Gargoyles – Orochi – Episode I: Gi
Disclaimer: In case you haven't figured it out yet, I don't own Gargoyles. All Gargoyles-related characters, settings, etc. are the intellectual property of Disney, Greg Weisman, and Frank Paur.
[-]
Castle of Dark Flames
Year 66, Age of the Dragon's Soul
At long last, the adventurers arrived at their destination.
It had been a harsh, grueling journey. So many times, they'd come within a hair's breadth of losing their lives. Whether to vicious monsters, or devious traps, or even the lieutenants of the Dark Flame Lord himself.
Yet still, they pressed on. Truly, there was no other choice. The fate of the entire world hung in the balance.
And now, finally, here they stood. The gates of the Castle of Dark Flames loomed before them, like the clenched jaws of some great beast. Few had ever managed to breach its defenses, and none had ever lived to tell the tale.
"It's weird to think about, isn't it?" said one of the adventurers. "That he's standing right on the other side of those doors. Do we really think we're ready to face…him?"
The leader of their party did not speak in response. Instead, she formed a series of complex gestures, which her compatriots nonetheless understood.
[The Dark Flame Lord is powerful, yes. But we have something he doesn't. The Power…!]
"Of friendship. Yes, yes, we know," interjected another, though she was smiling as she did. "Well, we won't get to use it on him by staying out here! We need a way inside."
"Allow me," spoke the final member of the group, stepping forward and drawing a gleaming katana.
Her movements were quick and precise. Two diagonal slashes, forming an "X," and then a thrust straight through its center.
Any ordinary blade would've had no chance of piercing the cursed barrier that surrounded the castle. But then, this was far from an ordinary katana.
The Sword of the Sacred Promise – acquired only after a great deal of begging and cajoling from the reclusive artisan of the Mechanical Fortress. A blade said to be powerful enough to pierce the heavens themselves.
The heavy iron doors folded like origami paper underneath the assault, giving the four adventurers a clear path inside.
But before they could take a single step forward, booming laughter cut through the air.
"Heh heh heh…little heroes. You dare to stand against the Dark Flame Lord, in my own domain?" said the voice, as deep and chilling as a moonless night. "Shall I deign to exact upon thee the same punishment I have delivered to so many?"
The adventurers' leader stepped forward and signed again, not a trace of fear in her wide eyes.
[Do your worst, villain! We will not back down from this challenge!]
"Oh, won't you now?" asked the voice, chuckling darkly again. "Then…so be it!"
He appeared in a pillar of the same blackened fire for which he was named. He raised an arm wrapped tightly in bandages, and closed it around a patch covering his right eye, emblazoned with the sigil of a dragon.
"Once I release this seal on my power, all the infinite lands will fall before me!" he bellowed. "Any last words?"
But the leader just answered his confident smirk with her own.
[Just a few. Get ready, girls!]
Suddenly, all four of the adventurers took up dramatic, sweeping poses.
[Super Stellar Brilliant Heart…TRANSFORM!]
Beams of multicolored light coursed down from the sky, enveloping each girl in a radiating aura of energy. Each one twirled and twisted, letting the light's power flow through their bodies.
The transformation took several minutes to complete, and involved a great deal of additional posing. Until at last, they all stood in formation, wearing a set of brightly colored, matching uniforms.
They raised their arms to the sky, and shouted their names in triumph.
"Super Stellar Green!"
"Super Stellar Purple!"
"Super Stellar White!"
[Super Stellar Yellow!]
Well…three of them shouted, at least. Their leader did, at least, make the signs for her moniker with a great deal of flourish.
Regardless, the Dark Flame Lord did not appear to be impressed. He pitched his head back and let out another, sinister laugh.
"So these are the much-vaunted Super Stellar Brilliant Heart Guardians!" he said. "Well, I'm not impressed! Bring to muster all the power that you may! And test it against I, the terrifying and almighty, Dark Fl…!"
"That's enough playing around. Dinner's been ready for almost half an hour," another voice suddenly cut through the din.
The vile arch-villain nearly tripped over his own feet. "That's not f…ahem. That's not fair, moms!" he whined, falling out of the Dark Flame Lord persona for a second.
Super Stellar Yellow clearly agreed, as she signed rather frenetically.
[Just five more minutes! This is the climax of the whole story!]
"I'm sure you can finish up after dinner," the older voice stated kindly. Though the one standing next to her looked far less patient.
"I swear, we weren't that immature at their age," she chastised, with an emphatic roll of her eyes. "You're not exactly hatchlings anymore. Try acting like it."
Seeing no choice, the five young gargoyles breathed a collective sigh of resignation, and followed after the rookery mothers to the dining plaza.
[-]
Shokuji Basho, Ishimura
March 31, 1997
"Okay, sorry Sakura, but I have to poke at you on this one," said a green gargoyle with fin-like ears, in-between pieces of sushi. "Sword of the Sacred Promise…now, which 'Sacred Promise' was this?"
Her companion, whose stark-white skin contrasted strongly against her blue obi, let out a weary groan.
"Not to lose any more katana," she replied, deadpan.
"And why, exactly, did we need to…how'd the script put it? 'Beg' and 'cajole' Tsuchi for this blade?" asked the first gargoyle with a smirk.
Just as deadpan, "Because I lost my last katana."
"C'mon Kawa, you're being mean," a quieter voice cut in. This one belonged to a gargoyle with pale, grayish skin and webbed wings. "That one wasn't Sakura's fault! I mean, who could've expected that fish to jump up right then…"
"Yuki, you're saying that as if her losing a finely crafted, one-of-a-kind masterwork to a fish doesn't prove my point," said Kawa, now holding a claw over her mouth to keep from bursting into full-bodied laughter.
The sole male gargoyle at their table cleared his throat dramatically.
"Well, if you ask me…" he declared, putting on the same voice he'd used for the Dark Flame Lord. "I believe the Fates conspire against thee! No one could possibly be so unfortunate by mere coincidence!"
His body was rail-thin, with jet-black skin and elongated horns, and alone among the group he was still wearing the same costume from their earlier game – since that happened to be what he wore every night. Eyepatch and bandages included.
"I've honestly had the same thought, once or twice," said Sakura, shaking her head slowly. "Which means I'm on the same page as Yami, and that scares me."
A few moments passed, where Yami seemed to be trying to figure out whether or not to feel insulted at this. But before he could arrive at a conclusion on the matter, every gargoyle at the table jumped as a yellow beak poked in and let out a stupendously loud "BOOM!"
"Ack, Hana, I told you!" exclaimed Yuki, clutching at her ringing ears. "That is a lot less funny for those of us who aren't deaf!"
