. Twisting corridors lined with many, uncountable doors flashed by as Otoha dragged me deep into the mazelike bowels of Hotel Kubikukuri, and by the time she stopped to knock on a nondescript wooden door, I was lost enough to not know where the hell we were, nor how I'd ever hope to find my way back out again.
Not that I had an intention of leaving when the door opened and revealed the person inside. She looked totally out of place within what was basically a broom closet, sitting on a metal folding chair with a silk scarf tied over her hair and a pair of black sunglasses covering half of her face. Still, she was instantly recognizable, and my jaw dropped when she eyed me over the top of her sunglasses.
"Hey," said Koto, Dark Tournament referee extraordinaire. She wore the same trench coat she'd worn at the pool the other day, plus her signature pair of pink ankle boots, which she used to kick an overturned paint can my way. "Have a seat."
Otoha squeezed my wrist, let it go, and tucked herself into a corner of the room between two mops and a metal stanchion draped with red velvet rope. Gingerly I sat on the can, scooting close to Koto's stockinged knees as she reached and shut the door behind us.
So this was to be a closed-door conversation, was it? That didn't bode well…
Our privacy secured, Koto finally took off her sunglasses and tucked them into her coat's breast pocket. "Long time, no see. Keiko, right?" she said.
"Yeah."
"Bout time I memorized your name, considering it's the third time we've met." She winked, tapping the side of her nose with one manicured finger. "That's right. Don't think I didn't recognize you when you showed up during Urameshi's match with Jin. There wasn't time to chat, but I remembered you, not to mention what you did for me at the pool. And then Urameshi stood up for me against those committee morons—and that's why I'm here. One good turn deserves another, as they say. And your team's done me at least two good turns." She rolled her eyes and huffed. "Being in debt to a human is so out of style, y'know?"
"Uh. All right." The can I sat on had a weird ridge around the edges, digging into the backs of my thighs like rough fingertips; I fidgeted, both unnerved and uncomfortable. "So what's this all about?"
Koto's easy smile faded. "I'm here to warn you." She rolled her eyes again. "Well, I'm here to warn your team that the committee is gunning for you in a way that's unprecedented for this tournament's history, that is."
I tried to look appropriately grateful even as I said, "Yes—we suspected as much. They stacked the deck pretty clearly against us when we were up against Team Masho."
"Sure, but you don't know the extent of what's coming." Her hands (clad in black leather gloves like a true film noir femme fatale) flew skyward. "They're so eager to see you dead, they're even willing to demote me—me, the most popular referee this tournament has ever had!"
I tried to look surprised by that. "They demoted you?"
"Can you believe it?" she said with incredulous relish. "The committee is pissed that I threw the rulebook at them during Urameshi's match with Team Masho and helped Shizuru become your team alternate—so pissed, in fact, they're demoting me to an announcer. Although even they know that fans would riot if they retaliated more than that." Her fingers tapped her cheek as she breathed a weary sigh. "And to think my fan club made all that Pretty Referee Koto merch this year…"
I didn't have to try to sound sympathetic: "Koto, I'm so sorry."
"It's not your fault," she said with a dismissive wave. "It's not even your human team's fault. Humans have entered this tournament more than a few times over the years, but even those teams didn't get treated like this. There's something about you that's pissed the backers off like no one else before, and you're going to need to play by their rules if you stand a chance at staying alive." She leaned toward me, deadly serious as she stared me in the eye. "Since I've been demoted, I won't be able to help you out again. That's what I came here to say: To not count on help from anyone, and to do your best to stack the deck against the committee, instead."
"Any idea how I could do that?"
Just as she had the committee, Koto threw the rulebook at me—but literally. She'd been hiding the thick paperback tome in her coat, and she tossed it on my lap with an efficient flick of her dainty wrist. It didn't have anything on the cover aside from the year, but the inside had been filled with tiny writing describing the tournament's many rules. Flipping through it revealed that there were far more of them than I'd anticipated… which in turn implied that Koto's role as referee had a lot more to it than just looking pretty and starting a 10-count on time.
Koto indicated the book with a finger. "Memorize that, if you can. Might help you avoid some of their trickier calls next time."
I nodded, distracted by the book. Koto watched me in silence, eventually sighing and leaning backward in her chair. Her long legs crossed at the thigh, pink boot bobbing up and down with bottled energy.
"To tell you the truth," she said, disgruntled, "I just don't get it." She gave another vague wave at my look of confusion. "They've fudged the rules for other teams before, but to play as dirty as they did with you? It's weird, and I can't help but think that the match against Team Masho is just the start of their campaign to undermine your team. And no matter how I feel about humans, I love this tournament too much to see those dirty, rotten—sorry." Her cheeks pinked. "No offense."
"None taken." I shut the book with a clap. "They're pigs."
She grinned. "A girl after my own heart. Just be sure to watch what you say if you want to talk strategy. The backers have all of the contestants' hotel rooms bugged."
A cold weight dropped into my stomach. "Bugged?"
"Oh, for sure." Koto saw the look on my face and backtracked, pronto. "Your room is probably safe, though. Otoha told me you aren't rooming with Team Urameshi, but better safe than sorry. Definitely let them know to watch what they say, etc."
"Got it." I swallowed, palms sweaty. "I'll try and… sweep for bugs."
"Good call." She winked again. "And trust me. I make calls for a living." With that, she stood up and put her sunglasses back on, popping the collar of her trench coat with a snap. "Ciao, Keiko. Gotta run. A referee is never late, even if she's been demoted to mere announcer." She sashayed past me and, with hand on the doorknob, said, "Tell your boys to bring their a-game. Team Uraotogi is a force to be reckoned with."
Koto didn't spare any more time for pleasantries. She left in a cloud of perfume and the click of heels against the floor, ones that faded down the hallway and into obscurity in only a few seconds. I got the sense that she'd come here for one thing, and one thing only: to pay her debt to me and Yusuke, even though we'd never asked for such a thing, nor had we offered our aid for any kind of price. Still, Koto seemed the principled sort—the kind that adhered to her own code, even if it was a little hard to understand.
I rather liked Koto, I decided. Her bloodlust notwithstanding, she seemed cool.
Otoha, like Koto, didn't spare time for silence, either, not giving me a chance to really dig into the things Koto had said. She shut the door in Koto's wake and plopped down into her abandoned chair, rapping her knuckles on the side of my bucket-seat to get my attention again.
