Siggy fought for a place in the crowded basement. He tried convincing the GGUW leadership not to kick him out, arguing he’d spoken with Rei—who was apparently Sayuri, actually—and built a rapport. They eventually let him in, mostly so he would shut up.

First Compatriot Oliver Martin rolled his jaw. “I’m sorry, that Ueichi clan? The Shroud Ueichi? You’re shitting me.”

Sakae Uchiyama nodded. “Yes. That one.”

“What in the fresh fuck!? Why!? Why now!? Gods fucking—” Oliver kicked a chair across the room and turned around to some comms and intel people. “Okay, so some provisional kiddo picks her up in the streets, but aside from that, how the fuck did we end up with the Ueden heiress? Wasn’t she killed by a terrorist or— or—”

“Thomas is not—”

“You shut up!” Oliver said. The room was silent for a second. In a quieter voice he said, “No. No, wait a minute. Who is Thomas?”

Sayuri turned her head and refused to speak. Oliver took a deep breath and produced a knife from his coveralls.

“I am a moral man, Ms. Ueichi. Unlike your family, I act out of deep compassion for my fellow human beings. But standing up for something means being willing to use violence. Kaihon printing presses put out hundreds of books a year about non-violent resistance and still run the most oppressive regime the world has ever seen. With exception to our enlightened envoys,” Oliver said, nodding to Mr. Uchiyama and the other Kaihonjin Companionists.

“Suffice it to say, I am more than willing to commit violence against any Ueichi shitstain, but my hand can be stayed by useful answers, starting with who Thomas is.”

Through the crowd, Siggy saw Sayuri trembling. “H-He w-was a security guard. Genji set him up to take the blame for— for the—”

Uchiyama cleared his throat. “Ueden suffered an assassination incident a little over a week ago. That is probably where you heard the story about the terrorist. It is being treated as a kidnapping case, but the conglomerates know Genjūkō is at fault. That is what the conflict between Ueichi and Genji is about. The Kaihonjin press has a gag order, as a frivolous war over trade secrets gives the public reason to side against the conglomerates.”

Oliver tapped the knife against his chin. “Interesting stuff, Mr. Uchiyama. What I’m hearing is that she’s why we have our opening? I owe you an apology, lass, turns out you rich fucks are useful for something after all.”

“It is Genji’s greed more than anything Ms. Ueichi has done,” Uchiyama said.

“Next question: your kinkawa,” Oliver said.

“W-What about it?” Sayuri said.

“Tell me about it.”

“I-I have m-more…”

“Is it your whole body?” he said as a joke.

Sayuri swallowed and nodded.

Oliver whistled. “Loothsa’s cunt.”

The room echoed with muttering. Siggy was still trying to process having kinkawa on your face, but all over? What was the point of all that gold? Someone else had the same thought.

“Aye, yer clan poot all tha’ glitter on ye did they? Why? What good’s it do?” Uthric Loothwin, Oliver’s second-in-command said.

“I-I—”

“For gods’ sakes girl, breathe,” Oliver said.

“Yer brandishin’ a knife at the wee girl ya silly eejit, fuck d’ye expect?” Uthric said.

“Said I wouldn’t do nuffin’ if she cooperated,” Oliver said, slipping back into his coastal accent.

“Pet yer gods-damned knife doon then!”

Oliver tucked his knife back in his coveralls.

Sayuri’s breathing slowed. “The hatsuden I produce can do more than generate electricity…”

“Aye, lassie, ah was in the grenadiers so ahm sure aware. Ye can tern invisible then?” Uthric asked.

She nodded. “Usually, yes. And I can teleport myself and others, and manipulate metal, and m-more, I suspect.”

“So why don’t ya jes waltz on oot here then? Zit oot of service? Ye an’ ice-cream machine?”

“I am sorry, but… I cannot understand your dialect,” she said.

This got a laugh from the room, Uthric included. The Kaihonjin envoys were particularly amused.

“He’s askin’ why, if you can do all this fancy teleporting stuff, why don’t you?” Oliver asked.

“Because it inflicts the Shroud on those around me,” she said. Her voice was steadier now.

Oliver laughed. “First time I’ve heard that from a Kaihonjin. This some kinda prank?”

“I believe she is sincere, Mr. Martin,” Uchiyama said. “Overly naive, perhaps, but sincere.”

“Here’s the deal, Ueichi,” Oliver said, crouching to look her in the eye. “You can help the GGUW against the conglomerates, or, we make sure the conglomerates can’t have you. Your choice.”

Sayuri shivered but a moment later composed herself and glared back. “I will not help terrorists, and certainly not ones who want to bring about ruin by their misguided political theories.”

