After Kenji finished his meal with Beom-so, he found himself walking home. After all, it was ABB turf and nobody was going to fuck with him.

"Hey, Kenji!"

Kenji looked over and saw Jiro. He hadn't seen him since he'd fucked up the drive.

"Jiro, I'm surprised the Oni didn't kill you," Kenji said.

"Hah!" Jiro said. "They put me in charge of the merchandise. They trust me, not like you. I know what you're shipping…" He smirked. "Wanna know?" Kenji smelled the booze on his breath. He was drunk. Like he had been when they'd almost gotten caught in the car.

Caution warred with curiosity. "I… Drugs?"

"Shows you're still a fucking dummy," Jiro said. He grinned. "Oni talked to me, said I had what it took."

"So what?"

"C'mon, for old times sake, I'll show you." Jiro grinned. "After all, you get to just be a messenger boy, you might as well see it…maybe you can ask to sample the shit."

"Right…" Kenji said.

Jiro led him to the warehouse, past a few security cameras. "Don't worry about that, I'm tight with the Oni." Jiro said. He opened a heavy door and gestured Kenji through.

It was dark. That was his first thought. All the windows were painted over or boarded up.

And then the smell hit. Old urine, sweat, something else, a sweet odor that was somehow sickening. Everything was dark with a few lights shining down on the cages.

Dog cages? But they were bigger than any dog cages he'd seen.

"This is where we keep the merchandise before Lung comes and selects who goes where," Jiro said.

Kenji started as a figure ran to the facing edge of one of the cages. It was…

A woman? Kenji stared. She was busty,good looking with a bobbed haircut, like those lingerie models in the catalogs he'd had under his bed when he was twelve, before Mom had found them.

She was Japanese, talking so fast that it was hard to understand.

"Please, please, sir, there must be a mistake!" she begged. "I came to be a maid. I have my papers. Please tell Mr. Sato! He was the one who came to the school and hired me!"

"They fucking say this all the time," Jiro said. "Wanna check?"

Kenji suddenly realized that she wasn't a woman. She was a girl. His age? Younger? It was hard to tell. There was straw on the floor and a bucket…

A stinking bucket.

"Don't they have a bathroom?" His voice sounded calm. How could it sound calm?

"We spray 'em down every few days and then clean 'em up before Lung comes, or before a buyer shows up." Jiro grinned. "The good ones go over to the high class places, the others…" He shook his head. "Lung has a lot of buyers, all over the place."

There were others. Girls, women, but they were quiet, looking down, not meeting Jiro's gaze. Just the girl here.

"Please sir, Mr. Sato told me that I would be working as a maid, that I would be going to high school here! My family paid Mr. Sato and the immigration agency…"

Suddenly Jiro's face turned daemonic and he pulled the door open. "STUPID SLUT!" he slapped her, hard, and she fell down, scrambling back into the corner. "You're Lung's! That's what you are. Your family paid shit!" He reached down, slapped her again. "This is what Lung bought you for, why do you think he wanted a photo! Keep whining and I'll send you to the place where the E88 guys go to slap around an Asian. They like that!"

The girl didn't say anything, just crossed her arms, whimpered and pushed herself back into the corner. A stream of yellow urine dripped down her thighs and onto the straw.

"And you're not getting a bath!" Jiro yelled. "Not unless someone wants to fuck you." He looked over at Kenji who was just staring. "She's not a virgin. That's the first thing we check. If she had been, she'd be worth more." He slapped Kenji on the back. "C'mon! Let's get something to drink in the watch office. Maybe when the boss comes back, you can lose your virginity!"

"Yeah," Kenji said. "I drank a lot with Beom-soo. Got a bathroom?"

"Sure, over there, Don't take too long, or I'll drink the good booze."

"Right…"

Kenji walked to the bathroom. A few people looked up at him, looked down. Nobody spoke. There must be at least twenty people in here.

And nobody spoke.

He made it to the bathroom just in time, as the rich, good food he'd eaten came back up. He crouched over the toilet vomiting everything up.

Beom-soo couldn't have known… Could he? He was such a nice guy. He had to be in the dark…

Then Kenji remembered.

The captain winced. "Yeah, about that. We ran into a storm, lost one of the loads."

Beom-soo hissed. "And the merchandise?"

