3.

Nesumi Hisashige was a short, skinny man aware of his status in the world as prey. Silvah could tell by the way he walked. He constantly peeked glances around him from under the cover of his coat, searching for threats.

It was nighttime and the streets were mostly empty. So Silvah would stick out like a sore thumb. Good thing no one suspected a woman of being capable of danger. Not even the most fickle and scared members of the male gender. She was also dressed to appear as inconspicuous as possible: a dark blue tracksuit bottom, a white blouse made of wool that reflected the late winter, early spring they were in, and a thin jacket which she hadn’t closed all the way that revealed part of her blouse underneath.

She was on the opposite side of the sidewalk. And while her target’s eyes rolled over her once or twice, they never lingered or carried behind them the intent of a second look. At least, not because she was being suspicious.

As if to act as an example of what she meant, two approaching men, both slinging an arm over the shoulders of the other and holding a beer in their free hand called out to her.

‘Sis, what are you doing out so late? Don’t you know the Foul Festival is around the corner?!’

‘Yeah, yeah! It’s dangerous, so let these two big brothers walk you home!’

Based on their clothing, uniform trousers, and a white shirt with a tie, she guessed they were working-class men. Not a threat. A nuisance. But not a threat.

From the corner of her vision, she saw Nesumi cast a glance her way. There was the barest hint of pity, but he walked on.

She wasn’t in the mood for this. However, the two men blocked her immediate path forward. Silvah clicked her tongue.

‘Sorry, big brothers,’ she said. ‘I’m in a hurry.’

She stepped around the two. Or tried to. The man on the right, who Silvah suspected was twice as drunk as his friend, cut her off.

‘Don’t be shy, little sister,’ he said, slurring over his words. ‘We’re only trying to protect you!’

‘Hear, hear!’ the other parroted. ‘Demons get more active closer to the festival. They say the face-eater of Yumekyo already claimed five souls.’

Every year around this time stories like these surfaced—nothing more than make believe to scare children. What a goddamn hassle. Silvah cursed. Suddenly, the full body covering gowns the Qatani in the northeast of the republic were rumoured to wear made perfect sense.

She stole a glance at Nesumi and found he had widened their gap with about fifteen steps.

There was no time to waste, so Silvah pulled her favourite excuse out of her bag of ‘leave me the fuck alone’ tricks.

‘I appreciate the concern. But I am fine, really. My boyfriend is waiting for me at the station.’

It was strengthened by the fact that there really was a station three streets from here.

‘Your boyfriend should be ashamed for letting you walk alone like this!’

‘That’s what I was thinking, too, brother. What a loser. Let us talk some sense into him!’

‘Yeah—’

Before the two could rile each other up more, Silvah put a spring to her legs and cleared a path.

‘Oi! Wait—’

To their honour, they didn’t do something as obscene as trying to grab for her, so she had no trouble speeding past them. And they were too drunk to chase her.

Silvah kept running until she was far enough from the pair, which coincidentally put her right back where she had started behind Nesumi. She faked sending a worried look behind her. The men were already swaying down the street again, having forgotten about her completely.

When she turned to her front again, Nesumi was missing.

Huh?

She suppressed the base instinct of breaking her stride or swivelling her head, for that would give her away if he was spying on her reaction. Instead, she played the part of ‘vulnerable teenager’—she could really pass for one despite being twenty-three due to her looks—and eyed this and that way, looking for any sign of the man.

Only when she passed the position where she had last seen him did she spot where he had gone. There was an alley on the opposite side of the street that she reached just in time to see the back of his coat disappear behind a corner further in.

Silvah hurriedly crossed the road. Her hands felt around her left thigh. The knife she’d taken from her home was still there. Alright. Let’s go. She stalked forward and entered the alley.

The wall to her right formed the separation between a pub and the street, which explained the stink of spilled alcohol. There was also graffiti all over. Phrases such as ‘fuck the blues,’ and ‘Ryūjin 4 ever’.

There was also a poster of a man and woman. One wearing a crow mask, the other wearing that of a fox. In bold letters above their heads was written: ‘the world’s most renowned thieves, Crofo, are back in Yumekyo to steal the show! Can you guess our next target?’

Silvah had no idea who those clowns were supposed to be—and thought the words ‘renowned’ and ‘thieves’ didn’t match in the same sentence—but she had more important things on her mind.

She tiptoed to the corner Nesumi vanished behind and listened. Stillness. She fished a small mirror out of her pocket, a specialised tool with a non-reflective coating to stop it from catching light and giving away her position. she peeked around the corner. The screen was just big enough to show the contours of a door. It was the side entrance to an abandoned flat.

Peeking past the edge of the wall revealed a broken-down car to the side of the entrance and a metal container. The top had been blown off. Jutting out from the top were various, burnable items. No doubt a stop for the homeless in the winter months.

Luckily for her there was no one else around, which meant less witnesses.

She stalked forwards. The side entrance was a set of two steps that joined together at the top, leading to a single door and a small veranda bare of everything. There was a window on either of the entrance. Both had wooden planks hammered onto the frame. Silvah found a small gap in the planks and looked.

