"I don't know what Safu told you, but I don't know how to build weapons."
Nezumi looked Yoming directly in the eyes as he spoke. They were standing in the middle of the Resistance's headquarters, with only a table between them. Shion was at the back of the room, talking to a young woman who came in a little after he and Nezumi had. Shion kept tossing glances at him in between speaking to the woman and checking her arm.
The kid can fret all he wants. I know what I'm doing. Nezumi's eyes darted to the crow perched on Yoming's shoulder. It cawed at him and Yoming reached up and petted its breast without looking.
"The code you wrote is a weapon, isn't it? You can't write more codes like the virus you made for the Correctional Facility?"
His voice was perfectly professional. Only his eyes betrayed his hidden hostility. Nezumi assumed the other man's restraint was due to the presence of the four or five group members cycling in and out of the building. If Yoming has to behave in front of the general populace, working here might not be such a bad thing after all. At least I won't have to worry about being shot. Still, it would be best not to antagonize him until I get the parts I want.
"I'm afraid not. That code took me three years to write." Nezumi matched Yoming's polite tone, but upstaged him in acting ability. His face betrayed none of the disdain he felt toward the man.
"That so? Too bad. We could really use someone with actual weapon skill."
Nezumi released a short, airy chuckle. "You know, I can't help but think my lack of lethal capability was why No. 6 decided to get rid of me. Though it's probably a good thing that I can't make weapons, because then I might still have been working in No. 6, and the code would have been lost forever." Nezumi looked pensive for a moment. "Anyway, I can't do weapons, but if you need any surveillance equipment, I'm your man. And of course, I'll build you something to get the drives, as agreed."
Yoming watched him steadily. The crow lifted off his shoulder, blowing wisps of his hair into his eyes, but he didn't swipe them away and his demeanor remained unruffled. Someone gasped off to the side, but neither Nezumi nor Yoming was willing to break eye contact to pay them any attention.
At last, Yoming said, "You need mechanical and computer parts?"
"Yes. Since I know you must be busy, I already wrote down the parts I need." Nezumi pulled a folded piece of paper out of his jacket, smoothed it out, and pushed it across the table. Yoming checked it without bothering to pick it up.
He grunted. "What do you need these for?"
"I haven't decided on the design yet, but the machine will be programmed to seek out and collect the drives the pieces of the code are on. Unfortunately, the most expensive parts are the ones I need the most. They're for the chip."
"What chip?"
"Authorization chip. Everything and everyone has one in No. 6. Without it, my chances of getting caught rise significantly. Is getting these parts going to be a problem?"
Yoming sucked in a breath and leaned a little further over the table. "The only thing I have a problem with right now is you," he said in a low voice. "Let's get something straight, Nezumi. You may have been the holy of holies in No. 6, but you don't mean shit to me. Here, you're just another street rat mooching off my goodwill. You're lucky I'm interested in these drives of yours, otherwise this conversation wouldn't be as civil as it has been. You're only safe as long as you can keep me interested, and even then, if you don't start learning some respect, I can assure you it'd suit my interests just fine if you disappeared altogether." Yoming's right hand slid off the table to his hip, and Nezumi didn't have to look down to know that he was hinting at the revolver holstered there. "Do we understand each other?"
Nezumi allowed a couple of seconds to tick between them, before he said, "Yes, sir."
"Good. You're dismissed." He watched the man crumple his parts list and stuff it into his pocket.
"I guess I'll wait until Shion finishes, since I'm not allowed to leave without an escort. If you need to speak to me again, I'll be over there."
Yoming narrowed his eyes in response and Nezumi turned toward the alcove. It was a risky move to taunt and turn his back on the other man after he had been plainly threatened, but it was a risk he felt safe in taking. He had already surmised that Yoming wouldn't shoot him in headquarters, and he was confident in that inference. He may have worried about being cornered and disposed of in a dark alley, but thanks to Yoming's other stipulation that he always had to be with another member of the group, he wasn't as concerned about that as he might have been. It was likely Shion would be the person with him most days, and Yoming couldn't shoot them both.
Now I just have to make sure not to get caught traveling with someone I don't know. Or with Yamase. He doesn't seem to have any qualms about Yoming's modus operandi.
As he approached Shion, he couldn't help but smile at the predicament the boy was in. The young woman was still there, sitting on a box across from him, and Shion was doing his best to clean a wound on her arm—the only problem was the crow perched on his shoulder made moving more difficult than he would have liked. Shion rolled his shoulder, but instead of being discouraged, the bird sidled closer and started preening his hair.
"That's a good look for you."
Shion paused in what he was doing, but once he ascertained Nezumi was in one piece, he huffed in irritation and returned to swabbing the woman's forearm. She looked old enough to deserve the descriptor "woman," but even so, she seemed young, maybe a few years younger than Kaze. Her long, dark hair shielded her face, but he could see her flinch in pain as Shion worked.
