AU NOTE: This chapter contains violence and death.

XXXX

Nezumi kept watching for a glimpse of No. 6's army, but he had yet to see it. It wasn't that he didn't believe the West Block residents' testimonies about its existence, but he wanted to see it with his own eyes, no matter how morbid it was. The only things he saw, though, were dirty back alleys and the just as filthy people that lurked in them.

He kept a vigilant eye for any dangerous persons, but the superfibre must have been doing a decent job of making him inconspicuous, because no one seemed to be too interested in him or his companions. He didn't even stand out with the hood; there were plenty of people with shawls or coverings over their heads, especially now that the temperature had dropped. As long as one moved quickly, no one paid any mind. The gold bandanas, however, attracted all kinds of attention.

Safu hadn't been wearing one, but a little while after they'd set off she told Kaze to take the cloth from his arm. It had brought a few stares their way, although no one by that point had been brave enough to trifle with a man with a double barrel shotgun strapped to his chest. He removed the bandana nonetheless.

Others in gold had less luck. They had come across several spats between Resistance members and the general populace, some of them violent, and every moment Kaze and Safu were looking more nervous. The last time they passed a man with a gold bandana, he was lying in a pool of blood off the side of the road.

"I'm going back for Shion."

Nezumi and Kaze turned to face Safu. She was glaring, as though challenging them to refute her decision. Or maybe it was an expression of self-directed rage. Regardless, no one tried to dissuade her.

Nezumi had no doubt Shion could take care of himself, but if he was honest, it made him uneasy to leave him to fend for himself against a horde of angry people, most of which were likely Disposers. Shion's reason for staying was logical, and Nezumi's survival instinct agreed with it. Shion was a danger to his safety and should therefore be abandoned—but a quieter, unfamiliar impulse simmered beneath the instinct. It wasn't quite protective, but if Nezumi dared to put a name to it, he might have placed it somewhere in the vicinity of loyalty.

It had needled him when Shion grabbed a hold of his hand, compelled him to make reassurances he couldn't be sure of making good on, and the disquiet had been smoldering in an unvisited corner of his mind ever since they left. The pressure of it eased a little, though, now that Safu was determined to go back for Shion.

Kaze nodded at her. "You're gonna need more than a knife to take on the Disposers. Here." He pulled his gun out of its holster and offered it to her.

Safu blinked at it and then at Kaze, but took it from him anyway. "Thank you."

"Bring him back, yeah?"

Safu nodded without the slightest hesitation. Her gaze slid to Nezumi. "Don't get caught. Stay in the safe house and lie low until this is over." She turned on her heel and ran back the way they had come.

"Well, I guess it's just you and me now," Kaze said with faux lament. "Best get a move on. These streets aren't getting any safer, and now I'm unarmed."

"Good thing I'm quick with a knife."

Nezumi pulled the superfibre closer about his face and walked ahead. Kaze chuckled. He was taller than Nezumi, so it didn't take long before he caught up and then overtook him by a several paces. They hadn't traveled more than a few minutes before someone called out to them.

"Nezumi." The voice was feminine, and for a moment Nezumi thought Safu had returned, but it was too deep. He turned to see a woman exiting the alley just behind them.

"Kei."

"I almost didn't recognize you," she chirped. Kei's smile was tight at the corners, and her hands were clasped behind her back.

Nezumi slipped his hand into his pocket. "Kind of the point."

"Yeah. No. 6, right? Everyone's going crazy out here." She didn't try to approach, but Nezumi kept a wary eye on her arms.

Kaze stepped next to him. "What do you want, Kei?"

The woman's smile hardened. "Yuji. I didn't realize you were here, too." Nezumi didn't miss when her gaze fell to the empty holster on Kaze's chest. "Where are you guys going?"

"None of your business."

"I came to help." She took a step forward, and Nezumi and Kaze drew back in the same motion. Kei winced with hurt. "You can trust me."

"I can, can I? Mind showing me what you're hiding behind your back?"

Kei's brow pinched. Slowly, she brought her hands out from behind her. Kaze exhaled with a hiss when he saw the knife in her hands.

