:Hungry. So hungry.:
:Unit will maintain cover identity,: the mass mind hissed.
Yes. Virus' goals outweighed the desires of one unit. And currently, acquiring the human unit, subclass Witch, Takani, Megumi was paramount.
Leaning against smoke-stained brown wallpaper of one of the Beijings' brothels, the human-appearing unit processed part of the events leading to this current plan subroutine. A trick Virus had borrowed from some of the computer programmers it had absorbed, to get around some of the... apparent limitations of logical minds. Instead of the mass mind working every plan out in minute detail, as it had at the beginning of its existence, it would simply decide on goals. Then it would fragment off a subset of itself to analyze the problem, determine a potential solution, and re-merge its conclusions with the whole.
Fact: the means of manipulating the world known as "magic" gave Kin an unacceptable advantage over Virus.
Fact: while Virus could absorb magic-users, once their innate energy was drained, they could no longer manipulate magic.
Fact: Kin who would not ordinarily be able to use magic could, so long as they were supported by a pool of energy gathered by other magic-users.
Conclusion: Virus needed access to a magical pool.
Such had become available approximately five years ago, when the human unit Takeda, Kanryuu eliminated the coven that had included Takani, Megumi. The pool was not large, but if left mostly untapped, it would refill from the normal flux of energies from the city. For experimental purposes, it was useful and advantageous.
And soon to be completely unavailable.
Due to Battousai, the enemy organization Target Alpha had discovered one of the anchoring Root Magic circuits that made up the pool. That access was now blocked, and given the past performance of the agency's Sorcerers, there was a 93 chance the remaining anchors would be located within the next 48 hours. Leaving the energy either inaccessible - or in agency hands.
Unacceptable.
But events had occurred that could now be taken advantage of. As one of the pool's creators, Takani, Megumi could access its magic no matter what measures Virus or Target Alpha might take to prevent it. And she was now in the city at large, available for capture. If not by Virus hands, then by the Okashira's forces.
Who would finally have to bring her past the outer ring of security the witch had always managed to avoid before: the Beijings.
This unit had been one of that designation, a month ago. And, like its fellow units in this subset, would continue to masquerade as such for the next two, until its emerging nature made discovery too likely. At which point they would each select one of the Beijings who had claimed their hosts as friends, and absorb them into Virus to take their place.
"Hey Huang! How 'bout a drink?" One of its future victims-to-be waved an imported Chinese beer. "On me."
"Not on duty, Dan," it replied, drawing on the stored memories of the host it had consumed. "You never know when they'll drag the little lady back here."
"Okay, okay... sheesh, Huang, you're just no fun lately..."
Foolish human. Fun was irrelevant.
:Unit will wait.:
---------
"Aggh! You little-" One hand touched Beshimi's bitten ear as they scrambled over New York's rooftops; flourished venom-black claws, in full view of the little spitfire of a Herd slung over his shoulder. "Do it again, and I leave you paralyzed for the rats!"
Spitting out blood and skin, the girl went still.
Han'nya smirked under his mask at Beshimi's swearing, coolly pleased by Megumi's fearful limpness on his own shoulders. The Witch had needed only one taste of his Drain years ago to realize how easily he could render her unconscious, or dying, and entirely unaware of her fate. And if Megumi Takani had one weakness, it was the fear of not knowing.
What weaknesses this Itachi-jou had, they didn't know yet. But they would discover them. Or kill her trying.
Though killing her might be a waste. Beshimi hadn't had a good blood-slave in over a year. And if that determination was innate, not a mere aberration of a first encounter with Kin... Beshimi could use more courage in his blood. It could be worth the effort to Addict her.
They'd offer her to the Okashira first, of course. It was only proper. But carefully, with Han'nya there to make sure any Draining was nonfatal. Sagara was a Target Alpha agent, and a notably honorable one; he wouldn't deal the Final Death to Hyottoko while there was a chance the clay Animate had information on a civilian's location. Which meant she had to stay alive long enough for them to reclaim Hyottoko's remains.
Not that Han'nya was truly worried the Okashira would lose control. He'd made sure their leader learned to take care of himself, as a proper Kin did, from the moment Kanryuu had released the new-made Ubo into their care. Aoshi knew how often he had to feed to sate the monster within, and did so dutifully.
But only dutifully. He never enjoyed it.
Which was a pity. True, it was good to have a leader again; though where Kanryuu's allies had found a modern child with ninja training, Han'nya would dearly love to know. And true, it was good for a leader to know duty, and set a noble example for his men.
But a true leader also knew when duty could ease its grip, and he could drink deep of the night-steeped joy that came with being so much more than human.
Aoshi had no joy in him.
I am his second. His well-being is in my care. This cannot go on.
Beshimi snatched at the girl's hands, seizing tiny slips of paper before she could drop them to mark their trail. "Don't even think about it!"
Determined, indeed. Which drew a sudden, thoughtful frown to Han'nya's masked face. Perhaps... we've tried willing victims, and those who deserve to die. Could it be he needs one who is neither?
He was an Ubo, after all. A Kin with grace and refinement even the samurai of old had recognized, and no matter that he was ninja. Perhaps, like the courting samurai and townsmen in the teahouses Han'nya had first struggled to life within centuries ago, he needed a more private victim. One he could court and argue with and sip from, like a butterfly from a flowering thistle.
An interesting thought. But one that would have to wait. "We're being followed," Han'nya murmured, too low for their captives to hear.
"Eh?" Beshimi jerked his head back over his shoulder. A human would have slipped as he ran; the Rakshasa barely broke stride, climbing up onto the ledge edging this roof as they prepared to jump to another. "I hear nothing!"
"Nor do I." Which, in truth, was what worried him.
The two nights Sagara had occupied their attention hadn't been nearly enough for a complete investigation. Yes, they knew what rumors ran the Kin streets: Sagara, once called "Zanza", was a Target Alpha agent; Sagara was too tough to be a Herd; Sagara had never been uncovered as anything but human, despite his seeming resistance to any and all Kin Infections. Resistance the street swore was due to his partner, not any innate quality of the agent himself; a tall, red-haired swordsman of a Kin called Joshua Ward, who loathed all the night's denizens... and when he fought, answered only to the name Battousai.
A dead Kin, rumor said now; cut down by an enchanted bullet here in Chinatown.
Fortunately for him, Han'nya mused. I doubt Choushuu's hitokiri would have appreciated his use of the name.
Not that Han'nya had ever had the ill fortune to meet that most lethal of Kin. Oh, he was old enough - as Beshimi and the others were not - but during the Revolution he'd been among the Kin onmitsu guarding Edo Castle, not those unlucky souls at work in the bloody streets of Kyoto. And afterward, when the new government had taken Han'nya and his fellows into its own shadowy arm, Battousai had fled too quickly for an Animate with Han'nya's looks to easily pursue him.
