10Kateracks: (In dramatic voice) FALLING COMPILATION...of people falling...because it's funny.
"Mikoto-san," Kamamoto began, but he couldn't manage to say more than just their leader's name.
"Hmm?" The redhead responded, hardly moving at all from his sprawled position.
"Have you been here this whole time?"
Mikoto answered in the affirmative with a tiny, "Mm." Not that it would have made a difference. He clearly wouldn't have improved the uncomfortable atmosphere by coming down right away. Now, his visual display of careless confidence was unnerving the timid girl even more. Her eyes were wide open and her hands tucked tightly between her knees to keep them from shaking.
"You're scaring her," Kamamoto pointed out.
Lifting his head, Mikoto raised an eyebrow at Emi as if to take a deeper look at the unexpected visitor. After the second glance, he had the same impression of her as with the first. Because of Kamamoto's suggestion, however, he nodded, thinking that served as both a greeting and an introduction.
Emi swallowed hard. Totally overwhelmed, she stood, announcing, "I guess I'll come back later." Having tried to speak with determination, she was surprised that it came out sounding so uncertain. Becoming dizzy, her knees wobbled, and she sat back down with Kamamoto's help, held captive by Mikoto's powerful aura. She was barely able to express her gratitude to her waiter for catching her before she went completely faint.
It was night. Not particularly dark or stormy, but there was a distinct chill creeping into the air, warning of the impending manifestation of winter. The city was more calm than its usual atmosphere as its citizens were all getting ready for bed and the steady flow of lights going out from block to block gave it a rather abandoned look. It is in a dead-end alley of one of these city blocks that we find the skateboarding captain of the Red Clan.
But contrary to the introduction, Yatagarasu was in no danger in this dark, lonely location. Nor was his back even against the wall. No, rather, he was facing the brick with a look of pure determination. He stood uncharacteristically silent for so long, just staring down the unmoving obstruction that, had any of his fellow clan members or some unfortunate passersby noticed him, they may have feared for the boy's sanity. But then, quite unexpectedly, he moved.
He jumped, in fact. He leaped upward and braced his sneakers against the brick above where he had just been looking; his hands came up and by his movements, it appeared as though he would scramble right up the surface. Or…he would have tried if there had been a place for him to grip.
"GAAAH!" ricocheted down the alley as the young pyro came crashing down flat on his back. Yata lay defeated, though not of his own volition, sucking in oxygen to replenish that which had been let out of his sails, as it were. Then, with a groan, he rolled onto his side and abruptly pounded the pavement with his fist.
"Damnit!" he growled and pushed himself into a slouched sitting position, elbows resting on his drawn up knees. He glared at the unfortunate mortar before him and demanded of it, "How the hell did she do that? It was like she was frickin' Spiderman or something."
As soon as the first man stepped foot in the oil, not even noticing it was there, Totsuka chucked his molten phone at the ground near the barrel. Flame flared up, far bigger than anything he could have conjured alone, and it filled the entire gap between the two rows of shipping containers. With them burning, or at least pushed back, Totsuka turned to run. His vision swirled, blackening on the edges. Heavy footed and weak limbed, he tripped over the first step, falling to his knees.
I've overdone it, haven't I? He wondered when he tried to stand and couldn't get his feet underneath him.
She ran along a short brick wall containing some flowers, did a front flip onto a drinking fountain laid into a mosaic feature and off onto the back of a bench, scaring the shirts off of a couple who were passionately saying goodbye. She couldn't help but smirk and then she drew in a breath and shot toward a bit of decorative molding on a gazebo housing the description of the train's routes. The metal dug into her skin while she heaved herself up with a grunt and then she rolled herself over the peak and slid down the incline of the other side, right onto the waiting branch of a sakura tree.
The screeching of metal on metal as the train began to leave met her ears and she scrambled around the trunk to a branch hanging close to the tracks. She barely had time to think before she had to leap out onto a passing car. Her knees met the sturdy metal with a solid crash and Azami grit her teeth to keep from shouting a curse that would reach the ears of young children at the station behind them. She'd like to see that skater boy keep up with her doing that.