The short beaked gargoyle who, befitting her name, wore pink flowers braided between her horns, didn't seem to agree. Judging by her fit of entirely silent snickering.
[Sorry Yuki, I had to get my fun in one way or another. Sailor Moon got preempted by soccer…again.]
"I'm afraid I just don't see the appeal in this 'anime' of yours, Hana," Sakura told her apologetically. "I've always been more…action oriented. At least when we act out the scenarios, it feels a bit more akin to the adventures of my previous life. Well…apart from the dialogue, perhaps."
"Sorry, sorry!" Yuki squeaked. "I only had a single night to write it! Hana, it would've been nice to get a bit more of a head's up. One minute we're still in the Desert of Unlimited Peril, and the next you have us gearing up for the final boss battle!"
"Well I thought my lines were perfect!" said Yami, very loudly. "Only, when we start it again, can you make me…you know. More flamey?"
[More…flamey…?]
It took Hana a few confused seconds to figure out the sign for that one.
"As you know, my dominion over the Darkest Arts is a curse I must grapple with every night!" he answered with a nod. "But the role of Dark Flame Lord is a chance for me to connect with the siren song of the inferno as well! I know it must be hard to come up with ways for me to be any cooler than I already am, but I trust in your mastery of the craft, Yuki-san!"
Kawa turned to Sakura and offered a sideways grin.
"Aren't you glad I introduced you to this bunch?" she muttered. "If nothing else, they make sure things never get boring around here."
Sakura found herself letting out a giggle that was very unbecoming for a nearly century-old warrior.
Only a few weeks had passed since she'd reawakened in this strange new world, after nearly five decades of imprisonment by a mad ancient Jiangxi. Returning to Ishimura after all that time had been…challenging. So much had changed.
Her brother Kai was leader now, while her rookery father Hayashi – already quite aged when she disappeared in 1938 – was now nearly blind, and hardly ever left the solitude of his bonsai garden.
Her rookery siblings, meanwhile, were now all several generations older than her, biologically speaking. Kaze and Ike, both of whom had tried to court her affections in the past, had just celebrated forty years as a couple, while quintessential young lovers Raiko and Tsuchi were now parents to three generations of eggs.
Most of all, Kai's mate Umi, the sister to whom she'd been the closest, was now essentially the Clan's matriarch – known far more for her baking and her storytelling than for her martial arts skills. As much as they'd missed each other, they simply didn't have very much in common any longer.
That was partly why she'd grown so close to Kawa. She reminded her so much of how Umi used to be – strong-willed, adventurous, and a bit of a tease.
And she, in turn, had introduced Sakura to this group of fellow hatchlings from the 1948 clutch: Yuki, Yami, and Hana. It was strange to think they were now the closest thing to her peers, when, had things been different, she could've easily been one of their mothers.
But she'd wasted enough time playing "what could have been" in her mind. Whatever the circumstances, they made for good friends.
And Hana's "magical gar-girl" games, silly as they might seem to an outside eye, were quite a bit of fun.
Still, there was a large part of her that was itching for some real action. Her first adventure in this new age had been a thrilling one – filled with magic, fierce battles, and an encounter with a Chinese Monkey King. Not to mention fighting alongside the warriors who'd freed her in the first place.
Those "Redemption Squad" warriors, the English daimyo Arthur, and his honorable retainer, Griff-san.
Sakura's throat suddenly felt a little dry. Perhaps best not to let her thoughts wander in that direction at the dinner table.
The point was, comparatively speaking, as much as she enjoyed seeing her Clan thrive into this era, she couldn't help but feel their lives were rather…quiet. They'd resumed the teaching of bushido to the humans of the village, which was a thrilling change, but even that was scarcely a year old. And…slow to receive takers.
In times of peace, there was never quite as much use for samurai.
"Oh, Kumo!" Yuki called out to an older, pale gray gargoyle dressed in fisherman's clothes, interrupting Sakura's thoughts. "The sushi tonight was so much better than last week's! I mean, not that your sushi is ever bad, just that this was…uhhh…oof why do I even open my big mouth…"
Hana patted her sister on the shoulder, then signed toward the passing gargoyle.
[I think she means, thank you for the meal.]
Sakura was still learning the modern Japanese Sign Language that Hana favored, but Kawa tended to offer whispered translations in her ear when she wasn't certain, which was greatly appreciated.
Regardless, Kumo tilted his head back and laughed. "If only Arashi could be so appreciative. I've been spoiling him with my best work for so long that I think he's started to take it for granted," he said, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Oh, by the way Sakura-san, before I forget. You should go see Tsuchi. He's holding a phone call for you."
"For me?" the white-skinned gargoyle repeated in confusion. She looked toward the others, who all looked similarly bewildered – apart from Yami, who wasn't paying attention at all, instead focusing on readjusting his eyepatch.
Sakura took in a deep intake of breath, then bowed to excuse herself from the meal.
"I will try to be back soon," she told them, one claw instinctually hovering over her katana's hilt as she headed off.
[-]
Katanakaji no Ie, Ishimura
March 31, 1997
The smithy in Ishimura was a place Sakura had spent a great deal of her nights, in times gone by. It'd been comforting to see it apparently unchanged when she returned to the Clan.
But as always, appearances could be deceiving. Once she stepped inside, the degree to which the resident swordsmith's own personality and predilections affected their workspace was on full display.
Under the late Kage-sensei, the smithy had been a severe place, lit only by the flames of his forge and adorned only with prior examples of his work. Sakura had never had a problem with it, but she remembered several of her rookery siblings being petrified of the place. Kage had been from the same generation as Hayashi, after all – with all of their former leader's gruffness, and none of his secret soft heart.
Now that the place had passed to Tsuchi, the décor was…somewhat different.
Warmly lit with electric lamps and repainted from floor to ceiling in bright colors, the building now had the air of a cozy, inviting shop. Gone were the wide array of hanging blades and bows, and in their places were shelves upon shelves of miniature models, each resembling some form of mechanical being.
They sort of reminded Sakura of karakuri dolls, but made of plastic, and even more intricate in detail.
Tsuchi himself stood at the center of the room, whistling a jaunty tune as he polished his newest creation. He was short, bald, and stocky, with sandy brown skin and a neatly trimmed beard.
Sakura couldn't bring herself to interrupt him immediately, fascinated by his work. A finely grained stone was dragged along the katana's keen edge, in a process she knew could take as long as three weeks. And that was on top of the many weeks it took to forge the blade itself.
"The hamon – the pattern on the blunt edge – is the result of the differential hardening process, key to crafting 'true' uchigatana," he said, without looking up. "Since it's such an iconic part of the appearance, less-skilled reproductions may try to add it artificially with acid or wire brushing. But a true craftsman will always be able to tell the difference."
