The Arabica Syndicate and The Coalition for Java Octane (CJO) have terminated negotiation talks and have resumed armed conflict in Zone 4, Cazoran. Despite public outcry, caffeine and other essential coffee byproducts are in supply shortages across the galaxy. There have been reports of multiple mortal realms reduced to dust in open battle by stage-three powerhouses over optimal climate zoning conditions. It is uncertain whether this conflict will spill over across the other 12 zones of Cazoran, however many large organizations have begun mobilizing fighters and stockpiling forgeworks in the event of a larger scale conflict.

– Cazoran Times, Voidbreaker News

Chapter 11 – That’s The Way Kiwi Crumbles

Toki materialized within the confines of the Law Cats firm, the familiar tingle of the meld still buzzing across her skin. Her gaze immediately swept outward, drinking in the grandeur and grotesqueness of the outside world once more. Buildings scraped the sky like jagged teeth biting the now indigo sky. Meanwhile, neon signs flickered a hypnotic dance below, casting eerie shadows along the alleyways and their mystical mechanical occupants. Night had fallen and Toki gaped at the three moons in the sky.

"Back again, huh? Can't stay away, can you? It’s Barotan architecture." The voice snapped Toki from her reverie. The -tan in Barotan made it sound stuffy and uptight. “Perhaps ya’re more a city girl than a country girl, huh?”

"Marsha," Toki greeted, turning to face the fast-talking feline attorney whose emerald eyes gleamed with a mixture of mischief and magnetism. "Since Sushi Sam's was closed today, don’t tell me you resorted to dumpster diving." Her suit is shredded. Is she playing me? Is being a syslaw dangerous? Her eyes are also baggy…

"Kid, I've still got six lives, but even I ain't risking them on alley sushi," Marsha retorted, her accent thickening each word with sass as she perched atop her desk, tail flicking. "Found a little joint that does a mean tempura spacemouse—crunchy on the outside, surprisingly void of despair on the inside."

Did she mess up HER suit anticipating me messing up MY suit? Am I being paranoid?... How’d she lose the other three?

"Sounds...appetizing," Toki replied dryly, the hint of a smirk playing at her lips.

“Now only if I could find some iced m.brew.”

Toki had no idea what m.brew was, so she shifted the conversation abruptly, pulling up the holographic display of the contract draft. "Speaking of voids, let's fill in some blanks on this contract before it looks like those spacemice."

"Now there's a thought..." Marsha mused, shaking herself from the brief distraction. "Alright hun, show me what ya've got. But remember, my claws are just as sharp when it comes to redlining these deals."

Toki’s fingers glided over the system draft as she highlighted a clause. "Let's start with the indemnity provisions."

Indemnity is a good place to start. Risk sharing doesn’t make sense here. I’m in mortal danger. She needs to underestimate my negotiating skills.

"Indemnity, schmindemnity," Marsha quipped, her eyes narrowing as she scrutinized the section. "You're trying to rope me into a safety net made of spider webs, but I'll need something way sturdier if you’re expecting me to front your medical bills. Much less your whole planet’s. Adventurin’ ain’t easy."

"Come now, we can find a compromise," Toki suggested. "There’s upside for you. This clause protects us both. Win-win. I’ll give up more upfront."

"Spoken like a true elfshitter." Marsha couldn't help a whisker-twitch of amusement. "But don't think sweet talk will make me roll over and purr. I'm watching ya, Tokyo. Don’t tell me we wasted a system reschedule on this."

"Hmph. That’s not all," Toki said, her voice laced with certainty and a touch of defiance. "Don't blink or you'll miss the magic."

"Fine print—that's where sorcery happens." Marsha leaned forward, her claws clicking against the surface of the desk. "Let's make this worth both our time. Be realistic."

Purr-fect. “Alright, fine. Let’s move on for now. We’ll come back to this.”

Their dialogue danced like duelists, parries and thrusts hidden within mirth. As they sparred with words, the document between them began to transform, a living testament to their reluctant mutual respect. Toki also learned the ranking of the remaining sushi joints within the city—none could fill Sam’s shoes.

"Y'know, Tokyo," Marsha said, her tone rich with grudging respect, "most would've folded faster than a house of cards in a spatial storm by now."

Toki met her gaze, her own eyes burning with an unwavering flame. "A Twice doesn’t fold."

"Ah, the arrogance of youth." Marsha's lips curled into a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. "But it ain’t arrogance if ya can back it up, I suppose. And you, kid—ya're not bad."

This is what I wanted. She underestimates me. You just activated my trap card!

"Then let's finish this up. We’ve agreed on most of the points," Toki said, tapping a clause. "This non-compete agreement is suffocating. I need room to breathe, to grow. I want an elite transition clause."

"Done," Marsha agreed immediately, swiping her claw across the screen, expanding the clause. "But don't forget: investing comes at a price."

That was easier than expected. Did I fool her?

"Everything has its price, Marsha. I’m willing to pay. Are you?" Toki challenged.

