Shion sucked in a breath and winced at the cold burn at the back of his throat. The sky was gunmetal grey, and the brittle air threatened snow. He pulled his scarf tighter around his neck, and did another sweep of the crowd in the hopes of finding Safu. She had neglected to show up at headquarters the last few days, and people had started to talk. Yoming was trying his best to hold everyone together, but despite his efforts, there were several members who resigned after the news of the coming Hunt. Some made formal apologies, but still more simply took off their bandana and disappeared.
Safu was a notable personage in the group, and her absence was swiftly noticed and just as quickly suspected. Shion assured those who asked that she had not deserted, but in truth, he wasn't sure. He hadn't spoken to her in three days, and that was by her express instruction. She said she needed space to put her feelings in order. At the time, Shion was more than willing to give her what she asked, since she had made some unsettling insinuations about his and Nezumi's relationship, and he wasn't quite sure how to face her in light of them.
When he had chased after her on the day he and Nezumi returned to headquarters, Shion had been leery of finding her. Safu had a knack for making herself scarce when she didn't want to be found. He was relieved, therefore, when he found her leaning against the wall just down the street, and took it as a sign that she wanted to discuss her actions against Nezumi.
"Don't bother asking me to apologize," she said when he approached. Shion balked at the acid in her voice, and Safu released a remorseful sigh.
"Look," she said more kindly. "I'm not sorry for what I did, but I'm sorry for taking it out on you right then. This is going to take some getting used to, and I'll be the first to admit that I'm not handling it well. But even if I can't understand why you chose Nezumi, of all people, I—" Safu's expression soured, and then soured further at the slip-up in her control. "No, nevermind. I'm not going to pretend I'm okay. I'm not going to say it doesn't hurt, but I promise I won't interfere again. I'll spare you the guilt trip, as long as you spare me the pity."
Shion furrowed his brow. "What are you talking about? Is this about the other day? I know you were mad at me, but Nezumi—"
"He's not good to you, Shion!" Safu grit her teeth and turned aside. "Maybe he's different when you're alone—I hope he's different, because whenever I see him he's a complete jerk. He doesn't treat you like he ought to, and I can accept that you don't love me like I love you, but don't expect me to sit by and watch you be with someone who doesn't respect you."
"Wait, hold on." Shion's stomach roiled as his mind tried to slog through the implications of Safu's rant. "Wait," he said again, feeling the heat creeping up the back of his neck. "You think Nezumi and I… That we're…"
Safu watched him with a patient frown, as though she expected this slow response and was prepared to wait until he recovered. He reached full comprehension, just as the heat climbing up his neck succeeded in painting his face pink.
"Nezumi and I are not…" He choked, trying to find the right words to describe what they were not, but his language centers seemed to be fried. "Like that," he finished weakly.
"But you like him."
Safu's voice carried the weight of fact, and Shion was too flustered from denying her first accusation to come up with any sort of response to this new one. The patient look had returned to her face, but it didn't look like she was waiting for a confirmation. The seconds ticked by and her stoicism softened. She finally turned away with a sigh.
Shion studied Safu's profile. Her hair had grown out, the strands curling over her ears and her bangs so long neglected they would cover her eyes if she hadn't swept them off to one side. She looked older, sadder, and more beautiful than he had ever seen her, and Shion felt a twist of guilt in the pit of his stomach. He opened his mouth, but Safu cut a look at him.
"Don't you dare say you're sorry, or I'll slap you too." Her voice was firm, but there was a small smile on her lips and distant tenderness in her eyes. "You don't have to apologize for what you feel—or don't feel, for that matter. I'll get over it eventually. Just…" The emotion on her face struggled a little, but she wrestled her features into a look of resolution. "Just," she repeated with more force, "make sure he treasures you."
Shion flushed even now at the memory. He hadn't known what to say to that, and since then he'd been trying just as hard to sort out his feelings as Safu was. He hadn't been aware of any shift in his relationship with Nezumi, or at least, he had not tried to put words to what he felt for him. But Safu was perceptive, and if she was convinced that there was something, then…
Shion had gone home from their talk confused and contemplative. He was hyperaware of Nezumi once they were enclosed in the small space of the bunker together, but he didn't shy away from the nervousness. Instead, he sought to find out its source. He watched his roommate, measured his own responses and thoughts, and tried to pinpoint the strength and variety of his feelings.