Her rookery brother cocked an eyebrow ridge as their eyes finally met. "Which I tell you, only to emphasize how much love and labor goes into every single one of my blades," he added coolly. "And how…distressing it can be, when they are lost or damaged."
"Tsuchi, if I can take this opportunity to apologize profusely for my disturbingly high record of…" she started to say, placing her claws together in supplication, but Tsuchi held up his own claw to stop her.
"Sakura, I love you dearly. The night you returned to us was one of the happiest of my life. And I considered it the highest honor possible to provide you a new katana, after your last rusted in its sheath from decades of disuse," he replied. "But it has only been three weeks, and you are already on your fifth."
She thought about pointing out that the third one had been ruined by a bolt of lightning, which seemed a little unfair to cast at her feet. But she decided against it. Bushido demanded that she take responsibility.
"I submit myself to whatever method of penance you deem sufficient, honorable sensei," she said, bowing on both knees. As odd as it was to call her brother something like that, in this context it felt fully justified.
Tsuchi put down the polishing stone and walked over to his old rookery sister, slowly.
"You may come to regret that decision," he murmured, before placing claws on both her shoulders and guiding her back to her feet. "After all…"
And then, suddenly, he broke out into a wide grin. "The decades have only sharpened my wit," he added, barely restraining a fit of snickers.
Sakura covered her face with her claw and let out a groan. "So this is the punishment you choose. Genuinely, I am doomed," she lamented, half-playfully. "Your particular sense of humor was something I would've been just fine with leaving in the past, brother."
"Funny thing is, after I got to a certain age, no one seemed interested in calling me out on it anymore," said Tsuchi. "The hatchlings call them 'rookery dad jokes.' Actually, you get away with a lot once you become a father – wish I'd known that when we were younger."
"Does that include…whatever these are?" Sakura asked, gesturing vaguely to the shelves surrounding them on all sides.
"My mecha? Oh yeah," he replied, smiling appreciatively at the nearest figurine. "I'll tell you Sakura, you skipped over the best things the humans ever gave us. Gundam, Macross, Mazinger, GoLion…by the Orochi, I could go on for nights. I started building and collecting scale models about a decade back, and it just sort of…ballooned from there. Take a look at this, it's my newest find: Unit-01 from Eva. Only came out a couple years ago, but it absolutely blew my mind."
Sakura peered at the miniature purple automaton. Honestly, she still couldn't entirely see the appeal, but it was incredibly well-crafted if nothing else.
"Amusingly enough, they're also why I have this gig," continued Tsuchi, pointing back toward the partially finished katana. "Kage-sensei – may his soul be honored – was getting up in years, and didn't have an apprentice. But putting together these model kits requires a lot of fine motor skills, which is harder than you might think with talons. He noticed that, and thought I could put them to better use."
"Well, you've come a long way, brother," Sakura couldn't help but smile a bit. "I remember when the only thing you were interested in using those 'fine motor skills' for was taking off Raiko's kimono."
The craftsman flushed a deep crimson, taking the teasing in the stride that only rookery siblings could.
"So in any event, sister…what do I owe the pleasure?" he said, eyes flicking down to the hilt of her obi and darkening slightly. "You didn't break that one too, did you?"
"Of course not!" she exclaimed, claws closing around the hilt reflexively. "What was…oh, kuso. The phone call! I've certainly dishonored the caller by leaving them waiting for so long."
"That's right! I got sidetracked, working on this one," Tsuchi told her, returning to his workbench with the katana. "The phone's in the back room. But don't worry, she specifically said she didn't mind being on hold for as long as it took."
"She?" Sakura repeated, frowning.
Her rookery brother shrugged his broad shoulders. "Don't know what to say. She didn't sound Japanese, though she seemed fluent in the language. But she asked for you by name," he said. "There's so few people who would even know this number that…well, it might be a good idea to give Kai a head's up once you've spoken."
"I'll keep that in mind. Thank you, brother," she responded, now feeling more ill at ease than ever as she shuffled into the smithy's back room.
A foreigner, calling Ishimura and asking for her? If they were a woman, they couldn't be Griff-san or his daimyo. Could there be any onna-musha in the service of this "Arthur"?
Why did that thought make her feel a little funny in the pit of her stomach?
The back room was filled with a great deal of clutter – steel shavings and broken pieces of plastic alike. But on the rear wall was one of the very few telephones owned by the Ishimura Clan.
Sakura had been vaguely aware of the devices before she disappeared, but the modern versions had changed so much as to be almost unrecognizable. She gingerly picked up the receiver and pressed a button that was blinking red, figuring that must signify something.
Belatedly, she remembered advice Kawa had given her the last time she used one of these contraptions and said, "Moshi moshi. This is Sakura."
There were a few moments of silence, and Sakura started to wonder whether she must've done something wrong. Then…
"Hello, Sakura. My name is Dolores."
[-]
Undisclosed Location, Paris
March 30, 1997
Dolores Herrera sat before a large array of monitors, bathed in the eerie white glow of the CRT screens.
Ideally, they should've been showing her mission specs and video feeds. Instead, each and every one was displaying nothing but dead air.
Spread out on the desk in front of her were five dossiers, plus a mission briefing packet stamped with a big red L'ULTRA SECRET – CONFIDENTIEL. Pinned to the front of each one was a small photograph; either a mugshot, or framed to look like one.
A blonde woman in a mask with three slash marks across the front. An Australian mercenary with a mohawk. A viscous silvery liquid, contorted into a vaguely humanoid shape. A furry, bestial man with batlike wings. And a gray-skinned gargoyle, with features not entirely unlike the one Dolores was on the phone with right now.
"I mean no disrespect, Dolores-san, but…am I supposed to know who you are?"
"Not in so many words. But you've met some of my…associates," the Hispanic woman said into her headset. "I have it on good authority that you had a recent encounter with a certain black ops team. Codenamed…Redemption Squad."
She could almost hear the gargoyle's attention perk up at those words. Good. They'd already wasted enough time.
"…What is this about, exactly?"
"I'll dispense with small talk and get right to the point, as I know we are both very busy women," answered Dolores. "Three weeks ago, the Squad was tasked to investigate an illicit mining operation by Bushido Concepts in Hokkaido."
"Yes, they mentioned something like that. They gave me transport out of China, and dropped me in Tokyo on the way."
"Well, that was the last we heard from them," Dolores spoke, choosing her words carefully. She needed to give the gargoyle just enough information to get what she needed out of her, without revealing too much. "On the night of March 13th, the whole Squad went completely radio silent. All attempts to get back into contact with them have failed."