"What happened?" Nezumi asked the woman, peering at the distinct puncture wounds on the tanned skin of her arm.
"What's it to you?" she growled, turning on him. "Oh!" In an instant her anger was forgotten. She spent an inordinate amount of time staring at him. "Hi. And you are?"
"The lucky new conscript."
She laughed a second too late, batting her eyelashes to cover it up. Nezumi smirked. She has no idea what I said.
"I'm K—"
"Kei, you're all bandaged." Shion's voice sliced through the air between them, and the woman started. "Just watch out in case it gets infected. Bites can be dangerous."
"Oh. Thanks, you're a lifesaver."
She smiled brightly at him and stood. Nezumi stepped aside to let her pass, but she made no move to leave. He endured her roaming eyes for all of two seconds before he cleared his throat.
She flashed him a coy look. "I would really like to get to know you better—unfortunately, though, I have to go. But, I'll see," she took a step forward, and tapped Nezumi's nose, "you around."
Nezumi merely raised an eyebrow. I hope not. She added a wink before pivoting away.
He turned to Shion. "Yikes. For a second there, I was afraid she was going to gobble me up. Head first, like a praying mantis."
"She's like that with all the new members."
"You said she was bitten? Wild dog?"
"Hungry child," said Shion. He got up and swept the crow off his shoulder. The bird made a host of clicking and chattering noises and flew up into the rafters.
"That sounds unpleasant."
"You have no idea."
Nezumi was about to ask how many children he had been bitten by, when the insignia on the crates caught his attention. It was a red stamp of a flower with a star in each of its five petals, cupped between two olive branches. He knew the symbol. He knew all the cities' insignias.
"Your supplier is No. 2?" he said, too surprised to filter the disbelief from his voice.
Shion glanced at the crate before he began to place the bandages and rubbing alcohol into a small silver box. "Sort of. Yoming has an old friend that moved near there before No. 6 became so controlling. I don't know exactly where or who they come from, although I doubt the supplies are sanctioned by No. 2's government."
Government sanctioned or not, guns and ammunition were being shipped between two cities that were not supposed to have weapons in the first place. The landmass that No. 2 was built on was much larger than the one on which No. 6 was created, so it would be much harder for the city's government to control any illicit dealings that happened outside its boundaries. Nezumi shook his head. People never changed; it always came back to violence.
"Your talk went well?"
"He only threatened to shoot me once, so I suppose you could say it went well. Better than the last one, at least."
Shion nodded toward the door. "He doesn't need you anymore, right? We can go now."
Nezumi was unsure whether Yoming would allow them to leave, but although his coal black eyes stalked them across the room to the door, he did not try to stop them.
Outside the day was bright, but still cold. He slid his hands into his jacket pockets, thinking on the knife lessons ahead. Shion had refused to give him his pocketknife, insisting that if he needed an actual weapon, Safu would give him one at practice.
"It's not that I don't trust you with it," he had insisted. "I just don't think you'll need it. You might not even get to actual fight scenarios today. You have to learn the basics first."
Even though it seemed like Shion was being sincere, Nezumi couldn't help but wonder if the other boy thought he was planning to harm Safu. The insinuation was a little insulting. He was angry, not homicidal, and besides, Safu was more useful to him alive and healthy. If we're not going to practice with knives, what are we going to do? I really don't want to sit through lectures about safety.
As they turned onto the main street, a child ducked out of a tent across the road with a loaf of bread. He looked like every other scrawny kid that was roaming the streets, except he had a dirty gold bandana tied around his neck.
"I thought there weren't children in the Resistance?"
He nodded toward the child and Shion did a double take. The child stuffed the bread underneath his shirt and began walking toward them. About twenty feet out, he caught them staring. Shock registered on the boy's face and Nezumi realized it was the sight of Shion that caused the reaction.
It only lasted a moment. The next second, the boy wrapped his arms tightly around his midsection and fled down the street. Shion watched him go with a frown and continued walking.
"You knew him?"
"Not really."
"He knew you."
Shion pulled his coat tighter around his neck. "Maybe he was just startled because we caught him stealing."
"And you're okay with that? The stealing?"
"It's none of my business. The shop owner should pay better attention if he doesn't want to get stolen from."
Nezumi's eyebrows raised a fraction. "That's not a good mindset to teach children. I hope you're not teaching that to all the orphans you take care of."
"That boy wasn't an orphan, and there's no mindset here but survival." Nezumi leaned forward to look into Shion's face. The other boy drew back in surprise. "What?"
"Why are you in such a bad mood?"
"I'm not." He sighed when he realized Nezumi was not taking that as an answer. "Really, I'm not. But I'm not in a good mood either. I'm just… in a mood."
"You do know that being 'in a mood' means you're in a bad mood."
"Why does it matter?"
Nezumi frowned. It didn't matter, really. People were entitled to their bad days and feelings alike; but Shion was hardly ever in a bad mood.