He thought Nezumi was beautiful; there was no denying that. Every movement he made was an act of grace, and more times than not Shion was caught dumbfounded. He often wondered if Nezumi's poise was specific to him, or if all citizens of No. 6 possessed that level of elegance. Nezumi's perfection was such that he could hardly believe he was human. His eyes were too penetrating, his skin too pale and unblemished as porcelain. Shion couldn't count the times he went lightheaded holding his breath, waiting for Nezumi to breathe, blink, make some sign he was mortal and not a finely crafted doll.
The changes to his appearance after the wasp incident made the illusion even harder to dispel. Sitting across from him, his white hair loose over his shoulders, he seemed more like an ethereal being come for a short visit than the moody teen with which he'd spent the better part of two months.
Nezumi had, of course, noticed his staring, as he was apt to do. He lifted his eyes from his novel and pinned him with a languid look, and the stirring Shion felt in the pit of his stomach was undeniable. Nezumi's eyes exceeded the beautiful, bright and cool as mercury and just as volatile. They emoted more keenly than any he'd ever known, and yet, they always looked quiet. Even when Nezumi was furious—especially when he was furious—his eyes were still, but never mute.
In the moment Nezumi glanced up from his novel, his expression communicated boredom on the surface, but the light in his eyes told Shion he was curious, if not mildly amused. The candid emotion in Nezumi's looks always made him want to reciprocate his honesty.
"I'm glad you're alive," Shion confessed in reply to his questioning gaze.
Nezumi recoiled, snapping at him for being an airhead, and returned to his novel, disgruntled. Shion smiled and decided he liked this part of Nezumi, too, the part that shied away from tenderness. For someone who hated pretense so much, he was rather uncomfortable with sincerity. Shion could understand that, though. Nezumi's upbringing in a false paradise with liars as his only company had ill prepared him to trust the intentions of others. And yet he had never been broken by the deceit. Nezumi had an unshakeable self-assurance, and strength of spirit that Shion envied.
So what did this all amount to? He admired Nezumi, respected him, and saw in him qualities that he longed to possess. He was drawn to Nezumi, but whether that attraction translated to love, he wasn't sure.
Love.
Shion paused and tasted the word. All around him he heard the bump and clang of people packing their belongings for flight, the shouts and scrapes in preparation for fight or fortification. The air reeked of apprehension, and each fresh breath pulled it deeper into his body, until every nerve sang with fear. West Block was on the brink of war, and here he was contemplating what it took to love someone. This wasn't the time for such a thing. Or maybe it's the perfect time.
What if he lost Nezumi?
I don't want that. He didn't need to think on it to know it was the absolute truth. I don't want him to leave. But he is; he will. He's staying for the time being, but soon enough… Shion clenched his fists and let the certainty of that eat away at all the layers of his doubt and fear, until he was empty of all but the pain.
Yes, he loved Nezumi, but putting a name to his feelings changed nothing; Nezumi would go and Shion would love him too much to ask him to stay.
He grit his teeth and hurried on. Safu, he reminded himself. I need to find Safu.
He finally found her in front of Gin and Yang, packing rations with other members, judging by the gold bandanas around their necks. Safu's own neck was bare.
She spotted him before he was close enough to speak to her, and she paused halfway in her trek to load a box of food onto the back of a cart. "Did Yoming send you?" she asked when he was in range.
"No. I came because I was worried."
"That I had quit the Resistance?"
"Have you?"
"No." Safu carried her box the rest of the way to the cart. "We're in too deep to back out now."
Shion nodded, but he didn't have a chance to comment. Someone behind him screamed, and another voice soon joined, and then the street was awash with shrieks. Those Resistance members with weapons dropped the boxes they were holding, snatched their guns, and held them at the ready. Safu stepped back into the shadows cast by Gin and Yang, and although Shion knew he should do the same, he couldn't resist turning around to look.
His blood turned to slush in his veins. It was not the army they expected. Two armored vehicles were rolling up the street, obstructing almost the entirety of the space. The tanks themselves looked like relics of a lost time, likely salvaged from before the Babylon Treaty. They skimmed the sides of the buildings in the areas where the road narrowed, tearing free tents and awnings with relentless indifference. A woman manning a food cart barely escaped as one of the tanks rammed into her stall and dragged it beneath its belly. Shion flinched at the sickening crunch of the wood splintering under the wheels. Some of the fleeing people had enough wits about them to dive into alleyways or building entrances, but the majority was pushed in a blind forward frenzy down the road.