"It's for protection," she insisted.

"I'm pretty sure we'll be a lot safer without you," Kaze sneered.

Kei growled under her breath. "Fine. I don't know why I even bothered. I hate both of you cocky bastards." She dropped the innocent pretense all at once and held the knife out in front of her in an offensive stance. "Alright, look. I don't want to hurt you, Nezumi, but you have to come with me."

"You don't want to hurt me, hm?" Nezumi's mouth curved up at the edge. "Sounds like you picked the wrong weapon, then." He pulled his own knife from his pocket and snapped it open.

Kei's eyes danced up the length of the blade. She seemed to recognize that he was no amateur with his weapon; she adjusted her grip on her own knife. Kaze glanced between the two of them and stepped out of the way.

Nezumi inched a foot forward and was delighted to see Kei flinch. "I'll give you the option of backing out now."

Kei wet her lips. "I need to bring you in. It's nothing personal. You understand, don't you?"

"Sure I do. If you're going to betray your beliefs and do No. 6's biding, you might as well get compensated. Maybe then it won't seem like such a cowardly decision."

Kei's face darkened. "You don't get it at all. If you cared about any of the people here, you'd turn yourself in. But I guess you're still one of them—"

Nezumi shifted and swiped at Kei's leg. She stumbled back quickly enough to avoid the strike, and attempted to put a little more distance between them after she regained her footing.

With that one move, Nezumi was able to discern all he needed. She was scared, she was half-hearted, and she was violating the first rule of combat: she picked a fight she wasn't confident she could win. Nezumi continued to push into her space so there was no hope of escape unless she cut her way out.

As he expected, Kei did not perform well under pressure. Her thrust, when she finally made one, had too much extension. She was wide open to a number of fatal attacks. He could jam the blade into her stomach, or plunge it into her exposed neck.

End it.

Nezumi sidestepped her strike and slashed the back of her knife hand. Kei dropped the knife instantly and he kicked it off to the side where she couldn't reclaim it. Although, the chances of her wanting to continue were slim, considering she looked well enough spooked by the stream of blood from her hand.

"You cut me!"

"It's nothing personal."

Kei whimpered and covered the gash with her other hand to stem the bleeding.

"That's nothing," Kaze scoffed. He moved to where Kei's knife skidded and plucked it from the ground. "I would've went for the whole hand. Taking bribes from No. 6? That's the lowest of the low."

Kei snapped out of her daze and rounded on him. "You are such an asshole, Kaze! You think this is about money? I don't care about that. I'm trying to save us—all of us! They just want him," she spat at Nezumi. "They'll kill us all if they don't get him! Or do you really think we stand a chance against No. 6?"

Kaze let out a feral growl, almost too animalistic to be called human. "They'll attack us anyway! They're just using this to weaken our forces. The point of the Resistance is to protect our own and fight back against greedy pricks like No. 6, not do their dirty work." Kaze scowled and shoved the knife into his empty holster. "You're a disgrace, Kei. To the cause and to West Block."

Kei turned away. She made a half pained, half frustrated sound when she realized there was still a steady flow of blood coming from her hand. "I can't believe how selfish you are," she seethed.

Nezumi didn't know at which one of them the words were directed, and he didn't really care. She was unarmed and wounded, and thus no longer a threat. He wiped the knife on his pant leg, closed it, and dropped it back into his pocket.

Kaze gave Kei one last look, and then they set off.

"She won't follow us," Kaze grumbled.

"I'd be impressed if she did."

They slipped through the streets and alleys quicker now than before. An unspoken decision made between them, inspired in equal parts by wariness and weariness. Perhaps he was growing paranoid, but it seemed to Nezumi that there were more people around now, and these were more watchful than before. They stared longer and looked more desperate. Nezumi and Kaze ducked into the doorway of a house to avoid a small pack toting bats and other unpleasant looking implements.

"So if no one delivers me to No. 6, the Hunt goes on as planned?" Nezumi asked, after they began moving again.