"You're irritating me, that's why." It was such a finely programmed response, he hardly even realized he said it before it was out of his mouth.
Shion shot him a sour look and snapped, "Then don't talk to me."
If he wasn't upset before, he undoubtedly was now. The worst part was that Nezumi actually felt a bit guilty about it. Shion continued to fume, and pout, and ignore him the rest of the way down the main road. Nezumi occupied himself with surveying his surroundings.
A cluster of men off to his right drew his attention. They were all burly types, and looked to be the kind of macho men whose padding on their midsections greatly outweighed what was in their skulls. There was an odd contraption next to them. The front part was obviously a bicycle, but it was pulling a flat slab of wood with wheels attached to the bottom behind it, and there was a large basket mounted on top of the slab. The men were gathered around something, which they appeared to be arguing over. After a heated discussion, one of the men barked a curse and hoisted the thing off the ground.
Nezumi blinked when he saw that the thing was a man. Or, rather, a body, for it was obvious by the way the limbs swung loosely from the burly man's arms as he carried and then dumped his cargo into the basket, that the man was no longer alive.
Nezumi felt a pressure on his arm. Shion was griping his wrist, subtly pulling him across the street.
"Don't look," he commanded in a low tone.
"I'm not squeamish." He twisted his wrist. Shion's fingers slipped off easily, but he still continued his diagonal path, and Nezumi followed.
Once they made it to the opposite side of the street, Shion shook his head. "Those are the Disposers. If you ever run into them, just keep walking and don't make eye contact."
In light of the information, Nezumi couldn't help hazarding another look behind him. The men certainly weren't the friendliest-looking bunch, but they didn't appear unusually formidable either. Although, now that he thought about it, he had heard Shion mention the Disposers before.
"What's your deal with the Disposers?"
"The Resistance and them don't get along."
His line of questioning fell to the wayside, because Shion refused to elaborate further.
They turned away from town and onto a dirt path. The area was littered with dilapidated houses, which were obviously in no condition to be lived in.
I guess they wanted to ensure that absolutely no one would see or hear about what we're doing.
Shion groaned quietly, and Nezumi cast a sidelong glance at him. His morose expression had been replaced by the far more familiar look of shame. He, too, glanced at Nezumi, and balked upon seeing he was already being watched.
Shion opened his mouth to speak, and the display was so painfully earnest that it reawakened in Nezumi a resigned sense of annoyance. Why is he apologizing? If you're angry about something, then be angry. What the hell do you need to apologize for? He cut in before Shion had a chance to voice whatever drivel he was planning to say.
"This dignified silence seems to produce an unpleasant effect." He pronounced the words in a perfect mimicry of a miffed young lady.
Shion blinked at him, and for a moment Nezumi thought the reference had been too vague, but then Shion's lips parted in a grin.
"The Importance of Being Earnest, Act 3, Scene 1," he said in breathless wonder. "You have a good memory!"
"Not as freakishly obsessive as yours," Nezumi scoffed. "Do you know all the lines by Act and Scene number?"
Shion only beamed brighter. "You finished the play? What did you think?"
His immediate switch back to his typical goofy demeanor left Nezumi feeling exhausted. "…It was well-constructed."
Shion chuckled. "Could you be any more clinical?"
"It's a valid compliment. The ending wouldn't have been nearly as good if the plot wasn't framed well."
"So you thought it was good, then."
"Yes, it was good," he said begrudgingly. "What's with that smug look? You're acting like you're the one who wrote it."
"I recommended it. I take pride in my taste in literature. And, no, to answer your question from before—I doubt I know all the lines in the entire play, but I bet I could get most of them. I have a notoriously good memory. Go ahead," he said with challenge in his voice, "give me a quote from something you've read recently. I bet I can name the book."
Nezumi snorted at his eagerness. It was a foolish game to play. However… He narrowed his eyes in thought, and pulled from his recent memory a suitable response, "'If his fitness speaks, mine is ready; now or whensoever, provided I be so able as now.'"
"Hamlet, Act 5, Scene 2," Shion said immediately. A sly smirk spread across his face. "Come on, Nezumi, that was way too easy."
It was barely a taunt, but it was irksome enough to motivate him to try and find a harder quote. How about something from farther back in the shelves?
"'I am the one without hope, the word without echoes, he who lost everything and he who had everything.'"
Shion's smile shrunk a fraction. "Poetry, huh…?"
He was quiet for a while, and it was Nezumi's turn to smirk. "Are we almost to where Safu is?" he asked, looking at the crumbling structures around them.
"That house, over there," Shion mumbled distractedly, apparently still lost in his mental catalogue of quotes.
The building was a sorry mess of stone and wood, a storm away from complete ruin. Which is to say, it was hardly much different than the other buildings in the West Block.
Safu stepped out of the house as they approached. "Took you long enough," she called.