There was a lengthy pause, as Sakura seemed to be absorbing this information. Then…
"So I surmise that I am the last individual who saw them alive."
"Hit the nail right on the head," said Dolores dryly. "I've tried all my usual sources, and come up empty. So I wanted to ask you directly. Did you hear or observe anything that might be helpful? Any leads to tracking them down?"
"I…wish I could offer more. But Hunter-san was very insistent on not discussing the mission while I was present."
"Naturally. She was following her orders, as she should," replied Dolores, even as she swore under her breath. "Well, it was a worth a try. Thank you for your time, Sakura-san."
"Wait, wait!"
The Hispanic woman paused, halfway through hanging up the call.
"I…owe those heroes a debt. Bushido demands that I repay it. Could I help you, in rescuing them?"
"That would be a job for vetted professionals. Of which you are neither," Dolores told her, perhaps more sharply than was needed. She had a file on this one, too – the enormity of what was discovered in the China op necessitated it – and she was definitely not a fit for this line of work. "Go roost for the day, and forget we spoke. It'll turn out better for both of us."
"Not if the alternative is leaving your 'Squad' in danger. I cannot take that dishonorable path. And surely, if they are your…nakama…"
"They are not. They are assets, and they are replaceable," Dolores cut her off, in a voice determined more to convince herself than anything else. "If not easily, in at least Matrix's case. So we will continue to explore other alternatives. But regardless, your involvement in this operation is over. Goodbye, Sakura-san."
This time, she hung up before the Japanese gargoyle could get a word in edgewise.
Dolores sat there for several moments longer, staring into one of the stubbornly blank monitors and letting the tinny din from its speakers wash over her ears.
Then, without removing her headset, she dialed another number. The recipient picked up after only a single ring.
"Sir, this is looking more and more like a worst-case scenario," she said tonelessly. "We may need to prepare ourselves to execute Plan B."
[-]
Kaze no Shinden, Ishimura
March 31, 1997
"This must be important, if it cannot wait until tomorrow night," declared Kai, walking alongside the gargoyle who'd once been his favorite rookery sister – save the one who became his mate. "If it was anyone else asking, I'm not sure if I could've pulled this together so quickly."
"It is greatly appreciated, brother. Err…leader," said Sakura, deciding belatedly that the more formal address was warranted by the situation. "But I think once you hear what I have to say, you'll see we can't wait another moment."
Kai let out a low sigh. "The last time you said that, you disappeared from us for fifty years," he muttered, as they entered Ishimura's main temple.
The chamber was already filled with other members of the clan. Sora, as Second, was seated near the front of the room, and indicated the cushion next to her for Kai to sit down.
On either side of them were Hayashi and Kendo, the two past leaders of the clan still living. Filling out the rest of their ranks were a number of other clan elders or notable members, as well as…
"Hiroshi-san," she greeted the aged human, offering him a bow. "I never thanked you properly for those manjū your family gifted me when I returned to the clan. They were truly delicious. But I'm…surprised to see a human here?"
"As part of our outreach to the humans of the village, I thought it best to have one of their representatives be more involved in our clan's business," Kai explained. "Hiroshi honorably volunteered. But I hope it did not inconvenience you, getting here on such short notice?"
"Oh, it was no trouble! I was in the neighborhood anyway," said the constable. "My Mio was here, up late with your Momo-chan, watching one of those…what do they call them? 'Idol shows'? I don't quite understand myself, but I know they just can't get enough."
Sakura stifled a chuckle. Momo was from the clan's youngest generation, hatched in 1978, and both she and Hiroshi's daughter Mio were practically inseparable. The good thing was they were both absolutely adorable. The bad thing was they both knew they were absolutely adorable, and had reached the age where they were rapidly figuring out how to exploit it.
Thankfully, when your parents numbered dozens of super-strong winged samurai, it was a lot harder to get away with mischief.
"With due respect, leader. I thought we were supposed to be in some kind of hurry," drawled a muscular female gargoyle – the same one who'd snidely interrupted their "magical gar-girl" game earlier that night. "Dawn is only a couple hours away."
"Perhaps a little inelegantly put…but correct, Hikari," Kai responded with a sigh. "Let us begin, then."
Of all the clan members Sakura had known before her disappearance, Hikari perhaps had changed the most. She'd been only twenty at the time – a wide-eyed, innocent child, much like Momo was now. And she had absolutely idolized Sakura, constantly cajoling her for swordfighting tips or demonstrations.
Now, all that innocence had been purged from her eyes. Rosy-red, beaked, and tailless, Hikari always seemed ready to butt into other people's conversations and offer the most cynical perspective possible.
Having her literally at Sakura's right shoulder wasn't going to make this any easier.
Meanwhile, their clan leader took his seat in the circle at last, and gestured for Sakura to do the same. As was tradition, she pulled her katana from her hip – still in its sheath – and placed it horizontally across her lap.
"In accordance with the tenets of bushido, Clan Ishimura recognizes its warrior Sakura," he said. "Speak your business, so that we may discuss with honor."
She took a deep breath, gripping tightly onto the blade in her lap. Then, "Earlier this night, I received a missive by way of the telephone…"
It took several minutes to explain everything she'd heard, or deduced, from the conversation with that "Dolores" human. She saw several frowns, Hikari among them, form on her clansmembers' faces as she spoke, but she pushed through nonetheless.
"And so…I think the only honorable path is clear," she eventually finished, fighting to keep conviction in her voice. "We must mount a rescue mission, and save this 'Redemption Squad' from whatever adversity they've encountered."
Sakura wasn't sure what kind of reaction she was expecting. Applause, perhaps? Or a riotous cheer of agreement, as all gathered reached for their weapons to begin the quest right now?
Instead, she got stunned silence.
"I…appreciate you bringing this to our attention, Sakura," said Kai, clearly making an effort to be delicate in his wording. "But…that is to say, you are aware of how far Hokkaido is from Ishimura, are you not?"
Geography, admittedly, wasn't her strongest suit, but she had at least a vague idea. If nothing else, traveling north would get them there eventually, wouldn't it?
"It would be a difficult enough journey on its own. But then you must consider the complications of taking it entirely in secret," Arashi pointed out. "Remember that the continued existence of tengu is known nowhere else in Japan. Ishimura's secret has not survived all these centuries by taking reckless risks."
Arashi, Kumo's mate, was incredibly tall and built like a mountain, with burnt-orange skin and long, ox-like horns. The chief financier of the clan, he helped to ensure the presence of several hundred additional residents didn't show up on Ishimura's "footprint."
"Still, her proposal does warrant deliberation," Raiko declared, casting a brief, sympathetic glance in Sakura's direction. She felt a surge of affection for her rookery sister. "Bushido would demand our action, even if these were mere bystanders. But I'll remind that one of them is a member of our clan."