No one has been crushed yet, Shion thought. Not by the tanks, at least. He watched an older person trip and scramble to right themself while the crowd crashed against them. They managed to ride the force to their feet and continued their desperate flight. And they're not shooting.
Shion swallowed at the faded gray panels mounted on the roofs of the vehicles. He couldn't be sure what they were, but there was no doubt in his mind that they were some manner of weapon. Previous survivors of the Hunt said that No. 6 had been using West Block to experiment with acoustic shock weapons. If the panels had such capabilities, and No. 6 decided to fire them, the Resistance wouldn't stand a chance, not with just rifles. Still, the members held up their guns like they intended to try, regardless of their odds.
But they won't fire until fired on. Yoming was explicit in that instruction. But if No. 6 attacked first, the destruction would be catastrophic. Acoustic weapons didn't aim for kills, but utter devastation. Everything in the vicinity would shatter on impact, whole buildings would crumble, and those who weren't crushed under the rubble would find escape difficult among the wreckage. A few of the guns behind him twitched, and he wondered if the others were thinking along the same lines.
"Shion," Safu breathed. Her eyes glinted at him from under the eaves.
It's dangerous to stand there if the tanks fire, he realized.
A second wave of screams yanked his attention back to the road. The army they had expected had arrived. It filtered in at the opposite end of the road, equipped with riot shields and sleek firearms, effectively blocking off any escape route. They were surrounded, corralled like animals destined for slaughter.
"Please remain still. We do not intend to shoot. Repeat: we do not intend to shoot."
A booming voice echoed throughout the street, and for a moment Shion couldn't place where it came from, but as the announcement repeated a few more times, he had no choice but to accept that the tanks were the source. There were murmurs from the crowd. The Resistance members shifted, trading furtive glances between them.
If they don't intend to harm us, why did they bring tanks?
Shion shot a look at Safu and she nodded at his suspicion. The broadcast ended, and there was silence. The people in the street stood stock still, the Resistance members kept their guns poised to fire, and No. 6's army waited.
"Good morning, citizens of West Block." This was a different voice from the one that gave the announcement. It was colder, smugger, and it made Shion's skin crawl. "We apologize for any alarm we may have caused with our procession, but given our history, you must understand our caution. However, I can assure you this isn't a Clean-up."
"Clean-up"? Is that how they think of it? Shion grit his teeth.
"We have no interest in harming you, we come only to reclaim something that a few of your comrades stole from us. A boy who goes by the name 'Nezumi.' The Resistance has been sheltering him for some time, and as they're not exactly shy about their activities, I'm sure more than a few of you know Nezumi, or at least know where he can be found."
Shion's vision began to spot, and he realized he had stopped breathing. He choked down a breath and forced himself to focus.
"Now, I understand that many of you don't have a high opinion of our city, but we're willing to make it more than worth the betrayal. Whomsoever brings the boy Nezumi to us—alive, I should probably add—will be rewarded thirty gold coins."
The soldier heading the army produced a fat bag, and pulled out a handful of coin for the crowd to see. The metal gleamed dangerously in the pale light. The air hissed with gasps and exclamations of disbelief. One gold coin could buy you half a year's worth of luxurious living; thirty gold coins was a preposterous sum, more money than any person in West Block could ever hope of seeing in a lifetime.
Almost every head roved in the direction of the Resistance, and Shion could perceive more than one Disposer in attendance. He wanted to bolt. He could think of very few people who would value loyalty over money, Resistance members included. One sentence was all it took to turn the whole of West Block into a nest of vipers.
"Easy as that," the smug voice drawled, dipping into sickly sweet tones. "You hand over the boy, we hand over the money, and everyone parts ways without a drop of blood spilled between us. I don't much care how you manage to secure the boy, so long as we have him in our custody within the next few hours.
"But before we turn you loose, let me make a few things clear: no compensation will be given for information on the boy's whereabouts; either you bring him to us, or lead us to him. And if any of you decide to be clever and take the money by force, we will not hesitate to respond with violence. Similarly, if you do not cooperate, or if we don't have the boy by… let's say two this afternoon, then we'll be forced to take things into our own hands, and you know what that looks like. I have no trouble with that option, but it would be such a waste of an easy thirty gold for you. Your choice."