The thought brought a small smile to her lips and then she remembered why she was expending herself so vigorously. Raising her eyes to the passing scenery, she scanned the area for the black Sedan. If she was lucky, it would be stopped at one of the crossings.
"Or under the bridge," she realized and looked in that exact direction. Sure enough, the Sedan was cruising down the curving road to an old cemetery.
Azami drew herself up and leaped off of her speeding ride. She should have judged the landing better. The grass down below, though soft was lushly covering a steep shoulder along the tracks. She realized this too late and once her feet hit, shooting pain up her legs, she had enough time to tuck into herself before she tumbled down the hill and straight into a creek.
But I bet he would have loved to see that wipeout, she thought as she held down a shriek when the chilled water met her bare flesh. She slogged forward to a flat rock and climbed out, skipped across several more and then sneaked swiftly to the wrought iron gate of the cemetery that was the boundary of her territory.
Sometimes there were things in the tunnel other than sewer products and furry vermin. One time, a shoelace had brushed against Emi's leg, sending a shiver through her whole body, but she had been able to recognize the sneaker shortly thereafter. A lot of kids' toys had been lost down there, as well as a variety of garbage. For a while, she wondered if that rumor about dangerous wild animals such as alligators being let loose in the sewers were true.
Then, her foot caught against something hard, cold, and metallic. This is your chance, flashed through her mind. The plan that came to her at first thought was a horrible one. She knew she didn't have enough time to come up with another one with how quickly they were moving. Squishing her face into a look of dread and disgust, she took a breath in preparation.
She deliberately fell backward into the water. The shriek, she thought, was pretty believable. They would probably trust it had been an accident, even as her right hand wrapped tightly around whatever metal object she had kicked. Grasping her left arm tightly, the ghostly, possibly male, figure ripped her back to her feet, and she swung the stray scrap of rebar at his head.
Kneeling beside the guards, Dewa took a deep breath and then began, "Um, excuse me, Sir, do you happen to know where Emi-san is?" When he received no response, he continued in more detail. "Haruna, Emi, that is. You do know who she is, right?"
Fujishima made an awkward sound like he had something important to point out but didn't want to interrupt. Eventually, he mentioned uncertainly, "They're both out cold."
Dewa stopped questioning the men before him then, noticing also that they were in no condition for giving answers. "How does Mikoto-san expect us to ask them anything?"
The response came in the form of a body flying through the wall, past them to the koi pond by the fence.
"We need to keep up with him," the one with glasses decided urgently, and both boys rushed inside the building.
Totsuka stood at the bottom of the stairs to the entrance, arm slung across his blond friend's shoulders for support. He had surprised Kusanagi by requesting that they stop for a moment. Eyes closed, he breathed calmly as if trying to build strength to appear before his friends—the only family he had—with pride, without making them worry about him in pity. He couldn't let them get the impression that they could no longer depend on him.
"I can walk myself," he decided, dropping his arm from Kusanagi and stumbling weakly to the side.
The bar master watched his friend's feet get jumbled. Knowing very well that Totsuka could not walk himself, even if he managed to not fall just then, he also recognized the look of determination on the boy's face. For that reason, he didn't refuse. Anna looked up at them curiously from behind, standing motionlessly on the sidewalk as if she could not enter the bar until she was absolutely convinced Totsuka would make it.
Lifting a foot, he tried to take his first step onto the stairs. His right leg couldn't bear the weight of his whole body, though, giving out before his left came down again. That made his left fall harder than expected and slide sideways off the stair. He collapsed on his knees in the manner of an inflatable Whacky-Man that had just lost its supply of air. Thankfully, Kusanagi was able to throw an arm around his chest before his face hit the concrete. The blond lifted him up to the top of the stairs.
As he reached for the door, he stopped, asking Totsuka, "Do you want to try again?"
Stabilizing himself with his feet beneath him, the boy nodded. He could do it this time. The ground would be flat from here on out.
Agreeing, Kusanagi added, "Stick to the wall, so you have something to lean on, and go straight to the couch." Upon Totsuka's second nod, the taller one pulled the door open.