Raiko, like her mate Tsuchi, had changed a great deal over the past five decades. Age and childbearing had filled out her figure and softened her yellow-green features, with her once wild hair "tamed" into a tight bun.
Thankfully, the years hadn't dulled her amazing teamaking skills any. Even if her natural clumsiness meant she tended to break two cups for every one she successfully made.
"Please don't imply that we've forgotten about Yama. Arashi and I were his closest brothers growing up," said Kumo, placing a claw on the shoulder of his much larger mate. "But…well, strictly speaking, by our clan's oldest tenets…"
"He isn't a member of the clan, so long as he remains banished. Not formally," Hikari cut in bluntly. "Why are we even humoring this farce? This is a human problem, not ours. That one of our wayward ronin got caught up in it doesn't change things."
A number of the gathered gargoyles – particularly of the older set – looked alarmingly eager to voice their support for this line of thinking. Sakura wasn't sure if it was her imagination, but she thought she saw a flicker of unease in Kai's expression.
Before any more of this could some to a head, however, Hayashi cleared his throat. The whole room, Hikari included, immediately fell silent.
As the eldest living member of the clan, his word carried great weight, even if he possessed no "formal" power any longer.
"Perhaps you are correct, young one. But in my experience, human problems tend to become tengu problems," spoke the forest-green gargoyle. He had skin the texture and consistency of old tree bark, and cataracts had turned his eyes a nearly milky white. "I am in two minds on this subject. On the one hand, Yama is a child of this clan, however lost. On the other…we know nothing of the dangers he and his compatriots may have faced."
He clutched tightly to the wrist of his right claw – or rather, the stump where a right claw should have been. Sakura had never learned how her eldest rookery father had lost it, and he always said the same thing when asked directly: It's a reminder of a mistake.
"I…am sorry, my cherry blossom," he went on, after a weary sigh. "I cannot advocate a course of action that might risk even more of my children. Not without a firm plan."
Sakura couldn't believe what she was hearing. "That…That is dishonorable!" she cried out. "No samurai would ever falter in the face of such things! Not when helpless lives might be at stake!"
"Yama might have a bit of an issue being called 'helpless,' you know," said Kendo, the leader who'd served in between Hayashi and Kai. Her skin, the color of pale sand, was heavily lined and worn, with a voice to match. "But in any event, we aren't advocating doing nothing, dear. Hiroshi-san, most of the missing individuals are human, are they not? Could not your human justice system be employed?"
The constable frowned, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.
"Possibly. But it could get…complicated," he answered. "From what I understand, several of them are wanted foreign fugitives. I'm puzzled to even understand how they came to be in China or Japan in the first place."
"Yes, there's quite a bit that doesn't sit right with me about this story as well. Part of why I advocate that our approach be…prudent, rather than rushing into things," Kai declared, with a quick, apologetic glance in Sakura's direction. "But you could make the attempt, at least?"
"I still have a few old friends in Tokyo," said Hiroshi, bowing his head forward. "I'll see if they can look into a few things. Quietly."
The elders who hadn't been nodding furiously to Hikari's "not our problem" speech seemed mollified by this compromise. But there was still one notable figure who hadn't spoken, and Kai turned to her next.
"Sora, you are my Second. Before I make my final decision, I would appreciate your counsel," he told the violet-skinned gargoyle.
But Sora didn't raise her head to look her leader in the eye. She kept it bowed, her expression forlorn, for the entire time she spoke.
"I…am afraid I must abstain. I would dishonor this gathering otherwise," she responded in a quiet voice. "Yama is my mate, and so my judgment cannot be impartial in this matter."
Sakura's face fell sharply. Sora had been the voice she was most counting on. As a member of the same youthful generation as Kawa, Hana, and the rest, she wouldn't have been able to sit at this table at all, except by virtue of her position as Second.
Age, and the wisdom it offered, were vital tenets of bushido. Sakura understood and accepted that. Kō – the honoring of one's elders – was not one of the Eight Virtues of the bushido code, but it was one of the duties that ran alongside it, like the bank of a river.
Yet now, those same elders seemed to be settling on a path she could not, would not respect. Because it ran directly in counter to each and every one of those Eight Virtues, as she'd been taught.
Before this moment, Sakura's unnatural youth had been an odd curiosity, at worst. Now, it made her feel so small. So many of the tengu here had been hatched alongside her, or even later. The difference in their ages was nothing more or less than a quirk of fate.
And yet, with a handful of exceptions, they were looking upon her like a foolish, reckless hatchling. Which, perhaps, she was.
But that didn't change what she knew to be right.
"Thank you for joining me in conference, honored brothers and sisters. Fathers and mothers," said Kai in a booming voice. "I believe the proposal by Kendo and Hiroshi-san is our best path forward. We will wait and see, and allow the humans' process to play out. If things should change, I will assemble you all again. This gathering is dismissed."
Sakura didn't bother arguing. She knew it wouldn't do any good.
[-]
Kunren-ba, Ishimura
March 31, 1997
Sakura's katana sliced through one bamboo training dummy after another, her technique uncharacteristically wild and unfocused.
Raiko and Umi had come to see her after the meeting, but left quickly after seeing what kind of mood she was in. She regretted her curtness, but was unable to help it right now.
She was, as Griff-san would've put it, "right pissed off."
The white-skinned gargoyle kept replaying the discussion over and over in her head, wondering if there was anything she could've said to change the outcome. It'd seemed so simple when she rushed straight to Kai after the phone call, but actually facing the rest of the clan had been a different story.
There was clearly a lot more going on in the background than she knew. Her mind kept coming back to the look on her leader's face when Hikari voiced her piece. How…animated the elders who supported her stance had been. Almost like…
"Careful. Cut up any more of these dummies and the rest of us will just have ribbons to work with," quipped a singsong voice.
Sakura was so deep into her bladework that she almost – almost – reflexively swung at the speaker. Kawa seemed to notice, throwing up both claws in surrender.
"Whoa, whoa! Slow down, hot stuff, I don't want to lose a horn," she said quickly. "Take it the big meeting didn't go so well? I mean, I know, because I was unashamedly eavesdropping, but…"
"They are all cowards!" Sakura all but snarled as she cut down one last dummy. As soon as the words left her lips, she could already feel regret bubbling up from her gut. "No…No, that isn't fair to say. I understand where they are coming from."
She took a few deep, meditative breaths, and then added in a lower voice, "But I still…know that they are wrong. Bushido demands action."
"Is that right?" asked Kawa, a teasing lilt to her tones. "Well I can help on that front, at least."
