Hi everyone! I had a little free time and was able to get a chapter done. Thank you so much to those of you who have checked in and reviewed. I'm always happy to hear from you and answer any questions you may have about the story. I know that my posting has been less frequent than it has in the past but know that I'm always pecking away at the next chapter. We're more than halfway to the end of the story now and I'm going to see this through. Thank you to those of you who have helped me get this far and I can't wait to hear what you think!

That single shot of whiskey had taken enough of the edge off for Beki to think clearly. She didn't notice how her feet throbbed in her sky high stilettos or how her breasts carried a dull ache from being padded up to her chin. Beki could even filter out the deafening bass enough to closely observe the crowd. She had lost sight of Miki behind it and Beki hadn't seen her mother in a while. That either meant they were both in deep trouble or that the mission was a resounding success so far.

After several minutes of watching the bodies sway to the rhythm, a fight broke out. It happened so fast Beki didn't have a chance to catch what started it. Two groups just squared off on the dance floor and started to go at each other with weapons they'd managed to slip past the bouncers. The guards converged on the scene and were met with violent opposition. As if drawn by an unseen force, Beki's eyes picked out a small group moving away from the throng and towards the VIP room. The behavior was odd; everyone who wasn't involved with the fight was running like mad for the exit. This group, however, ambled with an easy gait. It was as if the row behind them were nothing more than a small disagreement between friends. Beki subtly turned to watch them as they passed through the curtains to the VIP area. Two of the men were bodyguards based on their appearance. They must not have been affiliated with the club; the club guards all wore an unspoken uniform of a black tshirt and various colored cargo pants. These guards were in three piece suits, so they must have been privately hired. The man they were escorting wasn't Nakano, though. He had short cropped black hair and was wearing a dark turtleneck with dress slacks. Beki was trying to figure out what other kind of bigshot he would be when he turned his head to face the guard on his far side. As he did, the collar of his turtleneck came down far enough for Beki to see a mass of ugly swirling burn scars.

Her breath caught in her throat as the memories came washing back to her.

The two men holding her down, Yasahiro coming down the stairs and stepping up behind Seiichiro. Beki cried out to him, for him to save her father, and he smiled. Yasahiro took Seiichiro's head in his hands from behind, drew a knife, and drew a red smile across Seiichiro's throat. Beki screamed, feeling her body go hot and the sound of the clicking started. She pulled against the shinobi holding her down, violently jerking to get away and run to her father. One of them punched her and Beki heard a whoosh. The two men holding her were instantly consumed by the flames, their screams dying before they left their throats. Yasahiro dropped Seiichiro's head and kicked the chair at Beki to put some distance between them. The rage had taken hold, the Burned Maiden had awakened, so she stormed past her father's body to get to Yasahiro. Her flames scourged her father's body as she passed; a pyre for a fallen hero. Beki caught up to Yasahiro, who tried to swing at her with the knife, but Beki grabbed him by the neck and shoulder and threw him. He screamed, the smell of his seared flesh filling her nostrils. The sudden wash of chakra and then the quick spending of it left Beki feeling comatose. As she collapsed on the ground beside the smouldering ruins of her father's armor, the last thing Beki saw were the horrible red swirling welts on Yasahiro's flesh.

The men passed into the VIP room silently. Beki was frozen in place, locked in the trauma of her memories as they filled in the gaps of that night, like a bunch of puzzle pieces she had found under the couch. It was the first time Beki had seen her uncle since that night. They had thrown her right in captivity after they found her and Yasahiro had been in the hospital. When his men tried to kill her and failed, he had fled. All this time, Beki had buried her feelings. She had let herself get eaten up by the loss of her father and grieving him. Now that had passed and she could fully come to terms with the man behind it all, a family member Beki had thought she could trust. He had manipulated her, using her as a pawn in an elaborate game to take out her father and take his position.

Beki stood. A numbness had overcome her as she stared out into the red light of the nightclub. The fight had broken up and the crowd was considerably smaller once the bouncers had thrown out the participants. It was a hellish scene, the scent of sweat, alcohol, perfume, and cologne mixing together in a rancid mixture that was one of the worst things Beki had ever had to stomach. Beki expected to feel the deepest hatred against these people, the ones who had harbored her father's murderer. Instead there was a deep sadness for them. She pitied them, existing in places like this deep beneath the earth, squalid like the rats they were. It was with these thoughts Beki walked towards the VIP room, which was now unguarded thanks to the earlier fight. She parted the curtains and stepped inside.