Kaze glanced behind them. "That's what the announcer guy said." He reached for his holster and gripped it so hard his knuckles stood out sharp and white on his hand. "Fucking No. 6, man. They messed everything up with their shitty mind games. We were supposed to stand united against the city, but we're tearing each other apart. I was prepared to die in battle with my comrades, not against them. But if something like what happened back there happens again, I don't care who they are, I'll do what it takes to survive."

This was the first time Nezumi had seen Kaze angry. I would be angry, too, if I were him. No. 6 undermined everything the Resistance had worked for. In light of that, he wouldn't have blamed Kaze if he wanted nothing to do with him. After all, it was him they were after, and him that West Block was tearing itself apart over. Yet, here Kaze was, helping him to safety. Not for the first time, Nezumi wondered why Kaze was so loyal to him.

Kaze shoved his hands into his pockets. "I've gotta survive," he said in a more subdued voice, "because after this I'm gonna propose to Yuki." He looked at Nezumi in earnest, like he needed someone to bear witness to his resolution. "I promised her if I survived, we'd get married, and I plan to stick to it. I'm gonna get a real job, and she won't have to work anymore." Kaze nodded to himself. "Yeah. I'm not going down without a fight."

Nezumi hummed in acknowledgment. He recalled that Kaze had mentioned marriage before, when he was drunk. Yuki's distressed reaction back then made more sense now that he knew the proposal hinged on survival of the Hunt. It was almost too cruel of a promise to have made.

"So," Kaze lilted, arching a suggestive eyebrow, "what about you?"

"What about me?"

"You gonna propose to Shion when all this is over?"

"—Huh?" Nezumi almost halted, but retained enough self-control to speed up instead.

"I saw you two back there." He flashed his canines. "No need to be shy; I support you."

Nezumi glared straight ahead. Only Kaze could say something so stupid. Feelings, Shion's or his own, romantic or otherwise, were the furthest thing from his mind.

"Are you embarrassed?"

"I was thinking about stabbing you, actually."

Kaze's laugh was loud and annoying. "You're a good kid, Nezumi."

Nezumi didn't dignify that comment with an answer. They had come to the end of the path and there were now two ways to go. He glanced at Kaze for instruction on which to take.

"Oh, right. I forgot you don't know the way." Kaze took the left road. "You've been there before, though. But I guess you wouldn't know that. The hideout's super secret; only a handful of us know its location."

Nezumi glanced around. The neighborhood was familiar. This was the way to Yamase's house. The safe house. Of course. He was better acquainted with their secret hideaway than even Kaze probably knew. It was the first part of West Block he was shown, and almost the last part, too. He wasn't too excited about seeing the safe house when Safu first mentioned it, but any curiosity he might've had was irretrievably lost.

The Resistance had chosen their safe house's location well; there was hardly a soul in sight, and certainly no one who looked like they could put up much of a fight.

Kaze rapped on Yamase's door and waited. Nezumi caught movement at the window. The glass was too grimy to properly see through, but he could make out the silhouette of a person standing behind it. The figure was there for only a moment before disappearing. Nezumi wondered if the window was somehow two-way, but immediately dismissed it.

"Yamase," Kaze said, loud enough to be heard through the door, but not enough to call attention. "It's Kaze and Nezumi. Open up."

The door clicked and Yamase peered out. There was a terrible air of anxiety rolling off the man. It made Nezumi's skin itch. Yamase's brow pinched with an emotion very like dismay when he looked at Kaze. When he changed his focus to Nezumi, the expression morphed into something more guarded, but not any less agitated.

"You gonna invite us in?" Kaze groused, pushing past his friend into the house. "We weren't followed or anything, if that's what you're worried about. Nezumi cut down everyone in our way."

"That's reassuring," Yamase said, despite looking anything but reassured.

"Hey, really, don't look so worried." Kaze gave Yamase an encouraging pat on the shoulder. "We're safe here."