The army at the opposite end of the street parted in the middle to allow people through, but no one moved just yet. The crowd continued to leer at the Resistance with ravenous concentration, and if it weren't for the guns, Shion feared they would have already pounced. The Resistance members reacted instinctively to the predatory intent directed their way by keeping their guns raised and steady, but even they looked uneasy. Shion didn't wait for them to decide where their loyalties lay.
He pivoted and ran into Gin and Yang. The main road was dangerous; could be followed, could be attacked, and anyone who knew the least bit about the Resistance knew that headquarters would be the most likely place to find Nezumi. Safu fell into step beside him.
"Through here," she barked. She pushed through the employee door and he followed. The back entrance to Gin and Yang led to an alleyway just parallel to the main street. Shion took the lead from there, diving in and out of alleys and buildings, calculating which routes would be fast as well as provide the most cover.
How long would it take for the whole town to know? If No. 6 had spread its forces out, if they had broadcast that message simultaneously in several locations, they had only minutes before headquarters was mobbed. Shion willed himself to run faster. The street to headquarters was not yet flooded with people.
Nezumi.
"Nezumi!"
Shion hurtled through the door, startling every single person inside headquarters, but the only one he cared about was sitting at the computer, wide-eyed with alarm. Nezumi rose.
"What—?"
"Come with me. Now."
Shion took him by the elbow, and Nezumi allowed himself to be lead to the back room of the building. Safu slipped in after them and closed the door.
"What's going on?"
"No. 6 came."
Nezumi's brow twitched. "The Hunt?"
"Kind of, but not really. They're looking for you, only you. They're bribing the townspeople to find you and bring you to them. It's not safe to stay here."
"We should take him to the safe house," Safu said. She was leaning with her ear pressed to the door. "I didn't see Yamase on the way in, so he must be there."
Shion nodded several times. "Yes. You'll be safe there."
Click.
They started at the sound, and Shion cursed internally when he remembered that there was a back door to this room. It was almost entirely obscured by boxes, so it was easily forgotten, unless one used it frequently. All three of them pulled out their weapons and pointed them at the intruder.
Kaze froze, his eyes sweeping from Nezumi and Safu's knives to Shion's pistol. "You're pretty quick with that," he said to Nezumi with a lopsided grin.
"Kaze," Safu exhaled. She lowered her knife. "Sorry. It's just—"
"Everyone and their mother has got it out for Nezumi? Yeah, I know. Hence me coming in the back door." He glanced at Nezumi. "You guys got a plan?"
"Safe house, apparently," Nezumi grunted.
Kaze nodded. "Yeah, that's probably best. We should get going now, then. People are starting to realize you'd be here, and," he frowned a little as he finished, "unfortunately, I'm not sure everyone wearing gold is as trustworthy as I am."
"We need the drive before we go. It's still plugged into the computer out there."
Shion blinked at Nezumi. "You don't need the drive."
"I do if they manage to catch me. Think about it, they'll deliver me straight to the Correctional Facility. The least I can do is fuck the place up while I'm there."
"That won't happen. I won't let them take you," Shion insisted. Nezumi was unaffected by his resolution, and only frowned at him with the kind of disapproval one reserves for troublesome children.
"I'll get it," Kaze said. "I'll draw the least suspicion. Be right back."
Safu stepped aside and let Kaze slip through the door. It took only a minute or so, but every second they waited was spent in the slow agony of uncertainty. Shion's eyes darted between the doors, and between Safu and Nezumi, carefully counting down the moments. Tsukiyo popped out of the folds of superfibre around Nezumi's neck and gave a soft cheep. It was a small kind of relief to see that he was safe.
A short rhythmic tapping signaled to Safu that Kaze had returned. She cracked the door just to be sure it was him, before pulling it open enough for him to slink in.
"Got the drive," Kaze said passing it over to Nezumi, "but we've got a problem. There are people out front making an awful lot of noise. I didn't get a good look, but I think at least a few of them are Disposers." Kaze's dark eyes fell on Shion. "They're yelling for you."
"Shit—"
"Dammit," Shion and Nezumi muttered at the same time.