Nezumi's anger rekindled at the sight of her. It wasn't often he was outfoxed, but when it did happen, he always found a way to pay back the favor.
"Good afternoon, Safu," he said pleasantly.
Standing with her arms crossed, atop the house's sagging front porch, Safu was the picture of carelessness. They spent a decent measure of time sizing each other up. Shion looked between them as if he expected them to lunge at each other any moment.
Safu's face and voice were blank as she addressed Nezumi, "You didn't bring your own knife, did you?"
"I didn't think it was necessary," he responded with a shrug. "Do I need one?"
"No, I just wanted to make sure I wasn't going to get shanked before we even started." He smirked at her use of the colloquialism. It didn't mesh with her prim demeanor.
"Safu," Shion chided.
"You needn't worry about something like that," Nezumi told her. "I'm a higher caliber than the thugs you're used to dealing with. If I had a problem worth attacking you over, I'd tell you to your face, rather than resort to such cowardly tactics."
"How kind of you. But a word of advice: thugs that use 'such cowardly tactics' tend to survive longer here than gentlemanly types such as yourself."
"Well, that's why I'm here, isn't it? You're going to show me how overwhelmingly skilled you are with a knife and I'm going to learn from it. If you can't teach me well enough to hold my own against a couple thugs, then you're not all you're chalked up to be."
Shion chided him this time, but neither he nor Safu were paying his disapproval any mind, and he noticed.
"Alright, I'm going," he said with a note of resignation. "Be careful and come get me if anything happens." He waited until he got a confirmation, which came in the form of a curt nod from Safu. With one last glance between them, he left the way they came.
"Don't you want to know how my talk with Yoming went?"
"I'm guessing it went well, seeing as you're still alive," said Safu as she stepped off the porch.
The height difference between them was once again apparent, though she was just as unfazed by it as she was the last time they got into a physical altercation. At that time he wasn't thinking about the possibility of a knife being pulled, but now that he was in a defensive mindset, he began to consider her smaller stature for its advantages, rather than its shortcomings. She presented less of a target and would be exceptionally quick, especially given her experience and familiarity with her weapon. If he wanted to beat her in a fight, he would need to be faster, cleverer, or he would simply have to overpower her. Preferably, he would like to achieve all three.
He knew she noticed him evaluating her strengths, but she didn't comment. Instead, she reached into her pocket and handed him a wooden spoon. He stared at it a moment, but it was definitely a spoon.
"I think you've got your utensils mixed up."
She snorted and made her way towards the side of the house.
If she meant to throw him off-guard, it worked; he was sufficiently intrigued. He followed her behind the building and she turned to face him, an identical spoon in her hand.
"Alright, I'm just going to jump right into it," she said. "First thing's first, if someone pulls a knife on you, the smartest thing you can do is run. Even if you have a knife of your own, you should run, because if you get into a situation involving knives, someone is going to get injured, if not mortally wounded."
"What if I want them injured, if not mortally wounded?"
Safu was not amused in the slightest. "Then you better be prepared to defend yourself against murder attempts by his friends." Nezumi smiled and she continued like she had never been interrupted, "I'm not teaching you how to use a knife so you can go around waving it wildly and slashing people at the slightest provocation. The only thing that will do is make you look like an ass and get a lot of people to hate you, and you can achieve both without the use of a weapon."
Nezumi didn't miss the slight emphasis on the last "you," but he chose not to rise to the taunt. He filed it away with all the other annoyances he planned to resolve when they actually started sparring.
"Your impression is skewed because the only part of the West Block you've been exposed to is the Resistance, but most people here don't have guns. A lot more have knives or nothing at all. Still, no matter what, anyone that picks a fight with you is dangerous. They will kill you if you give them the chance. However, if a weapon is pulled, usually you will be given a chance to back off. Knives and guns are used more for threat effect than actual killing.
"Despite what you think, or what No. 6 told you, or whatever, people in the West Block aren't all bloodthirsty barbarians. We're rougher than most, but no one wants to pay the Disposers to pick up a body if they don't have to. If someone pulls a weapon on you, they're telling you to back off. Do it. And if you pull a knife on someone, give them the same courtesy and let them bow out with some semblance of pride."
I guess I really am going to get a lecture today…
"I don't know what it is with you and Shion, but I'm not impulsive or stupid enough to threaten people for no reason. I'm not looking for a fight, I only want to learn how to defend myself in case I have to fight."
Safu seemed to consider this. "Then why even bother using a knife? Just have Shion teach you how to use a gun. That ends fights pretty fast."
"I don't want to learn to use a gun, and I think knives suit me better, that's why. So are you going to teach me how to use one, or are you going to continue warning me not to kill people I have no intention of killing?"
Safu narrowed her eyes. "If you want to learn how to use a knife properly, you have to listen to everything I say. And if you're serious about it, then you better have intentions of killing your opponent."
"You just gave me a speech on not killing people."