"And now for my bit," she said, dark eyes liquid against the gold of her skin. "I did that recon you were after."
I sat up straighter on reflex. "You have?"
"Uh-huh." She scooted her chair closer to me, looking urgent and excitable, color flooding the scales on her face nearly crimson. "So here's what I learned: nobody by the names of Hiruko or Ebisu is staying at this hotel, or at any of the hotels on the island."
"Wait, what?!"
"I know, it sucks, but hold your reactions until the end because I'm not here empty handed." Otoha held up a single mollifying finger when I opened my mouth to ask questions, saying, "I looked into who gave you your hotel suite, and it turns out the one of the tournament backers named Sakyo is responsible for that reservation—and get this." She cupped her hands around her mouth to whisper-scream, "He's the owner of Team Toguro!"
Otoha looked both impressed and horrified by this revelation, staring at me with expectation written all over her face. When I only sighed, however, rubbing my temples with my fingertips, her mouth turns down into a frown.
"You don't seem surprised to hear that," she said.
"I'm not," I said. I leaned my elbows on my knees, fingers digging harder into my skin. "Toguro and Yusuke have history, and I ran into Sakyo a few days ago. He confirmed he got the room for us, but as a favor to Hiruko." My eyes squeezed tightly shut, stars shooting off behind my lids. "But if Hiruko isn't listed here, how can I find him?"
"Just because his name isn't in the books doesn't mean he isn't locatable," Otoha said. When I looked up at her sharply, she grinned and scooted closer still, chair legs squeaking against the tile floor. "I talked to some of the hotel wait staff, specifically the ones who service the upper floors and the clubs and VIP places, and apparently a guy with pink hair and bright blue eyes is just about always hanging out in the committee's private club. It's on the fourteenth floor and you have to be a committee member or a guest of one to get inside. Very exclusive. It's where most of the black market betting takes place, too—wait. Déjà vu." She blinked a few times, lips pursing. "Have we talked about the club before?"
"Yeah, we have," after thinking back for a minute. "I saw somebody who looked like Hiruko heading up that way, and I asked you about it. That's what made me ask you to do recon." The reality of what she was saying sank in, then, and a grin fought its way across my face. "And it looks like your friends have seen someone like Hiruko up there, too, so…"
"Yeah." She nodded rapidly, dark hair undulating in silken waves. "Yeah, they have."
My heart beat a little faster. "Could he be there right now?"
"Possibly, but most of the backers aren't there right now. They all flew to the stadium this morning to watch the fights—oh, wait a minute!" She cursed and looked at her wristwatch, hopping up so fast it startled me. "You should head out if you want to make it to the new stadium on time! It's a lot farther than the first stadium, hence Koto not sticking around."
The fact that I had no intention of getting there wasn't worth mentioning; I said, "Thanks, Otoha." I grabbed her hand, tugging her back into her chair. "So can you tell me how to get up to the club?"
She seemed a bit perplexed by the question, staring at me for a second before saying, "You need a special key to get the elevator up that high. The staircases are locked and guarded, too. If you try to get past the guards, they'll see you coming a mile away."
"Right." I let go of her, leaning back with a frown. "Of course they would."
Otoha patted my knee with sympathy. "I'm sorry I couldn't be of more help."
"No, you were a huge help." I shook my head. "Just knowing he's here…"
Just knowing he was here—and knowing how to get to him, if the time came—was more than enough.
Otoha didn't have any more information for me that morning. She led me back the way we'd come, through the secret door and back into the phone vestibule, which housed a few people making phone calls to the mainland. As I headed back to my suite, I wondered what would happen if I somehow got ahold of one of the keys to the 14th floor and marched into the VIP area Otoha had mentioned. I wondered what would happen if the guards caught me trying to bust in, and I wondered what I would do if I came face to face with Hiruko for more than a half-second span on an elevator.
I wondered if going after him was worth the cost of what it could do to canon.
And as I settled down near the windows in my suite to read the rulebook Koto had given me, I realized I had made my choice—because if there was one thing canon-Keiko was good at, it was studying, especially for the sake of her friends.
"I still can't believe you didn't wake us up, Keiko!"
The woods near the stadium were mostly quiet, but the sound of Botan's incensed voice caused a flock of birds to take flight from a nearby tree, startled into soaring. I barely heard her, though. I trailed behind the rest of my group, nose buried in the rulebook, and I responded to her with little more than a shrug and a grunt.
Botan didn't like that very much. "So absorbed in that book you can't even wake us up on time!" she remarked, glaring at me when I glanced up from the pages to look at her. "Tut, tut! Shame on you!"
I shrugged. "Not my fault you all got drunk and overslept."
"Ididn't get drunk!" Botan squawked.
"Nah, you got smashed!" Atsuko crowed.
Shizuru, walking just a few steps ahead of me, asked, "Where did you get that book, anyway?"
"Gift shop."
That was a joke, of course. I had no reason to hide the fact the Koto had sent for me, but I didn't want to lose precious study-time by explaining the reason for her visit, either. My time was best spent reading, because boy howdy, was that stupid rulebook a monstrosity of scholarly organization! Rules referenced sections that were hidden within unlisted other sections, Russian-nesting-doll style, looping through sub-rulings and historic precedent in results that were almost too self-referential to follow. It took all of my concentration not to get lost within the dense and esoteric text, and that said wild things about Koto's level of intelligence. The fact that she had the damn thing memorized and could recite rulings on the fly was, in a word, unbelievable.
If Shizuru suspected I wasn't saying everything, she didn't have the time to express as much. Yukina, who had been walking abreast of Botan, slowed down until she came to a stop at Shizuru's side.
"Shizuru-san, I'm actually more surprised that you did not set an alarm," she said, eyes troubled. "They're such amazing devices, after all."
Shizuru took a puff of her cigarette and frowned. "True, but why me?"
"As the team's alternate, I thought…"
Without looking up, I muttered a quote from the rulebook: "Team alternates may only step in if a member of their team has died or has been deemed sufficiently incapacitated by the tournament's governing body or regulators."
"Right," said Shizuru, "and since nobody's dead…"
("Yet," Botan muttered, whipping around to glare at me.)