The room was dim, cast in black light. Beki had to pause to get her bearings because there was darkness all around her, seemingly swallowing her up. Beki reached out and touched the wall, finding it surprisingly close and covered in black velvet. She took a few steps forward, following the seam between the wall and the carpet around a corner and into the VIP room proper. It was divided into small booths, each with their own set of privacy curtains. It must have been a slow night; only a few of the booths were closed. Based on the sounds coming from inside, Beki had no interest in what was going on in those booths. She looked around and spotted a booth that was occupied but the curtains weren't drawn. The two guards that had walked in with the scarred man were talking with a dancer at the entrance of their booth. She was practically naked; her underwear was a thong made out of what looked like a scrap of fabric and some dental floss and her breasts were only obscured with Xs made of florescent masking tape. Her body was splattered with neon paint in various colors, making her look like victim of a radioactive spill. After a few moments, the guards turned her away. The dancer immediately spotted Beki and walked over with a perplexed look on her face. She sized Beki up and after a moment, said:

"Are you lost?"

"No," A familiar voice called out from the booth. "She's here to see me."

The dancer shrugged and walked away, leaving Beki alone to face her personal boogey man.

The guards parted and looked at her expectantly. Beki had no choice but to walk over and step inside the booth. The moment she crossed the threshold, the guards dropped the curtain, leaving Beki alone with the man inside. In the eerie, black lit glow of the lamp overhead, there was no mistaking the flash of his eyes. It was Yasahiro.

He had died his hair black and cut it short. Yasahiro had also stopped dressing in traditional wear, most likely to hide the ugly scars on his neck and shoulders. The tendrils of burn still crept up out of the collar of his turtleneck on the left side high enough to marr the perfect skin of his jawline. The burns looked like tiny, twisting tentacles creeping their way towards his ears. By his expression, Yasahiro had been expecting Beki. The tension was palpable as they jockeyed for who would speak first. Usually Beki would take that first bold step, but in the face of her murderous uncle she was somewhat at a loss.

"You've wandered a long way from home, niece," Yasahiro leaned forward in his seat and folded his hands, never breaking eye contact. "And stumbled your way into a pit of vipers."

Beki consciously relaxed herself. Her body's first response was to tense, to let the chill run down her spine and set her hair on end. That would give away her apprehension the way her hair turning colors used to. The Drowned Maiden was gone, though, so as long as Beki was mindful she could keep Yasahiro in the dark about her nerves. "Who says I've stumbled? I'm exactly where I mean to be."

Yasahiro gave a soft chuckle. There was a time Beki thought his laughter sounded warm and friendly. In the sickly glow of the booth it was muffled and sinister, like something you would hear wafting down from an empty attic in a haunted house. "Has the new job brought you that much confidence? You stand tall with your shoulders squared but all I see is a little girl trying to fill shoes much larger than she admits."

"I see a man who could never earn anything for himself," Beki felt the heat start to build under her skin. "And he wasn't strong enough to take it away from a better man, so he lied and cheated to topple him from the shadows."

Yasahiro parted his hands. "I was never up front about it, no, but nothing I did was especially out of the ordinary. You worshipped your father, yet you aren't willing to admit we were cut from the same cloth."

"The two of you were nothing alike." Beki stared him down. "If the world had more of him and less of you, it would be a much better place."

Yasahiro laughed again but louder this time. "What you saw was a dying man trying to set things right before he met his judgement." Yasahiro looked up at her a smiled, a sight that turned her stomach. She saw in Yasahiro's smile the same cunning arrogance she saw in Shinichi's grin. There was cruelty in their blood that seemed to transcend generations. Beki wondered if she ever looked so ruthless. "Do you think your father got where he was just being a noble bastion of justice? That his kanabo was only wielded against the wicked and unworthy?" Yasahiro cocked his head, the vulpine smile stretching ear to ear. "You're a fool if you think he spared enemy genin. How many fresh little heads do you think he bludgeoned?"

Beki had tucked her chin and balled her fists. She wanted to hit Yasahiro across his mouth for the lies that poured out of it. That was what Yasahiro wanted and Beki knew it, so she restrained her more aggressive urges and dug her nails into her palms.

"You're young so you don't see things for what they are." Yasahiro sat up in his chair and regarded her with his chin on his hand. "The truth is, Haruka, that the more noble a person behaves, the uglier and darker their past. We all pretend to be better people than we are."

"No amount of philosophical discussion is going to change my mind that you're fratricidal scum." Beki spat.

"So, what do you want to do about it?" Yasahiro raised his hands towards the lights. "Are you going to kill me? Won't that make you 'fratricidal scum', too? Or does your vengeance justify the killing?"

