Too conspicuous. Makoto decided on the last night; the eve of their hunt of Madarame.
Much too conspicuous for this mission of surprise was the treasure of Kamoshida: his armored steel carriage and the team of mechanical horses. Even though Madarame surely had no idea he was being actively hunted ((if he indeed was a vampire)), the sudden appearance of an armored carriage in his neighborhood would be a notable event. And if the unique item was widely known to be owned by the city's current darling vampire hunter? Well, that would probably ring an alarm bell or two- if Madarame was a vampire.
But Makoto and Ren had spent the last two days training Ryuji and Ann, preparing them as best they could for the possibility that Madarame was indeed a powerful vampire noble. So for the day itself, Makoto selected the estate carriage, a stately affair of lacquered wood, common amongst the city's wealthy. Sakamoto Ryuji, the son of a teamster and naturally having the look, was driving the carriage team while wearing a mundane town coat over his new armored tunic. Any casual glance should see him as another random young man driving carriages for rich folk.
Meanwhile, Ann's trousers would be more notable, the shape of her legs perhaps mildly scandalous. And there was the fact that some mistake of one of the tailor's apprentices had dyed Ann's armor a bright blood red. If Ann's trousered legs or her overall hourglass figure didn't draw eyes, then the color sure would, and Makoto didn't want to attract any particular notice of any kind. Thus, Ann sat next to Makoto inside the carriage, somewhat stiff in her new skin-tight red leathers. She was peering out her side's window, focused on whatever was visible through the gossamer curtains as Ryuji drove the carriage through the city.
Makoto barely saw what was outside her own window, so unseen passed the cobbled streets of Minato district and its modest merchants and tradesmen. Ryuji was driving them south, more or less following the rim of Tock-Yo Bay, towards the southernmost coastal district of Ota. Makoto had vague memories of the area. She'd been to the beaches there once or twice when she was very young, but all she could remember was the surprising heat of sun-cooked sand, its graininess between her bare toes, and the vision of a black-haired woman (certainly Mother) looking off to the horizon, black hair billowing landward in the steady ocean breeze.
None of that was going to be useful for the mission today, but hopefully the few busy days of training and preparation would prove useful enough. Now that they were underway, Makoto worried that this hunt was happening too soon. The Sakamotos were not prepared. She herself was not prepared. If things went wrong, the young woman sitting next to her could die. Sakamoto Ann was barely a woman! And Ryuji! And- and…
Makoto's eyes left the window and settled upon the two men sitting upon the bouncing bench across from her. Yoshida was asleep, head bent back in a somewhat undignified way, and his aged, thick frame was stuffing his underused town coat: a black, straight-laced affair that didn't look much different from his butler's uniform. A blunderbuss leaned against his thigh, bouncing with the carriage's movement. He was not exactly a member of the "team", but he'd insisted on coming, to keep watch, he said.
And next to Yoshida was the black-clad lanky figure of Ren, shoved as deep into the bench corner as he could get, arms crossed, hands in armpits, hat pulled so low over his face that he could be a pile of clothing arranged in the vague shape of a man. A sword hit leaned against his thigh, bouncing to the same beat as Yoshida's blunderbuss. Ren could be out in sunlight, but it was obviously uncomfortable at a fundamental level, so he took any opportunity to avoid the sun.
Ren was not someone Makoto worried about, except perhaps that she and the Sakamoto's might slow him down. If they were successful today, it would mostly be thanks to Ren, Makoto was sure. The disparity of capabilities between him and her did not seem to concern him, and much to Makoto's secret pleasure, he never showed much eagerness to be away from the team- away from her. Ren said he'd mostly worked alone, before coming to Tock-Yo- but despite a habitual stand-offishness, Ren never seemed much opposed to working with Makoto or the Sakamotos- even less so now that Makoto was formally employing him. He was pragmatic in his work, though now that Makoto was thinking about it, she wasn't entirely sure what Ren's motivations were.