Kaze nodded, silently agreeing with both sentiments. Shion raked his fingers through his bangs. He had expected the Disposers would be among the first volunteers for the manhunt. They despised the Resistance and anyone that had to do with it. Shion had very few enemies, but those who had taken a disliking to him were Disposers. They accused him of robbing them of jobs, and Shion resented their mercenary perspective on the nature of life and death. That the Disposers had chosen to go after him and not Nezumi, though, was encouraging. If they were asking for him, then that meant they weren't certain if Nezumi was in headquarters.
If we could distract them, trick them into staying here, Nezumi will have a better chance of escape.
"Where's Yoming?" Safu demanded. "He should be here."
Nezumi snorted. "I don't think Yoming would be too keen on helping me out right now."
"Maybe not, but he could at least control that mob outside. He would at least make sure headquarters was defended."
"As it stands, the mob's not going away," Shion murmured. "Alright. Here's what we're going to do. Kaze and Safu, you take Nezumi to the safe house. I'll stay here and keep the men out front distracted so you have time to get away."
"No," snapped Safu. "We all leave together. They haven't caught on to the back door; if we run now, we'll be long gone before they come looking."
"Maybe, but if I show them that I'm here, and make them think Nezumi could be, too, they won't be chasing you at all. And the crowd might even draw more people in. The more people that think Nezumi's in here, the less people on the street searching for you."
"It doesn't have to be you, though."
"I'll do it," Kaze said. "You go with Safu and Nezumi, Shion. I can handle keeping a few Disposers busy." He rested his hand on the grip of his shotgun.
Shion smiled wanly. "That's kind of you, Kaze, but I have to be the one to do it. You said they're asking for me specifically, right? That's not a coincidence. They know I'm close with Nezumi—the whole town does, likely. But that's just it; they all know me, not Nezumi." Shion's violet eyes locked onto Nezumi's grey ones. "With Nezumi's change in appearance, people who did know him before will be less quick to recognize him, and if he pulls the superfibre up he'll be even less noticeable. If anyone sees me with him, however, it won't matter how well disguised he is, we'll be hunted. I'm not trying to play the hero; I'm literally the only one of us that it's safer to leave behind."
Nezumi held his gaze through the entire explanation. He had yet to speak out either for, or against, the proposition, and although he didn't look happy about it, there was an air of calculation to his expression that Shion was banking on.
"We don't have time to argue," he insisted. "You need to leave now."
"He's right," Nezumi said flatly. "We've done enough waiting around, and I, for one, don't plan on being mobbed and kidnapped today."
"Kaze can take you, then," Safu said. "I'm staying with you, Shion—"
"Safu, no! You'll be safer with them. Please, if you want to help me, go with Nezumi."
The shadow of something like realization flashed across Safu's face. Shion couldn't be sure what exactly she comprehended in his looks or tone, but he was relieved to see the fight go out of her.
"Come on." Kaze tapped her arm and turned toward the door.
Safu followed Kaze, but her eyes lingered on Shion. "Promise me you won't do anything reckless."
"I promise. I can take care of myself." He smiled, but it didn't reassure anyone.
Nezumi was the last to move. The frown he had worn since Shion burst through the doors of the building was still etched onto his face. It flitted through Shion's mind that this was the first time he'd seen Nezumi since realizing his feelings, and when Nezumi turned to leave, the intensity of his anguish almost suffocated him.
Before he had time to reconsider, he reached out and grasped his hand. "Nezumi."
The grey glimmer of Nezumi's eyes on his replenished Shion's courage, but could not give articulation to his emotion. There were so many things he wanted to say, but he didn't have the words, and there wasn't time to find them. Somehow, though, Nezumi seemed to understand.
He nodded once. "I'll see you when this is over."
He disappeared out the door and Shion was left alone with that promise and the slightest sensation of pressure around his fingers.
Shion crossed the room and locked the door to ensure that no one would be able to ambush the building. He stood a moment, and then pushed a few boxes in front of the door for good measure. With that settled, he charged into the church proper. Most of the people were huddled around the table at the center of the room, but a few were peeking out the corners of the window. Nearly all the members jumped when he entered, but they relaxed a little when they saw who it was.
"Comrade Shion." A woman stepped a little out of the group around the table. She was one of their newer members, who joined only a few months back. A quick survey told him that all those in the room were young members, some in age and others just in the amount of time they'd been a part of the Resistance. "There are people outside calling for you. What's going on?"