"You weren't listening well enough. I said to run if a knife is pulled on you, because knife encounters are dangerous, and you're better off not engaging if you want to avoid deaths on either side. If you get into a situation where running isn't possible, then the most important thing to remember is not to fight, but survive. You have to be one hundred percent committed; any hesitation and it's over. If you have to use your knife, you go in with the intent to end it. I'm not saying kill them, but come at them like you plan to, understand?"
He didn't think that would be much of a problem. Even if the majority of his battles hadn't been physically violent, he had fought to survive all his life. He would not hesitate if it came down to a choice between his life and another's death.
"I understand."
Safu merely nodded in response and Nezumi wondered if she could tell he wasn't lying. "Okay, we can practice a little, then. But keep in mind, I can give you all the pointers I know, but truthfully, no amount of lessons or advice will compare to the real thing."
"Then just fight like it's the real thing, and that way I won't be surprised if it ever happens."
Safu raised an incredulous eyebrow. "All right, Mr. Gung Ho," she said with a roll of her eyes. "I'll give you pointers as we go along. Get in a fighting stance."
Finally. Nezumi's heart quickened at the prospect of starting. After a little consideration, he decided that a normal fighting stance was probably fine. He turned sideways, dropped his right leg back, and lowered his center of gravity to his hips. Making sure to keep his weight comfortably on the balls of his feet, he raised his fists to chest level, left hand farther out than the right.
She checked his posture and tilted her head. "Big fighter in No. 6?"
"Let's just say I wasn't good at making friends."
She wasn't surprised by the admission and continued to study him. "Your hands are wrong for knife defense, though. You need to keep your left hand high enough to protect your neck and torso. Those are the parts that everyone wants to go for—kill spots. Put the knife out in front, always."
He fixed his fists, but it felt ridiculous to prepare to fight with a spoon as his weapon. "I assume the bowl of the spoon is the blade?" he said with amusement.
"Yes. Hold the spoon handle in line with the second finger joint. Make sure it feels comfortable, and don't grip too tightly. Keep yourself loose." He adjusted his grip accordingly. "Your bottom hand is the force behind your slashing, and the top of your hand and wrist are used for controlling the direction. Got it? Good. Now come at me."
Nezumi furrowed his brow. This was definitely a test, and one he was fairly certain she wanted him to fail. There was a good ten feet between them. From this distance, he was positive she would be able to anticipate any attacks he could make.
"I'm not going to charge at you," he said.
"Why not?" She smirked. "Don't want to get your butt handed to you?"
Nezumi raised an eyebrow. "Very mature. And yes, I'd rather not." He walked toward her, closing the distance between them to just five feet.
"Feel better?" she said sweetly.
He sensed the danger the minute the words left her mouth, but out of stance, he could do nothing. She lunged forward and he felt the rough edge of the spoon press along the front of his throat. He exhaled in slow irritation.
"Didn't help much," said Safu. "You still got your butt handed to you. I told you to always go in like you plan to kill. What are you doing letting your guard down?"
She hopped back and struck a fighting stance. Nezumi followed suit, making sure to pull his left arm in to protect his throat.
I haven't actually learned any attacks, so there's no shame in going for it. She'll probably win the first few times, but I'll eventually get the hang of her movements. He breathed in deeply, sprang towards her, and tried a slash aimed at her neck. She stepped out of his reach and sliced his forearm with the edge of her spoon.
"I just sliced through a tendon," she said. "If you didn't drop your knife right there, you would definitely have trouble gripping it well enough to come after me again. In situations where your opponent slashes at you, don't even bother trying to block. You'd have to get your timing perfectly in tune with the speed of their strike, and if you get it wrong, the best case is you get cut deeply and back off. The worst case is you get cut and then they follow up with a fatal blow to your neck or stab you repeatedly in the abdomen. I've seen the worst case happen and it's not pretty."
Nezumi winced internally at the thought. "What do you suggest, then?" he asked, dropping back into position.
"Do what I did: step back out of range, or sidestep their strike. If you can cut their knife arm while it's extended and they're off-balance, it'll be a big advantage for you, and it might even be a hard enough blow to their confidence that they'll back off. You can also swipe down for a leg slash, but the most important thing to remember is to be quick, and always retreat after a strike."
He couldn't help but be impressed with the petite girl's agility and accuracy. And even though she didn't like him, her instructions were candid and thorough. It's good to know what to do and what not to do, but doing it and getting the advantage is another thing.
He watched her for a moment to get a sense of her movement. She kept in constant motion, bouncing on the balls of her feet, and bicycling her hands in preparation to strike or defend.
Accounts for her being so fast. What happens if I go for a lower cut?
He bent his knees and jabbed at her torso. She brought her protecting arm down and redirected his knife so it missed her body completely. The next thing he knew, she had closed the gap between them and her spoon was thrust hard into his stomach. He smothered a growl of frustration and glared at her.