Money, obviously. But Makoto was beginning to suspect that was a somewhat superficial reason- a cover, or an excuse, for Ren's real motivations. Because what did he do with the money besides hide it somewhere? Just this past week, Ren accepted a hefty sum from a rather stiff Yoshida- his first week's retainer. The thick coinpurse had vanished into Ren's cavernous belt pack. And there was the small fortune from the city government for Kamoshida's head- which he had not shared with Makoto, per prior agreement. By Makoto's reckoning, Ren had enough money to retire to a comfortable, if modest, life of leisure and sloth. Well- depending on his mortality. Long life would throw off the math. A human would be set for his natural lifespan, anyway; and unless the human was like Father and generally more interested in the fame and adventure of hunting, a human vampire hunter would retire, if they were in Ren's position. But here Ren was- bundled up for daylight travel and willing to see this Madarame hunt completed, vampire or no.
Well, whatever Ren's reasons, Makoto was glad he was here. Her first hunt had not been a smooth operation: a hunt had turned to a chase, then to an infiltration, and all of them had teetered on the edge of terrible fates. This time it would be different. She was sure of it. They were better equipped. They knew what their target looked like, they'd all seen him at Makoto's victory gala: "a thin, old fogey with beard and pony-tail" was how Ryuji put it. Though, it was somewhat mortifying to think that this noble vampire had been at the gala, under Makoto's very nose, as she accepted society's thanks for killing a different noble vampire. And while Ren stabbed the transformed-human.. Or rather, the revenant, was what Makoto decided to call them… and while Ren stabbed the revenant at the party, the real beast was in the same room.
Watching.
Makoto shivered from the idea. To think the world would have such terrible things as vampires and revenants and ghouls. To think her own ancestors had been slaves to an entire empire of vampires, bred as labor and nourishment. As Makoto watched Tock-Yo pass by on the other side of the gossamer, the slow rocking of the carriage and the muted heat of the day proved soporific. Her eyes drooped slightly, her mind wandered, and she imagined a world without monsters and blood. A Tock-Yo that didn't need walls, and everyone lived in buildings that touched the sky and drove around in horseless carriages. A place where she didn't hunt vampires. Maybe she went to school. And so did Ren. And Ann. And Ryuji. And they were friends and just laughed together and never had reason to be afraid…
The carriage hit a pothole, shaking Makoto out of her dreams of an alternate universe. Yoshida snorted and leaned his head forward with a grimace. Ren remained a pile of black laundry.
"I think we are getting close," said Ann.
Makoto's nose picked up a distinctively briney smell. "I think you're right, Ann. I can smell the ocean."
No more time for training or daydreams. The real world and this mission were the only things that Makoto could afford to have on her mind. She pushed aside the carriage curtain, now preferring a clear view. The blue of the sea could be glimpsed here and there between buildings, though still a ways off. Much of Ota was flat, so large warehouses blocked off of the horizon on this road, but after a short distance, the carriage emerged from the trade district and loped along a smoother and narrower road weaving towards the shoreline. Long lines of smallish estates lined the sand's edge, all relatively new constructions, due to the ocean's intermittent fury. But ahead, a small rocky plateau held several large buildings up above the danger of waves and storms- estates rivaling the Niijima estate back above them in the hills of Azabu. That was where the carriage was headed, Ryuji supremely confident he understood Ms. Ohya's directions. And the woman intended to meet them near the Madarame place.
Tension grew again inside Makoto as the carriage wound its way up the short, switch-backing road. She took out her gun: Father's second-best; long-barreled, silver and gleaming, hefty; a cannon more than a gun. Makoto flicked open the cylinder with a practiced flick of her wrist. She poured the six rounds out into her palm, confirmed they looked as they should, and then quickly put them back into the gun and snapped the cylinder back into place with another wrist flick. She ran her hands along the shoulders of her own leather armor, checking that her reserve ammo was secure in their spots. They looked mildly awkward, these ammo spikes, but Makoto was still immensely proud of the design. it gave her a total of twelve easy reloads for her weapon. And some deep, less practical part of Makoto's psyche loved the idea of spiked shoulder-pads.
She felt the carriage come to a stop. Ryuji's boots thumped as he began climbing down from the driver's seat. Movement on the edge of Makoto's vision drew her gaze up and to the opposite seat. Ren's hat was moved up, and he was watching her with a steady gaze, his eyes grey and quiet- absent the red gleam which sometimes appeared there.
"Is it time?" he said.
"Yes," said Makoto, securing her weapon back on her hip. "Let's go."