"… I got put on guard duty for all of you." Shizuru tossed her cigarette to the ground, stamped it out, and lit up another. "Ran it by Kuwabara last night. Seemed like the best thing to do, considering the circumstances."
Atsuko's brow lifted. "You ran it by Kuwabara? Not Yusuke?"
Shizuru took another drag. "Kuwabara is acting captain since Yusuke and the Masked Fighter went AWOL," she said with a plume of exhaled smoke, "and since our resident tactician went MIA all yesterday and Hiei hates dealing with crap like that…"
"Uh, girls?" Botan stopped walking, her heel cracking a twig she'd happened to step on. Her voice had lost its combative quality, all quaver out of nowhere. "Is it just me, or is this place kind of a ghost town?"
I closed my book and looked up, tracing the path before us as it wound through the woods to the stadium. Botan pointed forward, teeth worrying the curve of her rosy lower lip. The stadium had just risen into view above the trees, but unlike the days before, the roar of the crowd didn't accompany the sight. No announcer voices boomed above the trees, and no stench of unwashed demons and roasting meat perfumed the air, either. Before there had been the smell of fire pits and campgrounds, but as I looked around the path, all I saw were heaps of garbage and piles of dead leaves. It had rained in the night, but the muddy path bore the indentations of barely any footsteps. The wind in the trees sighed thinly, like the breath exhaled after a long time spent held.
Suffice it to say, we all noticed the absence of what should have been. We walked in uneasy silence down the remainder of the path until the heft of the stadium came fully into view. A few groups of demons stood or sat scattered around the stadium grounds, but the gates inside lay open—open and unguarded. Shizuru led the charge toward them, mean-mugging a few of the loitering demons who dared glance in our direction. Not that many of them did. They were too busy playing games of dice or cards, muttering amongst themselves too intently to pay our crew much mind. The ones who did look up at us spotted Shizuru and looked away very fast. News of her prowess had spread, I suspected, and we entered the stadium at the ground floor without any trouble at all.
But the real trouble lay within, I suppose, insofar that the entire stadium was empty.
Atsuko gawked openly at the deserted stands. Yukina covered her mouth with the sleeve of her yukata, confused crimson eyes trailing over the dim television screens above the ring and the lack of spectators all around. Botan ran past Shizuru with a cry of dismay and headed for the ring itself, running over the grassy space between it and the stands and then onto the surface of the ring itself. There she rotated on a foot, spinning in place to take in the bare seats and desolate structure in shock. Only Shizuru looked unaffected, keeping calm in the face of crisis the way only the truly spine-steeled were capable.
Me, though? I just followed them with my nose in my book, trying not to look conspicuous—because I knew this was going to happen, and I didn't want anyone catching on.
We stood in a knot in the center of the ring for a few seconds in silence. To our left, a group of about a dozen demons sparred near the ring's edge, two of them tussling while the rest jeered insults and encouragements. But these were far from the fights my friends were expecting to witness, and soon Botan threw up her hands and cried, "What in the world?!"
Yukina gasped. "Oh! That's right! Today is the semifinals. Aren't the semifinal matches being held in a different stadium?"
"Botan, why did you bring us to this place?" Shizuru said. "You said you knew the way."
"I was too worried about being late to remember that we were supposed to go to the other stadium!" She stood there wringing her hands, hopping from foot to foot. "Oh, this is terrible. We'll miss the entire first match at this rate!" She broke into a swift jog, pulling Yukina along as she headed back toward the gates we'd only just come through. "C'mon, girls, let's hustle—"
No one protested, following Botan's lead without complaint. And I trailed along after with a small, secretive smile—because if this start was anything to go by, we were going to be very late, indeed.
Another flock of birds took flight when Botan bellowed, "We ended up back here again?!"
The demons playing a game of dice beside the stadium gates leapt from their seats, startled by the sound of Botan's roar. Shizuru, meanwhile, hung her head; Yukina twittered in dismay; Atsuko laughed, and Botan shot her a toothy glare in response. We had been walking in circles for a while before Botan claimed to know where we were and how to get to the new stadium, but her little "shortcut" had only brought us back to precisely where we'd started (just like in canon, I had privately celebrated). Dejectedly Botan trudged into the stadium, looking through forlorn eyes at the abandoned halls and the quiet ring in the stadium's deserted center. We all followed in silence, mostly because her woeful demeanor was just too pitiable to tease.
Well… almost. At the back of our little squad, I suppressed a smirk and muttered, "I knew we should've taken that left turn at Albuquerque."
"Hmm?" Yukina, beside me, touched my arm and frowned. "Keiko, what did you say?"
"Nothing, Yukina. Just a terrible joke." I forced a smile, and when our group once again came to stand in the middle of the ring, I said, "Hey, Botan?"
She sniffled loudly. "Yes, Keiko?"
"Maybe we should ask someone for directions?"
She just shook her head. "These demons probably don't even have tickets to the fights, much less directions on how to get to them!"
"Still worth a shot," Atsuko said, breaking into a jog toward a band of demons fighting near the edge of the ring. "I'll go ask."
"I think I may have seen an information packet near the front desk near the stadium entrance," Yukina offered. "But no one was there…"
Botan's face lit up. "Good, thinking Yukina! That's still a fine place to start!"
The pair headed back the way we'd come; Atsuko had already made it over to the demons brawling nearby, joining their group and cheering them on as they tussled. As Botan and Yukina walked away, steps slow thanks to the restriction of Yukina's yukata, I lifted my book and buried my nose in it again. We were very late, just as I'd hoped, but I figured I shouldn't volunteer to hunt for information about the new stadium. The longer it took us to get there, the better. After all, the girls hadn't made it back to the stadium until the second-to-last match, and—
"Call me crazy," Shizuru said, "but you don't seem terribly concerned about all of this."
I flinched, because for a minute there, I'd forgotten that she was standing just a few feet away, lazily flicking ash off the tip of her cigarette. She regarded me with a blank stare, face as inscrutable as the nigh indecipherable text of the tournament rulebook.
I just shrugged, though, trying to play it cool. "We'll get where we're going eventually. No sense getting worked up."
"And here I thought you were the high-strung sort," she said, barest hint of a laugh creeping into her voice. The laugh disappeared when she asked, "Tell me, Keiko. Is my brother all right?"
"How should I know?" I started to say—but the look on her face stopped me cold.