"And here's the abdomen stab I was just talking about," she sighed. "If I was intent on killing you, I'd stab you five or six times more before you even knew what hit you. If you're not careful and quick, your opponent has time to counter, and if he knocks your knife away, your body is left wide open."
She pulled away and gave him a thoughtful look. "But you kept your hand up and protected your neck. A shot to the stomach is less instantly fatal than one to the throat, so that's good at least."
It didn't feel good. It felt like losing for the third time in a row and he felt like punching something. But that wouldn't be productive. Or would it? I don't see why I couldn't throw a punch in between if I had an opening. But he decided to hold off on that. Best stick to knife techniques and strategies, and master those before he mixed in other fighting styles.
"Oh, and before I forget," she said sharply. "What's with your grip?"
"What about my grip?" he replied without looking down.
"Your thumb is on the top edge of the spoon."
"It's the most comfortable that way. Is that a problem? You said to make sure it was comfortable."
She frowned. "Well, it's a grip people do use, but not one I advise. If I wanted to, I could cut your thumb off pretty easily. I don't know about you, but if I lost my thumb in the middle of a fight, I wouldn't be feeling too deadly."
"I'm sure I'll be fine," he said, lunging at her again and slashing diagonally.
She bounced backward and moved to cut his wrist as she had done the first time, but he withdrew his arm before she could make contact. He took another step forward, building on the pressure to get her to lash out so he could hit her while her arm was extended. She did exactly as he had hoped, coming overhead to swipe toward his face. He quickly backpedaled to escape the slash—only his front foot wouldn't move. It remained stuck as his weight fell fully on his other leg.
"Shit!"
He landed hard, flat on his back. He clenched his teeth against the pain. Thankfully, the air hadn't been knocked out of him, so he was able to avoid that embarrassment, but this was bad enough as it was. His foot throbbed where Safu had stepped on it, holding him in place until gravity did her dirty work and brought him to the ground.
That's a dirty trick. I almost had her that time, too, he seethed, pushing himself up and sending Safu a scathing look. She was unperturbed.
"What the hell was that?" he snarled.
"That was a well calculated and highly effective maneuver. Don't be discouraged," she sniffed. "I've been at this much longer than you; obviously I'm able to counter every single attempt you make in one move." She twirled the spoon around in her hand a few times, and Nezumi clicked his tongue at her showboating.
"Your talent lies in how quick you are, despite your height," she said in a tone that indicated this was a talent she begrudgingly acknowledged, "but that means nothing against my expertise. You're fast, but you're inexperienced, which makes you predictable. If you don't want to keep losing, be smarter about how you attack and maybe you'll be able to hit me."
His previous admiration for her skill and professionalism had worn off. Now he was starting to fully understand the urge to go in with the intensity to end it. If my speed is my greatest asset, then fine. Dodge this.
She had barely finished speaking before he rushed at her. He didn't bother putting his spoon up, focusing all his energy on closing the gap between them.
"I just said—!" she barked, driving the spoon forward to hit him in his exposed stomach.
He pivoted his body to the left at the last second, narrowly avoiding her thrust. He thought he felt her skim his jacket, but it wasn't a deadly blow if it did hit, so he didn't bother stopping. His hand shot out and grasped her knife hand, and in the same motion, he brought his spoon down hard against the soft spot between her hand and wrist. Safu flinched and her spoon fell to the ground. Satisfied, he released her arm and stepped away from her, in case she tried to retaliate out of anger. Safu rubbed her wrist, looking insulted.
Nezumi smirked. Thank you, Shion, for introducing me to that painful spot.
"I'm not just fast. I'm also a quick learner."
"That was reckless," she growled.
"It seems like a well calculated and highly effective maneuver to me."
"Just because you managed to pull it off this time, doesn't make it a good idea. If I used a different slash—at your face, for example—I could've blinded you. Or I could have slashed at your thigh, clean through your femoral artery. It's really stupid. You can't always count on being that fast."
"I understand what you're saying, but apparently I am that fast, so I don't think it's a problem. I think you're just upset I beat you."
"This isn't a game!" He blinked at her sudden intensity. "You can't run at your opponent unprotected like that and expect it to work every time! It's not rational! If you weren't so fast, or if I desperately wanted to kill you, that approach can get you dead in a million different ways." She bent down and snatched the spoon off the ground. "And grabbing the knife hand is also an idiotic move, but for some reason you seem to be extremely fond of doing it," she hissed. "You were lucky I didn't have my knife out the last time you did it, because if I had, I would've sliced your hand wide open, and I wouldn't have felt the least bit sorry about it."
He assumed she meant the day he tried to escape. When he saw the fury in her eyes and noticed her reach for something at her side, he wasn't thinking about the possibility of it being a knife; he had been reacting strictly on instinct. Luckily for him, it paid off.
That reminds me. I never figured that out. Why was she there in the first place? I'm guessing Shion had the dog sniff me out, or something equally ridiculous, but how did she find me first?