Just as well. The government of Meiji had breathed a sigh of relief when Battousai was declared dead, divesting itself of Kin it no longer needed as protection against the "greatest of revolutionaries".
When he thought about it, Han'nya had to smile at the irony. For all his ruthless murders, Battousai had fought for freedom for the people... and the moment he'd thought that freedom achieved, those who had used him to gain power turned on him like a rabid dog. Whereas Han'nya and his ilk had simply moved from one government, to the next, to the yakuza itself - which was so tightly entwined with governments, there often was no difference.
And now we are here. Han'nya made his way across the often-busy roofs of Chinatown like a flitting ghost, Beshimi a slightly noisier shadow in his wake. In Takeda's service.
Takeda, who in turn served the yakuza - though the businessman was arrogant enough to think they served his purposes, instead.
Fool. Did he think ninja who still claimed the name Oniwabanshuu came only to his beck and call?
Softly, softly, Han'nya warned himself. He gains money and power; he may yet make the sham real.
Especially with Shinomori at his back. The young Ubo was gifted.
If Takeda's schemes succeed, we will follow him. If not - with Aoshi to lead us, there is no one we may not serve.
It was good to have a true Okashira again. Like old times, when he'd been one of the night-shadows of Edo...
And again, that silence behind Han'nya gnawed at his instincts.
Even in Edo Castle, tales of the Shinsengumi's battles with the Choushuu assassin had spread like wildfire. And since Han'nya and his fellow Kin were onmitsu, they - unlike most of the Shogunate - had been provided with a true description. Han'nya's night-vision was not the best among Kin, but it was far better than human. He knew what he had seen.
Small and slight. Easily mistaken for a woman. Red hair, in a ronin's topknot; usually he will wear a hat to disguise it. Cross-shaped scar on his left cheek, believed to be a result of a failed ninja counterstrike.
And his sword moves faster than the eye can see.
Impossible. It had to be.
And yet... Kin could be very hard to kill.
Do your duty to the Okashira. Assume the worst. "Wait."
Beshimi sputtered, almost stumbling as they halted on the frail roof of yet another of Chinatown's tenements. Below, sewing machines clattered, whiffs of heated cotton and silk and dye drifting into the night. "First you say we're pursued, then you say wait?"
"Yes." Dropping to one knee, Han'nya re-balanced Takani on his shoulder; cracked the metal talons that served him for fingers, and struck.
Tarpaper curled back from his swift assault, forming one kanji, then several-
And the character-scribed roof glowed white, drawing a gasp from Beshimi's captive, a wide-eyed stillness from his own.
Concrete-gray snaked out of glowing symbols, coiling into the massive, wingless, five-toed form of China's Imperial Dragon. Massive eyes glowed like sparklers, and smoke puffed from its nostrils, curling past its leonine mane. "Do you dare ask me for favors, ninja?"
"The Cement Dragon," Itachi-jou breathed. "Whoa - hey, help!"
"She is not a child of Chinatown, and we took her captive outside its borders," Han'nya said evenly. "She has no claim on your beneficence, mighty one."
Chinatown's most powerful Elemental considered that, coiling in the wind. "And you do, metal-and-flesh son of Nippon?"
"I claim nothing," Han'nya said carefully. "I merely inform you that one approaches who is a child of Kyoto's bloodiest nights. And well we both know how the true warriors of the Middle Kingdom have ever defended their lands against the samurai of the Rising Sun."
"You speak the truth.
"Death treads on your heels.
"But your enemy is not samurai, Han'nya of the Oniwabanshuu. And never was."
Not-? Han'nya tensed, bracing himself for a dragon's righteous wrath. Their pursuer must have crossed one of Chinatown's borders; and within that magical territory it called its own, the Cement Dragon, like any City Elemental, knew and saw all. "I crave your pardon for drawing such a great one's attention by mistake-"
"Mistake?" The great dragon laughed, like concrete crumbling. "What mistake?
"Your enemy is Himura Kenshin.
"Hitokiri Battousai.
"The Demon of Kyoto."
What served the Animate for a gut clenched in an icy knot. "Beshimi. Prepare to run."
"But who in the worlds is-"
"Later." Han'nya inclined his mask to the Elemental. "You are most gracious."
Smoke curled in a sniff. "Of course."
"Never a samurai," Han'nya murmured to himself. No wonder Meiji's government wished him dead. They were samurai, for all their talk of equality. How could they bear owing their power to one who was not?
"A roshi, I sense. Who were often among the forces attacking the Middle Kingdom... as, sometimes, were ninja..." The Elemental waited, and grinned toothily when Han'nya did not flinch. "Wise.
"You have brought me truth, ninja.
"No assassin will bring harm to Chinatown tonight."
A parting bow, and Han'nya ran on. Fast.
"Who is-" Beshimi panted, catching up.
"One I hoped never to meet."
"You b-better believe it," Itachi-jou got out, jarred into stuttering. "D-don't care how you fooled the Elemental. H-he'll come for us. And when he d-does-" She got a glimpse of the street-wide gap they were hurtling toward, and squeaked.
Smirking despite himself, Han'nya leaped.
---------
"You'd better be wearing this rig, not just carrying it-"
Plotting his course over the next three rooftops as he ran, Kenshin suppressed the urge to roll his eyes at the irritation leaking through his ear-piece. "Sano," he murmured. "Keep your voice down."
"Yeah, yeah; I know you've got good ears-"
"And we don't know how good Beshimi's ears are," Kenshin said quietly. "Much less his partner's."
"...Point."
Not to mention, you're distracting, Kenshin thought, barely halting on the tiled wall rimming this roof before climbing swiftly down, claws catching between bricks near where the faint scent of Rakshasa venom lingered. I can't believe I'm doing this...
:Why?:
Low enough now. He braced himself, and let go; pushing away from the wall in a leap that landed on the next rooftop, notably beyond the faint scuff-marks left by Beshimi's sandals. But then, the Rakshasa was carrying Misao's weight. Because it's insane?
Silence.
Kenshin raised a red brow, eyes tracking in the dark to find the next faint sign of his-
Targets.
Oh gods. This is - like the dream... Not the actions, but the feeling. The cool focus on those who were his enemies, and those who had to be protected at all costs. Chill that was itself but a thin trail through flames; one step off the knife-edge, and there would be nothing but the endless fury.