Yamase's eyes followed Kaze as he moved to the vault door and started twisting the dial. He was biting his lip, and Nezumi noticed the man couldn't seem to stand still. He flexed and fisted his fingers by his sides constantly. Yamase caught his eye and swallowed, before dropping his eyes to the floor. It could just be the result of nerves, but his antics filled Nezumi with a sense of déjà vu.

"Gotcha!" Kaze cheered. "C'mon, Nez."

Nezumi kept his eyes glued to Yamase as he moved towards the basement door. "Don't call me that."

"What? Nez? I like it."

"I don't, Yuji."

Kaze's face soured. "Yeah, alright. Geez," he mumbled as they descended the stairs.

It was bright down in the basement, and Nezumi realized that the room must have electricity. He hadn't seen that at all yet in West Block, but this room somehow managed to have it. And I guess that means the whole interrogation by lantern was just supposed to be intimidating. Nezumi shook his head wryly.

When they reached the bottom of the staircase, a different motive for the lantern occurred to him. The room was crammed with boxes and shelves, some of them weapons, and all of them advertising danger. A couple of the barrels in the corner were literally marked with a red inked, capitalized "Danger." No wonder they didn't want any but a select few to know where the safe house was or what it contained; there were enough weapons in the room to fuel a small army.

I suppose that's the point, though.

There was only one other person in the room, and Nezumi almost groaned aloud at the sight of him.

"Yoming?" Kaze's voice rang with disbelief. "What are you doing down here?"

Yoming spared Kaze a glance, but didn't say anything. He was sitting on a box, his eyes watchful, but calm, and his ever-present crow perched like a gargoyle on his shoulder. There wasn't a trace of the animosity he unleashed on Nezumi a few days prior. He was still haggard and scruffy, but he looked more like the man that interrogated Nezumi on the day he arrived than he had in weeks. Whatever the stresses and responsibilities that had been weighing on him, he had conquered them for the moment.

"I don't know much about leading revolts, but I at least know you don't win by hiding underground," Nezumi said, allowing only a trace of disdain to color his tone. "What's wrong? Did you get cold feet?"

Yoming shrugged. "It's a little hard to wage war when your forces are divided against you." He pushed himself up and fixed Nezumi with a mirthless smirk. "Word on the street is No. 6 is paying big money for your return. After I heard that, I came back here to wait. I knew you'd show up sooner or later."

Nezumi raised an eyebrow. "You plan on turning me in, old man?"

"Of course not." Yoming pulled his gun from its holster. "I'm going to kill you."

Nezumi tensed at the gun pointed his way. He was underground with no escape routes, and he was inadequately armed; he had quite literally brought a knife to a gunfight.

He could feel Kaze bristle beside him.

"Boss—"

Yoming turned his gun on Kaze. "I'm not in the mood."

Kaze pulled his chin back and scowled like a wounded animal. His eyes darted toward Nezumi, but Nezumi didn't notice. He was too busy trying to come up with an escape route and preparing to dodge when Yoming fired.

His gaze flicked toward the barrels. Kaze had glanced nervously at them when Yoming pulled the gun. Nezumi inched toward them, while Yoming's focus was trained on Kaze. In a flash, the gun swung back to him.

"Where do you think you're going?" Nezumi put his hands up with a guilty smile. Yoming scowled. "I should've done away with you a long time ago. This was West Block's chance to overcome No. 6 and gain some self-respect, but now we're back to tearing each other's throats out—because of you. You claim to have no connections to No. 6, but you're poison just the same. You ruined everything, everything the Resistance worked for."

"Killing me doesn't make any of that go away. Instead of wasting your time down here, you should be up there salvaging what's left of your forces."

"I will, just as soon as you're dead. No. 6 might've thwarted our rebellion, but at least this time, I can keep them from getting what they want." He cocked the hammer on his revolver.

"Careful!" Kaze yelped. He eyed the area where Nezumi was standing. "If you miss—!"

"I'm not going to miss," Yoming said, but there was the slightest tremor across his concentration.

I picked my spot well, then. If this is what I think it is, he won't shoot. Nezumi stepped closer to the barrels. Yoming's eye twitched, but he curled his finger over the trigger.