She drew her kusarigama from her belt, drawing out the full length of the chain between the two sickle-like blades.
"You wish to spar?" Sakura responded dryly. "I can't say I'm really in the mood, but…fine. We'll let our blades talk for us."
And so they did. For the next several minutes, sparks flew into the moonlit sky as steel crashed against steel. Kawa was a master of her chosen weapon, whirling each sickle above her head and behind her back with alarming speed.
Every so often, she'd grip one blade by the balled weight at its end and throw the other forward, trying to entangle it around Sakura's katana and disarm her. The time-displaced tengu dodged or parried each of these attempts, but several were near misses.
And either way, Kawa moved far too fast for Sakura to close the distance and end the bout.
"Why's this got you so bent out of shape, anyway?" said Kawa, between strikes. "I know you feel like you owe these people a debt, but…"
Sakura had come to know the web-eared gargoyle well enough to sense the sympathy in her voice. The taunt wasn't meant seriously, but rather as a way to tease out her real emotions.
It was still annoying, though.
"Because every one of the Eight Virtues lights the path forward!" she exclaimed, her sword swings coming out faster and more furious by the second.
"Gi! Living all your life with a righteous spirit!"
Her blade blocked Kawa's latest attempt to ensnare it.
"Yū! The heroic courage to carry out your decisions!"
Kawa stumbled backward, thrown off-balance by the force of her slash.
"Jin! Compassion for all living things!"
Sakura surged forward, twisting her katana around her in her claw as she did.
"Rei! Respect for every opponent you may face!"
With her grip reversed, Sakura plunged the katana's hilt into Kawa's stomach.
"Makoto! Being honest and forthright with all you meet!"
The green-skinned tengu fell to the ground, the wind knocked out of her.
"Meiyo! Honor of character, even when you are alone!"
Sakura reached down, and wrenched the kusarigama from Kawa's grip before she could recover.
"Chūgi! Loyalty and duty to those you protect!"
Then, in one fluid motion, she sheathed her own blade and offered her claw.
"And jisei…self-control. I'm still learning that one," she finished, helping her friend back to her feet.
For whatever reason, though, Kawa pulled away as soon as she had the opportunity, tugging at the collar of her obi and determinedly avoiding eye contact. She really could act strangely at times.
"Well that was…whoa. Huh. Yeah, that was…a thing," she mumbled, to no one in particular. "Ahem…anyway. What I was getting at was, well…if you really believe this is the right thing to do…"
Kawa took a deep breath, and then said, "Then why don't you just do it yourself?"
[-]
Toshokan, Ishimura
March 31, 1997
"Oh, I really don't like doing this…our dads will kill us if they find us sneaking back here…" Yuki whined as they pushed aside the door leading to the mustiest part of the town's library.
"Then we'll just have to make sure we don't get caught!" declared Yami. His words, and the volume he spoke them at, were not entirely in congruence.
Hana was doing better on that front, though admittedly that wasn't nearly as difficult for her. She swallowed a mouthful of mochi she'd been snacking on and then began signing.
[Less than an hour to sunrise. If we're going to find a map, we should do it soon.]
"Your help is truly appreciated, all of you," said Sakura, bowing her head to the four other young tengu. "I want to leave first thing tomorrow evening, so I must make all my preparations now."
Of all the objections Kai and his advisors had brought up, the fact that she knew absolutely nothing about Hokkaido other than "an island up north" was probably the fairest one. She'd left Ishimura a grand total of two times in her life before now, and one had ended with her getting kidnapped and imprisoned for fifty years.
Not, all told, a stellar endorsement of her navigational skills.
Obviously, a map would be needed. Plus any other resources that might help in narrowing down the search.
"I'd rather use a computer, but Arashi needs it for tax stuff right now. And it's probably a good idea not to leave any trace of what you're doing," stated Yuki, as her beady eyes scanned over a series of shelves four times her height. "You, uh…have considered what you're doing, right? Basically spitting in the face of all the clan elders?"
Sakura shook her head once to each side. "I stand at a crossroads between two dishonorable paths," she replied. "I must choose the one I can allow myself to live with."
"Let it never be said that our girl does anything by half-measures," said Kawa approvingly, clapping her over the shoulder. "And hey, bucking centuries of tradition for the sake of saving some people beats doing it to get your tail pierced."
Sakura couldn't help her eyes from darting in the direction of the green-skinned gargoyle's tail, which quickly swished out of view.
"Surprising no one, the terrifying and almighty Yami is the first to locate the tome thou seeks!" exclaimed Yami, striking a pose to point dramatically toward one of the shelves.
And indeed, the shelf in question was packed end-to-end with atlases and rolled up charts. The ever-bold Hana took a glance, seemed to ponder something for a moment, and then grabbed every single one of them in her arms and dumped them on the nearest table.
Yuki looked about ready to have a heart attack from this treatment of the clan's storied archives.
"Pleasebeokaypleasebeokaypleeeeeasebeokay…" she gasped out, all in one breath, as she hurriedly checked every edge and corner for damage. "Oh thank the Triforce they're okay."
"Tri…Force…?" repeated a confused Sakura.
There was a certain amount of sympathy evident in the body language of Hana's next signing.
[Long story. Fellow otaku thing.]
Once Yuki was sufficiently mollified, she set herself down at the table and got straight to work. The timid, mousy shut-in morphed instantly to a calm professional, entirely in her element.
For the next several minutes, they all watched quietly (well, as much as Yami ever did anything quietly) as Yuki systematically flipped through half a dozen books, cross-referencing against a map almost as wide as she was tall. Besides the occasional thoughtful "hmmmm" she made no sound herself, completely absorbed in her work.
Until finally, still without looking up, she beckoned Sakura closer with two, heavily calloused talons.
"Okay, right now we're here, near the southwest side of Ishikawa Prefecture," she said, tapping one part of the map. "So to get to Hokkaido, you'll need to be aaaaaaaaall the way up here, in Aomori Prefecture."
Yuki dragged her talon across the entire length of Honshu, taking great care to emphasize the sheer size of Japan's largest island. Sakura found herself gulping inwardly.
"And even if you do manage to make it there, you'll still need a way to cross the Tsugaru Strait," she added, tapping the expanse of blue separating the two islands. "It's over nineteen kilometers at its narrowest point, so it's not like you can just glide across. And I doubt a gargoyle would have much luck catching a plane or hopping the ferry."
"I…will figure something out," Sakura told her, although even to herself she didn't think she sounded very convincing.
"Well, the solution is obvious, isn't it?" bellowed Yami, startling them both. Despite his outsized personality, he had a strange way of popping up in random spots without them noticing. "I mean, it's staring you right in the face!"