:You will not fall. I have done this before, in Kyoto. And you need that now. You need the hitokiri.:
This isn't human-
:It is. Ordinary, no; such as you and I have never been ordinary. But the focus of the sniper, the hunter, the assassin... oh my own, it is all too human.
:The Kin kill, yes. And they are monsters. But it is not death that makes true evil, my heart. It is murder.:
I don't like it!
:By which you mean, you like it entirely too much,: Battousai said softly. :How simple the world is. How clear. I know, my own. I know too well.
:But you are loved. Hold to that. Have faith in it. The hitokiri is only part of what you are; and part cannot hold against the whole forever.:
Hold on. To Yahiko's sleeping weight under his arm, Sano's wry grin, Kaoru's laughing blue eyes as she chased him across the dojo floor. Even the sharp weight of steel at his side, that had snarled and soothed and killed... and done its best to always deal with him in honor.
No matter how deep the darkness, they would lead him out again.
Breathing deep, Kenshin let the chill take him.
---------
I should have known, Dr. Gensai groaned silently as he opened his door to an influx of bloodied neighbors. I should have known an agent in the building was going to be a bad idea...
Recriminations later. For now, he had patients. "My god, Sagara! What tried to eat you?"
"Animate," Sano shrugged, as if looking like he'd been dragged face-down through the rhino enclosure was as normal a hazard as taxicab splashes. "Forget me; Jou-chan's the one who really got hit-"
"I'm okay," Kaoru protested weakly as Sanosuke half-carried her inside the apartment; following behind, Yahiko winced at the thump as the doctor drew the door closed. "Really, I'm..."
Dr. Gensai looked past the torn shirt to the dark bruise flowering on her chest above a certain vital organ, and felt his lips thin with worry. "How long was your heart interrupted?"
Yahiko choked. "Is that what aniki was-?"
Sano nodded. "Think so, kid."
"It felt like forever," Kaoru whispered, letting him sit her down on the couch. "I don't think it was that long."
"Maybe half a minute," Sano stated. Held up empty hands when Gensai eyed him. "Can't be more specific, Doc. I was kind of busy taking apart the guy who tried to play origami with me. Oh, and if you head down into the garden? Don't take the little shovel-thing out of the big, heart-shaped lump of clay."
"I see," Dr. Gensai said dryly. Gave the agent one more long look, and turned his attention back to Kaoru. Breathing, not bleeding, apparently coherent; a good start. Let's see... He left her side long enough to retrieve his traveling medical bag from beside the coat rack, taking a quick look at Yahiko in passing. Minor scalp wound, appears to have stopped bleeding. He's definitely next.
Touch and eye and ear told him a great deal. Modern medical equipment might tell him more - but given that the wound showed far too sudden bruising, symptomatic of life-force Drain, likely not. Carefully, the doctor formed the pattern of one of the few street magic spells he'd paid to have developed: MRI.
A touch to her chest, and he knew what he needed to know. "Rest," Dr. Gensai told Kaoru firmly, pressing down on her unwounded shoulder. "Your heart's had a severe shock. Kenshin seems to have healed most of the trauma," and how in the worlds had the young man managed that? It wasn't an Infection! "But right now your system is flooded with biochemical alarm signals. They can do damage all by themselves, if you stress yourself further." He saw the incipient mutiny in blue eyes, and held up a warning finger. "You do not need a trip to the emergency room, Kaoru. Much less a stay in the critical ward."
"But Kenshin-" Yahiko started, only to squawk when Gensai caught him by the shoulders and planted him on the couch next to his teacher. "Hey!"
"Keep your voice down, young man, or I will drop my granddaughters on you when they wake up." Silence assured, Dr. Gensai cleaned blood away from the healing lump, checking for signs of concussion. No, no, and no... good. "Well. You've just bought yourself and your brother a very sleepless night. I want Kenshin to check on you every hour..." He glanced up, searching his living room for any trace of red hair. "Where is Kenshin?"
"Chinatown," Sano grumbled, tapping an ear-piece as he stalked the room. He opened a hand-held computer, tapping keys with the unchewed end of a toothpick; frowned, apparently tracking something moving across its screen. "Damn it, I should call Uramura's team to back you up-" A pause. "Yeah, I know he can't move that fast. But we've got a general idea which way the Rakshasa and his buddy are going-" Dark brows shot up, and a wry grin swept over the agent's face. "'Sai, you walking case of bad influence, you. I don't think Himura knew words like that."
Yahiko sat up, disbelief warring with a stifled snicker. "What did my brother say?"
Sano smirked. "Let's just say, if there's a ninja within five miles of here, they're sneezing."
Tucking his bottle of rubbing alcohol away, Dr. Gensai froze, horrified. "Are you saying that Kenshin went after those who attacked you, alone?"
"They took Misao and Megumi," Kaoru said softly. "And... he's not alone."
Battousai. Ice shivered down Gensai's spine. Hard enough to remember that the gentle young man who'd won his granddaughters' hearts was Kin. To realize he was carrying that killer... Gensai let out a slow breath. "They took who?"
"Um." Kaoru hesitated. "Well, Misao's a friend of Sano's."
Another agent? Oh dear.
"And Takani-" Kaoru bit her lip. "She's... well, she's..."
"Megumi Takani?" Dr. Gensai's fingers clenched on his slacks; with fear or hope, he couldn't have said. "That poor girl is alive?"
"You know her?" Yahiko pounced.
"Know her?" Gensai shook his head in disbelief. "Dear me, young man; you truly need more education in Crowley lore. Why, the Takani family-"
"Problem? What do you mean, 'problem'?" Sano said suddenly. "I know 'Sai. You have targets. Tactical difficulties. Momentary obstacles. You don't have-"
Even though the ear-piece was half the room away, Gensai could hear the faint roar.
"...Okay, that qualifies as a problem..."
---------
Gold Mountain. Bright Paradise. Li Chi picked up a piece of blue and silver-patterned rayon, automatically felt at it to find the correct side of the cloth, and guided it through the sewing machine. Absently she listened to the rip of thread; the cough of the Ha twins, both still sick despite a week of herb treatments; the singing gossip of Auntie Ma and Great-Grandmother Chen a few feet away, dissecting the merits of various matchmakers. I don't think so.
Dangerous thoughts. Spawned from the coverless paperbacks stuffed among the textbooks in her backpack; discarded books from a dumpster on the very edge of Chinatown, that the sixteen-year-old limped through with her halting knowledge of English. Low faan books, that a proper girl should spend no time reading. Her family would say so.
And they would be right.
But you named me after the Serpent Slayer. The girl who destroyed the monster oppressing her village. Finding that tale in an English book - it had upset all she thought she knew of the outside people. Shouldn't I try to make things better?