Shizuru was many things: calm, cool, collected, and smart, just to name a few. Not the kind of person to underestimate, nor the kind of person you could easily lead astray when they asked you a direct question. My usual prevarication wouldn't work on her; I'd known that since the day we met on that playground so many years prior, and the conversation we'd had after my little chat with Sakyo had served as a painful reminder of that fact. Shizuru had not minced words when she said she knew I was anything but normal, and that she'd be watching me because of it. She didn't know the details of my abnormality, but much like how Yusuke had instinctually guessed something about me was off, so too had Shizuru. That meant that getting defensive wasn't going to win me any brownie points here—especially not after Shizuru had literally watched me break her brother's heart the day before. If she was sore at me, she was entirely justified in that feeling, and there was no need for me to make it any worse by dodging her questions.
Slowly, I closed my book, though I kept a finger between the pages to mark my place. "Your brother is fighting like he always does, I suspect," I said. I had to work up the courage to ask, "Did he seem OK last night?"
She blew out a plume of blue smoke. "Heartbroken, to put it mildly."
I winced. "Great."
But Shizuru just shrugged. "It's the truth, not a judgement call. But it's a good thing he isn't the type to let a little heartache stand between him and putting up a fight." She took another drag, lips curling just a little around her cigarette, "If anything, his punches might fly a little straighter. Hit a little harder. Who knows?"
"Well," I said, unsure if I was allowed to feel comforted, "I hope they do."
She nodded absently. "So any idea if he'll come out of these fights OK?"
"You'll just have to wait and see." A beat. "And you might not have to wait as long as you think."
Shizuru lifted a single brow quite high. "What, you call us a taxi or something?"
"No." I tried very hard not to laugh at my own joke. "But I get the feeling an update will be dropping in soon enough."
Shizuru frowned. "What the heck does that mean?"
Before she could finish, Atsuko yelled our names; she had trotted back in our direction and was waving what appeared to be a paper napkin in her fist. "Hey! The demons over there drew me a map!" She held it toward us when she skidded to a stop. "It's not that far, but if we want to get there soon, we should probably—"
"Girls!" Botan trilled from our right. She was running pell-mell across the lawn toward the ring, Yukina following more sedately behind her. "We found a map!"
"Hey, that's great!" Atsuko said, beaming. "Two maps are better than one."
"And with five heads between us," Botan said, "we should be able to deduce how best to—"
Botan bit back her words with a cry when a red bright light flashed over us, sending our shadows long and dark across the ring's hard floor. A wind kicked up, too, rattling the map in Atsuko's hand with the sound of rustling, then tearing, paper. I looked up as the flash repeated, only to find—a line? A twenty-foot line like a crack through a mirror, rending the sky overhead in two. It was like someone had taken a sharpie to the sky, but the line radiated an awful scarlet luminescence that hurt to look at straight on—nothing like the portal I had expected to see in the sky above us.
No. This didn't look anything like that expected portal whatsoever.
The demons who had drawn Atsuko's map didn't waste any time in getting lost. They yelled and shrieked and scattered for the exits, their feet pounding the grass like a herd of rampaging buffalo, and Shizuru hissed between her teeth as the line expanded, flaring outward into a pitch-colored circle, dark as death against the sky's bright blue. It looked like a solar eclipse, black with edges that radiated red, but just as I vaguely thought that the darkness didn't look anything like Shishiwakamaru's dimension shawl in the anime, the darkness rippled like a lake disturbed by a stone. It rippled and buckled and expanded outward, shapes rising from the deep before breaking through the inky surface with a roar that placed a ringing in my ears.
Five demons emerged from the darkness. They fell like stones to the ground not ten feet away, and as they rose to their full heights, Shizuru stepped between them and the rest of our group, a set of green spirit-knives flaring to life around her knuckles.
"Stay behind me, all of you," Shizuru said.
She didn't have to tell us twice. We gathered behind her, staring warily at the demons as the rift above shrank back down to a line, and then to nothing at all. The red light faded away bit by bit until naught but sunshine remained, but even so, the demons were still intimidating. One had a pair of enormous bat wings streaming from its shoulders, face whiskered like a cats and arms scaled like an alligator. Another looked like an enormous ogre, loincloth covering its hips, claws hands clasped around a massive club. Two were identical, with grey skin and horn down their spines and the lengths of their lashing tails.
It was the last demon who broke the silence. Although he had the beak of a bird and stood hunched like the keeper of Notre Dame, muscle corded his purple arms, and in his five orange eyes gleamed intelligence undeniable. He lifted a hand and pointed it at us, curved claws dirty with a dark brown substance I hoped like hell wasn't blood.
Only, when my friends all turned to look at me in shock, I realized he hadn't been pointing at 'us' at all.
"You. Girl," he rasped in a voice like enraged hornets, staring straight at me. "Come with us, and we might let your friends get away with most of their limbs intact."
I gasped on reflex, dropping into a defensive stance without even thinking. The girls around me at once surged forward, putting me at the back of the line with Yukina—but that wasn't right. This demon (whoever he was) wanted me, not them, and it wasn't right for them to stand on the front lines and put themselves in danger when I was the one who—
"Bud," Shizuru scoffed, not at all phased, "if you're trying to be intimidating, you need to try harder."
"Keiko?" Atsuko looked between me and the demon and back again. "What the hell do you want with Keiko?"
"None of your business," the demon hissed, but rather than back down, Botan just took a step forward and tossed her hair.
"Yeah… not on our watch!" she said, raising her fists before her. In a quieter voice she told us, "They look like they mean business, but judging from their energy, this is nothing we can't handle."
"I'll say." Atsuko punched a fist into her opposite hand, grinning ear to ear. "Save some for me, Shizuru. I like to start a day with some light exercise."
"All of you, be smart about this," I snapped, heart hammering in the roof of my mouth. "We're outnumbered, and—"
"You be smart," Atsuko retorted. "We're tough and they're assholes. We can take 'em."
"Keep an eye on Yukina, kid," Shizuru agreed, "and let us take out the trash."
I didn't move. I wanted to join in and kick those demons' asses. I wanted to tell my friends to back down and run. I wanted to kick demon ass by myself and figure out what the heck was happening all alone. I wanted my friends with me to face the truth, because it was sure to be ugly. I wanted to lead the demons away from my friends so they wouldn't figure out what was happening. I wanted—
I wanted—
The girls were all looking at me expectantly, and I realized that it didn't matter a hill of beans what I wanted—especially not when Yukina grabbed my arm and gasped, her enormous eyes pleading with me to just go.