Each step carefully measured, Totsuka had made it over the threshold and slid his feet twice more across the smooth, hardwood flooring when all those who were scattered around the room noticed his entrance. All having heard the true story by then, there was a collective feeling of relief to see him. Unable to contain himself, Yata—who had been worried about Totsuka longer than any of the other clansmen—rushed over to him. The intended hug ruined Totsuka's fragile balance. Flapping his arms, he tried his best to stay upright but finished in a heap on the floor after losing his footing.
Yata stood, staring in shock at the disoriented boy beneath him. Neither of them really knew how he had gotten down there. This was the first any of them had seen of how weakened he had become. Just as Mikoto had guessed, it had a profound effect on them. It really sank in hard when Totsuka tried to prop himself back up on an elbow but failed to do so several times.
"I'm alright; I'm alright," he assured from the floor, carefree smile convincing no one for once. Eyes pinched tightly closed in a forced expression that was either extremely happy or sad, he laughed. The more he laughed the more it sounded pained until he stuttered out through the hysteria, "I'm stuck. I'm really stuck."
Azami cried out when a sharp pain sliced its way into her left calf, and her aura faltered. Her lower half went slack from his power, and her fingers released from the unexpected pain. She dropped like a sack of flour. The breath was knocked from her lungs. The ninja vanished.
Or it appeared that way to Azami. Her vision went dark for a second, and there was a buzzing sound in her ears. Actually, it wasn't in her ears.
Gasping, she rolled to her side and looked down the level floor to the source by her feet. A fuse was sticking out of a PVC pipe and sparkling bright. It certainly wasn't a smoke bomb; this kind would seriously wound her. Her mind reeled to think of a way out—fast.
There was a window behind her. If she moved now she might be able to make it.
She was on the third floor.
Well…She'd fallen from great heights before…
A scream brought Yata's attention to the third floor windows. There was a glare, but he could tell that there were two people struggling, and he assumed Azami had gotten their man. But then they both abruptly disappeared from sight.
He jogged back toward the entrance and hollered, "What's going on, Hayashi?" and again when he got to the doorway, "Hayashi!"
At that very moment, the building shook with an explosion and Yata covered his face as the window he'd been looking at rained down glass, but that wasn't all. A girl, too, had been blasted out of the opening and was falling fast, deadly looking fragments shining in the sun around her.
"Azami!" Yata shouted.
As fate would have it, she had also managed to jump just in time so the force of the blast propelled her far enough that her head wouldn't be splattered all over the concrete. Not as luckily, she had been flung over the docking area and had nothing nearby to save herself. She twisted in the air a little, but it really didn't change her options.
The wind was blowing in her favor, though, and a flag on one of the docked boats caught her up. Even though it ripped off with her as she passed by, it slowed her descent some. It wasn't any less painful when she dropped down beside the vessel and crashed through a wooden gangplank, but at least she didn't break her neck.
Yata ran over to the splash zone, expecting to see a gruesome scene, but instead was met with the sight of a white chunk of cloth being flailed around as if two gophers were playing tag underneath it. Eventually, one escaped, and Azami freed herself from the weight that could have drowned her. The action seemed to drain all of her energy, and she just floated on her back, breathing ragged. Or maybe she was laughing; it was hard to tell.
"Oh shit…I can't believe I let that happen! Ow…!"
Yeah, she was laughing. Laughing! She had just been blasted out of the third floor of a building, demolished a dock, and nearly drowned and she was laughing! Yata always thought she was short of a full deck anyway.
"Hey, get over here and help me out!" she called to him, and he decided it must be the adrenaline. She slowly started to paddle, but she was holding her ribs with one hand.
"Hang on," he said and ran over to the boat she had almost sunk with her head. There was a life preserver, and he threw that to her and began reeling her in. "What is wrong with you?"
"I did what you told me to."
"I didn't tell you to blow up the damn building!"
He braced his sneaker against the guardrail and pulled her onto the deck with a little help from her good side. She lay on her back for several minutes just breathing and then smiled jokingly up at him as best she could, "That's the last time I listen to you!"
Yata began the descent to his room, intent on playing a game on his hand-held device while he waited to hear the results of of Fushimi's handiwork. He didn't give any thought to the fact that there was a girl in their hideout who could still be changing clothes. And indeed she was; though, she was half finished by that point.