"Always have, always will. Law Cats are known for representing the elites," Marsha retorted, her accent thickening as she dived into the heart of the negotiation. They continued, a meticulous dance of give-and-take, each concession a carefully measured step.

"Percentages," Toki pressed on, knowing this was where the true battle lay.

"Kid, you're reaching for the moon. I’ll only add a couple extra points on this, but performance benchmarks are non-negotiable."

"Agreed," Toki replied, knowing when to seize victory. "But I want the option for renewal based on those benchmarks."

"Deal. It’s what I wanted as well." Marsha's claw danced over the display, finalizing their accord. "You drive a hard bargain, Tokyo. But this—this contract ain’t bad. Law Cat’s will represent ya."

"Only because I learned from the best," Toki conceded, allowing herself a moment of vulnerability.

"Flattery will get you everywhere," Marsha quipped, but her eyes betrayed a spark of pride.

Not you, silly.

The final click of the contract's seal echoed through the chamber like a gavel declaring the end of an arduous case. Toki felt the tension in her shoulders ebb away, yet she couldn't shake off the curiosity that nipped at her like a persistent flame.

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

[Tokyo Twice is now represented by Law Cats in perpetuity.]

[Meld termination: 2 minutes]

[Next available meld: 72 hours]

"Marsha," Toki ventured, the question bubbling forth as naturally as breath. "You're originally from Cazoran, right? Where are we now? You mentioned Barotan?"

Marsha's whiskers twitched, and she cocked her head with a feline grace. "Ah, Cazoran.” She gave away a far-off look. “It was my home, but the galaxy's heart is where the milk flows, kid. I left that corner of the cosmos for this chaotic nexus. I’m in Ast—"

“*Cough* Forced out *cough*”

“Shut it Kiwi, no one asked you! Don’t mind Kiwi.” A small yellow cat, not cathuman—er, feliform. It walked in on all fours, licked its hand, then offered it to Toki.

Marsha's voice carried the weight of nostalgia mixed with a dash of mischief. "Anyways, troublemakers abound here—and they keep the yarn rolling."

Toki took Kiwi’s paw reluctantly and shook it.

“Kiwi. Kiwi Crumble at your service. Is she the one you mentioned Marsha? The sushi girl? She’s pretty. She's why you made me cut up your suit?”

Toki blushed.

“KIWI!”

[User has negotiated and signed a contract. Grade D – Tokyo Twice; Grade C – Law Cats]

A soft chime disrupted their exchange, drawing both ladies' attention to the holographic display that now showed the finalized contract. Law Cats received their system assessment, categorizing their contract work as grade C. Toki's heart sank. Despite their efforts, the classification was a stark reminder of how far she still had to climb. Marsha still outwitted me.

"Only a D?" Toki muttered under her breath, looking at her own rating. Her disappointment made her words sharper than intended. Her mind flickered to the clauses that she gave up too easily.

"Contracts are living things," Marsha said sagely, observing Toki's crestfallen expression. "They can evolve. Ya did good kid. Most people don’t even get rated coming here. I wonder whatcha’re hiding."

As the digital quill fluttered across the holographic document, Marsha's clawed notes sealed a few notes with a flourish. She looked up at Toki, her feline eyes narrowing with curiosity. "So, how'd ya get so savvy with contracts, huh? Ya've got the instincts of an old pro for your age."

"An old friend helped me with this one," Toki replied, a frown still tugging at her lips. "One of my mentors really, Golgheim Vast."

The mention of the name struck a chord, and both Marsha's and Kiwi’s demeanor shifted visibly, the playful glint in their eyes giving way to a momentary flash of... what? Recognition? Fear? Before Toki could probe further, the world around her dissolved into a whirlwind of light.

Disoriented, Toki blinked as reality snapped back into place. OH SHIT. There’s some tea. Some good tea. I’ll have to ask her next time.

The office was gone, replaced by the familiar landscape of Golgheim’s den. Her feet found solid ground just as she caught sight of Edgar and Golgheim locked in hushed conversation. Golgheim's gaze lifted, meeting hers with an intensity that bore through her like a laser drill.

His stare, heavy with unspoken anger, sent a shiver down her spine as if she had walked over an early grave. What had transpired in her absence to sour the council speaker's usually calm demeanor?

"Edgar, Golgheim," she greeted cautiously, her voice betraying none of the unease that knotted her stomach. "Everything alright?"

Golgheim's jaw tightened, the muscles working especially hard beneath his weathered skin. "Tokyo," he said, his voice the rumble of distant thunder, "everything is not alright."

"Hmmm?" Toki echoed, her heart catching up to the gravity in his words. Had my negotiations with Marsha inadvertently tipped some cosmic scale? Some reverberations through the system guidance protocols?

Toki's arrival was met with a hushed tension that clung to the air like a fog. She noted the furrowed brow of Edgar as he shuffled uncomfortably on his feet, eyes darting between her and Golgheim. The council speaker's expression was a tempest of barely contained fury, his hands clenched into fists at his side.

"Edgar," Toki began, her voice steady despite the unease gnawing at her gut, "what happened while I was gone?"

