It wasn't the crossing over into the Imaginary World, or even their mission, but being left alone with Nonomiya Kochou that Kazuma had been dreading the most about this trip.

And as soon as the tengu brothers' task of accompanying them through the gate into Gensoukai was finished, that was precisely what she was. Alone. With Kochou. Kazuma tried to make small talk, asking how the Summons Division had been getting on, but Nonomiya shut her down almost immediately.

"Do you think maybe we can just not talk for a little while? I can't pretend . . . I don't have the patience . . . I just think I'd like to focus on the task at hand right now."

Kazuma could hear Nonomiya's gritted teeth in those words—even though Nonomiya directed them away from her—and she hated hearing that almost as much as she hated the words themselves. This wasn't how their mission was supposed to go. In her mind, she'd had this fantasy of their partnership magically healing itself in this magical place, but now it struck her just how deluded and childish that was. In fact, it was almost as if the unreality of Gensoukai was making Nonomiya recede from her at an even faster rate.

So Kazuma stopped in the middle of the road. "Is this really how this whole trip is going to be?"

Nonomiya spun around. "What do you mean?"

And Kazuma could have laughed. Like she doesn't know perfectly well what I mean. "You treating me like I stabbed you in the back or something. Like what I did was completely inexcusable. But I wasn't the one fighting against my very own coworkers. Not to mention, basically abetting an agent who very possibly could have been rogue, not to mention dangerous—"

Then it was Nonomiya's turn to force a laugh. "I thought we agreed long ago, Shin. Tsuzuki wasn't our enemy. Summons wasn't our enemy. But you stand there and talk as though you feel like I'm the one who committed treason! I was only trying to protect our friends—"

"What the hell do you think I was trying to do!"

That stunned Nonomiya to speechlessness. Her narrow eyes went wide, staring back at Kazuma as though seeing her for the first time. But whatever had come over her, however little her defenses had begun to chip, it only lasted for a few seconds. "You know that raid on the Castle of Candles was a witch hunt, don't you?" she said. "Yet you went along with it anyway. No, excuse me—you volunteered to lead it."

"Because those were my orders."

Nonomiya rolled her eyes at that familiar line, and Kazuma wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake sense into her.

She put a hand over her heart instead, praying her sincerity might by some chance reach Nonomiya, and change her mind. "Besides, who do you trust to get something like that right? Me, or some asshole like Endo? Maybe you've forgotten what it means to be a Peacekeeper, Kochou, but I haven't. We exist, by the grace of Enma, to protect. Did you stop to think for one moment that in following that order, even knowing it was complete bullshit, that maybe that was what I was trying to do?"

Nonomiya crossed her arms. "What, cover your own butt?"

"I was trying to cover yours!"

At that, Nonomiya truly didn't know what to say. Or maybe, Kazuma thought while she watched her partner open and close her mouth like an indecisive fish, she had a lot of things she wanted to say, but had the self-restraint not to actually voice them.

And maybe that was for the best. Kazuma feared that the two of them still stood on a precipice, but as long as neither of them said anything they couldn't take back, they were not so far gone off that ledge that they couldn't walk away again.

At last, Nonomiya threw her hands up in the air and trudged determinedly onward. It wasn't the end Kazuma would have liked for the conversation, but realistically, the fight could have gotten a whole lot worse before it got better. She could live with shelving it there.

In any case, the southern gate of the Capital appeared like a godsend up the road, saving them both from more of this uncomfortable conversation. And as they got closer to the massive gate, a small figure who was waiting there noticed them and began to wave.

At a certain point, he could stand it no longer and ran out to greet them. The person who pulled up beside the pair, out of breath but grinning, appeared to be a young and very bright-eyed Tamil boy, albeit with little antlers pointing up out of his tawny hair, a lion's tail protruding through his dhoti trousers, and fangs like a baby saber-toothed tiger. "Good morning, Miss Nonomiya!" He put his hands together and offered a bow in salutation. "I worried it might be too good to be true when I felt you had returned to our world again, but I'm so glad to see it isn't!"

Nonomiya returned the gesture, and let out a little laugh at his exuberance. "Yali! It's good to see you again too! Is it just my imagination, or have you grown since I last saw you? You haven't been leveling up without me?"

As for Kazuma, it felt good to see her old partner smile genuinely once again. Watching the two of them together, she could imagine how Nonomiya had been in life, entirely in her element in her flight attendant's uniform, reassuring a nervous child or giving one their first pair of pilot's wings. Knowing that she was not the cause of that smile, however, did cause Kazuma a sharp pang of guilt.

Guilt she was happy to hide behind a smile and a bow of her own when Nonomiya said, "You remember my partner, Kazuma, don't you?"

Partner, Kazuma thought. Not "old partner." Not "former partner." Maybe we are making some headway. But then, they were partners for as long as this operation lasted. Didn't mean they still would be when it was over.

"Of course!" Yali sang. "Miss Kazuma let me fire her hand cannon last time she was here—"

"Whoa, now, Yali," Kazuma said with a nervous laugh, "I thought we agreed that would be our little secret."

The boy cast a not-too-guilty look at his mistress, hoping that confession wouldn't get him in trouble.

But Nonomiya just bent down with a hand on his shoulder, and said, "Would you do us a favor, Yali? We came here because one of our colleagues sneaked into your world when he wasn't supposed to, and we need to find him before anything bad can happen to him."

"You mean Tsuzuki's friend? Hisoka? Everyone is talking about him in the Capital. Genbu's placing bets on what kind of havoc he's going to wreak this time."

That sounded about like Genbu to Kazuma. If anyone understood the phrase "A fool's soon parted from his money," it was that sneaky old box turtle. She was rather fond of Yali, and just hoped for his sake he was not fool enough to take Genbu's bet.

"Then maybe you can run along ahead of us and see if any of Tsuzuki's shiki will talk to us?" said Nonomiya. "Maybe even help us? Anyone you can possibly find who has information on Kurosaki's whereabouts. It's very important we find him, Yali."

Yali saluted. "Leave it to me, Miss. I'll be as quick as lightning!" he said as he changed into his other form, a creature with the head, upper body and tail of a young lion, but the antlers, tusks and hoofed hindquarters of a muntjac. It might have been an intimidating combination, but given his age and size, came off more cute than dangerous. Nevertheless, Kazuma knew he was capable of great feats of defensive magic, should her partner need to call on him for those abilities.

"Hand cannon?" Nonomiya said after Yali had taken off in Tenkuu's direction, trying to sound more cross than she managed to look.

Kazuma had to chuckle at the memory. "So I taught him how to fire a pistol. The kid was curious. I can't help it if shiki are a few centuries behind in their technology."

Nonomiya just sighed at that and shook her head. "You're determined to be a bad influence, aren't you?"

"Mm, no. No, I like to think I'm more like the cool aunt who spoils the kid rotten."