"Went down into 4,000 feet. It's with Leviathan now."

"Don't Mock," Beom-Soo had said.

He'd been angry.

You wouldn't get angry over just objects. There had been people in there. Like that girl. A little box. Maybe a light, but if they didn't care here, why would they give them a light?

But it would have to have vents, and when it plunged into the depths, the water would come in. Spraying in, filling the chamber. People crying to get out, fingernails scraping against ste—

This time there was no food, just bile. Kenji went to the sink, desperately trying to scrub his hands. Not of filth. He'd done this.

When he had been nine, he'd stolen some candy. They were poor and everyone else had candy, laughing at Kenji because he was poor and was wearing the clothes the church provided. Mom had dragged him back. Made him stand up and tell the clerk what he'd done. Then she'd paid twice what it had been worth.

"We are poor, but we do not steal."

We are poor… so do we… murder? He'd worked for Lung and he had a new jacket, and a new game system and everything else that let him strut around…

And here was the price.

You couldn't scrub your hands enough to clean that stain.

What do I do? He could go to the police, but Lung had agents in them, everyone knew that. Even if he did, they'd just be sent back to Japan where gangs ruled every block—as bad as the Bay could get, it was better than that. The cops wouldn't let them go to any of the refugee agencies, they'd just put them back on a boat.

And if he did…

You didn't steal Lung's stuff. Not unless you wanted to die. He could always go back, kick back with Jiro, and keep buying good stuff. Anything was better than Japan, right? And they took their chances…

It didn't even sound right in his own mind.

It wasn't his problem!

Except, if you looked at the girl in the right light, she looked a little bit like Kim might in a few years. Some family had paid for her to come here, right from high school, giving money… thinking that she could work as a maid and go to school and maybe, just maybe, become a citizen.

He swallowed. His throat hurt.

He could close his eyes and keep going. Nobody would know.

Not his sister, not his mother, not…

Anyone not named Kenji.

He guessed he didn't have any choice at all. Kenji washed himself up, and walked back to where Jiro was sitting in front of the monitors.

"Hey," Jiro said. "Help yourself!" He gestured as the refrigerator. Kenji nodded, looked at something else.

"So," Kenji said, "we gonna be sharing this?"

"Na. Just me on the night crew. I've got a panic button, but too many people at night might make some people suspicious."

"Good." Without thinking, Kenji brought the iron rod up and down across the back of Jiro's back. There was an ugly snapping sound and the smell of released bowels filled the room.

Oh God, I killed him. I killed him. That didn't happen—all the shows, you just hit the person and they went unconscious. Kenji swallowed. He looked at the monitors. Nobody moved. Nobody came running. He grabbed the keyring and fumbling with it, ran back out into the warehouse, started fumbling with the keys. He opened cell after cell. "Here!" he called. There were blankets and old clothing, probably what they'd worn. Soon the hallway was crowded with quivering, frightened girls.

"Come!" Kenji ordered. "Quickly, quickly!" He bet that they didn't tell Jiro everything. There might be watchers, but he had Jiro's keys, and there was a van. "Run!" The girl he'd first seen was standing not moving, and Kenji whipped off his new jacket and put it around her. "Hurry!"

Then they were off, Kenji wondering when the Oni would appear and end him. But nobody watched. Nobody shouted. The van started right up, and the stars were diamond clear overhead. He drove down to his destination.

The mission was open 24 hours, because you never knew when someone might have to get help. They'd used it when they first came here, and it was neutral ground, supposedly part of the Marquis' Rules. Kenji didn't know, but nobody tagged it.

He opened the door and gestured them in, the shocked guard and receptionist hurrying forward.

"They were… brought, by Lung," he said. "I have to go!"

Lung would kill him. Lung would kill his family. He had to go to them, to tell them. They could take the van and flee, drive far away…

Kenji drove the van as fast as he could, while he heard the sounds of sirens behind him. He pulled up, a few blocks from his apartment. He could—

There was a soft sound behind him. Kenji tensed. Turned.

The Oni stood behind him.

I guess someone else was watching. Kenji thought. Part of him wanted to plead.

But that didn't work on the Oni.

And another part of him wouldn't beg.

The Oni did nothing. Then he gestured as a car full of ABB enforcers pulled up behind him and the men got out. "Bring him to Lung."