As if she could. This was work, and it paid. And if the toilet was filthy, and the fire doors were chained shut - well, there was still enough light to see, and incense burning at the shrine to Gung Gong for luck, and piecework pay so you could always leave if you had to, for a little while, and do right by your family. It wasn't any better elsewhere. She knew that.
Her eyes flicked up to the wires hanging loose from the ceiling, though she wasn't sure why; a glance up meant that much less time, and one less piece...
Wires that were no longer just hanging, but shuddering - then flailing, as a roar broke over the rattle of sewing machines and the world itself fell in-
"Ow..."
From her crouch behind Auntie Ma's sewing machine a yard away, Li Chi watched gray coil down through the sudden opening to the night, wide-eyed. A dragon... made of concrete?
Living concrete, somehow, that breathed and rippled and hung in the air like any dragon out of legend. Sparkling eyes swept the shop, touching each terrified woman and child in turn, then returned to their watch over tarpaper and rubble.
A pale, clawed hand pushed aside bits of what had been the ceiling, accompanied by low, unfamiliar curses. Not Cantonese; definitely not English. Oddly familiar, though. Almost like the strange, rich businessmen that came to the Akabeko restaurant, that smart girls never went near, no matter how much money they flashed. Or that rare time she'd snuck into a theater where a Godzilla film had been playing.
What is he?
Definitely he; though the long red hair looked like an outsider woman's, and the clothes weren't like anything she could remember seeing, ever. "We are not enemies!"
"Are we not, Master of Lethal Sword-Drawing?
"You were sheathed before. Now you gleam free in the night.
"Do you not endanger my people?"
The clawed man was speaking English; the dragon was speaking... she didn't know what. It sounded like Cantonese; but then, it sounded like Mandarin, and English too, and every other language she'd ever heard. It spoke to her bones, not her ears, meaning clear and clean as a nightingale's song.
And there was a sword; she saw it, gleaming as a flick of wrist shook away dust and bits of tar.
Then steel was drawn across the black mouth of a sheath, and sank home.
He... but... the dragon...
"We are not enemies, spirit of Chinatown," the redhead said firmly, clawed hands spread, empty of threat. "I tread your roofs in search of those who have taken one of mine, and one under my protection. Only that, and no more."
"And when you find those you seek?" Silver-gray whiskers flowed in an unfelt wind; five claws closed on air, lightning crackling between them. "What then, Manslayer?"
"If fate is kind, I will only spirit them away, and do no harm to anyone." Violet eyes were sad. "If not... I will do as I must."
"It is not enough." Sparkling eyes narrowed. "Little brother."
Brother? Li Chi lifted her head to see better, ignoring Auntie Ma's hissed injunction to stay down. But humans aren't... only he does have claws, he could be...
And wasn't this like the tales of old? Brother, sister, honored grandmother - it didn't matter if you spoke to a dog or a river or the wind itself, in the stories. All might be family.
Though the swordsman himself was gaping; as if the dragon had shocked him, a spirit, as much as it had her!
But he shook it off, almost as if he had to muster his courage like any human. "They don't have much time. What do you want of me?"
"One who is chained, cannot be in balance.
"Who takes life, must heal it.
"Even so-"
The world changed.
The ceiling was whole, untouched. Dust and wreckage vanished, leaving sewing machines and cloth clean and new as if Li Chi and her fellow workers had simply stepped away from them a moment. A wonderful, wild scent touched the air; as if boarded-up windows had suddenly opened onto green forest.
And the dragon was gone.
"Oh, yes," the redhead muttered, sarcasm dripping from the words. "That made perfect sense." His voice dropped; Li Chi caught a murmur that sounded like Sano, and location, but the English was too quick to make out. Especially once Connie Ha started coughing.
Li Chi slipped away from Auntie Ma's grab, blocking the redheaded spirit from moving any closer to the twins. "You not hurt her!"
"I will not, young lady." His Cantonese was slow, and no better than her English. "I only..." He shook his head, as frustrated as she always was with barbarians' twisty words. "Wait." A pen and sticky-pad emerged from his loose red sleeve; she watched, amazed, as this outsider spirit scribed readable characters of her own language.
Dr. Ogumi Gensai. A phone number. And an address.
"The clinic has many hours," he said carefully, looking at Connie. "And no questions."
He stuck the scrap on a bare piece of counter, and backed away a step, dropping his gaze politely. Glanced back to Li Chi, and gave her a shy smile. "Brave young lady. As it seems the Cement Dragon who watches over you has barred the way I came in... could you possibly show me a way out?"
---------
I'm going to pull out his hair and use it as a scrub brush! Misao thought furiously, catching her breath as her Rakshasa captor finally stopped outside a rooftop door. I'm going to - yes!
Hiking boots dug in and sprayed gravel as the lab tech rolled off his shoulder and bolted for the edge of the roof. She'd squeaked and gibbered for her captors on purpose, playing up the fear most humans had of heights; fear that made most Kin feel comfortably smug about dealing with a cowed little Herd. In fact, she loved high places. Grandpa had always said so, usually after a frantic Aoshi had plucked her giggling younger self off a ledge or out of a tree. All she had to do was get to the edge and clamber over - even Kin would have a hard time catching her on the side of a building! She wouldn't balk at a ten-story fall; after all, past thirty feet, it didn't really matter-
And the world blurred, and the edge of the roof had vanished.
I'm - running back toward the door? No-!
Metal claws snared her wrists. "Stay still."
Misao froze, all too aware of razor edges near her wrist veins. She stared into the tall Animate's demon-mask of a face, wondering what he had been before some spirit had sparked into life. A bunraku puppet? Some mad ninja's creation of metal and flesh? "You changed it..."
Glowing white eyes were bland, studying her. "It would be rude for you to leave without greeting our Okashira."
She bit him.
Guess he wants me alive, Misao thought a breath later, as the demonic Animate planted her bound, gagged, and furious form back on the Rakshasa's shoulders. His mask-face never moved, but she could almost feel the amusement rolling off him.
Throughout it all, Megumi had remained where the Animate had left her; still as death, dark eyes turned inward as if to escape unbearable reality.
Why? Misao thought angrily as the door opened into smoky air. You ran once- you could've tried again-
Only... there was something hurt in dark eyes as the Animate dragged her into the lighted stairwell. Something lost and despairing, like a damned soul who'd struggled to one taunting glimpse of sunlight - then lost it, slipping into the darkness of the pit.
It's like... she doesn't think she deserves to run...
The stairwell door opened onto a red-carpeted corridor, furnished with a few thugs missing fingers; Misao heard far-off female giggles, caught a whiff of men's cologne, and tried not to look at the shunga adorning the walls. What kind of guy is this Okashira?