But Kazuma's charming grin was lost on her partner, who was looking the other way anyway. She knew Nonomiya's mood had nothing to do with Kazuma letting some baby shikigami fire her handgun. And it was going to take a lot more than jokes and sexy smiles to patch things up this time.

Things were starting to feel so routine around his new office that Imai didn't think twice about answering his phone when it rang with a nonchalant "Y'ello. Imai here."

"Why didn't you mention you were killed by a god!"

He almost fell out of his seat before remembering the squawky voice on the other end belonged to one of the Gushoushin. And that, in fact, he had been expecting some sort of answer from them. "Can you hang on one second?" he said as he hurried out into the hallway. Didn't need any of his coworkers overhearing any sensitive information.

"You could have told me you were killed by Rikugou," the Gushoushin told him when Imai felt he was safe from prying ears. "It would have saved me a lot of time searching for an explanation for what you're experiencing."

Imai had just thought it went without saying. The Gushoushin were keepers of the records, after all. Wouldn't his death record be the first place they checked? "Rikugou?" Wasn't that an obscure old word for the universe? "Is that what that big bird thing that blew up in front of me is called?"

Gushoushin sighed. But, really, how was Imai supposed to put it any more elegantly when he was the one in the dark, here? "Rikugou's a god, comes from another dimension, one that humans made thousands of years ago—"

"This isn't some ancient alien shit you're trying to lay on me, is it? 'Cause Asai's been trying to convince me of this stuff for years—"

"No. Shut up." Gushoushin growled. Though it was about as intimidating as a growling kitten. "He's a god, alright, known as the Astrologer, and among his powers are making time stand still and seeing the future. Which explains why you've been having premonitions. Some of his abilities probably transferred to your soul by accident when he killed you."

Killed. He just kept using that word. And with each casual repetition of it, it seemed like Imai was expected to feel more and more numb. Instead, he felt more and more like some injustice had been done against him. Perhaps only accidentally. But wasn't that in some ways worse, if the person or thing that had killed him hadn't even meant to do it?

"So, what do I do now?" he asked. "I assume there's some magical cure, or—"

"What? No, there's no cure! This is what you are now! Honestly, I don't know why you aren't more grateful. These powers are your tools as a shinigami. Learn to use them!"

Apparently Gushoushin didn't think there was anything more to be said, as he ended the phone call rather abruptly.

And as Imai shut his phone and leaned his head back against the wall, feeling unsatisfied by the lack of clear answers, he had to wonder if there was something wrong with him that he couldn't feel what Gushoushin apparently thought he should. That his new gifts were a tool, or even a blessing. Maybe he would have felt differently if he could go on believing his death had been merely an unfortunate accident. But if some force, some individual were actually responsible, then didn't they deserve to be brought to justice for his death? Didn't he deserve to see them face some sort of punishment?

He wished Kazuma were still here to help him navigate these feelings, as he was sure he couldn't be the only shinigami who had ever had them. But she was off on some secret mission that his chief didn't seem to want to give out too many details about. Something about bringing in an agent from another department who might have gone rogue. That was all he would say.

"I didn't mean to eavesdrop, Detective Imai, but I thought I recognized that voice. A call from Gushoushin?"

Speak of the Devil. . . . While Imai had been mulling through his conflicted feelings, Chief Todoroki had sneaked up beside him. Imai knew Kazuma was unnerved by the man, but personally he had yet to sense anything worthy of suspicion. Maybe it was the chief's military manner that put Imai at ease, his stolidity and the no-nonsense way he had with his agents. He made Imai feel like he was a detective still. "No, never mind I asked," Todoroki said. "If it's a private matter, I won't pry—"

"Actually, it's probably time I informed you, sir. Seeing as it may affect my performance."

Todoroki looked on with interest, but waited for Imai to feel comfortable saying what he needed to say.

"I've been experiencing some strange things," Imai confessed in a low voice, "premonitions to be precise. Gushoushin was helping me make sense of them. He—er, it is 'he,' right?—seems to think they're tied to the manner of my death."

"And he's probably right. That would be the most likely explanation, seeing as the shikigami who killed you is known to manipulate time."

"Shikigami?" Imai narrowed his eyes. "Not just any old god, then."

At which Todoroki looked as though he had said too much. Imai wanted to reassure him, though, in this matter more information was definitely better. "Didn't Gushoushin say?" said the chief. "Oh, well. Perhaps he thought you already knew that bit. Or perhaps he wanted to protect the identity of the shiki's master. They don't summon themselves or attack without orders, after all."

"What are you saying? Someone gave the order to attack that killed me? Who?"

Imai's growing anger must have started to show in his voice. Todoroki decided he had already said too much, but he shot Imai a sympathetic smile, and clapped a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "You're the detective, Detective. I'm afraid that is one mystery you have to figure out for yourself. Then you'll truly know what it means to be a shinigami."

". . . Hisoka? Hey. Hisoka. ~Time to wake up~"

Feeling disoriented and like the whole inside of his mouth had been wrapped in plastic, Hisoka lifted his head off his arms, resting on his desk. When had he gotten there? It seemed like he was missing some time. Not to mention, he never fell asleep like this at work. Could he have blacked out?

A similar thought must have occurred to Tsuzuki, who smiled an impish smile down at him. "Still haven't recovered from the Count's party, hmm? I told you to take it easy, but you insisted you never got drunk."

"I don't. Because I don't drink. You're the one who's always saying you don't get drunk, while you're hammered usually—"

But Tsuzuki wasn't listening. In fact, it felt like Hisoka was talking to himself for all Tsuzuki was paying attention. "Anyway," his partner said, pointing a thumb over his shoulder, "I just came over here to get you. Looks like we've got another case, and there's castella in the conference room. Just what you need for that hangover."

Hisoka started to remind him that sugar would only make it worse, and besides, he wasn't hungover; but Tsuzuki had already moved on, and Hisoka had no choice but to follow him to the conference room. There appeared to be a meeting—of sorts—already in session, as Watari was showing off another one of his inventions, a scary-looking contraption that seemed designed to make fingers disappear from their bodies (though, as usual, that was probably just an unfortunate side effect), and Tatsumi was chastising him for wasting the department's time and money on it.

"Ah, glad to see you two could finally join us," Konoe said over the other two's bickering, while Hisoka poured himself a cup of tea and Tsuzuki helped himself to a couple slices of cake. "Looks like we've got another string of suspicious deaths on our hands, and I need you two to look into it."

As Konoe went over the macabre details and photographs, a theme started to emerge that pointed to someone with sadistic tendencies and medical experience. Tsuzuki echoed what Hisoka was thinking when he piped up with his suspicions that Muraki might have something to do with the killings. Apparently that was the thought on Konoe's mind as well; he urged them both to be extremely cautious as they got up to go.