He froze in the middle of the ladder at the sight of the bare back facing him. At first, he was merely shocked by the prominent feathery wings that were tattooed on each shoulder blade and curved gracefully down either side of her spine to just above her hip bones. In between her shoulder blades was scrawled a message, but a strip of black and blue bruise that crossed from the base of her neck to under her right shoulder made the words hard to read. Dark was beginning to spread from her back to her left side where she'd been holding her ribs. Clad in cargo shorts, it was easy to see the gash in her left calf, too.
Yata felt anger burn into his gut at the thought of how that black bastard had beat up on one of his team, but it abruptly turned to cold sweat when he realized Azami was not one of his HOMRA family. She was a girl and she was topless in his room.
He did his best not to scream, but some nervous movement he made caused one sneaker to slip off the rung he was perched on with a loud squeak. He let out a little yelp then and flailed to keep hanging on with his sweaty palms.
Fushimi brought up the camera picture, and she nodded that it was the correct spot. He brought up another search bar. "What time?"
"Just before seven."
He rewound the feed to seven o'clock, and then slowed until he saw motion, at which point he hit play. Instead of a ninja, though, he saw the side of a building explode in a fiery blaze of glory that launched a female figure from the third floor.
Beside him, Azami rushed to say, "It was before that. Maybe around back."
As they came out of the alley, Azami spotted a bike rack and hopped onto it the way she described. "See? You want to balance on the balls of your feet and keep your body aligned. Don't let your knees go past your toes."
She slid off so that she could put all her weight on her one foot and then gestured him forward. "You try."
Yata gave her a surprised look, but since the side street she had led him to was somewhat less congested, he thought he'd give it a shot. He copied her jump and landed on the balls of his feet, but the position felt awkward and he failed to catch his balance, toppling backward.
Azami cut into a park. She spoke to him as they weaved through people, "You're gonna vault over that picnic table. Keep your speed constant and angle your body when you jump. Take off and land on the same foot and keep your hips high."
She showed this technique directly in front of him and seemed to fly over the table with no effort, only her hand planting lightly on the surface as she passed to mark its position in her mind. He copied her actions, but he realized when he was too low that he had taken off too late and had been thinking too much about it so a bit of hesitation had slowed him just a smidge. His hip where he balanced his board caught on the wood and he tumbled forward. Azami stopped as he picked himself off the ground.
Yata was almost shocked when they got to the train station already. They were coming in further down than when Azami had been pursuing Emi's captors, but it still took half the time that Yata's planned route to avoid the family crowds would have. The main entrance to the station consisted of a large staircase, and he had a brief moment of apprehension.
"I need my board. I can grind those rails," he said aloud.
"Reset your skater brain," Azami ordered from his side. "You don't need rails."
She ran toward the drop-off beside the stairs and he mimicked her, staying right by her side, trusting she wouldn't intentionally drop them 20 feet straight down. They leaped over the guard rail…
His feet met the rough stone of one of the rectangular planters staggered down the side of the staircase wall. He hit with his heels, a sting jolted up his hips, and he dropped into a roll right into the flower bed.
"Midfoot!" Azami barked, but didn't stop for him.
"I know!" he snapped back and climbed out of the crushed flora to the stone edge.
Yata continued standing awkwardly while people walked by wondering what this mean young boy had done to that poor girl. Eventually, he sighed and untied his skateboard from his back. It clattered to the ground in front of her.
"It's my turn," he said.
"To torture me?" Azami guessed.
"Get on," Yata commanded.
With a grunt, she shoved herself to her feet and put one foot on the board. Yata waved her onward impatiently, but she halfway expected him to kick it out from under her. There was no need. As she lifted her other foot, the board moved forward and she toppled the reverse. Her back met the wall.
"Son of a—!" she growled through grit teeth.
"What are you doing?" Yata yelled. "You can spin on walls and jump over ice cream carts, but you can't balance on a skateboard?"
"If you think you can do it without falling on your face, try giving a little push with your foot," Yata instructed.
Azami wasn't too sure she liked the role reversal, but she listened anyway and when she was stable enough, she made a small kick off from the toe of her left shoe. It wasn't the usual way to ride, but it was easier for her to put all her moving weight on her good leg. Several such moves later had them at the tracks where they could see the graveyard. The train wasn't due for another 15 minutes so Azami walked across the tracks.