There was a click and a pop as the Burned Maiden began to fizzle to the surface. The light in the room grew warmer, more golden as Beki's light counteracted the purple glow. "I don't think you're worth killing." Beki leered. "Maybe I'll just give you a nice set of matching scars on your right side. The world needs to see you just as ugly on the outside as you are on the inside."

Yasahiro smiled, a menacing warning that Beki knew deep down she should heed. Her uncle had proven that he never made a move without a plan. There was some trick at play, some trap he was waiting to spring. Then again, Beki was the legendary Burned Maiden. Nothing had yet stood against the righteousness of her fires. Beki;s skin fizzled and her dress started to smoke. She lunged for Yasahiro with her hands glowing like hot irons. In that moment she realized her hubris as the older, more experienced shinobi dove into the strike between her hands, landing a sharp blow with his elbow to her solar plexus. The pain was incredible. It knocked the wind out of Beki's lungs and threw her backwards into the curtains, knocking down both the curtains and the two guards behind. Beki forced herself back onto her feet, clutching her midsection. Bile rose in her throat and Beki swallowed hard; the last thing she wanted to do was vomit. The guards were scrambling back to their feet. Beki grabbed ahold of the nearer one and tossed him into his partner. In the moment his coat left her hands and her arms were suspended out in front of her, Beki noticed that the glow was gone from her hands. She looked down at her dress and found it completely intact; her skin was warm and sweaty but well within normal limits. Beki looked up at Yasahiro as he walked out of the booth with a self-satisfied grin on his face.

"Surprise!" He clapped his hands, furrowing his brow at her while maintaining his sheepish smile. "Did you think I would just sit around idle after you up and awakened on me? Of course not! I went home and hit the books."

Beki's eyes widened in understanding. "The counter style."

"Bingo, sweetheart." Yasahiro sneered. "Our ancestors were clever men. I'd be absolutely helpless if they hadn't prepared for such an obvious eventuality: a Maiden turning on a member of their kin with insidious intent."

The occupants of the other booths had heard the commotion and were all quickly making their exit in various states of undress. The guards that had accompanied Yasahiro had regained their footing and resumed their place by his side. "You two can go," Yasahiro waved them off. "I can take care of her myself, but if you two get involved you're liable to get burned."

They looked at each other and exchanged a look before departing. Once again, Beki was alone with her uncle and the odds were stacked against her.

"So," Yasahiro stretched his laced fingers out in front of him, popping his knuckles. "Should I explain or do you like surprises?"

"Let me guess, you just overload me with pain so I can't focus enough to transform?" Beki rubbed the tender spot under her breasts. She was sorely missing her armor.

Yasahiro cocked his head and gave a half shrug. "You can't start a fire without air, can you?" He stood in a ready position and Beki weighed her options. She could attack him, focusing on taijutsu or other ninjutsu. If she didn't rely on the Maiden, maybe she stood a chance. As she surveyed her own condition, however, that option seemed unlikely to succeed. Beki was physically vulnerable in her clubwear and she was unarmed. She cursed herself for not thinking to smuggle in a sharp hairpin.

Beki's next option was to evade him long enough to go full Maiden. So far it seemed the counter style kept her from transforming. There was a fair possibility that once Beki had managed to ignite completely, there would be nothing Yasahiro could do about it. Beki's final option was to run away and find her mother. She bit her lip as the bitterness rose inside her. Here was her greatest nemesis, the source of all her pain, and Beki was being forced to consider a retreat. He knows I won't run away. Beki cursed. Yasahiro didn't have to say a word to set Beki's head reeling. Yasahiro understood her patterns and could predict her actions long before Beki did. There were sublevels of subversion, whether or not she should meet his expectations or do the opposite. Or if doing the opposite of what she would usually do wasn't exactly what Yasahiro wanted in the first place.

Less thoughts, more actions. Beki charged for him but ducked low at the last moment, going for a classic tackle to his torso. Yasahiro effortlessly side stepped her, coming down against the side of her head. His fingers were still laced, so the balled hands were like a mace against her temples. Beki's head swam and she stumbled, falling out of one shoe and landing ribs first into the black carpeted steps. A cry of pain escaped her lips and she heard Yasahiro chuckle.

"Do you see now?" Yasahiro stretched languidly. "It isn't about inflicting pain. Quite the opposite, in fact. Pain triggers an anger response in an attempt at self-preservation and anger for you equals fire. The counter style pure deprivation. You battle a forest fire by starving it for fuel and disorienting its progress towards setting off down a different path."