None of them had a clue what the eyepatched gargoyle was getting at, so he shook his overlong white hair in frustration and jabbed a talon directly into the map, causing it to tear straight through.
"Come now, right here!" he said, ignoring Yuki's panicked little squeal. "There's this big, long thing that runs straight through! I mean, I know you're not all equipped with the fabled knowledge of the Akashic Records like I am, but you at least should be able to see that much!"
Kawa peered at the spot her brother was pointing to, frowning. "That's a train tunnel, isn't it?" she asked. "I think I heard about it on the news when they opened it, about a decade ago. The…Seikan, I think?"
Meanwhile, Hana was patting Yuki comfortingly on the back, helping the bookish gargoyle breathe through the stress induced by Yami's crime against library-kind.
When she'd finally managed to calm down, Yuki dipped her head in a nod, so that all Sakura could see were her long, curly horns.
"Yeah. According to this one…" she answered, pushing forward what appeared to be a history of Japanese railways. "The Seikan Tunnel runs underwater, and took almost twenty years to build. Now it runs nightly Hokutosei trains – that is, sleeper cars. Well…sleepers for the humans, I guess. They'd be right in the middle of the night for a gargoyle."
"Sounds peachy. Except that boarding a train wouldn't be any easier than an airplane or boat, would it?" Kawa pointed out.
Hana raised a talon and made a loud popping sound, which was her way of interjecting into a conversation. All of them turned their heads as she made a single, quick sign.
[Cargo.]
"Cargo…" repeated Yami, looking uncharacteristically deep in thought – enough that he momentarily forgot to put on his "dark overlord" voice. "Yes…Yes, brilliant! Almost as much as if I'd thought of it! Cargo trains run near Ishimura all the time! One of them has to transfer to the Seikan!"
Kawa tapped a talon to her chin. "This library wouldn't have up-to-date train schedules. But Arashi should, in his office," she said. "He needs them to plan the clan's consumption of resources, so we aren't a burden to our human neighbors."
"Umm…what're you getting at, exactly?" asked Yuki in a tiny, alarmed voice. "I don't really like the smile that's on your face right now…"
The green-skinned gargoyle answered only by widening her grin even further.
"Thievery is a dishonorable act, in any context," Sakura spoke up, her own expression stoic and determined as she stepped forward. "But to borrow a phrase I heard from Griff-san – in for a yen, in for a…larger amount, of yen?"
Hana signed sympathetically.
[That saying really doesn't translate, does it?]
[-]
Saisho no Ginkō, Ishimura
March 31, 1997
Sakura needed to hurry. After the time they'd spent in the library, she knew she had twenty or thirty minutes at most before the run rose.
Fortunately, there seemed to be no sign of Arashi, or his mate Kumo. Bringing in fresh catch, most likely. The latter did have a bad habit of fishing until it was very nearly dawn, claiming that was when the salmon were at their best.
So she crept, quietly as she could, toward the back door of Ishimura's only bank. The orange-hued gargoyle borrowed an office in this building, to better organize the clan's finances, and his trust with the human bankers was such that they regularly left this door unlocked.
One more quick, furtive glance over both shoulders. No tengu in sight, but this close to sunrise there were already numerous humans out in the streets, getting ready to sell their wares or head off to work. A few offered her quick waves or bows, which she returned curtly but graciously.
None of them seemed to suspect what she was here to do. Why would they? It was inconceivable for a gargoyle to engage in such dishonorable behavior.
It only made Sakura feel guiltier. But not enough to stay her claw.
She gripped the doorknob, turned, and slipped right in.
Arashi's office was, like its owner, fairly sparse and no-nonsense. Bulging file cabinets lined every wall, each meticulously labeled with years going back to the 1950s. A large corkboard was covered from top to bottom with notecards, each reading something like "flour 42 yen/kilo | better deal in bulk" or "lightbulbs 416 yen each | hold off for next week."
The only decorations were a tasteful little houseplant in the corner, and a set of photographs jammed tightly on top of one of the cabinets. One featured Arashi and Kumo shortly after mating, another with a beaked gargoyle Sakura didn't quite recognize, and the last…
She frowned. The last picture frame was tilted downward, as if hidden in shame. Despite the tight time crunch she was under, her curiosity got the better of her.
This photo depicted a much younger Arashi and Kumo, along with what was unmistakably Yama. Her stomach did another little turn at the reminder of why she was doing all this. The three of them had hatched together the very year of her disappearance, and clearly must've been close.
But there was one other figure depicted in the print, with his arms slung around Yama's and Arashi's shoulders and an empty glass of beer in his hand. A human in a beige suit, whose laughing expression didn't quite reach his eyes.
Sakura shook her head and folded the frame back down again. She didn't have time to add on yet another mystery.
Instead, she moved over to Arashi's desk, which was covered in yet another maelstrom of papers and notecards. Perhaps to the horned gargoyle, this mess made some kind of sense, but Sakura gulped at the prospect of finding anything in this chaos.
There were tax records, invoices, check stubs, fax confirmations…
Then suddenly, right in front of the computer, she saw it. They looked very different in this era, but there was still no way any human or gargoyle in Japan could've mistaken it: a train timetable.
She snatched it up and read through. It didn't take long to identify the best candidate. A cargo train called the Hikō no Ressha, scheduled to pass through the nearby Komatsu Station just past midnight.
Interestingly, Arashi had actually highlighted that stop, and affixed a sticky note to it.
Contents unknown | Hokuriku Line | Bushido Concepts
Something about that last name sent an unexplained chill down Sakura's spine. Where had she seen it before?
She cast a glance back at the overturned photograph, and suddenly remembered. It'd been embroidered on the human's fancily tailored suit.
Sakura's thoughts were interrupted by the loud crash of a dora. The large bronze gong sat at the center of the village square, and was rung by a human priest daily, ten minutes before sunrise. Just to make sure that any wayward tengu knew to find shelter in time for the dawn.
The pale-skinned gargoyle let out a low sigh. She didn't have time to make a copy of this schedule, or even knowledge of how. She'd just have to chance that Arashi wouldn't notice it was missing until she was already gone.
Folding the paper into quarters and stuffing it into the folds of her obi, she prepared to dash out of the bank.
Only to quite literally run into another gargoyle. But rather than the gargantuan Arashi or the tiny Kumo, this one was almost her exact match in height, body type, and facial features. Save for their color.
"Been having some early-morning fun, I see," said Sora, tapping her forked tail impatiently on the ground. "Come now, it's late. Glide with me back to the temple."
[-]
Above Ishimura
March 31, 1997
Sakura swallowed as the pair sailed through the skies over Ishimura. Despite that she was chronologically sixty years Sora's senior, biologically speaking they were the same age. And regardless, her position as Second meant she had full authority to punish Sakura however she saw fit.