Oliver shrugged and pulled the knife out of his coveralls. “Fair enough.”

Siggy lurched forward. “Wait!”

First Compatriot Oliver’s bodyguards threw Siggy to the floor. Air shot from his lungs.

“Who the fuck?”

Siggy sputtered. “M-M’name’s Leofsige, s-sir. I-I go by Siggy.”

“Don’t call me sir,” Oliver said. “I’m not no damn “sir.” Now, what did you want to add, compatriot Siggy?”

“Lemme talk to ‘er. I’m good at debatin’. We were debatin’ theory when I was guardin’ ‘er earlier. I’m sure I can convince Sayuri to reconsider.”

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

“Siggy, how much time do you think you’ll need? Because if all the conglomerates know the lass can do her funny hatsuden magic, they’ll come looking, and I don’t want that headache. Better none of ‘em find out before we got a million little Ueichis runnin’ around, aye? Don’t need more hatsuden.”

The thought chilled Siggy. He knew how dangerous letting the conglomerates have her was, he agreed with Oliver on that. And he also hated Sayuri and her family for creating the Shroud. But to kill her just like that…

“Gimme, I don’t know, a couple a’ days! I’m a debatin’ master. A master debater, if ya will.” Siggy said with a sad laugh. No one else was laughing. “On me mum’s life I am!”

Oliver rubbed his temples. “Uthric? Thoughts?”

Uhric shrugged his stout shoulders. “Cannae imagine she’s top priority fer Kintoki given they’ve Genji halfway up their arse right aboot noo.”

“You’ve got a day, Siggy. If we come back tomorrow evening and she’s not singing Saito’s praises and quoting On Property from heart, she’s done, got it?”

“I will never,” the idiot girl said, even with the option to pop outta existence or what have you. Siggy couldn’t imagine letting himself get captured if he had the crazy powers she had.

“I’ll do it, si— First Compatriot. Give ya my word,” Siggy said as he was helped up by Oliver’s bodyguards.

The GGUW leadership and the Kaihonjin envoys departed and left Siggy alone with the girl who he now knew was Sayuri Ueichi, heiress to the company that put him, his family, and everyone he knew through a daily hell. There were so many things he wanted to ask, but he started with one.

“Why’d ya lie?”

“About my name?”

“Yes! About yer name, n’ about… fuckin’ everythin’, might as well be!” he said, throwing his arms out.

“Why did I not tell you? Because everyone wishes to cut me open to look at my kinkawa save my family members who wish to see me dead so they can seize my inheritance of the Ueichi conglomerate and I turned my back on the only people who were trying to help me and one of them was killed because of my incompetence and now I am held hostage by a group of terrorists who, upon learning of my true identity, will also kill me unless I allow myself to be brainwashed to their horrific political views and be used against my fellow citizens and, a-and— and I—”

