Chapter Four – The Pride and the Fall

POV: Thomas Shelby

Small Heath, Birmingham is home to an underworld like no other. Gypsies, English, Irish, Italians, Chinese…you name it, and we've got it. We sell drugs, we smuggle, we steal, we fix races…we do everything.

But above us all…there sits a silent queen. A queen that will never say it out loud, never tell you that she's queen…but we know the pecking order here.

That queen…or as she might say, king…is Elizabeth Jane Jacobs, or Max Shelby. She would tell you she's just another street rat, but don't be fooled by the fake humility act. She's queen…and she got her start right here.

She was always an oddball in Small Heath…standing up for the scrawny kids, patrolling the streets for bullies to fight, and running anything that wasn't drugs. By age ten, she assembled the first round of the Street Rats, better known as the Rats, to create a courier and intelligence service anyone could use…for a price. The rules were clear – if you were in contract with her, she went untouched – and the Rats ate – in exchange for packages delivered and information gathered. In this way, she wrapped herself like a cobra around every single criminal syndicate, individual, and group in town – Peaky Blinders included. She had the least money and power of any of us…but the money was never her concern. The power was never what Max wanted.

She wanted only the best for her Rats…the ones Small Heath didn't care about. Billy Kimber shot her in the knee once, and she shook it off completely, the only scar remaining being a slight limp. He died at my hand the next week. She was viciously assaulted by her father many times over, with any children she became pregnant with being killed before birth, but she survived it all. If I was being honest, the war was a blessing in disguise for her.

Others tried to make a bid for her crown…but Small Heath accepted no imitations. When she went to Switzerland for school, Polly cared for the Rats as though they were her own.

Max Shelby, owner of the Raven's Nest and multiple other dens across the city…and about a quarter of my apartment…was queen. She also served as my personal assistant, personally completing any task I asked of her.

Why am I explaining all this, instead of Max herself? Well…pride goeth before the fall…and a lot of pride flew out the window on the night of April 27th, 1920.

Or as we call it in Small Heath…the Night of the Demon Slayer.

POV: Henma

This Garrison place was a trap – and I knew it the minute we walked in, I pulling up a mask to keep cigarette smoke out of my lungs. The barkeep giving Yarichu and me weird looks, drunken men known as "Peaky Blinders," pointing at us and laughing, half of them drunk.

And I could still hear the neo-demons, whispering, always whispering. It is here that I must admit my greatest weakness – emotional control. Having aphonia means I can only burp and cry, and even then they don't feel right. I cannot laugh, I cannot scream, I cannot even express what I feel inside of me…which means everything is trapped inside of me.

A time bomb…forever ticking, ticking, ticking inside my head…and knowing that when the explosion came, I would not be able to stop.

Suddenly, a man's firm hand smacked me across the face, hard. "You 'ere, talk!" I turned to see a big man with a mustache.

"Sir, you can't do that to her," Asuka said in perfect English. "She has no vocal cords!"

The man swung at me again, but this time, I managed to quickly sidestep out of my chair, feeling the bruise swell on my cheek from the previous strike. The clock ticking in my head grew to a rapid "Tick! Tick! Tick!"

Trying my best not to hurt the man, I gestured to Asuka as the drunk called me dumb. She passed me a brown package, which I stuffed into my oversized coat before gesturing my companions to the door.

"Yachiru…please…survive," I thought as Zaraki warned the Peaky Blinders they were making a mistake. "Please…stay alive."

Then – almost like a plea for sanity – a dark-skinned young man stepped into the conflict. "Arthur, stop it," he said, plucking the cigarette from his own mouth. "These are kids, and you're drunk. You're scaring everyone, and you've hit a-"

"GET 'DE FOOK OU' O' IT, ISAIAH!" Arthur screamed, reeking of whiskey and piss. Then, he swung on me a third time, this time with a balled-up fist.

"Tick. Tick…Boom."

…

There was a moment of silence – just Yachiru, Arthur, and me – as his fist made its way toward my face. It seemed as though the fist was moving in slow motion – perhaps the result of my training in Total Concentration Breathing – Constant.

I looked at my friend with the bamboo bit in her mouth, knowing I had to rely on her to protect the grown-ups. Knowing she was the only one who could get them to safety – even if it may cost her everything. I looked at her, almost wanting to cry.

Yachiru nodded – a slow, long nod, but it was understood. I turned back toward the fist coming at me…and I put my hand on top of it…

Right before I slammed it on the table with all of my ten-year-old might, forcing it open on impact. He gazed at me like he was mildly surprised - but the surprise turned to horror as I drew one of my blades and sliced off his pinky, causing Arthur to roar like an injured bull as the rest of my party escaped the Garrison.

It was party time now. Arthur pulled back from the table, leaving his solar plexus exposed – and I took my first deep breath of the night, slamming my own tiny fist into him, sending him flying toward a back wall. I jumped up onto the table as he drifted back across the room, my mind still in slow-motion, following up with a running kick as I jumped down to the floor – which sent him straight up to the ceiling, tile and insulation coming down as he made impact.

Then came a younger-looking, skinny man, screaming awful obscenities at me – but I paid him no mind, punching him in the face and knocking him backwards from the force.

While the fight was looking ridiculously skewed against me, I knew these Peaky Blinders had no knowledge of Total Concentration Breathing – Constant. This was what Rengoku made me do night and day, before he ever taught me Flame Breathing.

"Sunshine, if you really want to reach your dreams, you must build a foundation of perfection," Rengoku told me once in an early session, me gasping for air as my ears popped. "There must be nothing flawed. I know it is very difficult to accept as a four-year-old, but the fact that Kanae and I push you so hard means we love you. That we want nothing more than to see your dreams come true – and that we share the belief that you must set your heart ablaze."