A subtle, locked door opened - and they were inside a room that wasn't like a brothel at all.
Better, Misao thought, relaxing almost despite herself at the plain, ice-blue walls, the heart-lifting Hiroshige print of a hawk stooping over a marsh. But why would someone like this live in a building that's- well-
Quick green eyes fell on a duffel bag by the door, a thick, heavy blue coverlet on the single bed that was undoubtedly earth quilted into a convenient traveling mat.
This isn't where he lives. This is just a hideout. Someplace to wait out the sun.
"Okashira." Setting Megumi down, the Animate bowed; a move quickly copied by the Rakshasa. Misao mmphed as she hit the floor, feeling every thread of her jeans rubbing over abraded knees-
And... that white shadow in the corner wasn't a shadow at all.
Tall. Nape-length black hair, swept back from his face. And even with his back to them, a stance that seemed oddly familiar, though she knew she'd never seen a guy in a white trenchcoat in her life. "Han'nya. Beshimi." A shift of shoulders. "Hyottoko?"
That voice. Misao frowned behind her gag. Where have I heard it before?
"Temporarily dead," Beshimi reported, sweating. "But with Sagara's reputation..."
"The man does not kill without cause," the Okashira inclined his head. "We should have some hours to retrieve him." He turned, a flow of snow and shadow, advancing on the Animate's kneeling prisoner. "Takani."
"For once in your life, show mercy," Megumi whispered. "Kill me."
"That would not serve Kanryuu's interests." One hand twisted a band of platinum and violet; lifted away from the ring to settle in odd benediction on the witch's head. "But when it comes, it will be clean."
He sounds... sorry? Misao dared a look upward-
Into green just a shade darker than her own.
No.
It can't be.
Paler. A shade thinner. But the face still matched one of three sealed into her wallet. Shameless as ever, Grandpa had mugged for the camera beside his teenage granddaughter as she brandished her new shuriken, almost within arm's reach of the young man their family had taken in years before; a silent youth barely into his twenties, hiding behind dark bangs as he contemplated venturing off for his Master's. The same dark bangs now falling over emerald like startled shadows as he looked at her and saw.
Aoshi!
"Han'nya." Aoshi kept his voice cool, but she saw a flicker of dawning horror in his eyes. "What is... this... doing here?"
"Insurance," the Animate said coolly. White eyes turned to Beshimi. "Prepare Takani to travel."
"But-" The Rakshasa looked at her, then Aoshi, and grinned. "But of course..." Snickering under his breath, he tugged the shivering Witch out the door.
"Han'nya-"
"I have learned never to rely on a foe's reputation when it comes to my comrades' safety." The dull side of metal claws glided under her chin, drawing chill in their wake. "Sagara is unlikely to do anything hasty so long as we hold one of his own." Razor points stopped at the side of her neck. "And as I am certain my Okashira can see..."
Silence. Too silent; Misao saw the flinch and faint anger in Aoshi's face, as if he were still holding an unpleasant discussion. That's right - some Animates are telepaths. But what is Han'nya saying?
"Don't touch her."
Misao sucked in a breath through the loose cloth gag, only now registering the razor prick of steel at the side of her neck. So sharp! She felt wet warmth gather on her skin, all but smelled salty copper in the air-
And green eyes were dark with terrible hunger, drinking in the scent of blood.
Oh, Aoshi... I'm so sorry. But I love you. I won't let you do something you'll regret for the rest of your life! Deliberately relaxing her muscles, Misao recalled her family's ancient techniques, focusing on tendons and bone. Han'nya's hasty ties were meant to hold an ordinary person; if she could dislocate one thumb, her hands would be free-
"Don't." Hands a hair too cool seized her own, halting her efforts. "Misao. Don't."
"Okashira?" Han'nya's tone was shocked.
Cool hands changed their grip, plucking her from the floor like a feather. One arm held her against him, breath tickling her neck; the other sought her bonds, feeling at Han'nya's quick knots. "Even if you're... one of Sagara's people... you don't know. You can't know. How hard it is, not to hunt... and I cannot allow a threat to Kanryuu's safety to go unanswered. Don't try to escape me. Not like this."
Misao winced at the stronger tug on her wrists, turning Aoshi's words over in her head. Something about them didn't ring right-
Ring. Platinum and violet, even more shocking than the chill of flesh.
Why is Aoshi wearing a ring?
And the pressure of the ropes dropped away, shredded by unnatural strength.
Never mind - just run-!
Sharp sweetness sank into her neck.
She melted into that familiar embrace, dimly aware of a hand tugging free the gag so she could breathe freely. And she wanted to breathe. To take in the familiar scent of her oldest, best friend, no matter that it was faintly tinged with blood. To feel dark bangs ghost against her lips as he nuzzled her skin, licking away Han'nya's slim cuts. To draw the one she'd lost so many years ago closer, and never, ever let go...
I have to get away.
It was faint. Hard to reach past that piercing pleasure. But there.
I love you. But I have to get away. I have to.
Of course, there was the nagging little problem of fangs in her neck. Even if Aoshi loved her, he was Kin. What kind she didn't know, probably some variety of vampire; though not Nosferatu, he had his hair - and- it didn't matter. So deep into feeding, the predator within would be perfectly willing to tear out her jugular and take what it could if its prey proved balky-
And... the teeth were pulling out?
Fangs grazed her skin one last time, delicate as kitten-claws, as he licked her wound clean. His ringed hand stroked down her braid; warm now, as were the fingers that tipped her gaze up to meet his. "Forgive me."
Forgive-? Oh no, he is a vampire, look away-!
But her eyelids were too heavy to move, and the shrill of warning was muffled in sweet, emerald fog.
"Misao, listen to me..."
---------
Done. Aoshi felt the mystical tag settle into place, bound by blood and ki. She could never escape him now. So long as she was within the city, all he had to do was reach out... and he would know.
My Misao. Mine!
It thrummed within him like the beat of her heart; like the flutter of white butterfly wings against cupped palms.
Hold me within your hands. I would perch on your outstretched palm and never leave; I would ward you in the circle of my arms, and no one would ever hurt you again...
As... I have hurt you. Damn this ring!
And he could damn it, the Ubo realized suddenly. He could almost feel its influence, like a silken net over his soul.
Spinel sets the ego aside. But love is of the spirit. And it is my spirit that is bound...
The net closed.
The Okashira stared into dazed green eyes, one hand still resting on that delicate pulse under her chin. Turned her head slightly, checking that his kiss had done its work and her throat was unmarked once more. It wouldn't do to let such a potentially valuable source be discovered due to carelessness. Particularly given the fact that most of Target Alpha was far less tolerant of Kin than Sagara's Triborough division, and thus far more likely to do serious harm to an agent who might be... compromised.