Before Hisoka could follow Tsuzuki back through the door, however, Tatsumi stopped him with a short: "A moment, Kurosaki?

"Before you get too far into this case," he said when the two of them had some privacy, "I need you to do something for me."

Hisoka was expecting him to ask something to the effect that he take extra care of Tsuzuki on this investigation, but instead the secretary told him: "It's urgent these files get up to Judgment," and so saying, dumped a stack of them into Hisoka's arms. "I would go myself, but Watari's blown a huge hole out of our budget with this latest contraption of his, and the matter needs my immediate attention. And, ah, speaking of budgets, I'm afraid you and Tsuzuki will have to make due with cheaper accommodations on this case—"

"It's not a problem," Hisoka assured him, though he was sure he would be getting an earful about it from Tsuzuki the moment they arrived at their hotel—or hovel, as the case may be.

That let Tatsumi breathe somewhat of a sigh of relief, and Hisoka left him, heading off through the corridors toward the Judgment Division's offices.

It was only once he got to that section of the building complex, which was teeming with Judgment officers, demons, and the occasional deceased soul wandering around trying to find out where to get processed, that Hisoka realized he had completely forgotten to ask Tatsumi where in Judgment he was supposed to take the files.

He asked around, pushing through crowds that were all too busy to watch where they were going or shield their thoughts, and eventually got a tiger-headed demon seated at a security desk to direct him. "Elevator," it said with a paw pointing the way, "fourth floor."

But as soon as Hisoka stepped into the elevator, he was hit by a strange and uncomfortable thought. One which he had no way of supporting, but which he felt settle like an anxious knot in his gut nonetheless. That this elevator might not actually go to the floors that matched the buttons on the wall panel. That it might have a mind of its own, or go horizontally as well as vertically. That it might not even be restricted to the floors of this building at all.

And while he was silently freaking out, other passengers came and went in the car, none seeming to have any trouble reaching their destinations. Perhaps it was only the feeling of gravity, pulling on him when the elevator car rose, that had caused that nervous feeling in his gut. When Hisoka was alone in the car again, he pressed the button for the fourth floor. And was surprised when, after a few seconds, he actually reached it, without anything strange happening.

But before he could debark, Terazuma stepped into the elevator with a casual "Oh hey, Kurosaki," blocking Hisoka's egress and pressing the button for another floor.

"I needed to get out there," Hisoka tried to protest, but the car was already moving again. "I have to deliver these files so I can start investigating my case. People are dying—"

"I know," Terazuma sighed. "What else is new, am I right? Another day in paradise. Here, lemme see those." He grabbed a few off the top of Hisoka's stack, paging through them while he hummed around the unlit cigarette hanging from his lips. "Yeah, you need to photocopy these before you drop them off. Didn't nobody tell you?"

"N-no?" Hisoka could only say dumbly. "Why?"

"Well, it's not going to do you any good handing them in if you don't make copies first. Hey, since you're going that way," Terazuma said as the thought just occurred, "would you mind making a few for me while you're at it? I told Kannuki I'd take care of it, but seeing as the Gushoushin really don't want me stepping foot in the library, something about only letting in people who respect books . . ."

"Why don't you just use the copy machine in our office?" Hisoka asked, but Terazuma didn't seem to hear him. "I mean, where do they get off assuming I don't respect books?" he went on obliviously. "Just because I had a little accidental explosion, and it was that jerk Tsuzuki's fault to begin with. . . .

"Anyway, you don't mind, do you, kid? I'd be really grateful." And without even waiting for an answer, Terazuma added his own paperwork to Hisoka's stack, and gave Hisoka a chummy little slap on the back before he disappeared.

Hisoka didn't know whether to grit his teeth or sigh. It felt like he was never going to get started on this case. People's lives might be on the line, souls that didn't have to die that he could still save if he and Tsuzuki left now. But here he was, stuck running errands for his coworkers. Well, if he had to go to the library anyway, maybe he could enlist the Gushoushin's help with making copies while he and Tsuzuki started investigating. Surely the brothers would understand the urgency of the matter.

But as he was nearing the library, a feeling overwhelmed Hisoka that was so sudden and inexplicable, he had to stop and brace his shoulder against the wall, just to try and clear his head enough to make sense of it.

There was a door wedged into that familiar hallway that had not been there before. Though he could hear nothing from inside, something beyond that door tugged at Hisoka, as if there were a black hole spinning at its center. The curiosity to open it and see what was inside simply would not leave him alone. And when Hisoka did open it a crack, what he glimpsed was a darkened, empty room the size of a planetarium. No way there was room enough in the building to permit that kind of space to exist. Yet, there it was. And, for some reason Hisoka could not explain, he was terrified of going in. He only knew, with every fibre of his being, that death awaited him in the center of that room, one even more permanent than what had brought him here.

Even though he could see with his own eyes that the room was empty of any inhabitants, still he thought he felt a presence there. One which would only reveal itself the moment the door was closed behind Hisoka. One which would be the last thing he ever saw—

"There you are!" said Tsuzuki, hurrying up the hallway toward him.

Wanting to protect him from what was inside the room, Hisoka quickly shut the door.

"Are we gonna get going on this case or what?" Tsuzuki asked. And while Hisoka fumbled for an explanation involving making copies and transporting documents, Tsuzuki linked his arm in Hisoka's and dragged him away. "First off, we need to get your tickets."

"Tickets? As in train tickets?" That was almost as ludicrous as the death room. As shinigami, they never needed to take public transportation, as teleportation was not only near-instantaneous, it was free.

"Not train tickets, silly. You need to get the proper documents and I.D. to get into this school." And at Hisoka's confused look: "Where we'll be investigating undercover? Honestly, did you even look at our case file?"

But the line they got into to supposedly get the right documentation turned out to be the lunch line in the cafeteria. And when Hisoka pointed this out, along with the fact that they were wasting time, Tsuzuki chastened him: "Nonsense. This'll only take a minute. Besides, you can't fight evil on an empty stomach!"

The rest of the day unfolded very much along similar lines. Hisoka would be whisked or sent off in one direction, told he had to stand in this line or accomplish that errand before he could teleport off to the living world, only to be redirected just as soon as he got there. All the while being reminded what he already knew too well: that timing was of the essence, and he had to investigate this case before anyone else got hurt. He tried to teleport to the living world himself, to no avail. Even a walk through the grounds outside had invariably led back indoors. Always toward some higher-priority item of business that he could not ignore. And always past that doorway, with its dreaded death room just inside it, which he desperately wanted to ignore.

He felt as though he had walked for miles, seeing parts of the Judgment Bureau's complex of buildings that he hadn't seen in years, or that were altogether new. But he hardly had a moment to slow down. There was always something else that needed his attention, somewhere that he had to be. It was like being trapped in a nightmare.

Wait a second. Am I having a nightmare? Am I dreaming all of this? If that's the case, I should be able to just wake up. So why do I feel like I already am awake?