The crow squawked shrilly, and the scrape of footfalls interceded in the deadly silence. All eyes went to the stairs, and all widened in confusion when they saw Yamase take a step into the room. It was alarming enough that their lookout had left his post, but one look at Yamase, and Nezumi knew something was terribly wrong. His face was pale and drawn, his movements robotic. Whatever he had come to tell Yoming, it was devastating.

Nezumi slipped off to the side behind a stack of boxes and crouched down. He was confident no one saw him; everyone was riveted by Yamase's appearance. His sightline was limited from his new position—the sliver between the boxes showed him mostly Yoming, and just the slightest glimpse of Yamase by the stairs—but it was well worth what protection it provided.

"Sir," Yamase started, but his voice trailed off. He stepped beyond where Nezumi could see him, and another figure moved into his place. Nezumi could tell it was another man, but he was standing a little too far back to discern who he was.

Yoming's mouth twisted in disgust. "Getsuyaku, what the hell—" His livid expression faltered, and in the lapse of control, Nezumi could read horror on his face. The crow on Yoming's shoulder chittered, sensing his master's distress.

Nezumi leaned to the side to try to get a look at what, or who, had struck the man dumb, but he only managed a fuller view of Getsuyaku's anxious face.

"You bastard!" Yoming spat. "You brought them here?"

"No, it's not like that," Getsuyaku sputtered. "I mean, I did, but it's… They won't hurt anyone. They just want the boy."

Nezumi clenched his teeth. No. 6. He brought No. 6 down here? He suddenly wished he had been more accommodating towards Getsuyaku. He hadn't thought enough of the man to even imagine he could be a threat. How many soldiers had he brought? More importantly, how well armed were they?

Getsuyaku shrunk from the murderous air rolling off Yoming.

"You selfish ingrate. How do you think Renka's going to feel knowing you chose money over loyalty—over family?"

"I did this for Renka! It's not just about the money, it's—it's more than that."

Both men looked like they wanted to say something more, but shame checked the former, and outrage strangled the latter.

"Don't blame the poor man, Yoming," a third voice cut in, and when Nezumi recognized the airy condescension, his heart beat double-time.

Rashi. He couldn't see him, but even the thought of the man left a bitter tang in his mouth. He had hoped he might've been a fatality of the crash, but Nezumi knew well that luck had never been on his side.

Yoming recoiled at the man's words, but if this amused Rashi, it didn't show through in his voice. "He's only thinking of his family, same as you. Isn't that why you started this little group of yours, to create a safer world for your family? Thanks to your friend here, you have nothing to fear regarding your sister and niece's welfare. We'll take good care of them inside No. 6."

Yoming's face froze white with shock, but as he processed the words, the color returned in darkening shades of fury.

"What did you do?" Yoming's voice crackled.

"I made a deal for us," Getsuyaku answered in a small, pleading voice. "They promised that everyone here would be safe, and Renka, Lili, and I… The city is safer than West Block—you know it is—and I have another child to think about. Please, Yoming, you—"

"You imbecile!" Yoming roared. "Like hell No. 6 is going to let you live in their city! They don't want to help you, they want to exterminate every last one of us, and you led them here?! You gullible, fucking idiot! People are going to die because of you!"

"N-no. That's… No one will get hurt. They said they wouldn't hurt anyone, as long as I bring them to the boy. You said…" Getsuyaku shifted, and Nezumi assumed he was turning to confirm with the soldiers that they meant to keep their word.

"I can't guarantee anything until you produce the boy." Nezumi could imagine the smarmy smile Rashi must have been giving the man.

The man nodded weakly and turned back to Yoming. "Where is he?"

Yoming sneered back at him, but the thought of securing his family's protection steeled Getsuyaku against his brother-in-law's disdain.

Nezumi hunched more into the shadows and eyed Yoming speculatively. Would he dare turn him over to the city he hated so much? To do so would be to submit to No. 6, an act that his pride would violently rebel against. But if he complied, it would save the people of West Block.