At the edge of the hill, she set Yata's board on the ground and then took a seat, scooting herself down the incline. She wasn't stupid enough to try riding it standing up, nor running down. Yata, however, was not concerned and vaulted over the tracks to a ground that was too steep, and it caused him to have to tuck and roll to the bottom.
Azami laughed lightly at his expense. "You need to judge your landings better." She wasn't about to admit that just a couple days ago she had done the same thing.
A fine red mist sprayed from Yata's shoulder as the bullet fired grazed his skin. Azami's heart sped up as tendrils of liquid weaved down his arm toward the light of his watch. She felt her lips move, but she didn't hear herself yell "Yata!" over the ringing in her ears. He staggered out of the way, but the strain must have heard her. He glared at her over his shoulder and his body twisted around in an odd flowing manner that resulted in her getting a kick to the chest despite her being about five feet away. Her sneakers slipped in the grime and the contusions on her back screamed when they slammed into the ground.
"You're starting to feel comfortable around here, aren't you, Hayashi, Azami?" Kusanagi remarked about the way she was leaning her elbows on his counter just the same as another boy he knew would.
From that angle, Azami could easily see behind the man and caught sight of Totsuka sitting on the floor. It had been logical for the owner of the bar to be ducked behind the counter, possibly getting into lower cupboards, but now she could tell that whatever Kusanagi had been doing was related to the younger boy.
For this reason, she responded in kind to the blond, "Oh…? Have I interrupted something? I thought we were trying to save a girlfriend. What's all this?"
"You're hilarious…" Kusanagi's humor was dry, reminding her this was no time to play.
"I'm here to serve."
The mock bow gesture she gave made it difficult to tell if she was still joking. As she stepped around the bar, though, her cocky attitude dissipated, and she crouched next to Totsuka, concern at his still ashen skin lacing her face.
"Damn, man, what are you even doing out of bed?"
Totsuka looked up then with a weak smile on his face but lacking the necessary luster in his eyes. He hadn't met this girl before, but he had picked up bits and pieces about her from half-heard conversations. Kusanagi had even mentioned offhandedly once how she had gotten involved in the search for Emi, so he diverted around the normal wariness of first time meetings and went straight to friendly, in spite of his now having noticed what the wrinkle in the bartender's nose had been about.
"I'm fine. Do you have anything to report, Hayashi-san?"
Azami met Kusanagi's gaze with her own and then admitted, "Yeah, I've got some good news for you."
Before she could go on, Totsuka raised a finger, grinning. He had barely acknowledged her words but decided he wanted to stand, commenting mostly to himself, "I probably should find a better place to sit, shouldn't I?"
Azami watched curiously as Totsuka first seemed to get dizzy, and then had his knees buckle on the second step. Her eyes widened when he nearly didn't catch himself on the counter, and she hurried to stand at his side. She didn't need to offer her assistance, though, as he basically fell on her. Once she had shifted around to better accommodate the weight, she handed the bowl of noodles to Kusanagi.
He felt a strange mix of inconsiderateness, weakness, and awkwardness as he watched a girl who wasn't even of their own clan sling his friend's arm around her shoulders, supporting his weight as they limped over to one of the sofas. In the end, he justified himself by concluding that Azami's motherly instincts had reacted faster than his friendship ones.
The cathedral was relatively gloomy for a place supposedly known for its enlightenment. The slanted walls were made of some sort of streaked concrete, giving the impression that blood ran down from the peak high above them. Hundreds of pews distanced them from an elaborate, marble stage, behind which a huge cross reached halfway to the full height of the ceiling.
Awed, Totsuka waltzed into the broad aisle, staring above him. "Oh, it's so high," he remarked.
"Don't look up," Kusanagi cautioned. "You'll get dizzy."
The warning came too late, however, and Totsuka was lucky that Fujishima was standing near him when he started to stumble. They made it safely to one of the wooden benches.
One of the reapers came down the hall they were entering. Locking eyes with the silent teens for an instant, he turned to flee back in the direction he had come from. With a loud roar that set fire to his body, Yata threw his skateboard to the floor and began pursuit. His wheels in the smooth hallway allowed him to easily close the gap, so that he quickly cornered the black clansman against a wall. This is too easy, he thought as he raced in for his attack.