And that, he could not allow.
But - I am bound to serve Kanryuu-
Yes. He was. As a sane, responsible leader. Magic bound him to that like forged iron, healing his spirit even as it tried to fragment from despair.
Yet even the greatest enchantment had its limits. If Misao were harmed by his actions - or his failure to act - he would no longer be sane.
Which the ring could not allow.
For the first time he could remember, he felt like laughing.
Stalemate! Gods, gods, I have you-
No. He was still the Okashira. He could feel it.
Yet the very fact that he could feel it shivered through him like a battle-cry.
I can protect Misao. So long as it does not risk Kanryuu.
Unexpected. Unsettling. He should meditate, think on this-
No! No, don't think. If you think you'll find the consequences; and if you know those, you won't be able to- He turned Misao's unresisting form, shoved her lightly toward Han'nya. "See her out of here. See her safe."
Han'nya's mask never moved, but the frown showed clear in his voice. "If it is Battousai, even an Elemental may not be enough. I cannot leave you unprotected."
"We have more goals than you yet know." One of which Kanryuu had only recently informed him of, after learning they faced one of Target Alpha's own agents. An inside source could make all the difference in the world. "Her safety is-" Everything. Beyond even my own life. "-Important."
Metal claws were utterly gentle, catching hold of the waking young woman. "Does she please you, Okashira?"
"As spring rains," the Ubo said softly. "Go!"
The mask inclined, and both vanished.
---------
"Grand Central Station," Sano grumbled, glaring at the laptop, two phones, and other assorted communications gear he'd snatched out of Kenshin's apartment to bring back here. Yahiko and Kaoru still needed an eye kept on them, and Gensai wasn't about to leave his sleeping granddaughters. Not that Sano could blame him. If three blatantly hostile Kin could get through the apartment complex wards, who knew what would be next?
Meanwhile, he got the fun job of waking up about five separate city and government agencies to go raid Chinatown. Joy.
But it couldn't be left until morning, damn it. A lot of the guys running sweatshops had enough knowledge of Kin to clue into just what had dropped through that roof. Even those who didn't often up and vanished on a whim, one step ahead of the cops. If they were going to do something, it had to be now.
And if the Cement Dragon put Kenshin through that roof... it really has to be now.
Like the dragons of legend, Chinatown's Elemental prided itself on being both benevolent and subtle. Busting up a sweatshop was not subtle.
Either something bad was going on there, something Kenshin didn't have time to see - or something really, really bad is going to happen. Bad enough to tweak even ancient Chinese morals out of joint. Visions of forced prostitution, plague-bearing rats, or faulty, overloaded wiring catching fire and burning like a pyre danced through Sano's head. Elementals could rewrite history with Event Manipulation, sure - but the more people that were affected, the less chance it had of working. Get up to the number of women and girls Kenshin had mentioned in that shop, and it'd be almost impossible to change a tragedy.
So he sat on his temper and made nice with the Feds, drawing on Target Alpha's DEA cover to claim information on bad wiring from a "trusted source" and the locals' own painful knowledge of Chinatown's fast fades to get the ball rolling. Nobody needed another mass disaster.
"-Thank you," Sanosuke sighed, relieved, as the last aggravated voice agreed they were heading for warrants and hung up. Listened on his ear-piece long enough to be sure Kenshin didn't need kibitzing, and shot a wry glance at Gensai. "Okay. Doc. You were saying about Takani?"
"Well, I don't know Megumi Takani as such," the elderly Sorcerer admitted. "But the Takani family, yes. In a sense, they're part of the reason I am what I am." A wistful smile touched his face. "An entire family of herbalists and Witches. With an example like that, how could I not try to follow in their footsteps?" He shook his head. "I had no idea some people were more resistant to magic's changes than others. By the time I did-" Gensai spread empty hands.
"You were already Kin," Kaoru finished, blue eyes bright with sympathy.
"I don't regret being what I am," Gensai sighed. "But all the same, had I known... I might have chosen differently, yes."
Drumming his heels against the couch, Yahiko frowned. "What the heck does a wannabe evil CEO guy want with an herbalist?"
For a second, Sano almost thought he had an answer, bits of what he'd seen and heard just starting to fall into place-
An emergency squeal came over his radio, overriding his ear on Battousai. "Location Jewelset," Natasha Falconi's British accent was even more clipped than usual as the Sorceress bit out the alert. "Dogs and Handlers! I say again, we have Dogs and Handlers! Any teams in vicinity, respond!"
Kaoru paled. "What is it?"
Sano swallowed dryly, knowing how gray he must look. "Falconi. She's been poking into the mess under Zip Electronics." Not alone, thank gods, though what good Uramura's team was going to do her... "They've got Virus. Lots of it."
"We gotta-"
Sano grabbed Yahiko as he rocketed off the couch. "We've got to stay put, that's what we gotta do."
"How can you say that?" Kaoru's voice broke. "They're your people!"
Sano winced at the accusation in blue eyes. "And we're too. Damn. Far away," he gritted out. "You're hurt. I'm hurt. And every other control team in shouting distance is heading for that basement at Warp Nine. You think any of them's going to turn around if Kenshin needs help?"
Shocked silence.
Sano let out a slow breath. "Jou-chan. Those two jokers didn't take Misao and the kitsune out for cotton candy. Maybe Kanryuu wants Megumi in one piece. Maybe he just wants her long enough to-" Dice her into pieces, slow and painful; and that's if she's lucky, "-make an example out of her. Either way, Misao's..." His fists closed, nails biting into skin. "Itachi-jou's an extra. A bonus. And she can ID 'em."
"You-" Yahiko slid back against the cushions, wobbly. "They'd... eat her?"
Sano met brown eyes for one sober moment, fixed back on Kaoru. "They might have hours. They might have minutes. They don't have time for some other team to pick up the trail." He swept them all with his gaze, even Gensai. "And we're all the backup Battousai's got."
"Sit down."
Sano blinked at Gensai's quiet order, unable to keep himself from stiffening as the Sorcerer's hand settled on his collarbone. Just where a lot of Kin liked to Drain from-
A shimmer of white light swept over Gensai's fingers, and everything suddenly stopped hurting.
"Give that a minute," the Sorcerer stated, stepping back. "Kaoru, Yahiko - no offense, but I'd rather not spend any more healing spells at the moment. I've only a few more stored, and we have no idea what shape Kenshin will bring your friends back in. But in case we have more unexpected visitors..."