"Why were you there that day?"
Safu shook her hand out and replaced her grip on the spoon. "What?"
"When I tried to escape, how did you find me? How'd you even know I left?"
"Oh, that." She smirked. "A little mouse told me."
He scowled and she elaborated, "Shion sent one of his mice to tell me you escaped. I almost didn't bother going after you because I knew you were probably long gone, but then, lucky me, you had a tail. That other black mouse of Shion's followed you out and came to get me when you pulled your little fainting spell. Guess your fellow rodents were worried about you."
He had to hand it to the West Block residents; they never missed a chance to make cracks about his name.
So that's what the mice do? Send messages? And follow me, apparently. He didn't like that last thought. It was a consolation to know that the mice couldn't tattle about every little thing he did, but he didn't like the idea of them trailing him and reporting his whereabouts every time he went out alone. I'll have to be more vigilant in the future.
"Fortunately for me," he responded placidly to her rodent remark. "Speaking of worrying about others, have you always done Shion's dirty work, or is this a recent development in your relationship?"
"Excuse me?"
"Well, I couldn't help but notice the pattern. He messes up, he sends you to fetch me. He needs a favor, he makes you talk to Yoming for him. Don't get me wrong, it's really sweet how you protect him all the time, but it can't be good for either of you if he never learns to take care of his own problems."
As close as he was, he could feel the tension rolling off of her. Her stance was rigid and her knuckles stood out sharply on the hand strangling the handle of the spoon.
"Your concern is bullshit and also completely uncalled for," she snapped. "Shion doesn't need protecting, by me or anyone else for that matter. If you're mistaking kindness for weakness, you're going to get a rude awakening one of these days. Shion's perfectly capable of taking care of himself—certainly more capable than you are."
It really is interesting how passionate she gets whenever Shion is involved. Definitely her biggest weakness. She should do something about that.
Nezumi raised his hands in surrender, although he made no effort to wipe the smirk off his face. "I see I hit a sore spot. I forgot how overprotective you get when it comes to your boyfriend."
Her eyes flashed dangerously. Any second now.
"Not that it's any of your business," she ground out, "but there is nothing between Shion and me."
He couldn't help but chuckle at that. "Oh, come on, Safu. I didn't take you for the kind of girl that spouts off clichés. You're not the only one who knows an outright lie when you hear it."
He had been expecting her to attack, but when she sprang towards him, he wasn't quite prepared for how fast she moved. It was pure reflex when he swung his leg back, out of reach of her slash at his calf. The shock wore off quickly, though, and he focused on what he could do to disarm the girl before him. Since she was already low, he swiped at her eyes, but she dodged by hopping back and to the side. They glared at each other as they circled, both waiting for either the other to attack, or for an opening to launch another offensive.
The feeling of such a showdown was simultaneously foolish, exhilarating, and empowering. Nezumi gave himself over to instinct, since he seemed to react faster when he did so. He kept the strategic part of his mind on, calculating possible moves and counters, but he was not going to think about being hit or beaten. It was time to see exactly what he and Safu were made of, while they were both running on sheer furious adrenaline.
He broke the stalemate by taking an aggressive step toward her and dropping his left arm to expose his neck. It was an irresistible opportunity for someone going in for the kill, and Safu didn't let him down. He was half elated, half disappointed when she came in from the outside to slash at his throat. He leaned away from her strike and raised his own spoon to hit her in the face. The bit of distance he gained by angling away from her attack must have convinced her that hitting him in the neck wasn't worth an injury to her eyes, because Safu yanked her head back and poised to retreat.
In a split second decision, he shifted his weight and stomped down on her foot before she was able to move. He could see the shock register on her face when she realized she had been caught in her own trap.
But he hadn't incapacitated her. If she fell now, it might count as his victory, but he wouldn't have won the real fight.
I have to end it.
He swung his spoon down and sliced the top of her thigh as she toppled over and landed with a dull thump on her backside. For a moment, it was quiet. Nezumi stared down at her as she stared with bewilderment at her leg.
Then, a sudden warmth flooded into Nezumi's chest, tingling down to the tips of his fingers. I won, he thought with a grin. He snorted and Safu snapped out of her daze.
"I just cut your femoral artery. You'd bleed out in minutes and definitely wouldn't be able to attack me again," he said in a mockery of her voice. "I just ended this fight for good."
Safu's gaze was unreadable. She didn't look angry or sad or impressed. If he had to ascribe an expression to her face, he would say it was thoughtful. Finally, there was movement: she sighed, stood, and brushed herself off.
"Good job."
Her tone was blank and unaffected—a statement of fact, rather than a compliment or surrender. He was unsure at first how to take this, but then he realized that this was the best reaction he could get from her. She was acknowledging that he beat her fair and square at her own game, using the tactics she had been teaching him to use, and he realized in that moment that an accord had been reached between them. They didn't necessarily have to like or play nice with each other, but they had each won a degree of respect. And that was all they had been asking for from the start.