My heart softened at once.
How annoying.
"Ugh, fine!" I grabbed Yukina's hand and pulled. "Yukina, this way. C'mon!"
She had trouble running in her yukata, but we still made good time as we headed for the edge of the ring and jumped over it, hunkering in its shadow on the grass beside the towering concrete platform. Even so, by the time we reached our spot, the rest of our troupe had already leapt into action. I huddled with Yukina, an arm around her shoulders, listening as punches connected with flesh and one of the demons made a garbled yelp of pain—
Atsuko gave a warning shout. A thump and a scratching sound ripped along the concrete above, and then a shadow passed over our hiding spot. The winged demon with the cat face stood before us on the grass, only a few feet away with claws outstretched. Yukina yelped and shrank back, hand on my arm gripping tight. He was so close I could see the striations of black around his slit pupil, deep as the portal that had birthed him.
"No use running, girl." The demon leered, its wings beating small buffets of air at us. "Hand yourself over and I might leave the ice apparition—"
The mention of Yukina sent a spike of rage through my chest; I slammed my back against the side of the fighting ring and grabbed its edge above my head with my hands, performing a quick walk-up using the demon's smug face for purchase, delivering a series of kicks to his groin, stomach, chest, chin and forehead as I sent my body flying upward and back. He staggered with a yowl as the force of the kicks sent me flying, landing on my heels on the edge of the ring a few feet up, and I had barely even landed when I grabbed knives from the bandolier around my thigh and threw them right as his stupid, furry chest. He yowled again, but before he could so much as fall down, I leapt from the ring and delivered a swift, downward heel-kick to the top of his skull. He crumpled underneath me, going still and quiet in the time it takes to say, "You done fucked up."
I guess Yukina wasn't expecting that, because she looked quite shocked by the demon's unconscious form lying prone upon the grasp. "Yukina, are you all right?" I said, taking her arm, and she came back to me with a start.
"I'm fine," she said. "That—that was amazing."
I tried to tell the pride ballooning in my chest to shut the hell up, but I couldn't quite keep a smile off my face. "It's nothing compared to Shizuru and Botan," I said, trying to sound modest. "And Atsuko kicks ass, herself."
To illustrate, Atsuko's roar of triumph echoed through the abandoned stadium. Yukina cocked her head, hand slipping around my wrist with cool fingers.
"I wish…" She swallowed, eyes distant. "I wish I could…"
I knew how she must feel. I'd spent too much time around people with superpowers not to know how she must feel. "We all have our talents. Your healing, for instance, has been a huge blessing," I said, hoping to distract her. "So don't sweat it, OK?"
Yukina nodded, although she didn't look convinced. I pointed above us at the edge of the ring.
"Sounds like they're done up there," I said. "Why don't we…?"
Yukina nodded again. After making sure the coast was clear, I helped her get back into the ring, and together we crossed the platform to rejoin our friends. No one looked any worse for wear, I saw as we approached; relief instantly filled my gut to the brim. Atsuko stood with a foot on the chest of one of the twin demons, her own chest puffed as she preened.
"Pretty cool, huh?" she said. "We kick ass!"
"Yeah," I said, eyeing the demons. One of them looked quite dead, considering his head lay a few feet from his body (Shizuru's handiwork, no doubt). "You do."
"You were all wonderful," Yukina concurred.
Botan laughed, rubbing the back of her neck with delight. "Oh, it was nothing, really!" she said, still chortling. "Just standing up for a friend, that's all. Nothing heroic about it!"
"No one said anything about heroic…" Shizuru muttered, and Botan stuck out her tongue.
Just then, the demon Atsuko stood upon gave a weak cough, groaning as its eyes fluttered in its face. Atsuko cracked her knuckles, hopping off of him—but only so she could deliver a swift kick to his ribcage.
"Well, looks like we left at least one or two of them alive," she said, kicking his ribs again and again. "Hey. Wake up! We have an interrogation to perform!"
"That's right." Shizuru turned to me with a grimace. "They were after you, Keiko. What do you suppose they wanted?
"Beats me," I said, which was by no means a lie. "I don't know what they—"
From above us came another flash. Internally I groaned, and Yukina cried out about more demons coming, but the sky above us did not look anything like the black line and red glare from earlier. Instead the sky had been covered in a diaphanous white mist, one that swirled around and around on itself in an undulating maelstrom, thick as pea soup and as opaque as a brick wall.
But while my friends groaned and griped at the sight of it, I just grinned—because this portal was what I'd been waiting for, and it was right on schedule.
"What now?!" Atsuko shouted as the wind rose, sending dust scattering around us in a dervish.
"Not another demonic kidnapping, I hope!" said Botan.
"No," Shizuru yelled. "This feels different than before. It feels like—" She did a double-take, comical in her surprise. "Kazuma?!"
Botan did a double-take, too. "Kazuma?!"
"What do you mean, it feels like your brother?" Atsuko yodeled.
No time to explain; the portal was opening, the mists parting to reveal a white void from which the form of Kuwabara Kazuma came plummeting to earth like a stone. It had been hard to tell how far up the mists had been when they had first appeared, but Kuwabara had at least a hundred and fifty feet to fall, and Yukina gave a horrified gasp as his arms and legs pin-wheeled around him during his descent and a bellow escaped his wide-stretched mouth.
Not that Kuwabara was a stranger to being dropped from high places, especially over this particular fighting ring. But rather than rest on the laurels of past achievements, he instead twisted in the air to face upward, extending one hand toward the mists—mists that had rapidly begun to fade now that they had delivered their cargo to its destination. The glowing heft of the Spirit Sword shot out of his hand toward it, glowing bright gold against the paleness above.
"Don't count me out yet, Shishiwaka-whatever!" Kuwabara bellowed, rage making his voice both shriek and boom at once. "That was a dirty trick you pulled and I'm gonna make you sorry, you sorry son of a—"
The Sword shot further into the sky, and for a moment I wasn't sure what he was trying to achieve—but even my mundane eyes could tell that his Sword didn't look like its usual self. No, instead it was longer and thinner than I was used to seeing it, snaking like a whip through the sky as its point sharpened into a needlelike skewer—and then the sword pierced the veil above like an icepick through taffeta, disappearing completely into the mist. Kuwabara's descent slowed, sword stretching until his body came to a stop in the air, and then the sword retracted, yanking Kuwabara upward once again. He gave another ferocious scream as it dragged him toward the sky, but the scream cut off when Kuwabara disappeared into the mists and out of sight.