No sooner had the thought popped into Hisoka's head than he noticed the hallway he had walked down a hundred times before suddenly came to a dead end where there should have been a T. Had he merely gotten turned around? Been so lost in thought he had forgotten where he was going? No, he was sure the hall didn't end here, and the door that had appeared at the end of it should have been a blank wall.

Yet there he was, standing less than twenty paces from yet another door, in yet another part of the building, that should not have existed. In a hallway that appeared to be having a problem with its power. The fluorescent lights overhead blinked and struggled to stay lit, and the ones at the end of the hall had gone out completely, shrouding the door that stood there in dark shadow.

As if someone doesn't want me to go through it.

Which was all the reason Hisoka needed to check it out. When he reached the door, he noticed an exit sign mounted above it, but the light in that was also out. And when he tried the handle, he found it was locked. Nor would it respond to any attempt of his to unlock it. When he tried to charm the lock open, the handle gave him a sharp shock. So he placed the side of his head to the door instead, and concentrated, hoping to hear anything on the other side of it. But the only sound that came back to him was a low hum, resonating through the door itself and lulling him into a state of restfulness, of forgetfulness. He couldn't remember why he had come down here, but it felt like there had been an important reason. . . .

"Well, well. What's this, boy? Wandering about where we don't belong? Have we still not learned our lesson?"

Hisoka spun at the sound of that voice at his ear—that voice that he should not have heard here, in Meifu, of all places. His heart leaped in conditioned panic when he saw Muraki standing over him, staring down at him with that condescending look in his eyes that spoke of the most vile, evil intent. Hisoka instinctively tried to back away, but he was trapped against a door that would not open.

Still, he willed himself to remain calm. This is a dream. It's just a dream. He can only hurt me if I let him. But if that was true, why couldn't he wake up from this nightmare, no matter how he tried? "What are you doing here, Muraki?"

Muraki narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing Hisoka. "I would ask you the same question. This level is restricted, and you don't have the proper clearance. One would have to wonder if you weren't up to something."

"I meant, what are you doing here, in Enma-cho? It isn't possible for you to get in! Unless . . ." There were a couple explanations to choose from, none of which meant anything good. Either Muraki had found some loophole into the Land of the Dead that Enma didn't know about, or someone from the inside had invited him in. Or else, even less appealing—

"Hey, Hisoka, I think I finally got everything squared away and we can head out any time you . . ."

Tsuzuki trailed off, blinking when he saw Muraki leaning over his partner. Hisoka could see the change come over his partner's face, how Tsuzuki's jaw clenched and his energy did a complete U-turn into negative territory. "Get away from him, Muraki!" he said as he stomped forward. "You've got some balls showing your face here. You know this isn't your department!"

Department? . . . was all Hisoka could think numbly, as he watched Muraki close the distance and seize Tsuzuki in a dance hold in mid-stride. "Why, Tsuzuki," the doctor cooed while Tsuzuki blushed and tried to worm out of his grasp, "no need to be jealous on the boy's account. You know my affections have only ever been for you alone."

And as Hisoka watched Tsuzuki's will to free himself start to waver, a wave of anger and disgust and, yes, even jealousy rose up inside his own person that he felt he could barely contain. "Would one of you tell me what the hell is going on!" he yelled. But it was like yelling at a brick wall for all the attention the two paid him. "Why are you acting like Muraki works here!"

"I warned you what would happen if he died," said Natsume. Or rather, said his voice, coming from a calico cat who had appeared out of nowhere and was wearing his glasses.

Never mind that K, or some version of her, was talking to him in words he could understand. The very idea that Muraki was working for Enma, a shinigami himself, on their same side, whom Hisoka would have to cross paths with and act civil to on a regular basis for the rest of his afterlife, filled Hisoka with such insurmountable hopelessness for his own future that he couldn't stand it.

In fact, he wouldn't stand for it. Hisoka had had quite enough of this. And now that he was certain he was dreaming—it had to be, that was the only way any of his craziness made sense—he was determined to get himself out of here. Or, barring that, seize control of this damned nightmare until whatever had a hold on his mind finally broke and released him.

He raced back down the hall, past Muraki and Tsuzuki locked in their hateful embrace, leaving talking-K behind, back towards that room that had filled him with such existential fear before. He was still inexplicably terrified of it, that certainty of death still lingering as fresh with him as when he had first felt it, but somehow he knew that that room was the key to all of this craziness. Somehow that room, and whatever malevolent force was contained within it, was his answer to all this. Either he would meet his ultimate end, or he would find salvation. Then again, perhaps in this dream world, with its dream-logic, those two were not mutually exclusive. Maybe he had to die in order to escape.

Never had the offices of the Judgment Bureau felt so like a labyrinth as they did now. He must have taken half a dozen wrong turns before arriving back in the hallway where he had encountered the mysterious room. But the doorway had vanished. Only the ones he remembered from real life remained.

The elevator! Yes, that had to be it! He had sensed its power before, its potential to take its passengers wherever it chose, not merely where they intended. Perhaps it would take him to wherever that mysterious room had relocated to. In any case, Hisoka had to try. He didn't know how else to get out of here.

He only hesitated the moment the elevator doors opened, waiting for Hisoka to step in. This was it. The moment those doors closed around him, anything could happen. He could end up going anywhere in the Judgment Bureau, or in Enma-cho—might even end up in a different plane in space or time. But he had to take that chance. He got in. But before he could push a floor button—or even read them, as there was no order to them whatsoever—the elevator car took off on its own.

"I know what you're doing," Hisoka said.

The elevator did not answer.

"It isn't going to work. You're trying to make me forget what I came here for, make me think that that," Hisoka indicated the farce of his office behind him, "is where I belong, that you can keep me trapped there indefinitely. But none of that was real." And he refused to believe in any of its twisted, fun-house-mirror reflection of his own life any longer.

No sooner had he voiced that than Hisoka could feel some force push back against his mind. Not unlike how the walls of the many-sided coffer-walled room had slowly closed in on him. What had seemed a mystery to Senrima now seemed so clear to him that he felt foolish for not guessing it before. He understood how this place could be called a fortress. It did not need an army to keep intruders out, only to pit the mind against itself, and let a person's own anxieties and jealousies and the monotony of their day-to-day existence become a prison in their own right. One a person could wander in circles in forever. The fortress was trying with all its might to magnify and multiply all those tiny little doubts and fears that ran always in the background of his mind, and make him forget what he had come here to do.

But Hisoka refused to forget. He had come too far to do so. If this was indeed a dream, he would bend it to his will. He told the elevator, "I command you take me to Rikugou," and did not even entertain no as an answer.

He wasn't sure what he had expected to find when he reached his destination. A Rikugou beaten and bloody, perhaps, or manacled and chained in heavy iron. Naked and humiliated, or wrapped up tight like a patient in an insane asylum's padded cell.