Well, in theory. But there's no way No. 6 will spare them. If they don't kill them today, then they'll definitely be back to finish the job at some later date. Yoming must know they're screwed no matter what.

Yoming crossed his arms and tossed a lackadaisical look around the room. "Does it look like he's in here?"

"I saw him come in. With Kaze." Getsuyaku glanced off to the side, but Nezumi couldn't see Kaze's reaction from where he was crouched, and the man didn't say anything. "I saw him," Getsuyaku insisted.

"If you're lying you'll get nothing." Rashi's voice was bored.

"He's here. Yoming, please, you don't even like the kid. Think of Renka and Lili. Help me, if only for their sakes."

"Don't you dare bring them into this. You're a disgrace to them both."

A low whine escaped Getsuyaku's throat. He turned to Rashi again. "He's here, I promise. He's probably hiding somewhere; you just have to look. I've done my job, I've brought you to where the boy is, so…" There was silence for a moment as Getsuyaku wrung his hands. "The reward," he finished faintly.

"Ah. You're quite right." There was an edge to Rashi's words that made Nezumi's skin prickle. "You've done what was required of you."

Click.

The noise was soft, no more threatening than the sound of a lighter being flipped open, but someone gasped. Getsuyaku crumpled to the ground, and Nezumi watched, transfixed, as blood soaked into the fabric of the man's shirt. Silencer, his brain supplied, even though the rest of him seemed to be frozen.

The spell was broken only by a bright flash of gold, as numerous small, metal pieces rained over the body and hit the concrete with a series of dull chinks. A few of the objects rolled across the floor towards the boxes, and Nezumi sneered with recognition: the shower had been composed of gold coins.

"Your reward, as promised," Rashi drawled.

Yoming stared at Getsuyaku's motionless body and the coins splayed over it. His face was blank, but his body was rigid, as though he could at any moment leap back to his senses and tear Rashi's throat out. Nezumi hoped he would; the officer deserved it, and more.

"You should've been more cooperative, Yoming," sighed Rashi. "Maybe then we could've avoided all this unpleasantness. How much of your family are you going to get killed before you finally give up this pathetic notion of rebellion?"

Yoming didn't bother with words. He raised his gun and pulled the trigger.

Click. Crack! Click.

The sound of Yoming's gun was eardrum shattering in the enclosed space. Nezumi couldn't see if his shot met its target, but that Rashi had hit his was excruciatingly clear.

Yoming fell hard against the concrete floor, his gun skittering out of reach. The crow on his shoulder squawked and kicked up into the air in a storm of feathers. After the furious beatings of the bird's wings died away, there was not a noise save for Yoming's labored breaths. He released a guttural sound, half a hiss, and half a gurgle of agony. Rashi had placed his shots well, avoiding the superfibre shawl, and electing instead to blow out his knees.

"Bastard." Yoming gripped the tops of his legs and gasped. "Cheap shots."

"I know. But you have only yourself to blame; your chest and neck were so well protected by the superfibre, your legs were the only option. Although, I can't say I dislike the symbolism."

Rashi stepped into view, and Nezumi bristled. He was wearing the dark, crisp uniform of a Bureau officer, and still without the sunglasses. He looked no different than the last time Nezumi had the displeasure of seeing him.

The man gave Yoming one of his mirthless smiles and extended his arm. The gun he held inches from Yoming's forehead was outfitted with a long, black tube. So he had been right about the silencer.

Yoming's face was bright red, a combination of pain and hatred that made him look fearless, in spite of the humiliation he was facing. Blood had begun to pool around his knees, but he was determined to die with his pride intact.

Rashi grinned at the display of bravado. "That's it. Show your men how strong you are 'till the last."

"Fuck you."

Rashi tilted his head, as though he had been expecting a response along those lines, and was a little disappointed he was right.

Fwp.

Yoming's death was quick, but it didn't look painless. His head snapped back with the force of the shot, causing him to arch backwards and land in an awkward heap. It was disorienting to see the man who had plagued him for months dispatched in a matter of seconds. Two dead in the span of minutes. No. 6 was nothing if not efficient.