A moment later, the mists faded from view, leaving behind nothing but blue sky.
We stood there, blinking at the sky in silence, for at least a minute. Maybe more.
Shizuru said, "Well." She puffed a bit quickly on her cigarette. "Looks like baby bro learned how to bungee jump, I guess?"
Botan's open mouth snapped shut. "What was that?" she said, rounding on us. "A portal? A gateway? I'm flummoxed, I tell you, flummoxed!" She looked at the sky again, awed. "And when did he learn to do that with the Spirit Sword?"
"Kazuma always has been full of surprises," Shizuru remarked. "And speaking of surprises." She jerked a thumb at the demons on the ground, and one of them gave a low groan. "What's say we wake these demons up and get some answers, huh?"
Atsuko's hand shot into the air. "I call dibs on torture!"
"Atsuko, you can't torture—wait." Botan's scolding cut off. "Do all of you see that?"
We all followed her gaze, and we found the demons on the ground… unraveling.
There isn't another word for it (at least not one I know of). The bodies of the demons were solid enough, but at the edges—fingertips and toes, tops of their heads and the soles of their feet—they had begun to… come apart. It wasn't gory. They weren't falling into bloody chunks or dissolving as if they'd been placed in acid. They were simply fuzzy, unraveling like a sweater with a fraying edge, the heft and weight of their physical forms disincorporating into matter not quite discernable to the naked eye. Eventually they blurred and came apart enough to collapse in on themselves, chests and faces and limbs caving in and disappearing with a flurry of—
My chest tightened. I took three sharp steps forward and bent, swiping my fingers through a demon's unraveling hand just before it disappeared.
Around my fingertips tangled red thread—thinner even than spider web, than silk, than the space between the whorls of my fingerprints—which blew away on the breeze and disappeared.
The demons' bodies followed suit. The wind picked up their remnant threads and tossed them across the ring, a scarlet tumbleweed with strands almost too thin to see, which soon dissolved on the air and out of sight. Shizuru grabbed at the thread, too, rubbing it between her fingertips until it vanished.
I knew, without even looking, that the demon I had defeated had suffered a similar fate.
And despite how inconceivable their deaths had been, I knew with equal certainty exactly what was happening—or, more importantly, who was to blame for it.
Oblivious to my thoughts, Shizuru said, "That is the weirdest thing I've ever seen. And I've seen my brother try to shave."
Botan shivered, wrapping her arms around herself as she stared at the spaces where demons once lay. "What do you think those were?" she said, voice low with uncertain urgency. "Surely they weren't really demons, were they?"
"And if they weren't demons," said Atsuko, flabbergasted, "what were they, exactly?"
Yukina put her hand on my arm. "And why were they after you, Keiko?"
Silence reigned for a few moment, broken only by the whisper of the wind and the sound of some far-off demons yelling. The weight of eyes on my skin caused my breath to quicken, the hair on my arms to rise. But I didn't turn to face anyone, and I forced my breathing back to rights as best I could.
Botan, disliking my silence, came forward to stand beside Yukina. "Do you think this could be Sakyo? He sent for you once before," she said, searching my face. "Or was it Team Toguro? The Tournament Committee?"
I latched onto that like a fish on a line. "Yeah—I'll bet you it was the committee."
She looked surprised that I'd agreed. "You do?"
"Yeah. Think about it." I tapped my temple, looking as sly as I could. "Kidnap the childhood friend of the team captain? I'll bet they were trying to rattle the boys, but they won't succeed." Trying to look serious, like I really believed what I was saying, I strode away from my friends toward the exit, gesturing for them to follow. "C'mon, everyone. Let's go. We need to get going, now, and cheer them on."
"Keiko," Botan called after me, "but that thread—"
I cut her off, tossing words over my shoulder like breadcrumbs. "I'll bet they don't want us there, you know! That whole stadium will be against the team. We're their only supporters, and that committee knows it. Maybe they're even trying to psych the boys out right now, asking them where we are." I started to run, voice rising high and reedy. "We need to get there, fast, and prove that their little plan has failed!"
Feet slapped the pavement. "Hell yeah! I agree!" Atsuko said. "Let's rub their faces in this!"
"That does sound nice, I'll admit." Botan started running, too, and soon Yukina and Shizuru followed—chasing the breadcrumbs I had thrown them. "So what are we waiting for? Let's go!"
We ran, and we ran, and we ran. Shizuru eventually took point, grabbing the map from Botan so she could navigate our way to the next stadium. Atsuko whipped us into a frenzy with encouragements and jibes at the committee, screaming at the sky that we were coming and that they better hold on, tight, and that we'd kick their asses just like we'd kicked those demons'. I didn't speak but to agree with them when I could, adding my voice to the chorus so they wouldn't notice when I dropped to the middle of the pack, and then to the very back of it.
So they wouldn't notice that when they plunged into the forest, I dropped into a walk, and then I stopped completely.
So they wouldn't notice when I turned around and ran—fast as my legs could carry me—back to the hotel.
Otoha eyed me up and down, hands gripping the drink cart a little tighter. Voice so low I could barely hear it over the hum of the elevator, she whispered, "Are you sure about this?"
I didn't reply—because I wasn't.
Otoha's key to the 14th floor of Hotel Kubikukuri had perfectly fit the elevator lock, just as the spare maid uniform she'd filched from the laundry had fit like a glove when I tried it on. We were dressed identically, with ruffled headpieces and frilly aprons, bearing a cart of champagne and crystal glasses up to the VIP lounge. The champagne had been requested an hour prior, and I had run panting through the secret door into the hotel staff HQ just as Otoha started to take it upstairs.
Good timing, I'd thought at the time.
But as the elevator doors swung open, I had to wonder if this was really such a fortuitous coincidence, after all.