The man who sat in lotus pose in the center of the room resembled an ascetic monk, dressed in simple but well-worn gi and trousers, like hospital pajamas, which looked to have been made for a slightly smaller man. It had been easy for Hisoka to overlook how imposing a figure Rikugou actually cut; his long hair and voluminous coats had a way of shrinking the man beneath them down to more human proportions. But the long braid was gone now, his hair shaved down to stubble. Nothing to hide the pair of eyes set into his forehead behind. Even his glasses were gone.

It dawned on Hisoka that his captors did not need to beat or strip Rikugou to humble him. They had robbed him of the signs of his power. A fitting punishment for losing control of his own strength. If not for the extra pair of eyes, there would be nothing to indicate he was a shikigami at all.

While Hisoka was studying the man, his own arrival did not go unnoticed. Rikugou looked up from his meditations.

"Master Kurosaki." Relief and affection lit up his face—for all of one moment, before they were replaced by something darker. "You should not have come."

"Why?" Now that he was here, now that he was within reach of his goal, Hisoka could not help himself. He strode swiftly toward Rikugou's side. "If I'd known they were going to do this to you, I would have fought tooth and nail to get here sooner—"

"Stop! Do not cross the circle or every being within a hundred li loyal to Sohryuu will descend upon this place!"

Hisoka stood still in mid-step. Now that he was close, he could see that it was a large bronze disk set into the floor that Rikugou was seated upon. Engravings with ancient characters surrounded it, like some sort of summoning circle. A hollow column of light rose just beyond its outer edge, what at first Hisoka had mistaken for sunlight catching on motes of dust. But no sunlight penetrated the chamber.

A few more steps and he would have crossed that light. Would it have repelled him? Hurt him, or worse? Or hurt Rikugou? He was not ready to find out.

"Sohryuu imprisoned you here," he said. Not a question. Hisoka didn't feel he needed to ask. "He did this to you, didn't he? Cut your hair, too? What, did he enlist Touda and Suzaku to help him?"

Rikugou's downward gaze was answer enough. He cringed at Hisoka's accusation of his colleagues, but his emotions did not contradict Hisoka, who knew that Tsuzuki's most loyal shiki would not be pleased, to say the least, with what the astrologer had done.

But then Rikugou surprised him: "It was my choice."

"I don't believe that for a minute—"

A calmly raised hand silenced him. "Nevertheless, it is true. Despite what you might think of Sohryuu, I asked to be sent here, Master Kurosaki," Rikugou said, meeting Hisoka's eyes again, "so it could not be said about me that I was completely out of control, lost to reason, and a danger to others. But more than that, it is only what I deserve. What I did to you," he gritted out, as though he needed to force words that resisted being said, "is unforgivable—"

"What you almost did," Hisoka corrected him.

But Rikugou shook his head. "What I did. I attacked you, to whom I had sworn myself—even if it was unintentional, even if I couldn't control it. In many ways, that makes it worse. I could have destroyed you, I almost did, and either it is an inexcusable weakness or an unpardonable offense. Either way, I betrayed my master—not just one, but two, in the same instant. So yes, this is only the start of what I deserve, for the hubris in me, believing I could serve two masters at the same time—"

"You only did what I asked you to do. The fault is mine—"

"No. It is mine. I was your guardian. It was for me to obey—to focus my power and, at your will, aim it—and I failed you. I turned it against you. I broke that most sacred of vows and tried to destroy you. Not because I wanted you gone, either, but because I simply could not contain myself once my power was unleashed. And is it not worse, to succeed at what one intends not to do? For that, I must pay the price. And I have chosen to remain here, in this fortress, and contemplate my actions. Is it so much to ask to be left to it in peace?"

The column of light may have been a barrier between them, but it allowed his emotions to roam free. Or perhaps Hisoka was simply more attuned to them than he had been his last visit. The guilt that saturated this place—it was as though the very stones had been soaked in it.

He sat down just outside the circle. If Rikugou intended to stay, then Hisoka would too. They would just have to see who caved first.

"You know how this place works, don't you? It'll just make you wander around in your worst nightmare without end. You don't honestly expect me to believe you would choose to relive the worst decisions you ever made, day after day."

"It is only fitting," Rikugou said in a tone that made it clear he wished Hisoka would just go away and leave him to it. "This place and I have negotiated a fair deal."

A deal where he could run away from his problems without actually facing them, Hisoka thought. No matter how many times you went over your regrets in your head, no matter how many angles you examined them from, the only thing that truly mattered was making sure they were never allowed to happen again. He would have thought Rikugou, in his infinite wisdom, would have learned that lesson long ago. "That changes nothing. I fought hard to get this far. I was nearly crushed to death just getting here, a couple times, and I'm not leaving empty-handed. My friends fought hard—"

"Friends?"

"K, my coworker, and Senrima. Kijin." Rikugou "ahh"ed at the latter two names, at least. "They stuck out their necks to help me get here," Hisoka said, "and I'm not going to let their efforts be in vain. I came to break you out, and I'm not leaving here until I do."

Rikugou chuckled at that, albeit bitterly. "I feared you might say that."

Feared? What the hell am I missing? "The way I see it, there are two ways we can go about this. Either I can try to pick whatever this supernatural lock that's holding you is, and fight my way back out when the cavalry comes to make sure you stay here. I've already beat this fortress at its own games, I'm confident I can do it again. Or you can just tell me how to free you, and we can be far from here before any help arrives."

He should have known it wouldn't be that simple when Rikugou shook his head. "I don't think you understand. I am here not because I cannot leave, but because I mustn't. Those challenges you faced along the way—who do you think designed them?" Now that he truly thought about it, Hisoka could not deny that there was a similarity between Rikugou's initial test and all the hurdles this place had thrown in his way. "This fortress's mind bears some of the blame, of course. It helped me to put my plans into motion. It agreed to try and stop you, but it can only do so much. It was never designed to be a force of evil in this world."

"It tried to kill me."

"Hardly. If anything, it pulled its punches too soon and too easily to turn away someone determined to penetrate its secrets. But I could do nothing to alter its nature. I can see the future, Kurosaki. I knew there was a high probability you would try to come for me, to set me free. I had to at least try to turn you away, for your own good."

"My own good?" Hisoka cried. He shot up onto his knees, and remembered the barrier just in time. "What part of you abandoning me when I need you most is for my own good!"