Yasahiro was slowly disabling her. Every time she went to attack, any attempt to transform, he was on her. Each blow was made precisely to a critical joint or nerve cluster. The damage was enfeebling Beki further, lessening the likelihood of activating the Burned Maiden and crippling her ability to use taijutsu. If he kept up his onslaught, Beki would be so out of breath she might start hyperventilating. Beki swallowed hard as she inched her way back onto her feet, tossing aside her remaining shoe. Yasahiro was going to win.

…

"She was right here," Miki gestured at the booth. "I told her to stay put and pretend to be a wasted party girl."

Yuki scanned the crowd. "She isn't dancing with anyone and I don't see her at the bar. Beki either went to the bathroom or got pulled into one of the rooms."

Miki felt a small pang of guilt. Moments before, she had been ready to coldly abandon Beki and Yuki to their fate. Now that she had to face the possibility that Beki could be in danger and Miki was the responsible party. her conscience was eating her up. Beki had sort of become a friend to Miki, a familiar face she ran into from time to time that had no intention of assaulting, murdering, or using her for twisted experiments. During these run ins, Miki got a taste of what life had been like before the Sound, but less lonely. "Okay," Miki shook her head to clear away the thoughts of all the horrible things that might have befallen Beki. "Beki's a kunoichi. She's objective-driven. Why is she here? What is she trying to accomplish?"

Yuki watched with a raised eyebrow and a slight pout of disapproval as Miki reasoned her way through their predicament. "Beki told me you guys are here to kill her uncle, so that must be what she's trying to do. She's bullheaded, so there's no chance she would abandon her objective unless she was acted on by an outside force. That leaves us with four possible outcomes: she's looking for her target, has located her target and is in pursuit, or has been captured."

"That was only three." Yuki scoffed.

"Outcome four is that Beki is dead." Miki frowned. "I'm really hoping that isn't the case-"

It was then that they heard the body as it flew out of the VIP entrance, the velvet curtains parting with a small ruffle. The body flew in a graceful arc but landed with a sickening thud, its momentum carrying it towards the dance floor. The pair had barely registered the flash of neon green as it passed before they were already in motion. Miki immediately rolled Beki on her back to check the damage as Yuki stepped between them and whatever was parting the curtains to the VIP lounge.

"Looks like it was outcome five: she's getting her ass kicked." Yuki shook her head. "Figures. I take my eyes off her for five minutes and she needs an ambulance."

"Now this is a surprise," Yasahiro laughed darkly. "Never in a million years did I think I'd be seeing you again." He paused, surveying Yukihana's form in the angry red lights of the nightclub. "Or are you some long-lost relative of Yukihana's? The Asou were like rats. I wouldn't be surprised if there was a small cache of bastards hiding in the mountains somewhere."

"It's me," Yuki put one hand on her hip. "There was no way I could let anyone else take you down. I had to claw my way out of hell for that honor."

"That wouldn't surprise me," Yasahiro spat. "You were so vile hell itself spat you back out, you homewrecking dropout."

Miki felt the air around them drop in temperature rapidly. The sensation of her skin being exposed to that familiar chill sent a shiver down her spine. Miki ignored the memories of the mangled bodies, the seas of blood and excrement, the horror twisted faces of the dead the she had seen the last time the cold had overtaken her. Miki couldn't let the horrors distract her; she had a patient to tend to. There was mild swelling forming on the side of Beki's face but she was still conscious. That's good. No major head trauma. "Hey," Miki turned Beki's chin so they were facing each other. "Where else?"

Beki coughed and winced. "Elbow to the solar plexus and stairs to the ribs. I've had worse."

Miki could feel the eyes on them, the impending sense of danger as the guards closed in. She took a deep breath and started to probe Beki's ribs. Beki inhaled sharply as Miki poked an especially tender spot. "No broken ribs. They might be cracked, though." She held out a hand and pulled Beki to her feet. "Any more blows to that side and you might end up with a punctured lung."

Beki nodded and rolled her shoulders. "Okay. Got it."

Under better circumstances, Beki should have been benched. As Miki looked at the number of powerful looking ronin closing in on them, however, all three of them would have to fight for their lives. She noticed that the guards were all focused on Yukihana. She was spending chakra like she was made of it, surrounding herself in a shroud of fog and frost. There was an ethereal beauty to the display of power, the sort of thing a passerby would be foolish enough to linger to watch. It seemed harmless, like a ripple in the water, but Miki knew better. There was a monster in those depths waiting to lash out at its prey.