Now, in the heat of the fight with these stupid gangsters, Rengoku's love rang true once again. The man ran at me again, swinging his cap at me…but I drew my other blade, slicing the flimsy cap in half and watching its remains float harmlessly to the floor. I then kicked the younger man into the air, jumping up…just so I could slam him back down to earth.

Then, one of the gangsters fired three gunshots to my left, thinking I wasn't fast enough to dodge bullets. I saw them…moving slowly, oh, so slowly…

Just slowly enough for me to slice them all in half. The gunman – another gangster – stared at me in horror.

None of them were ready for me, and they knew it. People started screaming and scrambling for the door, until only the dark-skinned man remained, mysteriously rooted to the spot. I turned on him, blades still drawn, ready to make him into bacon.

"Stop, Kocho," he said, his voice surprisingly calm. "We didn't mean any harm. Just…just put the-"

Then, I heard a woman's scream from what must have been two streets away. Knowing I was almost out of time, I breathed in again, ready to show Small Heath what I was all about.

"Flame Breathing, Second Form, Twin Blade Variant," I recited in my mind. Flame Breathing, like all of the First Five Forms, was designed with a single blade in mind. However, as I used two, this allowed me to take Papa's training and elevate it to a new level. I raised my blades from the guard position, spinning them in fiery circles as I prepared for the jump. Isaiah scrambled for the wall, banging on it repeatedly. "Twin Scorching Suns!"

I launched into the air, using my flames to tear the roof open – and narrowly miss the man still stuck in the ceiling as I passed through the opening. I was covered in a haze of dust and broken ceiling, but I didn't care.

It was time to put the demons of Small Heath, Birmingham to bed…for good.

POV: Max

"Things should be calming down by now," Tommy said, nervously burning up another cigarette as we stood in the soundproofed private room. "Why haven't we-"

"Dear God, Tommy, maybe you should listen to other people for once in yer life," I replied. "Like it o' not, dis is Campbell's territory. He's better trained to handle this, and-"

Then came a series of loud, sharp bangs on the hidden panel. "Shit, that's Isaiah," Tommy said, his cigarette shrinking in his mouth. I went to the panel, and sure enough, Isaiah was at the door, looking terrified.

"They escaped!" he said. "The boy…he's a samurai!"

Tommy gaped at him in disbelief, but I quietly pushed past him…and gazed on a scene of destruction. Chunks of the ceiling had crashed to the ground. The bar was vacant…even the bartender fled.

Fookin' prick cowards…my lieutenants and I were going to have some serious words later.

And on the ground…lay John Shelby, looking like he'd been hit by a dozen English boxers, a lone pinky laying beside him. "The fook?" I asked aloud, staring at the severed digit. "Where 'de fook is-"

Suddenly, Tommy grabbed me from behind, just in time to save me from Arthur's body crashing to the floor – and having the unwanted side effect of popping my bad knee out. I gasped in pain.

"Goddamn ye ta 'ell, Billy Kimber!" I screamed internally, clutching the spot where I had been shot the year before. Everyone, however, completely ignored me, Tommy returning me to a standing position.

"He hit the kid," Isaiah said to Tommy. "The woman said he didn't have any vocal cords, but Arthur was-"

Suddenly, two local women burst into the bar, crying , their evening gowns stained with blood and guts – the boy was on a rampage already. I recognized the women as a pair of local whores I protected on a regular basis – when I wasn't working for Tommy. "What happened?" Thomas asked, flipping into business mode.

"The customer – he be a bloody cannibal!" the first whore, a woman in a red evening gown, said. "Everything was okay…and 'den his eyes turned ta cat eyes. He had veins in his face, and long, sharp claws!"

I nodded – shit. Miss Kanao had taught us that demons had distinct physical features, like cracked skin, bulging veins, slit-like irises, and sharp teeth and claws. "The two main ways to kill a demon are decapitation via a nichirin -infused weapon, typically a blade, and exposing the demon to sunlight," she had said.

I shook my head. Why the fook had a class with potentially life-saving information been reduced to a mere elective so I could skip gym class? How the hell had Arthur and John been embarrassed so badly by a ten-year-old? And why did everyone else run away from a fight?

"Max, you've got intel, and I need it. Now," Tommy said, his wide blue eyes reading my expression like a book. "This can't wait for chess."

"Right," I said. "The boy…the boy is likely a Demon Slayer."

Tommy and the whores stared at me in confusion, then the second whore suddenly spoke up. "Demon Slayers…they be from across the sea, right? 'Dey kill…cannibals?"

I nodded. "They call dem demons…and our normal weapons won't harm them. The boy was only able to kill whatever demon was attacking you because he had nichirin-infused weapons – his two blades."

Tommy sighed in aggravation. "Well, that means we need to track down the boy. Isaiah, take Max and the girls to the roof and see about which way –"

"'De hospital – the boy asked us where de hospital was after he decapitated the cannibal," the first whore replied. "He can' talk, an' he don' write good English…but he ruthless. He jes' too un look at 'de demon an' ripped 'his head apart."

"Damn…," Tommy replied. "Max, Isaiah, you two head that young man off at the hospital. I have to stay here with the ladies and speak with the police."

Isaiah nodded, but then paused. "Tom, Max's knee just went. If he-"

"Max is the only one who can get this boy to communicate," Tommy interrupted. "I need him talking any way he can, and neither of you are in a position to talk to Campbell - he's going to be down our throats. I'll deal with him."

I sighed, and Isaiah led me up to the roof, the both of us headed for something we weren't ready to face.