When the other two teens caught up to their friend, he sat on the floor, confused and rubbing his eyes. His skateboard was at least ten feet away. The reaper was nowhere in sight. They knew something had gone wrong.
"What happened?" Azami inquired.
Hearing their approach, Yata scurried to his feet to save face. He knew they saw his lightheaded wobble, so he just answered truthfully, "That Asshole flicked me in the face, and I blacked out."
"Where could he have gone?" Yata thought hard, considering things like doors hidden behind enormous paintings and the like. There was nothing like that, though. In the space between the two points was only one large, wooden structure. A cross was carved into the wood, along with various other engravings that shaped its edges. Rapping obliviously on one of its three doors, he concluded, "Just this doll house, right?"
"That's," Azami began, pausing to think of the best way to say it. Eventually, she decided to keep it simple, "not a doll house, Red. It's a confessional."
"I know that," he assured forcefully, and he tried to justify what he had said. "I was speaking...like, uh, figuratively, you know?"
"Right," the girl agreed sarcastically. "Do you even know what a confessional is?"
"Yes," he shot back. His face betrayed him, though, turning the bright shade of a cardinal's cassock.
"Wrong kind of confession," Fushimi brought out, looking like two nights of staying up past midnight was too much for him.
With that hint, Azami also understood what the blush meant. "Are you seriously thinking about middle-school kids confessing with Valentine's Day chocolates in a photo booth at the mall?" She asked in disbelief.
"N-no," Yata denied.
Then, without properly explaining to him what it really was, the other two stared at it solemnly for a short while. Azami broke the silence, inquiring, "So which of you two is going in there?"
"I already unwillingly confessed everything today," Fushimi reminded, referring to his encounter with Anna and truly blaming Azami for the results of that.
"All right, Yatagarasu then," she deduced. "Let the vanguard live up to his title."
"Why not you?" The one chosen replied. Not comprehending their hesitance, he simply didn't like the idea of being volunteered for the job.
"That would take too long," she answered, and—while it was clearly still a joke—a heavy sadness weighed the words down.
By that point, Yata could recognize it. Her tone was not as tragic as it had been at times, but he knew when to take her seriously. She actually had a good reason to not want to go in the wooden room, even if she wouldn't say what her reason was. Respecting that, he took courage, prepared himself mentally for whatever they were afraid of, and ripped open a door.
Based upon their reactions to the idea, he had thought himself the greater man for stepping up. For that reason, he was quite surprised that there was nothing within. The small space was shoulder width and looked like it could hold no more than one person. On each side wall was a sliding panel. Taking a step inside, Yata moved one of the screens, still expecting something would shock him. It only opened to another, equally empty, compartment. The two sides could see, but not reach, each other. A design like that reminded him of how prisoners could visit with family members who came to see them: across a pane of glass.
That was still no reason to fear an empty room. As he turned to fetch his friends—whom he now considered cowardly—his foot caught on the edge of the floor by the lip of the door. When he fell to his knees, he realized that this "confessional booth" was situated on a soft spot of the floor. Before he could react, the rotten boards crumbled beneath him. He barely managed to grab a part of the floor that wasn't caving in with one hand, but the whole wooden structure crashed to the level below.
Fushimi met him at the edge of the hole and gazed downward. Rather than extending a helpful hand, he stated in a way that appeared condescending—perhaps just because of their respective positions, "Don't bother climbing back up."
While he dangled there, entire body weight hanging from one arm, he really could think of no good reason to say such a thing and responded harshly, "Why the hell not?"
Azami crouched beside the boy in glasses, looking like she was trying to plan out a path to the bottom. "'Cause that's where we want to be," she answered, pointing to the basement of which they had just created an entrance.
A burst of black aura missed her by inches and destroyed the glass surrounding the spear. Had it been upright, Azami surely would have been impaled but it had been mounted at an angle to show the length of the weapon. Because of this, she had a place to land that wasn't really big enough for the balls of her feet, but luckily the sneakers Yata had given her still had some traction left, and that helped her to stick it.