No one made a sound, and Nezumi realized that neither Kaze or Yamase had tried to intervene—not in the conversation, or the slaughter that ensued, nor the silence that settled in its wake. He could only imagine what they were thinking as they watched their leader's execution. Probably that they should keep still and quiet, or else they could be next.

"Messier than I intended," Rashi said. He sounded more pleased than put-off. "Well, the higher ups will be relieved to know he was finally put down. To business, then." His black eyes skimmed over the boxes. "Isn't it about time you showed yourself, Citizen Takashi—or shall I call you Comrade Nezumi now? You're certainly a survivor; I'll give you that. And still just as good at getting people to take the bullet for you." Rashi nudged Yoming's body with the tip of his boot.

Nezumi felt a twist of disgust in the pit of his stomach. He didn't like Yoming, but he despised Rashi, and no one deserved to be disrespected after death.

"We're really not so different when you think about it. We neither of us are afraid of stepping on a few people to get what we want."

Nezumi set his teeth, but he had used that baiting tactic on other people enough times to know it was never worth reacting to. So what if he was callous and self-serving? Sharing attributes with No. 6 didn't make him the same breed of monster.

When Nezumi didn't answer immediately, Rashi filled the silence with his own grating voice. "Why don't you come out? You were never so shy before."

Why don't you come looking for me yourself? Then I can stab you in the neck.

But maybe Rashi guessed Nezumi's murderous intentions, and that's why he was staying where he could see all and remain in control. He could send other officers to look in his place, though. Surely there were other men with him; he wouldn't waltz into the Resistance's stronghold alone, no matter how little he thought of the West Block.

Annoyance flitted across Rashi's face. "Alright. I've had enough of this game of cat and mouse. If you don't come out, I'll start shooting at random."

"No!" Finally, another voice—Kaze's again. He sounded more panicked than ever. "You can't. This place is loaded with gunpowder. One stray shot and we all go up."

A beat followed this revelation. Rashi's glanced curiously off to the side, and Nezumi realized he must have noticed the barrels in the corner.

"I see." Rashi's face smoothed out in a way that had Nezumi's heart leaping into his throat. "Well then, I'll just have to be more precise. How about this: either you surrender yourself, Nezumi, or I'll start shooting your friends. You have ten seconds before I shoot this helpful comrade of yours."

Kaze snarled. "You motherfucking—"

"Five seconds."

Nezumi swallowed thickly.

"Three... two…"

Nezumi stepped out and raised his arms in surrender.

"There you are," Rashi crooned. "I was beginning to think I killed these people for nothing."

"The people you killed would probably agree."

Nezumi's gaze met Kaze's. The expression on the man's face was conflicted, and more than a little ashamed. Nezumi kept eye contact only for a brief moment before his attention slid toward the staircase. As he had guessed, Rashi hadn't come alone; two stout, sunglasses-wearing officers had planted themselves in front of the exit.

"Restrain him," Rashi said to the men. Evidently he had expended his witty dialogue on his previous victims, and had nothing left for Nezumi but a pair of handcuffs.

One of the men came forward and glared at him like he found it extremely disrespectful that he didn't hold out his hands to be restrained. Nezumi smiled sweetly and slipped his hand into his pocket.

"What do you have there, hm?" Rashi gestured to him with his gun.

The officer shoved his hand into Nezumi's pocket and ripped the knife out. Nezumi almost snarled at the violation, but part of his mind thought it might be for the best. He mourned the loss of his weapon, but he hoped that the officers would be enough satisfied with catching him with it, that they would forgo a thorough search of his person.

Inside his boot, the drive dug into the side of his foot as he shifted. He had judged it as the securest place to hide it, and he experienced a surge of relief when the officer patted him down and declared him clean. He hadn't even found Tsukiyo, tucked in the folds of his superfibre cloth.

The handsy officer clamped two thick white bands over Nezumi's wrists, and took out a small remote. When he clicked a button, the cuffs tightened, and Nezumi shuddered at the cold, almost wet, sensation of them adhering to his skin. He noticed that they linked with a thin white cord, rather than metal. These were no cuffs he'd ever seen.