XXXX
An hour or so later, Nezumi was exhausted. He was thankful for the tough material of the biker's jacket, because without it, he was certain he would have been sporting a medley of bruises on his arms. However, the jacket couldn't protect his face, and his chin still stung vaguely from the left hook Safu shot at him when he drove his spoon into her stomach to cement his third victory of the afternoon. The cold air dulled the pain and helped to stave off the bruising for now, but he knew it would eventually start to purple.
At least I won't be the only one leaving here with injuries. He had managed to get in a fair amount of hits, and Safu's wrist and foot, in particular, came to mind when he thought of possible bruises on her side.
"I'm guessing it went well," Shion hazarded.
He had arrived a couple of minutes ago, all concern, like he expected to find one of them mortally wounded and in need of immediate medical attention. Nezumi didn't understand what he was so worried about. We're fighting with spoons. They're not exactly lethal weapons.
Shion inspected them as he approached. His eyes lingered on Nezumi's chin, and then darted to Safu's face to check for similar marks, but she was unscathed. He sighed, more or less satisfied with the damages they had sustained.
"Right on time," said Safu. "You don't happen to have water in your bag, do you?"
Shion smiled and pulled out a canteen, which she gratefully accepted.
"You have some, too, Nezumi," Shion said, after Safu had drunk her fill and handed it back to him. "You've worked hard."
Nezumi took the canteen extended to him without a word, and poured some water into his mouth. It wasn't cold, but it tasted good anyway.
"Time to go back to the bunker?" he asked.
Shion turned to Safu. "If you're done?"
"Yeah, we're done." She gave Nezumi a perfunctory nod. "Nice job today. You might actually become a skilled fighter with a little more practice."
He barked a laugh. "Yeah, you too. Maybe next time we can try using real weapons."
"Careful with your attitude," she sniffed. "Cockiness breeds carelessness."
She held her hand out to him, palm up, and he spent a puzzled moment thinking she wanted him to shake it. Her fingers twitched in a beckoning motion.
"My spoon?" she droned.
Ah. That makes much more sense. He handed the utensil back to her.
"This was fun," Nezumi said. "When's the next lesson?"
"The end of the week, probably. I'll tell Shion when I know." She paused. "Oh, but I guess I can tell you myself, since you'll be in headquarters all day anyway."
The reminder dampened his high. He didn't want to think about going back to that place, where Yoming would be breathing down his neck for hours on end.
Shion chuckled at Nezumi's morose expression. "I guess we'll be going now. Thanks, Safu. We'll see you tomorrow."
"Hey, Shion, wait." Safu gnawed her lip. "You may not run into him, but if you see Kaze, try to avoid him if you can." The two boys gave her questioning looks. "Just trust me on this one. Go straight home and don't talk to Kaze tonight if you can avoid it."
Shion agreed to do so, despite looking like he found her warning to be amusingly cryptic. They turned and left, walking side by side toward the main road.
"'White Bee' from Pablo Neruda's collection Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair," Shion said without prompting the moment they were a fair distance away.
Nezumi raised his eyebrows in question, but it only took a second to remember. Was he seriously thinking about it all this time?
"You figured out where the quote was from? Congratulations."
"Told you I could."
"Hm…" Nezumi narrowed his eyes at the boy. "How do I know you didn't just go back home and look it up?"
"I didn't," Shion said indignantly. "I remembered it almost immediately after I left you with Safu. The book was in the stack you were reading yesterday."
"Your powers of observation leave me speechless," he said dryly.
Shion took his gibe in stride. "How did you enjoy your lesson with Safu? From the looks of it, she seemed to have been impressed with you."
"Did she? I couldn't tell. She only ever glares or stares emotionlessly at me, but I'm sure with practice, I'll learn to distinguish the nuances between the two faces."
"Don't be rude." Although he meant to be scolding him, Shion's voice still held some amusement. "Safu is going out of her way to teach you as a favor. She's one of the best fighters I know—with and without a knife. I wouldn't treat her with sarcasm; it'll only make her harder on you."
"That's fine; I don't want to be babied."
They turned onto the main road. It was as packed as it was the last time he had been out on it, but Nezumi had very little trouble getting through the mass of people. As long as one pushed with enough intent to get by, but not hard enough to look like you were picking a fight, the chaos was manageable.
"Shion! Oy, Shion!"
Shion stiffened at the sound of his name and Nezumi frowned.
"Why are there always people shouting for you?"
Shion lowered his head. "I ask myself that question every day."
"Oh, hey, Nezumi, too!" the voice crowed. "Sweet! Wait up, I need to talk to you!"
Wait a minute. I know that voice… He and Shion turned at the same time, and sure enough, Kaze was shoving his way through the crowd to get to them.
"So much for avoiding him," Shion said with a sigh.