Looking over her shoulder, though, she saw another black onslaught coming her way. Jumping up over the first, she powered her feet over her head so that she twisted into a sort of aerial barrel roll. The second burst of aura grazed her back and she landed on the pedestal with the vase much to the surprise of the reaper. He was even further stunned when she smoothly scooped up the fancy ornament and smashed it into the side of his head.
Outraged, he swung his arm blindly and knocked one foot out from under her. Azami fell backwards and her shoulders met the sharp edge of the pedestal with the spear so that she was stretched between the two like a bridge. From there, she could see above her deep grooves in the stone that she was certain she could use to get above him and grasped the well-grounded spear so she could worm her way between its mountings. She was intent on using the incline to reach the grooves, but the Black Clansman was in hot pursuit and very abruptly the base disintegrated from underneath her. She crashed to the floor and when she looked up from the mess of glass, there was a ghostly figure over her, holding a spear.
Azami took her hand in greeting and rushed through an introduction. "Hayashi, Azami, nice to meet you. Are you hurt?"
"No, not yet," Emi replied, risking a glance over her shoulder.
The Green Girl, too, spared a look behind her toward the advancing voices. "Good. We need to run so it stays that way."
She decided against continuing on the same trail since that was where Emi had come from, and she assumed that the older female would have taken the way out if there was one. Keeping a tight grasp on the other's hand, Azami made an executive decision and ducked into the nearest branch turning right. They ran for quite a distance until a wide crevice yawned open in front of them. Azami dug her heels into the stone and stepped sideways in front of Emi to stop her from tumbling into the depths.
Yata was not so graceful. He had been looking for their pursuers when Azami moved out of the way and almost ran headlong into the pit. Both the Green Girl and Fushimi grasped the back of his shirt, jerking him backward just in time.
"Go," Fushimi ordered.
"But—"
"Go," the taller male said again, more forcefully as he stepped up on the chandelier so his friend could get a running start.
Yata didn't waste anymore time, and he rushed forward with a little spurt of energy, running on the balls of his feet like Azami taught him. He was faster now, and it made the jump that much easier, even if the hard landing reminded him that he still needed to learn more.
He called advice back to Fushimi. "If you're fast, the chandelier doesn't tip much."
Even if he had looked as though he weren't paying attention, Fushimi had keyed in with at least a small portion of his brain to the instructions Azami had given Emi. He took off at the best run he could manage, the chain holding the light fixture jingling with each shift of his weight. He didn't know the trick to running light like Yata had learned. Still, he picked up sufficient speed and, feeding Azami's information back to himself, he managed to launch with enough force that his feet connected with the edge of the platform.
But as, old structures do when put under too much new force, a portion under his right foot crumbled, and he slipped backward. For an instant he felt himself fall to his death and saw everything go black, right before a familiar helping hand latched onto his wrist and pulled him back. Just like it always did. Fushimi brushed off Yata's assurance of "I've got ya", stepped to the wall, and sliced through the chain holding the chandelier all in one motion. The reapers and ninjas blocking the opposite opening stopped short in their chase, cursing toward their targets.
A deep sound boomed through the hollow room, interrupting their interactions. "Oi." A monster of red, something like a flare of light on the darkest night, shoved off the wall from which he had casually observed them. Deciding it had gone too far to be fair leaving Totsuka on his own, the redhead crushed his cigarette with his boot. "If you wanna fight, pick someone who actually can."
His first step toward the three shot flames scattering across the floor. He left a series of melted footprints in his wake as a steam rose around him, mixing with the wisps of fire that licked at his skin, lifting off his arms and shoulders into the air. Ready to resolve the conflict in his own way, he wasted no time in closing the distance between them. Patience had more than long since worn out.
Upon hearing the baritone voice, the opposing king immediately loosed her grip on the delicate boy, gesture just destabilizing enough to send him stumbling to the ground. "Mikoto," she greeted, welcoming him all to familiarly with arms wide open. Her lips were curved upward in a smile that appeared sincere, laced all throughout with a plum tainted venom of wickedness.