Their attacker's attention averted, Miki grabbed Beki and hauled her over the bar. The bartenders and most of the guests had bounced. A knife fight was one thing but the second ninjutsu came into play civilians bailed out. "What are we doing?!" Beki hissed as they ducked out of sight. "Shouldn't we be helping her?!"

Miki held up a finger. "You can't take on every fight like a bull in a china shop, Beki! You have to use your head or you lose it." Miki peeked over the bar. The guards had completely surrounded Yukihana, like a scene in an old action film. In those movies, the guards would go at Yuki one at a time so she could beat every single one in a beautifully choreographed melee. In the real world, it wasn't so pretty. At any moment they would all throw themselves on her, grabbing limbs, slashing, beating, crushing whatever they could get their hands on. A lone shinobi outnumbered to that degree was dead for sure. "Think, Miki…"

Beki peeked over the bar. "Crap. I thought you guys took care of more guards than that."

"There was a shift change." Miki shook her head. "I should have been watching the time."

"So how do we help her? I'm half crippled and you said yourself you can only take on one guy at a time." Beki winced as her rib brushed the wood of the bar.

The guards certainly had the home court advantage fighting Yuki at their club. There was also limited cover and only one exit, so escape was nearly impossible. There had to be some way to turn the tide in Yuki's favor, to give her the slightest edge on her opponents. Miki knew from experience even the tiniest knife could mean the difference between life and death. All the body heat that had built up in the room was subsiding, steadily being replaced by Yuki's frost. Yuki was unarmed, but if Miki remembered correctly she had been unarmed in the Sound base as well. Miki wracked her brain, letting those awful memories bubble up. She gasped and Beki jumped in surprise. Miki dropped back down behind the bar and started rifling through the debris left in the wake of the bartenders' retreat.

"What the hell, Miki?!" Beki barked.

"Help me find a lighter!" Miki barked back.

Beki screwed up her face but obeyed. "What's a lighter going to do for us?" The frantic way Miki was searching made no sense. It was as if the discovery of a lighter would solve all of their problems, opening up a portal to safety or killing all of their enemies instantly.

Miki let out a sight of exasperation and shook her head. "You really don't pay attention to the outside factors in a fight, do you? Your mom is at a serious disadvantage. We have to do something to tip the scales in her favor."

"And how is a lighter going to do that?! Are you going to signal our surrender to distract them or something?" Beki looked at the wall of alcohol behind them. "Make a Molotov cocktail?"

Miki was carefully running her hand under the base of the bar. She paused and retracted it as a cheap, beaten up lighter revealed itself. "Hopefully I'll be able to show you." Miki pressed the flint wheel and it clicked with no results. She looked up at Beki. "How is Yuki doing?"

Beki peeked over the bar. "They're still posturing, luckily."

Miki took a deep breath and said a silent prayer. "Come on…come on!" She clicked the wheel again and again. "Too bad it isn't a pilot light and we can't just shove your finger in there to light it!"

Beki pouted. "Yeah, life would be a lot easier if spontaneously combusting wasn't just destructive."

At last the flame caught. Miki suppressed the urge to cheer aloud and protectively put a hand around the flame. "Okay, Beki, Either this works or we all die."

Beki furrowed her brows and gave a confused half smile. "…Yay?"

Miki climbed up on top of the bar, stood on her tiptoes, and held it up to the fire sprinkler. The fire suppression system kicked in and all the sprinklers turned on full blast, showering Yuki and her opponents in a stream of lukewarm water. A smile curled on Yuki's lips and her hair faded to a salmony pink under the red light.

Yasahiro swore. "Take her down while you still can!"

Just as Miki predicted, several of the guards converged on her. It was hard to see the fight behind the veil of water but the guards nearest Yuki leapt backward. Shining spires of ice had jutted out of the ground at Yuki's feet, a dangerous but beautiful lotus made of ice.

"Witch," Yasahiro hissed under his breath. "Your water isn't going to help you this time!" He clapped his hands together and focused his chakra. The other guards would get a nasty shock but at least he would be able to neutralize Yukihana. The brighter guards spotted what he was doing and dove out of range as Yasahiro slammed his electrified palm into the pool of water on the dance floor. Screams of agony filled the air, some low, some high, and Yasahiro looked up on his handiwork with an expectant smile. A hand, cold as death, reached out of the fog and gripped his chin. "Didn't anyone ever tell you ice doesn't conduct electricity?" Yukihana's corpse eyes glittered pink in the menacing light as an ice spire jutted out of her platform and launched him across the room.