We arrived as a quartet of other maids (instantly recognizable by their uniforms) were leaving, standing and waiting for the elevator at the end of a long hallway. At the other end of the hallway stood a small set of double doors, flanked on either side by burly demons clad in stark black suits. I tried not to stare at them (and I tried not to look conspicuous) as Otoha and I left the elevator, our cart rattling as we passed through the troupe of waiting maids.
Otoha paused to whisper something in one of their ears. I wasn't sure what. She came back to the cart to push it forward in seconds, a pleasant smile on her pretty face.
"Act natural," she murmured without moving her lips. "He's in private room #4."
"Ominous."
"You're telling me." Her smile widened into a grin as we neared the security guards. "Hello, boys."
The pair guarding the door was a sight to behold. One had the breadth of a barn, more or less, with biceps like hams and the face of a yak. The other was rangier, with a long snout and silver eyes, hands clawed and body furry like a wolf. Despite their appearances, they both smiled as Otoha appeared; the yak had a mouth of serrated shark teeth, but even so, it was clear they liked her as she and I rolled the cart their way.
"Otoha!" said the shark-toothed yak. "Any goodies for us?"
She grinned and produced a bundle tied in cloth from underneath the cart. "Of course!" she said, handing it over, and the yak-man dug into the load of bread within with gusto. He broke off a piece for the wolf-guy, but the wolf didn't dig in right away. He turned his face to the side to look at me out of one grey eye, taking in my face and uniform with a huff through the snout.
"Who's the new girl?" he said.
"From the cleaning crew, but it was a waste of a pretty face." Otoha pushed the cart forward; the yak pushed the door open for her, grinning around a mouthful of bread. "See you boys later."
"Bye, Otoha."
The wolf man bowed. "See ya next time."
She giggled and batted her lashes at them, but as soon as we were past the doors, she turned her back on them and made a gagging face. It was cute, but I couldn't feel it within myself to laugh—and when we came upon another plain door set in a plain wall, and Otoha pushed it open, I quite forgot about laughing entirely.
The VIP club was like a Vegas casino at first glance: card tables, a craps table, three sparkling bars and a huge line of slot machines arranged in a crescent around a seating area. There were mirrors on the ceiling and crystal chandeliers, demons wearing skimpy cocktail dresses skipping around on high heels to serve drinks to the patrons at the poker table. There was even a dancefloor and a string quartet off to one side, though you could hardly hear the music over the sound of people talking, laughing and carrying on. But when you got past that first impression, the club revealed itself as something else, something other than any mere casino. The people were too well-dressed, men and women alike dripping with jewels and furs and dresses and suits that must've each cost and individual fortune. Casinos had their fair share of high rollers, sure, but this many in one place? That felt unusual, and watching the glitzy shimmer of the room, I felt completely out of place.
Not that anyone paid us any mind. We had exited a small door hidden behind a large potted plant, and no one seemed to notice as we wheeled the champagne cart through the lounge toward the nearest bar. The bar was all covered in mirrors, velvet-covered chairs surrounding it, and the demon serving drinks behind it wore a tuxedo of impeccable tailoring—a real feat considering he had six arms, but anyway.
This six-armed bartender greeted Otoha with a nod and helped us unload a few crates of champagne (behind the bar where no one could see) before telling us to fill glasses. Otoha poured us each a tray's worth of champagne flutes before bidding me to stand near her by the slot machines, where we passed out drinks to anyone who walked by. No one gave us a second look, and despite feeling out of place, it appeared that our uniforms were enough of a disguise to keep us from being noticed. The rich never really noticed their waitstaff, after all…
After a few minutes, Otoha caught my eye and gave a subtle nod to the left-hand side of the room. "See the doors over there?" she said. "Try not to stare."
I did as asked. About a dozen doors sat against the far wall, each of them guarded by a demon in a suit and dark sunglasses. Each door was crafted from polished wood embossed with golden symbols that made them resemble playing cards of various suits and numbers. Three of hearts, king of clubs, ten of diamonds—they appeared to be a random selection of numbers and suits, but soon my eyes caught sight of a door with a familiar number of diamonds emblazed upon it.
"Room four is the four of diamonds door, I presume?" I muttered to Otoha under my breath.
She smiled as a patron took a glass from her, then muttered back, "Smart girl, but there's a catch."
"Always is," I said after the patron walked away.
"There are actually quite a few rooms behind each door. A suite, really." She paused as a few more patrons walked up, waiting for them to leave before saying, "My friend only saw him go into the four of diamonds, but where he went from there…"
"Gotta play detective."
"Yeah." She jerked her head toward the bar. "But someone will call for refreshments soon. When that happens…"
"… we head in, and I sneak off to snoop," I guessed.
"You got it." Otoha's tray had emptied; she gestured for me to follow her and get more glasses. "Now we gotta play it cool, so just pass out that champagne with a smile."
"Got it!"
I did my best not to stare at the four of diamonds door while we refreshed our trays, but it was difficult. Knowing that Otoha had it on good authority that he was back there had my stomach in knots. Aside from our brief almost-contact by the elevators, I had never been so close to the man (boy? god?) before. Now that I was within spitting distance, the reality of the situation was beginning to dawn on me. Sure, I had fantasized a million times or more about giving Hiruko a good verbal smackdown, and I sure as hell was goddamn livid enough to seek him out to deliver one… but to have a shot at actually doing it? What should I say? Would I freeze up at a crucial moment, or…?
Cheers erupted from one of the nearby tables. One man held up a fist in triumph while others clapped, and soon the dealer at that table (a demon, judging by his green skin) handed over a big gold coin—far larger than any currency I had ever seen. As people cheered him on, the winner of the coin swaggered over to the wall of card-suit doors, where he walked through the queen of hearts door with another fist-pump.
Behind him, the demon blackjack dealer's face had gone… stony?
"I should warn you, Keiko."
Startled, I turned to find Otoha staring at me, expression serious. She hadn't let her smile slip since we walked into the room, and the contrast between this expression and her previous couldn't have been more striking.
"There are… rumors," Otoha said. "Rumors about what goes on back there. It's for the richest of the rich, and they… indulge in things they can't on the mainland." She shook her head, slow, a clear warning if I'd ever seen one. "Look for Hiruko, but don't get nosey."
I nodded. Otoha watched me for a moment, and—satisfied that I had listened—pasted her smile back on. She returned to serving drinks, cheerily thanking the humans hungry for alcohol.
I had to wonder what else these rich, indulgent assholes were hungry for.