"Gotcha," Sano nodded. "Thanks." Oh man, that felt better. Not the same kind of crackly-energy take-on-the-world feeling he'd gotten from Kenshin's touch. Just - better.
"Oh, and Sanosuke?" Dark eyes twinkled. "You are watching over my granddaughters for the hour it will take me to store that spell again."
Damn. Life really wasn't fair.
Fiddling with his radio to switch off the emergency squeal from Falconi's people, Sano caught screams, and tried not to swear. Turn it off, you idiot. You can't help them. You can't.
But... if they were overrun... Virus might try to Infect them. Which took hours.
And in a few hours, their own hunt might be over. One way or another.
Jaw set, Sano settled back to listen.
---------
Torch!
The Virus Natasha glared at burst into flames, metallic skin bubbling and melting. It kept coming, even as the Sorceress put two rounds into it, wires writhing about outstretched metal talons. She backed up - jarred her elbow against the tunnel wall, hard - felt the gun start to skitter free from her grip-
White-hot metal seized her arms, and she screamed.
Thwa-boom!
Thank gods for Uramura and illegal weaponry.
Smoke and the flat claps of gunfire filled the underground tunnel, gnawing like metal termites at the gleaming phalanx advancing on them through the hole Virus had blasted in the wall. Probably from some other dead soul's basement, the poor bastards, Natasha thought fuzzily, blinking at the flames flickering up from the hole blasted in the metal torso. A Sorceress' training set the pain partly aside, holding onto her Preemptive Strike spell by mental fingertips. Magically-enhanced reflexes were all that had kept her alive this long; lose that, and she'd be dead in instants. Three full-blown Virus, two Dogs... four humans and one Sorceress - make that three humans, Nez is holding our way out... gods, I feel sorry for the good guys...
Wait. They were the good guys.
Shock. You're going into shock. Fight it!
Massive gun resting against his armor vest, the control team leader hauled her up by her shoulder, glasses glinting with muzzle-flash. "Ideas!"
Right. Never mind that the metal bastards had burned her near to the bone. Let them get closer, and third-degree burns would be the least of her worries. Think. "Stop shooting?"
"What?" But Uramura bit out the order anyway, beckoning his team in with a wave of fingers.
Natasha formed a wish, and released one of her stored spells. Fade.
And Virus... stopped. Tilted heads back and forth, searching.
"They can't sense us," Natasha gasped. "It won't last long!"
"Long enough." Something not quite sane burned in Uramura's gaze. "Levinson! Stutler!"
"Set it up when you asked Boss let's go!" Rachel Levinson said in one rush, ducking under arms as Virus struck out at the foes it knew had to be there.
Set what up? Natasha wanted to ask as the team dragged her up and out through Zip Electronics. But was preempted by a few more important details. Like breathing.
And then ducking.
Gods... no!
Magic-touched reflexes were all that gave her time to react; a clench of will summoned Meathooks, black metal shooting up through Nez's sprawled body to impale the wet-wire forms of his killers.
No, no, no...
But Natasha had seen the human ruin left in the wake of London's Blitz, and summoned that same determination not to feel now. Her eyes were dry as she took in Nez's Drained husk, as one of the Virus Dogs' razor teeth grazed her shoulder, as she stepped to the side and put the rest of a clip of razortops through the chest processors that served the pair of them for brains.
Drop the clip. Reload. Too many targets-
Paralysis.
Twelve bodies thumped to the ground.
"Son of a-" Stutler panted as he fought the spell, painfully wriggling out from under a Dog as it twitched, still trying to Drain. "They're still coming, damn you!"
"I know." Detached, Natasha put rounds in those Virus not frozen by the spell, got her arm under Uramura's limp form. "I can't hold this much longer."
"Just get to the door." He was struggling that way himself, dragging a furious and frozen Rachel in his wake.
Somebody ought to come up with a Paralysis that lets you pick targets, Natasha thought as if through water, burned arms pulsing pain up her spine. I should ask Harvey if he has any ideas...
"And - drop it!" Stutler gasped, setting foot into the alley. "Now, Rachel!"
The ground shuddered.
I'd forgotten how much Uramura likes things that go boom, Natasha realized, driven to knees and stinging hands by the chain of explosions. Shaped charges in the tunnel, she'd guess. Typical control team logic; if Target Alpha couldn't use it the magical pool that anchor held, they'd be damned if a Kin would. The kind of logic Natasha usually hated, that led to shooting werewolves and staking vampires for no other reason than that they didn't want anything to do with hostile humans.
Usually. But not today.
All Virus is one Virus. And it killed Nez. I liked Nez...
"Come on!" Blood dripping down the right side of her face, Rachel dragged Natasha by her jacket, shooting behind them. "That only blew the tunnel!"
Tears smearing her cheeks, Natasha staggered to her feet, hearing the metal-and-wire flex of their pursuers like the robot sprint from hell. I can't - I'm so tired...
But she couldn't give up. If she gave up, she'd never see Harvey again. And she loved Harvey. Loved his laugh, his dirty jokes, the way he licked a finger to turn a page as he did his magical research-
Research. Wonderful Things.
Only a whisper of a hunch. But what did they have to lose? A twist of will invoked Magic Sight; Natasha looked down the alley they were retreating through, saw-
Yes!
"Inside!" Natasha hit the shop's back door, shooting out Himura's brand-new lock without a flicker of remorse. "Now!"
Uramura and Levinson made it in behind her; Stutler-
An agonized scream.
Rachel tried to dive back out. Natasha clotheslined her with one arm; white pain blurring her vision even as she slammed the woman's bloody head wound to the floor.
Let me be right - please let me be right, I want to live-!
Power shuddered through the air about them; invisible, intangible to only mortal senses-
But breathtakingly tangible in effect, as the Virus Dog that leapt for them was caught, mid-air, by a blue crackle of lightning that smashed it to the alley floor.
Uramura stared, and bared teeth in a calculating snarl. "We'll hold here. Get Stutler!"
Easy for you to say. Gods... She fought down a cowardly whimper, and invoked Paralysis once more.
They're still moving... they'll grab me... they'll take me, and make me one of them, I can't do this!
But she grabbed Stutler anyway, tearing him loose from the cloud of wires a Virus had buried in his neck and spine. Never mind the blood, never mind the yellow leak of spinal fluid - if they got loose she could heal him, and even if she couldn't paraplegic was better than taken-
A shot crashed by her ear, blasting back one of the still-moving metal monstrosities. Uramura.
Lump of agent dragging at her side, Natasha dove back into the open doorway. Dropped Stutler unceremoniously on the floor. Grasped one last bit of courage-
Silver-white fire poured down her fingers, stealing part of her own faltering strength to mend mortal flesh and nerve and bone. Stutler dragged in a choked breath.