"Please understand, Sora…" she muttered, knowing she would barely be heard over the rushing wind. "I know how that looked, but…"
Sora held up a claw to stop her.
"Be careful what you say," she responded, without making eye contact. "The more you tell me, the more I'll have to deny later."
Sakura's own eyes slowly widened as the implications of those words washed over her. But the violet-skinned gargoyle wasn't done.
"I want you to know that…Kai did hear your words. Any other night, he would've probably led the search for Yama and the others himself," she said. "But since becoming Second, I've learned a lot of things I didn't know about our clan's inner politics. And about the kinds of pressure he's under right now."
"What do you mean?" asked Sakura.
Sora bit her lip for a moment, as if choosing her words carefully. "You are aware of the…fiasco involving Taro, correct?" she spoke.
Sakura's mind briefly flashed back to the overturned photo in Arashi's office, finally connecting those dots.
"I…have heard the name from time to time. Never in very flattering contexts," she told the other gargoyle.
"In the aftermath of that whole mess, Kai and Hiroshi-san made a pact. To renew the study of bushido, between tengu and human alike," said Sora. "But…not every member of the clan thought that was the right lesson to take. Many of them – especially the older sort – think we're already too involved with the humans. That we should strive to carve our own path. Even if it means leaving Ishimura…or else, driving the humans from it."
"It is tradition for the leader to take counsel from the elders of his clan, as he did earlier tonight. But all decisions are still his to make in the end," Sakura pointed out, frowning slightly. "Unless…?"
Sora nodded once. "Now you're catching on," she declared. "There's a very real possibility they could move against him as leader. Even oust him by force. There was always a contingent that felt Kendo erred when she selected Kai to succeed her, but it was usually limited to a bit of background grumbling. That was…until they found themselves a new voice."
"Hikari," whispered Sakura.
"She has all the qualities that faction is looking for in a leader. Charisma, intelligence…and a vicious hatred of humans," Sora confirmed with another nod. "Don't get me wrong, she isn't interested in gargoyle supremacy or genocide. Not like that maniac from Scotland. But she'd prefer both races leave each other well enough alone. And…more than a few of our mothers and fathers agree with her."
Sakura let out a long, heavy sigh. This certainly explained the tension she'd felt at the gathering.
"And everything I did tonight played right into her claws, didn't it?" she said. "If Kai had decided to send members of the clan to search for mostly human captives, it would've been just the excuse Hikari needed to make her play right there."
The two of them finally landed right on the outskirts of the Temple of Winds. Most of the clan could already be seen on the parapets, turned inward to honor their human protectors.
But now that Sakura was really looking, she could see that a fair number of their stances looked unnaturally stiff or rigid. As if that honor was being offered only begrudgingly.
"At the same time…he knows in his heart that you are right. And…so do I," Sora breathed out, talons closing around Sakura's forearm as her mask of professional stoicism broke apart at last. When Sakura turned to face her, she saw that the Second's eyes were already brimming with tears.
"The gargoyle I love could be anywhere right now. I don't even know if he's alive or dead," she continued, voice quivering. "This is…agony, Sakura. I want nothing more than to go after him myself. And not to rest until I've severed the head of whoever threatens him."
"But you can't abandon Kai right now," said Sakura, very quietly.
Sora didn't even have the energy to nod anymore. She simply confirmed these words with a gasping, shuddering breath.
"He is my leader. I was honored to accept the duties of his Second, when Yama was banished. I cannot forsake those duties for personal reasons," she answered. "But…if you should happen to disappear this evening…and if I should happen to ensure the rest of the clan is looking the other way when you do…"
"Say no more," Sakura cut in, bowing very low. "I am honored to have your faith in me, my lady."
Perhaps it wasn't the appropriate term of address, given their respective ages and stations. But that was certainly what it felt like.
A lady worrying for her lord, and seeking the service of a wandering samurai, to ensure he came home safe.
Sakura chanced a glance to the other side of the temple's main pavilion, where Kawa, Hana, Yuki, and Yami were getting ready for their day's slumber as well. No doubt they'd want to join her.
But no…this was a mission she was honor-bound to accept herself. They'd already risked enough, helping her figure out a way to Hokkaido.
She was the one with a debt to pay. Bushido demanded she not pass that burden to anyone else. Not her leader, not her Second – and certainly not her friends.
Sakura clenched tightly to her katana in one claw, and the train schedule in the other. Along with a small envelope Sora had snuck into her obi as they parted, saying that it was "for his eyes only."
Then, with a look of fierce determination on her face, she turned to stone.
[-]
Bushido Concepts Dig Site #8, Hokkaido
March 31, 1997
A fierce, earsplitting roar echoed through a secluded warehouse.
"I will have your head, Taro!" screamed a deep, male voice.
From the rafters above, a Japanese businessman leaned over the railing, an oily smirk plastered over his face. Apart from a few extra lines, said face looked identical to the one in Arashi's photograph, taken four years ago.
"Funny, you've been saying the same thing for weeks now, and I don't seem any more beheaded than I did last night," said Taro Yamashita smugly. "I think this 'Shōkan Buntai' has dulled your edge, Yama. All that money and effort I put into safeguarding this dig site, and you got tripped up barely ten minutes into your infiltration. Only the nanotech construct put up a good fight."
The gargoyle below, who was trapped in a high-tech contraption that locked his claws, feet, wings, and tail in place, continued to roar and thrash violently. But to little avail.
"Frankly, when we saw each other again, I was expecting it to be more…climactic," he continued, letting out a mocking sigh. "But look at you all now. Megumi, if you please?"
A prim, bespectacled woman with her hair in a tight bun and a blue scarf around her neck nodded once, and pressed a few buttons on a palmtop computer.
Projectors burst to life, displaying images across the warehouse's opposite wall. Among them were Hunter, Dingo, and Fang in similar restraints – the mutate's being thicker, to prevent him from releasing any electricity.
Matrix, meanwhile, was sealed in a cylindrical container, not all that dissimilar from the one it'd been "born" in. Regular electromagnetic pulses were discharged inside to keep it dormant.
"I know what you must be thinking. Why haven't I gotten things over with and eliminated you all?" said Taro, after signaling for Megumi to shut the projectors off. "Well for one thing, the hassle. We're at a very critical stage right now, and I can't afford the attention I might draw by dumping the bodies of a gargoyle and a genetic freak. But more than that…"
Taro watched with relish as the expression of utter fury was frozen onto Yama's face by the rising sun.
"Project Orochi does need test subjects," he murmured, chuckling darkly.