As if he could hear his thoughts, Rashi informed him, "Those cuffs are special issue. Don't want you escaping like last time."

Nezumi realized just how much he really hadn't missed the city's hospitality.

Once he was sufficiently restrained, Rashi approached. "That's an interesting look," he said.

For a moment, it looked like he was considering touching his hair, and Nezumi gave him a glare that promised instant death if he even dared. In the end, Rashi just shrugged.

"We've lingered long enough, I think. Would you like to say anything to your friends before you bid them farewell?"

Nezumi could see Kaze and Yamase hovering in his peripheral vision, but he kept his eyes trained on the officer in front of him. "No, I wouldn't."

"So cold," the man chuckled. "I have a feeling you're going to regret that, but have it your way." He nodded to the stairs. "Up you go."

Nezumi squinted as he emerged from the basement into the natural light of Yamase's kitchen. It was just as quiet as it always was, and Nezumi thought fleetingly that the isolation of the safe house was more a liability now than an advantage.

With more space at their disposal, the other officers flanked him and pulled him aside to make room for their commander. Rashi reached the top step, but rose no further.

He glanced from one person to another with an odd smirk on his face. "Who would like to do the honors?"

The men on either side of Nezumi exchanged looks. Nezumi's throat constricted. What honors?

The man to the right of him grunted and walked back to the vault door. Rashi pulled a small coin from his belt and deposited it into the man's hand.

No. Not a coin. That's…

Nezumi bucked hard against the officer's grip. The suddenness and force of his action won him his freedom, and he charged toward Rashi.

He only got a few steps before the officer caught him by the scruff of his jacket and yanked it. The muscles in his back and shoulders screamed with the strain, and Nezumi pooled all the pain into a deadly hiss.

"You sick fuck!"

Rashi blinked. "Ah, so you know what this is."

He did know. Nezumi had seen Kaze tinkering with enough of them to know what a micro-bomb looked like, and the damage it could do. They were equipped with timers and blast-strength modulators, so one could fine-tune the exact time and size of their destruction.

How could I have been so stupid! Of course they wouldn't let them go!

"I couldn't resist doing a little bit of cleaning up," Rashi said with a shrug. "Besides, the higher ups would prefer it if the Resistance went away."

The officer tossed the micro-bomb into the basement and Rashi slammed the vault door closed behind it. For a moment there was nothing, and Nezumi had no awareness but the pounding of his heart and his own ragged breaths.

Then came the banging. Bile rose into Nezumi's throat. Muffled shouts vibrated through the thick door, and the pound of flesh against metal was frantic and incessant.

Rashi signaled his men to move out. They didn't bother turning Nezumi around to walk; the two officers hooked a hand under each of his arms and dragged him backwards out of the house, towards the idling van. Nezumi kept watching and listening, and even though the cries and banging became fainter, he could still hear their echoes in his head.

They can't do this. They can't get away with this. I have to—

A sharp flash caught his eye, and he glanced up to see Yoming's crow circling above them. It was letting out short squawks, and every time it swooped down, the sunlight glinted off its neck.

Nezumi's eyes widened, and in the same moment an idea formed. He sucked in a deep breath.

"You can't do this!" he yelled. "There are people in there!"

His captors looked a little startled by his outburst, but responded no less roughly for it. They gripped his arms tight enough to bruise and pulled him at a quicker pace.

Nezumi didn't let up. He thrashed ruthlessly in the officers' holds. "No! Please, don't do this!" His voice broke into hysterical tones. "They're not even armed! Let them go!"

"Geez, shut up," growled the officer on his right.

They had reached the van now. Soon he'd be shoved inside it and silenced.

"You're murderers!" he screamed.

He kept on screaming over and over until they managed to stuff him into the back of the vehicle, and one pulled out his gun to threaten him against another sound. Nezumi's throat was raw, so he complied. He had done everything he needed to do, the only thing he could do.

He just hoped the crow caught it all on camera.