Curled around her pain, Natasha let the world go away.
---------
Dry-eyed, Megumi Takani huddled on herself, arms wrapped around her knees as she waited on a narrow slab of a bed. Trying not to see Beshimi's shadow bustle back and forth under the door to her makeshift cell. Trying not to hear the moans and faked giggles of those trapped into what might be even worse lives than her own. Trying not to smell the faint, unmistakable scent rising from indifferently-cleaned bedding; the gut-clenching odor of one of the few fates the Okashira had saved her from. A fate she might not escape this time. Value her though Kanryuu might, she'd given him a great deal of trouble, and the businessman loved nothing more than to punish failure with his own body. Either with fists, or...
Her mind shied from the thought. Her family believed certain acts should only be performed with love, reverence, and goodwill. To have Kanryuu pervert that, on top of everything else - no. Please gods, no.
So this is how it ends.
No. It couldn't end this way. She couldn't end this way.
But I'm so tired...
And if you're tired, so are they! the Witch told herself viciously. It has to be now. You have to run now. While they think you're still afraid.
Which she was. Terribly. Utterly. Afraid she might fail; worse, afraid she might succeed. To win the freedom she didn't deserve...
You can rest when you're dead.
Breathe. In. Out. Gather the shreds of magic that were hers, all the while searching the enchantments she knew for something that might offer a chance at escape. The truly lethal spells were just not an option; while she was desperate enough not to care if she used black magic, the Okashira's people had always kept careful watch over the ritual ingredients she was allowed to use. She simply hadn't had the opportunity to store anything dangerous.
So. Street magic. Fireworks were out; they'd be watching for that, and the last thing she needed was noise leading help to Beshimi. Shrapnel - no; not enough breakables here. Lighter... no, starting a fire in this viper's nest would cause a panic that would leave even more deaths on her conscience.
But what about-?
Face set, Megumi rose and walked to the door. Set her hand on the knob.
Jerked back, as if from a flame, an involuntary gasp passing her lips. Shook her hand desperately, trying to rid herself of the fine gray powder already raising blisters on pale skin. Oh gods - meteorite dust!
Beshimi cackled, the sound coming clearer as the Rakshasa unlocked the door to smirk at her. "Little Witch! Did you think we'd leave you with just mortal locks-"
A gout of water smashed him into the far wall; Megumi opened and closed her hands as she poured magic into the spell, using the spray to clean the deadly, power-sapping dust from her skin. Have to love Fire Hydrant.
Spell exhausted, she bolted into the hall-
Thump.
"Well, well." A blond whose suit screamed lawyer smirked down at her, dragging a painted young Taiwanese along by the wrist. "How's about a threesome, sweetcheeks- urgh!"
Knee sore, Megumi kept going. Fire Hydrant conjured up moving water, not running water; Beshimi wasn't any worse than wet-
Shadows blurred, and wet claws closed on her wrists. Cat-yellow eyes glared into hers. "Maybe a little poison will make you more docile, hmm?"
"Let her go."
For a moment, Megumi couldn't believe her own ears. It was impossible. Miracles didn't happen. Not for her.
Not even dusty, bedraggled miracles in a tattered red gi and off-white hakama, bits of tarpaper and pink insulation still stuck in a ragged red ponytail.
"Miss Megumi." A tired, impossible smile, warming violet eyes as the swordsman stepped past a very unconscious lawyer. "I'm sorry I'm late."
"Security!" Beshimi screeched. "Security!"
"They won't come."
And the shimmer under red bangs was no longer violet, but hard as blue steel.
"They weren't going to let me in," that cool, even voice went on, hard gaze never leaving Beshimi's, "so I had them go to sleep for a little while."
Wide-eyed, Megumi glanced down the hall to the double-chained stairwell door, where dark lumps resolved into a limp trio of Beijings; looked back in time to see the Rakshasa shiver. "W-what are you?" her captor croaked.
"Only a wanderer." One quiet, calm step forward. "Megumi-dono. It's late. Let's go home."
Home. The word caught in her throat, ripped at her heart like obsidian knives. Oh gods, you don't know what I've done - to try to go home...
"Takani stays."
Hope cracked.
But her tattered miracle didn't turn a dusty hair, regarding the shadow that had appeared behind her with calm patience. "Where is Misao-dono?"
"On a cross-town bus, by this time," the Okashira said evenly. "She's of no use to us."
"Your words are true, but your ki calls your heart a liar." Amber glimmered in blue. "Has the darkness seized you so deeply you had not even words for she who has sought you so long?"
Megumi hadn't thought her eyes could get any rounder. What?
The Okashira went still. "Who are you?"
"One who knows Misao would never have given her name to any kidnapper," the redhead said softly. The ghost of a smile might have crossed his face, or not. "And now, I do know who you are."
Who-? Crazy, the world was crazy; what did it matter if the Ubo who held her prisoner had any other name? He was still the enemy; still the most deadly Kin she'd ever seen, standing between them and escape. Deadly as-
Staring past Kenshin, she paled.
"It doesn't matter." The Okashira's voice was ice. "Takani stays with us."
"They might have something to say about that," Megumi whispered.
Blue widened, blazing into amber fire; the swordsman spun, ignoring the two Kin for the Beijings now rising like glassy-eyed zombies.
Beshimi snickered. "Put them to sleep, did you? I think-"
Chains clattered down from the stairwell door, and a gleaming metal horde surged over them.
---------
Translations and Info:
Addict - when some kinds of Kin Drain a human slowly and carefully, they may induce addiction to that Drain in the victim. Vampires are particularly good at this.
Aniki - "older brother".
Hitokiri - "manslayer", assassin.
Low faan - short for guey low faan, "barbarian"; non-Chinese.
Onmitsu - spies, ninja.
Roshi - wandering sword; sometimes used as a more polite term for ronin.
Shunga - "Spring pictures"; erotic woodblock prints.
Sneezing - multiple sneezes implies someone hates you...
Street magic - spells that draw only on the caster to work, instead of outside sources of magic. While they "cost" more energy, they're faster than ritual white or black magic, and don't need to be prepared ahead of time.
New Spell: MRI
Cost: 2 SP.
Type: Street Magic.
Base Price: $3,000; 3 MH.
Duration: Instantaneous.
Target: One patient.
Range: Touch.
Escape Roll: None.
Description: Allows the user to gain an impression of the subject's overall level of health in a manner similar to the Aura Sight Edge. A skilled user can diagnose internal injury, likely cause, and likely prognosis without further treatment.