I had to wonder what lay behind those doors.
I had to wonder, but I had no intention of finding out. I knew what the Black Black Club was capable of, after all. I was there for one thing, and one thing only, and I didn't need to get scarred, Sensui-style, in the process of obtaining it.
Now to wait on pins and needles to finally get what I'd come for.
Luckily, I didn't have to wait for long. Soon enough, a light illuminated above the bar, symbols swimming into view behind the mirror that sat along its back—and the light depicted four diamonds. The bartender loaded up another tray at once, whiskeys and wine and a plate of cocktail onions speared with tiny golden swords, which he gave to Otoha to carry. She placed it on our cart from earlier, gave him a nod, and nodded at me to help her push the cart.
My hands, around its push-bar, slipped and slid, slick with sweat.
"Maids on this level only ever traveled in pairs," she'd told me while I dressed in a uniform. "No one will question it, if we're together."
And indeed, no one did. The walk over to the four of diamonds door felt like it took a millennia, and at any moment I expected a guard to appear and scream at us to stop in our tracks, or to just strike us down on the spot. But that never happened, and when we finally reached the four of diamonds, the guards only looked over at the bar to confirm which light had lit up before gesturing for us to go inside. Otoha didn't say a word to them, and together we stepped over the threshold and into the unknown.
The minute the door shut behind us with an ominous click, a hush fell, noise muffled so much that the sounds of music and laughter had faded completely away. It was eerie, how entirely the former raucous revelry had faded, and I couldn't help it when a shiver coursed its way up my back.
The scenery didn't help, either. We stood at the end of a long corridor, one lined on each side with about a dozen doors. Another set of doors—double-doors made of heavy wood—sat on the corridor's far end. Above a door to our left, a tiny red light gleamed in the dark. It was the only light in the space aside from a single golden bulb behind a frosted glass fixture overhead, shadows as deep as the color of Otoha's dark hair. Immediately Otoha pushed the drink cart toward the door below the red light, giving me a nod as the cart's wheels whispered quietly across the polished hardwood floor.
"Get to work," that nod commanded.
I obeyed.
As walking straight into the mysterious rooms seemed the opposite of wise, I performed the age-old, Scooby-Doo style investigative tactic of pressing my ear to each door I passed (there were no keyholes to peer through, to my disappointment). The first few doors revealed nothing, the space beyond them utterly silent. One door kept a trio of talking people from sight; none of them sounded like Hiruko, so I moved on, pressing my ear to a door that contained a group of people laughing uproariously at—who's to say? Again, none sounded like Hiruko, so I kept walking toward another door.
Behind the next door, I heard a low scraping sound. Like a handsaw through wood, echoing rhythmically on the air.
I moved on quickly.
Behind the next door, someone was screaming.
I moved on even more quickly than before.
The next-to-last door seemed empty at first, but as I pressed my ear to it, a single sob broke the silence. A quiet laugh followed, and then silence reigned again.
That door, somehow, was the worst of all—and so I came to stand, knees shaking, before the final door. The one at the end of the hall. The one that, somehow, I had a hunch would be the one I sought.
And it was the one I sought, because the minute I neared it, a voice from within called: "It's unlocked."
For a moment, I hesitated.
But hesitation would not serve me well in what was sure to come, so I refused to overthink it, and I pushed the doors wide open.
The room beyond them was huge—huge, and almost empty. A gigantic lounge with an unoccupied bar and multiple seating areas comprising many plush couches and chairs, the space immediately revealed itself as expensively appointed but thoroughly unappreciated. The back wall was all windows, floor-to-ceiling and sparkling, providing any would-be occupant with a gorgeous view of the island (but not as pretty as the one Jin had shown me, I couldn't help but think). Rather than these things, however, my eyes were drawn to the vase of flowers sitting on a table in the lounge's exact center, and to the man silhouetted at their side. The tall vase reached nearly to his head, and from it extended even taller flowers, their petals nearly brushing the chandelier dripping crystal from above.
They were sunflowers, of course. Dozens of them hanging on long stems, their faces pointed in my direction, as sunny and as cheerful as the pink-haired man who stood beside them.
Our eyes met, soon enough—and Hiruko grinned when he said, "Hello, my lucky child. It's about time you showed up."
Softly, the doors fell shut behind me.
NOTES
WHEW. This collection of scenes has been living in my head since I first started this fic three years ago, and I was so glad to get these mental images onto paper (screen?) at long last—particularly the one of the demons collapsing into red thread and the image of Hiruko beside an enormous vase of sunflowers, not to mention the image of NQK sneaking into the club in a friggin' maid uniform. Because this wouldn't be a proper sneaking mission without a disguise and Scooby-Doo-style eavesdropping, says I!
It isn't like NQK to be quite this reckless, but the rubber truly has met the road, and desperate times now call for desperate measures. Will her recklessness bite her in the ass? Probably. But there wouldn't be much excitement if she always made the 100% perfect decision every time, so I'm content with her running off like this. She's at her mental breaking point, after all, and some less-than-responsible decision-making on her part is, frankly, realistic.
Both of the shorts I promised last chapter HAVE BEEN POSTED! So go check out Children of Misfortune if you haven't yet.
Many thanks to all those who were there for LC's return from hiatus. I value your words and kindness so much. Coming back after hiatus was honestly the most nerve-racking experience I've had to date regarding this fic, and you made the return so much easier. Thanks to all of you, from the bottom of my heart: SuzyQBeats, Melissa Fairy, vodka and tea, XxXTwilightSinXxX, xenocanaan, starlightstella, NightlyKill, mothedman, Biku sensei sez meow, Mistress Belfray, Kaiya Azure, EdenMae, SterlingBee, Kitty-ryn, AnonymousNett, Yakiitori, RedPanda923, MusicofMadness, Sorlian, cestlavie, buzzk97, SMAshleyRenee, general zargon, Convoluted Compassion, Sweetfoxgirl13, tammywammy9, WaYaADisi1, McMousie, Neko Mizuko, Forthwith16, read a rainbow, MetroNeko, alexandria530, ewokling, setokayba2n, MyWorldHeartBeating and unnamed guests!
This update means I've tentatively returned to a biweekly update schedule, and unless something unexpected happens, I aim to update again two weeks from now—Sunday, January 19, 2020. See you then!