"Ah… Toki," Edgar sighed, the words seeming to escape him like prisoners from confinement. "In our... uh festivities last night… you, uh, told everyone at the inn some nasty… truths. No one really believed you… you told everyone how Susie Q and Elara Twice were dead. You were pretty drunk, so we all thought it was a joke. But Partridge and I went into the mountain earlier today…"

By the shards, how many damn entrances are there?

“We found an arm. We think it’s Susie’s. We showed the townspeople… and now there’s a riot in front of town hall. They’re threatening to start burning buildings. I’m here to request Golgheim’s presence.”

A cold sensation slithered down Toki's spine, her heart abruptly heavy as if it were forged from lead. Her breath hitched, the implications of her actions unraveling in her mind like weave coming undone.

"Gods," she whispered, her white hair a stark contrast to the flush of horror that painted her features. "How… I would never... I wouldn’t even if I was drunk."

"Yeah," Edgar affirmed, a solemn nod accompanying his confirmation. "You… and I guess Partridge and I… have started a storm in the town. People are frightened, angry... they want answers… I think they want someone to blame."

He paused, then added, “I know you. You weren’t quite yourself to begin with, and after you won the Hangover Hammer… you just started mumbling things.”

The weight of guilt bore down upon Toki, crushing her with its inexorable force. She had been cavalier with her tongue, and now the secret was out. The atmosphere, thick with accusation, seemed to close around her, demanding accountability. At least that’s what she saw in Golgheim’s eyes.

Dutch Eternal ate people. Why am I in the wrong. She SHOULD be dead for what she did. Everyone SHOULD know.

"I didn't realize..." she stammered, but the feeble excuse withered on her lips. In her mind's eye, she saw the town ablaze with the fires both literal and metaphorical, her own incendiary words, the spark that lit the fuse. Careless. I was careless. Toki felt the conflict between what was right and the repercussions.

"Realize or not, Toki," Golgheim interjected, his voice a low rumble of discontent, "the damage is done. Your careless mouth has unraveled centuries of effort. The trust is gone." Inside, Toki’s stomach lurched at his comment. The damage was done when you let this happen. She couldn’t help but feel indignant.

He stepped forward, his towering frame casting a long shadow over her. The tension that had been building now stretched taut.

"This has cost us dearly," Golgheim continued, his eyes boring into hers. “It will spread to the other precincts.”

"Edgar, tell me exactly what I said," she demanded, the urgency lacing her words as her Twice flames flickered erratically behind her, betraying her inner turmoil.

Edgar shifted uncomfortably, his fingers entwining and untwining in nervousness. "You... you spoke of Susie Q and Elara's passing, but it was more than that. You spoke with such conviction, Toki, as if you were bearing witness to their final moments. I believed you. After the others saw the hand, they did too."

Her heart hammered against her chest—it was as if it pumped dread through all her veins. "I can claim it was all a drunken mess. Or perhaps jealousy spurred my tongue," she mused aloud, grasping at straws.

"Words are like wild spirits; they cannot be recalled. Much less actions," Golgheim intoned from the shadows, his voice carrying the weight of ancient wisdom.

He massaged his temples. “An old friend once told me a relatable story.” Golgheim started.

"A story of jealous tyrants and curious women. You see, Pandora was as curious and willful as you are, Toki. The tyrants gave her a sealed box and told her never to open it. They urged her. She knew it was dangerous. They told her. But, even after all the warnings, one night, restless sleep and curiosity got the better of her—she opened the box. Poor Pandora opened the box.”

“What was in the box, Golgheim?”

He shook his head in disappointment, “from the box, all the evils of the world were released: disease, famine, and war.”

Yeah, blame the woman for all the evils of the world. Tyrants be damned. WHY would you give anyone that kind of crap box?

Toki's gaze snapped to the council speaker, rebelling against his words. "And what did Pandora do to fix it?" she implored, unconsciously seeking a sliver of hope.

"Pandora did not fix the box. She could not," Golgheim replied, his eyes alight with a strange blend of sorrow and understanding. "Amongst the myriad miseries that flew forth, hope too made its escape into the world."

"Hope..." Toki echoed, the word rolling off her tongue like a promise yet to be fulfilled. In the depths of her back-to-back despairs, the concept seemed as elusive as the morning mist, yet it clung to her.

"But remember hope alone is not a remedy. It must be tempered with action. I do not blame you, like the people blamed Pandora, but it is time for you to stop running, Tokyo."

The white strands of her hair seemed to shimmer with the same luminescence as her star-like flames, betrayed only by the tremor in her voice. "Tell me how I can fix this."

Golgheim's gaze, which had been a storm, softened at the edges. "It falls upon me to quell the uproar, to still the hearts clamoring for answers."

Toki's posture stiffened. She awaited the task ahead. "And what of me?" she asked, her tone stripped of its usual playfulness to reveal the steel of her intent.

"You," Golgheim said, pausing as if weighing his next words against the scales of fate, "You must venture into the dragon's den."