Hisoka's words seemed to shock the shikigami—perhaps he had not thought of what he was doing as abandonment—but Rikugou hardened his resolve. "I merely believe that perhaps you were better off without me. Our experiment was a failure. The outcome was nearly fatal to you—and surely was to others, others who did not deserve or ask for that fate. The burden of their deaths is on my soul, and on yours. I should have foreseen the consequences of answering your call, and yet I did not. Or, perhaps I had some indication—after all, I knew what you intended to do with me—yet I allowed my feelings for you to cloud my judgment and ignored the warning signs. Still, I have the wisdom to say enough is enough. Only a fool would want to repeat the same mistake—"

"Then call me a fool. But I'm not the one who'd rather dream about the mistakes he's already made than start over anew. I need you, Rikugou." How to convey the truth of that to him? For Hisoka felt it with all the strength and certainty in his soul.

Or was Rikugou correct when he accused: "You need my power. Or, rather, desire it. You are addicted to power—any that you believe might help you in your revenge. In that, you are no better than your own demon."

So that was the purpose of that test, making him confront Muraki. It wasn't about the man, so much as the pain and anger his torture and murder still caused Hisoka. Not to mention, the pain and anger of seeing Tsuzuki capitulate to that man's will every time he had the opportunity to strike him down.

And why shouldn't Hisoka want revenge for that? More than that: justice. It was only natural to want justice for what had been done to him. It was only human, and only right. Why should he expect a god to have even the faintest idea of what that was like, to want the one responsible for ruining your life to suffer for it? These gods, these shikigami, whose petty squabbles Rikugou and Senrima both seemed to see themselves as above—what did any of them know about true pain? Their pride was bruised, their aims foiled—they slayed one another and, in most cases, were re-spawned like players in a video game. They knew nothing of the burden he carried, the burden that was his daily existence.

And Hisoka wanted to throw that in Rikugou's face—defy his accusations with a big "So what". So fucking what. He deserved the right to bring Muraki low. At least he deserved the right to try. And what were shikigami for, anyway? To obey. To do what they were told—kill who they were told.

As much as he wanted to, Hisoka didn't need to project those feelings onto Rikugou. They must have been clear on his face, because Rikugou could see just how on-the-mark his accusation had landed. He knew, as if he were the mind-reader, how much Hisoka wanted to double-down on it—to be that greedy, selfish, tunnel-visioned human Rikugou told him he was.

Except to acknowledge that would also be to acknowledge that he was weak, at his very core. And for all he hated shiki pride, Hisoka was ashamed of anyone thinking he was guilty of his own.

"The records were mistaken," Rikugou said, head bowed. "We are utterly, irreconcilably, incompatible."

Funny, Hisoka thought. He could remember saying something very close to that to Tsuzuki, some years ago. And for all it had been right, he had been dead wrong.

"I don't believe it."

And Hisoka wasn't just saying that. With every revolution of those words in his mind, he was more and more sure. They weren't incompatible. Rikugou may have wanted to convince himself they were, but he gave his true feelings away. "You knew when you first felt me come into this world that we had a connection."

The clues had been there from the start. Rikugou hadn't just saved Hisoka from a Sohryuu on the warpath. He had taken Hisoka under his wing. There had to have been a reason.

"You saw that we had a future together," Hisoka kept at it, his voice and his certainty growing with every word. "That's why you sought me out! I didn't go looking for you! You knew all along that I would one day have you as my guardian, that's why our paths kept crossing. Because you made sure they would. You set me up to challenge you—you made us happen! If you don't consider that compatibility, then what is it?"

"You're right," Rikugou shot back, drowning out Hisoka's voice with his, as though volume alone might win him the argument. "I did believe that what I had seen in the stars indicated a strong connection between us, between our fates. And I did seek you out, in part for to test that very possibility. But I did not read the signs correctly. I was wrong. So very wrong. And so many have already paid for it. You, nearly, with your very being.

"There is something I failed to mention to you when you won me as guardian."

The gravity in Rikugou's voice stopped Hisoka. He wasn't sure he wanted to hear it, but knew he had to. "What?"

"That you should have failed the test. The one I set for you the last time you were here. I felt it in you. The moment you gave up." And Hisoka knew precisely what he meant without him saying more. It was the moment he had truly felt the full weight of his guilt, and knew it was likely he would never see Tsuzuki again. He had found himself facing a future existence without the person he needed most in all the world in it, and the pain of that realization had been enough to make him want to die all over again.

And though it had been a temporary affliction, he had not known then just how lethal it could have been. So, I should have died after all. How close had he been, he wondered, to the sunbird's sharp claws and beak, to those tail feathers that scalded anything they touched? Without ever even knowing it.

"I should have killed you for it," Rikugou admitted. "Obliterated you. I did not want to, but it was my nature, the nature of the compact we enter into when we are challenged to guardianship. If we see a weakness, we strike. I tried to do it, but you were protected."

Hisoka started. "What do you mean, protected? By what?"

"I cannot say for certain. It would not reveal its true nature to me."

What disturbed Hisoka more than anything, though, was that Rikugou spoke of the thing as an agent, something conscious, willful. Was it too much to hope it had something to do with Muraki's curse—something Hisoka could potentially find a cure for? "What are you trying to say? That there was already something inside my head? Some sort of being?" A frightening thought struck him, but one that offered some hope at the same time. "Can parasitic shiki take over your body without your knowledge?"

But Rikugou shook his head. "It was not one of us. And yet it seemed not altogether unlike one of us."

"So, like a demon?" Hisoka wasn't sure he wanted to hear the answer to that, but he had to ask.

Rikugou's answer didn't give him much reassurance. "Yes and no. It felt as though it was a part of you, intermingled with your physical makeup and yet its own separate consciousness. And still you have no knowledge of it?"

"I'm beginning to," Hisoka admitted. "Apparently after your powers backfired on me, this . . . thing, this whatever-it-is, was what saved me from being totally destroyed by the flames." He saw it again: the scales beneath his own burnt flesh, the eyes that should have been his eyes but weren't, and yet were at the same time. . . .

He shook his head. "Physically, I don't feel any different than I ever did, but ever since that night, I've been having . . . dreams. Nightmares. The same ones I used to have when I was little. Much as I'd like to blame Muraki for this too, I'm not sure I can. I think it must have been there before I met him. Wherever I picked it up, it sounds like you think I'm possessed."

"I don't know if that would be the correct term for it. But there is something inside of you, part of you and still separate. It enfolded your soul within itself when I attacked. I found my energy . . . deflected." And as Rikugou thought back, an image developed in Hisoka's mind of some sort of dark egg, rough-textured and hard as an iron meteor. Constructed of continuously twisting coils. Perpetually irate—not unlike the righteous anger that drove Hisoka's quest for justice. "I think by protecting you, it was protecting itself."

At the time, Hisoka had felt like he was being strangled by its coils. Not exactly his definition of "protecting". The way Rikugou went on, he supposed he should have been grateful to that entity for saving him; but all he felt was a revulsive fear, a hatred for this thing that felt more like a burden he had never asked for than a blessing. If it was trying so hard to save me, why put me through so much pain?

"It doesn't matter."

Rikugou blinked up at him, his second pair of eyes opening a crack as though they too were in disbelief.