Siggy could only stand there awkwardly as the girl started bawling, rendering his prepared debate points useless.

~~~

Thomas and Milly woke at the same time to the sound of humming gunships. Joining it were distant pops of gunfire. Thomas hopped out of bed and reached for his gun. There was talking out in the hall, but it sounded anxious rather than panicked.

Thomas peeked out the balcony door. The streets across the river were empty except for the charred remains of tires. In the air he smelt the metallic stench of gunpowder. He and Milly put their clothes on and walked down to the record store where some shopkeepers were discussing things.

“What’s happening?” Milly asked.

A middle-aged woman with a look of quiet fear turned to them. “Someone lynched some a’ Kintoki’s folks last night, so they’re takin’ revenge on us. Rolled up the strike at the supply center this mornin’. Folks were sayin’ it was the Zooks who done the lynchin’. There they go, gettin’ folks killed again. No one asked ‘em to lynch nobody!”

“Thing with Zooks is ‘ey talk a bit game n’ don’t do nuffin,” said the young man who had sold them the room the previous night. “Kintoki killed their own as a fake flag, I says.”

“Either way,” the woman’s husband said, addressing Thomas and Milly. “I’d stay inside if I were you lot. S’not a good time to be visiting Éstfýr.”

“Where’s the worst of the rioting?” Thomas asked.

“Ain’t even a riot! The strikes were peaceful-like ‘fore ‘ey started shootin’ at us!” the young man said. “Now fings are gonna get a lot worse. If it weren’t the Zooks what lynched the grenners, ya can be sure they’ll be gettin’ involved. ‘Specially if Kintoki keeps forcin’ the unions towards ‘em.”

“Where are the Zukunashi operating out of?” Milly asked.

The young man narrowed his eyes. “Why ya askin’?”

“We’re looking for someone, and they’ve got an intel network.”

Milly’s frankness worked magic. The young man pointed at the western wall of the building.

“Up the ‘ill, under the Ribby over’ang. It’s an open secret only the glomerates don’t know, but they work outta the old yeoman’s buildin’.”

Thomas blinked at the mention of the yeoman’s building. So Éstfýr had one too. He had thought that was something exclusive to Burnehithe. He wondered how many other cities had a similar institution.

When Milly was done with information gathering, they steeled themselves to tackle a city on fire.

“Do you wanna go straight there?” Milly asked. The shadows and wrinkles on her face looked deeper than usual. “I thought we could check on the boat. To see if the police, um, dealt with things.”

“Best we don’t,” Thomas replied.

“I know, but I'd feel better knowing. We can’t do much for him, but I want to say we at least made sure his body got handled properly. It’s insane, I know.”

She struck his weak spot. Thomas had done suicidally stupid things during the war to ensure comrades’ bodies were recovered and buried. He nodded to Milly.

They had docked the boat near a vehicle assembly plant. He could see ahead of them the complex of ugly cement cubes connected by tin skybridges. The streets were mostly empty, but when Thomas and Milly turned a corner, they found two bodies in the middle of the road bleeding from holes in their heads.

Milly’s breath hitched. Thomas’ gun was already in his hand, the sensor in the handle acknowledging his touch and lighting up the holographic sights.

The road around them was littered with trampled picket signs, water jugs, food, shell casings, and tools. The backside of one of the buildings was black from burnt tires.

“This is going to be bad, Thomas. Real bad.”

He looked over at Milly, visibly shaken.

“It wasn’t even this bad after the police raped those Æfrian women. They used rubber bullets and tear gas, but never…”

Thomas could see where the hollow points had entered the fleeing worker’s heads and blown part of their skulls out. Kintoki was firing JHP rounds to associate the idea of striking with horrific mutilation. The Imperial Special Forces tried similar tactics during the occupation of Ryūkoku and learned how poorly it worked against a population with enough fury and indignation.

The only question was whether the Æfrians had enough.

“We came up over there,” Milly said, pointing towards a wrought-iron fence near the riverfront.

Thomas jogged ahead to peek around the corner of the building nearest to the stairs down to the riverfront. In the space outside the main assembly building, he saw a crowd gathered. Most were in black and red coveralls, the colors of Benka Arsenal, the plant’s owners.

There was another crowd to the side, backed up against a cement wall. This one had more workers in black and red coveralls, a few in blue, some in plain clothes. A handful of soldiers in Benka and Kintoki uniforms were guarding this group. Some of them were crying and begging, others watched stonefaced. Still others were laughing, as though it were all a big joke.

Thomas heard Milly come up behind to watch.

“Special Investigators Hosokawa and Toyoma of the Imperial Public Safety Agency presiding,” announced a man in a formal purple kimono with a jacket bearing the egret seal of the Emperor. “We are here to confirm the legitimacy of justice meted out in accordance with His Augustness’ legal system. Please announce the charges brought by the plaintiff, Benka Arsenal Zaizatsu, against their employees.”

A man in a black-and-red suit cleared his throat. “Destruction of property, including living property, actions which damaged the ability of Benka Arsenal to collect returns on assets, and speech advocating treasonous action against His Augustness the Thalassic Emperor. Evidence and details have been submitted to the Tо̄tо̄shi branch of the Imperial Public Safety Agency ahead of the trial, viewable upon public request.”

“Noted.” replied the special investigator. “What restitution is Benka Arsenal Zaizatsu seeking?”

“The forfeiture of their personal assets up to and including the defendants’ natural lifespans,” said the Benka executive.

“The Imperial Public Safety Agency witnesses and grants the legitimacy of the plaintiff’s case and vests them with the legal power to collect damages in the Emperor’s stead.”

At that, the Kintoki and Benka suits turned their heads. The soldiers fired into the crowd. The concrete wall behind swallowed any bullets that strayed from their marks.

Thomas grabbed Milly and dashed for the stairs down to the loading pier where they left the Daisagi-Maru and Mamoru’s body. The pier was empty and the patrol boat gone, Mamoru’s body with it.

“They took care of Mamoru, right? The police?” Milly said with the tell-tale swallows of someone suppressing the urge to vomit.

Thomas nodded without thinking. Before witnessing the execution, the possibility that Kintoki would end the strikes through violence was an abstract thing. Now it was real. Now it was a huddle of dead workers shot against a wall.

“Let’s go find Sayuri,” he said.

All he had left was the single-minded goal to keep Sayuri safe. Nothing else made sense, nothing else mattered in a world going up in smoke. In the sky ahead of them, gunships were converging on the Kintoki Arms Services Supply Center.