They don't know. That's right. They couldn't, if they've been in here the whole time. There was little they could gain from knowing the whole truth of the situation, so he just answered, "No. 6 came and everyone's in chaos. The streets aren't safe, so you all need to be careful." Every member's face drained of color. "Just stay put. I'll take care of the people out front." The woman made no other acknowledgement than nibbling the edge of her thumbnail.
They had apparently been frightened enough that they had taken measures to barricade the door with one of the pews that lined the walls. That was good. They might be able to wait it out. Shion sidled up to the window and peered out of it. He felt sick. He recognized the men outside. They were definitely Disposers, and their leader was the one-eyed drunk he had assaulted. The man looked much soberer and infinitely crueler.
"You better get yer ass out here, Shion," One-eye called. "My buddy here's got one of them fancy Resistance-type guns, and he's dying to try it out."
Shion couldn't see any men with guns from his position. He chanced leaning in a little more to see around the window frame, and yes, there was One-eye's mustached companion holding a pump-action shotgun.
"There he is!" whooped a man he wasn't sure he knew. He couldn't get a good look, because when the gunman spotted him he raised his weapon, and it was all Shion could do to dive down behind the window as an explosive shot blew a hole through the glass.
The other group members yelped, and those around the table dove for cover, while the ones by the windows flattened themselves against the wall. Luckily, the stray bullet hurt no one, but Shion stared numbly at the glass shards.
Maybe he had got this all wrong. Maybe they weren't interested in finding Nezumi at all. This might just be a vengeance mission. Apart from nasty comments, or the occasional spat, the Disposers usually kept out of the Resistance's way, for fear of Yoming's wrath. But now, with Yoming missing, the Resistance in disarray, and resident pitted against resident by No. 6's design, they grew bold. They would use the Hunt as a cover to carry out their personal vendettas.
The men outside guffawed. Another click and report, and this time the shot ripped through the top of the door, too high to be a serious attempt at harm. A taunt, he assumed. Everyone waited for the next shot, but it didn't come. There was a scuffling sound outside, however, and grating voices. Shion strained to hear.
"What'dya mean there's no more? The hell is wrong with you? Didn't you check?"
"Get more!"
"There isn't more!"
Did they run out of shells? A tentative hope blossomed in Shion's chest. He crawled to the window on the opposite side of the room and hazarded a peek. The Disposers were glaring at and cursing out the mustached man for his stupidity in not checking how many shots they had. Shion had never been so happy that guns and ammunition were few and far between among West Block citizens. It didn't look like they had any other weapons on their person, or at least none that were long range. They were safe for now.
"Idiot," One-eye snarled. "I'll get him myself." He whirled around in search of something. He found what he was looking for in a thick piece of wood jutting out from one of the buildings, and tore it off. "Ey! Shion! Either you get out yer ass out here now, or I'll burn the damn building down. How 'bout that?"
Shion's eyes widened. He can't be serious. But the man looked deadly serious as he struck a match and ignited the wood. One-eye barked an order to the others to make more torches. Shion scanned the room. He could gamble with his own safety, but no one else's.
He turned to the nearest person. "Help me pull this pew away from the door. Once it's moved, get everyone out of here through the back, understood?"
The man jerked his head and scampered over to push the bench, while Shion pulled until it was at a wide enough angle for the door to be opened. Shion waited until the last person disappeared into the back room, collected his breath, and went to open the door. He stopped with his hand on the knob, and rested the other on the grip of his pistol.
I could shoot them. There's only five, one bullet for each of them. The mere thought made him feel dirty. The Disposers might hate him, and though he didn't like them much either, he didn't want to kill them. Besides, five bullets were all he had. If he used them all now, he'd be defenseless later, and what if he missed? It's no good. I can't do it. Shion removed the pistol from its holster and placed it under the pew. He wasn't going to use it, and he didn't want to give the Disposers access to another firearm.
Shion willed himself to look confident as he stepped out.
"Finally wised up, eh?" One-eye spat. "Just in time."
Shion hardly heard the second statement. There were five men. Two I don't know, and the three from before. But only four stood before him: the leader, the two strangers, and the mustached man, whose hands were now empty. Where's the gun—
Something moved at the edge of his vision, but Shion had barely enough time to feel alarmed, before the butt of the shotgun smashed into his face.