And Hisoka had to admit he surprised himself with that confession. "I've been giving this some thought on my way here. Ever since I learned that there might be this . . . this presence inside me. If it is something I carried over with me from life, and it's permanent, I'm going to have to learn to live with it. I might even have to face the possibility that . . . that I'm not entirely human."

Those last few words felt like they were coming out of someone else's mouth, such was Hisoka's disconnect from them. He should have been bothered by the idea.

Rikugou must have been thinking the same thing. "You don't deny it?"

"What good would denial do if it's true?"

That earned Hisoka a smile from the shikigami. "What good, indeed?"

"I could dwell on this—I could let the idea that some part of me is a god or a demon or a monster tear me apart until I no longer know who I am. Or I could accept it and move on. I saw Tsuzuki go through this same problem." And had a front-row seat to the existential crisis that ensued. Again and again. When did one say, that's enough? No more? When did one accept what he was, and the fact that he couldn't change it? "I've seen where fighting this sort of thing gets you, and I don't want to end up like him. Hating myself for all eternity."

"Tsuzuki carries a great deal of guilt," Rikugou said, as though by way of apology. "Some of it I'm sure is tied to what he is, but just as much to what he has done. You are not he, Kurosaki. You don't have to become him."

"Well, if I can't control who, or what, I am, I can at least control what I do about it. I need to know the truth. But I will not let the answer I find consume me. And that, I worry, I can't do alone."

Hisoka got back to his feet. He extended a hand to Rikugou in invitation, even if it was largely symbolic: He was careful not to extend it over the line of Rikugou's cage.

"I need you, Rikugou. I don't care if it's as my guardian or just a trusted friend who can help me figure all this stuff out. All I know is, I can't do this alone. And I can't just turn around and leave you here, either. I don't care if that's what you want me to do," Hisoka said to Rikugou's frustrated sigh. "You're here because of me—because I couldn't control your power when I called on it. Don't I get a say in how you're punished, if I'm the one who committed the crime in the first place?"

Rikugou enjoyed a good laugh at that. Enough that Hisoka had to wonder if the shiki's failure in the living world had damaged him in some way. Hisoka hadn't meant what he said to be a joke.

"This will sound mad," Rikugou said, "you'll think that I have lost my marbles (as I believe the human expression goes) from my incarceration, but I will consent to this foolhardy plan of yours on one condition."

At that point, Hisoka would have agreed to just about anything to get Rikugou out of this place, and he said as much.

"I think you should challenge Kurikara again."

He was right. That did sound mad. And Rikugou called Hisoka's plan foolhardy. "You chewed me out for daring to think I could handle him! You told me I was reaching far beyond my power level!"

"But that was before I knew of this entity within you!" Rikugou got to his feet, all four eyes wide open and bright with the passion of his convictions. "Now I know how you were able to survive his fire the first time you came to our world. At least, I strongly suspect I do. And if I'm right, it means you can do it again."

"Now you want to put me through that kind of pain? Is this your plan to free yourself from me once and for all? Send me on a suicide mission?" That earned him another little laugh, but Hisoka had been dead serious. "And what will Sohryuu say? He already believes we're both his enemies."

Rikugou sobered at that, though only a bit. "If we were both to go to Kurikara, he would only see that as confirmation of his fears, it is true. He cannot see that it is he who has betrayed the memory of the Emperor, that by trying to keep this realm in a condition of suspended animation he weakens it. But we can make him see."

"How!"

"That I don't know yet. I only know that if neither he nor Kurikara can be convinced, there is no hope left for us. One or the other must be willing to put aside old wounds and fight for our future."

"So you're giving up on Sohryuu? Just like that?"

Hisoka was unprepared for the hurt Rikugou hurled back at him. "It isn't 'just like that'! Do you not think I've tried everything in my power to reach him?" he said as he paced inside his circle, emotion thickening his voice. "Do you know how frustrating it is for a creature of reason to have that reason rejected at every turn? By one that I love as I would a brother or a spouse at that? But I do not command Sohryuu, I am merely a peer and an inferior, and the one person who could succeed in changing his heart is nowhere in sight. Yes, Sohryuu is wrong, but I cannot blame him for it. I cannot blame him if he feels abandoned all over again. He has good reason to.

"Kurikara, on the other hand, has no master," Rikugou went on, deepening Hisoka's dread with every sentence. "He refuses to entertain the idea of being lorded over by a human. But that does not mean he is unattainable—only that he, in his pride and his superiority, believes himself to be so. We already know from the records that you and he are compatible—"

"No. Absolutely not. It's too dangerous—"

"And the last two times you were here, it seemed you could not wait for an opportunity to look on the Dragon King. I remember how eager you were to speak to him, believing you could change his mind about his war—that you could convince him to assist you in your search for Tsuzuki."

"I was deluded!" Hisoka threw up his hands. "You just told me how close I was to being destroyed by you, and now you think I should take on a god ten times more powerful?"

"More like a thousand," Rikugou said. And Hisoka need not have told him that wasn't helping. "But never mind the particulars. Kurikara can be convinced—"

"But how?"

"He must be convinced. Or else I must give up on any hope I still have that we can save our world." Rikugou heaved a great sigh. Then, as if some age-old question had at last been settled within him, he stretched himself to his full height. It made him look even stranger in the ill-fitting clothes, and shorn head. Drawn-out, like a crane. "I will prepare you for the confrontation to the best of my abilities, and I will accompany you to Kurikara's doorstep myself, as your faithful guardian. But you must agree to my terms, Master Kurosaki—"

"Just who's the master here?"

"You must agree, or I stay right where I am."

The powerful aura coming off the shiki and his mischievous smile were creeping Hisoka out, but what choice did he have? He had come here, against orders, to repair his relationship with Rikugou. If there still was a relationship capable of being repaired. That couldn't be accomplished so long as Rikugou was in this birdcage, this fortress of unending dreams and solitude. But to face Kurikara again felt like certain death.

Unless there was more to this madcap idea of Rikugou's than he was letting on. . . .

Still, it didn't sit well with Hisoka to think that perhaps he was the pawn waiting to be put in play by a more powerful player. Even if that was exactly what he had come here to do to Rikugou.

There was just one problem. "I'll do it. I'll let you take me to Kurikara. But first we need to figure out how to get you the hell out of here." Because Hisoka had been studying the place while they talked, and he could find no sign of an exit. "Preferably in a way that doesn't alert an army to come after us."

"I'm afraid that cannot be avoided," Rikugou said.

And before Hisoka could do or say a single thing to stop him, he began to transform. His form elongated and expanded, giant wings of prismatic light unfolding to the width of the space. Klaxons sounded as the light barrier of his cell was shattered, scattering flares that Hisoka could not tell whether they were a part of the fortress or Rikugou himself. They blinded, like fireworks off diamonds, and Hisoka had to turn away for the sake of his stinging eyes.