Bandou and Fujishima as well as Chitose and Dewa had taken to fighting in pairs rather than mano-a-mano which meant the odds were even less in their favor. Still, with using the method of one luring their attackers into the ambush of the other, they were racking up some substantial piles of bodies. They had discovered that by keeping the crates in between the Reds and the Blacks, they had the advantage since it seemed the opposing clan really didn't want to harm the merchandise inside.
About the time that Chitose had another one in his sights was when the ground gave a sudden and great upheaval. Dewa was herding a reaper toward his partner and, due to the quake, suddenly found himself stumbling unsteadily rather than running. The Black Clansman stopped short right before he was going to run into the waiting fists of Chitose and shot a smirk at Dewa that Kusanagi really didn't like the look of. Then a ninja swung down from the top a nearby stack of crates and trapped Dewa against the floor. Chitose was defending himself from the reaper by that time, leaving his partner on his own. Squirm as he might, the Red boy couldn't get an angle to light his adversary on fire and stop the dark aura.
A bit of ash fell from the end of Kusanagi's cigarette, and he called out to the tiny embers within. They quickly grew into a glowing orb the size of a basketball and, with a cue from the commander's hand, it smashed into the Black Clansman with enough force that it slammed him into the upper shipping box. While the crispy ninja writhed in pain, several reapers hurried to right the box, leaving Dewa free to gain his feet.
Taking half a step back, Kusanagi placed a solid kick into the middle of her chest plate which, although it may have jarred her more than hurt her, sent her skidding back several feet. With her out of stabbing range, he called on the flame of his lighter another time and stretched it into a whip-like shape. Ordering it onward, it surged toward the ninja and, with a sharp snap of his wrist, it cracked loudly against the stone where she had just stood. The Black leader had sidestepped and hurled several more shuriken, this time doused in shadow, toward his person. Jerking back, the whip cut upward through the air and melted the stars like a heat wave washing over ice.
A gesture from its maker's free hand sent the fire curving back in a serpentine pattern and, just like a live reptile, it attacked her in the shoulder, searing right through the soft area where the shoulder armor connected to the breast plate. The female shouted in pain and sliced through the snake using her second dagger drenched in black mist. Then one of her boots came down in a powerful stomp that sent some of the tendrils that guarded her back spiraling down that leg. It rushed smoothly across the space between them as if someone had dumped over a jar of ink. Kusanagi managed to dodge so that it met only one leg, but even so, he was brought to a knee.
He was reminiscent for a fleeting moment of a time when he had gone to a conference and tried a vintage scotch. It was delicious, and he had had entirely too much which felt an awful lot like how he felt now—someone standing over him while he teetered unsteadily on his knees, trying to maintain his equilibrium. Still he kept a grip on his lighter and held it outright for his next move…and for balance.
The cathedral shook then, from its foundations to the top of its spires. Shock waves came all the way to the four teens, propelling only Yata's feet forward. "I'm going in!" He announced, obviously assuming the others would follow.
After hesitating briefly, Azami ran to stop him, calling, "The building is collapsing, Idiot."
Watching, not the two of them, but rather the hanging swords, Fushimi perceived a huge burst that neither of them noticed. Azami was still close enough that he could grab her by the wrist, thus preventing her from going closer to the building, but Yata was already too far ahead. She glared at him for the silent prohibition and tried to shake free.
Then, she understood why. A blast hit the cathedral so hard that one of its towers broke off. The impact that it made upon hitting the ground shook the vanguard from his feet.
Somehow, a man with no formal martial arts training who simply threw punches as he pleased broke through the precise form of a leader of ninjas to wrap his enormous hand around her throat. He could break her neck in an instant. He could crush her vocal cords to cause asphyxiation, or release a full-strength burst of his flame directly into her brain stem. Any of the three would be as simple as a single movement.
Sefina knew this. Horror disfigured her face, and she thoughtlessly stepped backward, rushing to escape his grasp. Thanks to their destructive battle, her feet tripped over a crack where a portion of the floor had sank a few inches. As she fell, she grabbed Mikoto's t-shirt, seeking purchase. Instead, he toppled down with her.
So there you have it. 18 pages of people falling! No one was spared! Except Anna. We had no clue there was that much in this story. Maybe it happened a little too much?
Anyhow, we hope you enjoyed it. Next week the bloopers return...