And when the light dimmed, what was left was a great bird the size of an allosaur but far more elegant—part crane, part cockerel, with the tail of a peacock and wings of a swift. Plumage every color of the rainbow. Four eyes, red-orange like hot coals in his slate-blue face. If he was any less impressive this time it was only because he did not seem to lick flames or trail solar flares in his wake like he had in the living world. The shafts of his feathers shimmered like fiberoptic cables, and Rikugou glowed beneath them with an almost radioactive light, but at least it looked as though Hisoka could touch him and not be burned.

"Finding an exit," Rikugou's voice reverberated from the bird's throat, harmonizing with itself, "is no trouble at all. I told you I kept myself here of my own volition, did I not?" He folded his scaled legs under him and told Hisoka to climb onto the back of his neck, down between his shoulders.

"I thought your powers were taken from you as punishment." At least, Hisoka assumed that was why his hair had been cut.

"You thought they clipped my wings, did you?" A pleasant rumble ran through Hisoka as Rikugou chuckled. "My power cannot be diminished. It has merely been shackled. But the word of the one I serve can free it."

"Then blast us a way out of here!" Hisoka said. "That's an order!"

No sooner had the command left his mouth than Rikugou lashed out with his tail. The long feathers shot out like whips, or the tentacles of a squid, tearing at the ceiling. Alarms continued to wail around them, louder now, as though the fortress itself were protesting its own destruction. Hisoka threw up a barrier to deflect the chunks of stone and tile that rained down toward him, though Rikugou barely seemed to notice those that rolled off of his back. A bright shaft of sunlight shot down through the cupola like a laser beam, almost too intense to endure after so long in this underground world of almost total darkness.

But though Hisoka cringed under it, the light only seemed to reinvigorate Rikugou. Once enough of an oculus had opened up above their heads, he shot up through it and into the sky like a bullet fired from a gun. It all happened so fast that Hisoka's heart felt like it was being draggd down into his stomach. He grasped desperately for feathers to hold on to, squeezing one of Rikugou's vertebrae between his legs, praying he didn't fall off.

Down below them, a flock of tengu had been disturbed by the destruction. They must have been waiting for the two to emerge, perhaps alerted to this escape plan by those swallow-women whose home Senrima had destroyed. The tengu's black and violet and blue wings circled like so many crows, riling themselves into a mob. Hisoka could see the flashes of light off the tips of their halberds. He thought it best to warn Rikugou, if he hadn't already spotted them.

"They won't catch us," Rikugou said, putting his head into the wind.

And sure enough, as Hisoka watched, the little dark bodies grew smaller and fainter, eventually dropping out of sight. "Will they try to follow us? Hunt us down?"

"Undoubtedly. And once word gets back to the Capital, you can bet they won't be alone."

"But I thought the tengu didn't like dealing with dragons." Hisoka had received the impression on his first visit that they guarded their autonomy jealously, and were only reluctantly sympathetic to whomever they perceived as the winning side. They had that in common with the Peacekeepers of his world—or, at least, the Peacekeepers as they used to be, before Tsuzuki's disappearance seemed to have made zealots of them. Just like in Meifu, Hisoka supposed, loyalties in Gensoukai evolved. "Has something changed?"

"We all must do what we think is right in trying circumstances." Rikugou sounded pensive as he said so. Thinking of his own actions, no doubt, and how many of his comrades considered them acts of betrayal. "Even if we don't exactly like what we become in the process."

There was a sound like a crack of thunder, splitting the clear sky, and a whinny followed not a moment after. Hisoka looked toward the sound and saw Senrima galloping toward them on the air, K on her back. Hisoka hadn't given as much thought to what had become of them as he should have after they'd gotten separated, but he was relieved to see they too had made it out in one piece. He called out to them.

"I thought I saw some UFO come shooting out of that mountain hideout." That comment, apparently, was meant for Rikugou. "Wasn't sure I'd ever see the King of Birds flying over these skies again, but these are strange days we're living in. First the kirin, now you—"

"Kirin?" Rikugou said it in disbelief, and Hisoka told him, "We spotted one on the way to you. In the forest not a day's ride from the fortress."

Rikugou made a sound part sigh, part contemplation. And, perhaps, an ounce of regret. "If only we were headed the other direction. How Sohryuu would be consoled to hear the kirin have reappeared."

"You mean the prophecy about the Emperor," Hisoka said.

But if Rikugou heard him, he did not answer, as Senrima said at the same time: "And just which direction are we headed in, good sir?"

"To the Floating Desert, and Kurikara—"

"Eh?!" Senrima lost a little altitude at that revelation. But she recovered, with K clinging fiercely to her, pupils wide and hair all on end. "All that time in that cage must have rattled your bird brain! Have you gone mad, Rikugou?"

If Rikugou had been human, he would have been smiling that smile that seemed to say, Oh, if you could see the things I see. . . . "Not mad, old friend. I have a plan."

"Oh yes, of course. That's a horse of a different color, isn't it? I feel so much better knowing you have a plan for getting us all killed." Senrima snorted what she thought of that plan, puffs of steam erupting from her nostrils.

More mythology trivia, if anyone is interested. . . . So, for this story I've invented a shikigami (and career) for Nonomiya who isn't just named Yali, but is meant to be a yali. Yali are temple guardians in southern Indian architecture, usually integrated into the carving of a pillar or rail. So the statues that attacked Hisoka's party in Chapter 16 are based on one yali motif (the gajasimha, which are also seen in Cambodian temples), and Nonomiya's shiki is based on another popular style of yali. I'm not sure if real yali are meant to be part muntjac or barking deer, but that's what the horns or antlers on the statues remind me of, and I think it makes for a cute combination. Seriously, muntjacs and asiatic lions need more love. I really need a fanart of this little guy. . . .

Regarding Rikugou's animal form, I don't think I ever wrote a footnote about this in Gone to Earth, so let's do it now. I've heard some different ideas for what he's supposed to be from other fans, but since there doesn't seem to be any picture or mention in the manga, I've decided to go with the houou bird, also known as fenghuang or Chinese phoenix. Which is a separate being from the Red Bird of the South, the firebird Suzaku (and which are both totally separate from the Western phoenixes). My reasoning is threefold. 1) Rikugou means "universe" or "cosmos" or "world" and is an astrologer with six eyes, and the houou is a celestial bird often said to be made up of parts of six different birds representing six heavenly "bodies". 2) The relationship between Rikugou and Sohryuu resembles the old-married-couple-like relationship between the fenghuang and dragon. 3) There's a picture of what might be a houou bird hanging in Rikugou's house (volume 9, page 160) (or might just be a Java green peacock; it's hard to tell). Ultimately I can't say it's anything more than a hypothesis of mine, but I've become rather attached to it, and hope that at least it works within the context of this humble fanfic.