Nesumi was talking with three other guys. Well. She wasn’t sure if he was talking or rather ‘receiving information.’ This because one of them, clothed in nothing more than a short-sleeved orange tee, had a dragon tattoo running the entire length of his arm.

Ryūjin-kai, Silvah thought. There were two large mob groups in Yumekyo. Uncle Kenichi’s Tao-kai and the Ryūjin-kai. What were they doing here? Maybe…Silvah’s feet touched cold water at the thought. Maybe Uncle was right.

‘You’ve been stealing from us again, Umi. Brave, considering you owe us.’

The voice of the tattooed member carried well to Silvah’s ears, courtesy of the state of the windows, which did near nothing for the building’s privacy.

‘I haven’t! I swear!’

Nesumi was kowtowing aggressively, almost slamming and opening his forehead on the floor. Silvah grimaced. She had known, but he really was a weasel.

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‘Are you accusing me of lying?!’

The tip of the man’s boot planted in Nesumi’s stomach when his head was on the way up. Nesumi cried out and went into the foetal position, hands wrapped around himself.

‘We should get rid of him, brother Aoki,’ one of the others said. He was leaning against the entrance to the room, which lacked a door and was barely more than an opening in the walls. ‘This is not the first time he did this.’

Aoki smiled in that way which revealed he’d been waiting for the words. He grabbed Nesumi by the collar and dragged him against the wall.

‘Thank you for the reminder, Waku. You remember that, Umi? You magically “lost” one of our items, setting us back quite a sum.’

Silvah leaned in so close her earlobe touched the frigid walls of the abandoned building. Her breathing became slower.

Aoki turned to the only man in the room who hadn’t said something until now.

‘Sakamoto, how much did that push back his debt, again?’

The man in question was a little way from the entrance. Sakamoto looked on his phone which Silvah could see from a glance was still locked.

‘Ten million celestals. Though that estimate was made with the low-end of the bid on the egg and blade in mind, due to us being generous with Mr. Nesumi.’

‘You hear that, Umi? We were being generous when we jotted down what you owed us. Though I understand ten mill is a substantial sum for you to pay. There’s an easy way to fix that, however. You wanna know how?’

Silvah was no longer listening, and the words filtered into her brain as the dialogue from a radio running in the background. The centre of her chest exploded with heat. Taking a moment, she breathed in and out in the way her father had thought her. A refreshing cold settled within her, clearing her mind. Then she took off her jacket. They had left the entrance of the building open on a creak, but the door was old. Moving it would alert them. So, she placed the thin end of her coat in between the door frame and the wall to act as a cushion. It didn’t get rid of all the noise. But it was enough.

‘All you have to tell us is where you hid it. That’s all, and then—’ Aoki mimicked the sound of rising smoke. ‘The debt will disappear. We’ll even pay you for it. What do you say, Umi?’

A few seconds of silence. After which Nesumi whispered something indecipherable.

‘Speak up!’

Silvah wasn’t insane. There was no way for her to beat three men a foot taller than her in a fist fight, especially not with so little room. But what did that matter? She didn’t plan on playing fair. It was a shame her pistol had been requisitioned after she fell into coma, or this would’ve been an easy play to pull off. Maybe ask Uncle for one tomorrow.

Her eyes fell on a large pot that had moss growing on the sides, and her fingers closed around the edge. She could see the back of the man leaning on the door frame, Waku.

She crawled forwards. She could see what was going on in the room to her left through multiple holes in the wall.

Nesumi’s crying echoed through the hall.

‘I don’t…’

A hard impact, Aoki’s fist across Nesumi’s jaw, then a wail. Aoki pulled out a butterfly knife. He sighed.

‘I want to believe you, Umi. I do. However—’ he put the knife against Nesumi’s throat ‘—Ryu, the boss his son, is parading around my neck, you see. Unlike me, he’s not a very merciful man. You don’t want to end up on his bad side.’

Aoki pulled away, then lifted his foot, which Nesumi followed with wide eyes. The crack of bone crawled through the floor and rippled up Silvah’s ankle.

‘Yes,’ Aoki said. ‘I am merciful. So, I’m going to give you one last chance.’ He bowed low. This time the knife point was aimed between the veins in Nesumi’s throat.

‘Where is the egg—’

Except for Aoki, the men hadn’t moved. From the dead angle of Waku’s vision, Silvah ate the last few steps. She swung the bottom corner of the pot against his temple. The feedback crashed over the bones in her arm as Waku fell limp. Everyone in the room turned. Sakamoto was still in the middle of rotating when Silvah spun with the motion of her previous swing and took a single large step that placed her in striking distance. The Ryūjin-kai member raised his arm to guard. The pot broke through, literally, bursting into a hundred pieces, some of them cutting at Sakamoto’s eyelids. He yelled, and his hands went up to his face. Which is when she pulled his legs from underneath him and kicked him in the chin. Sending him to join Waku in the realm of the sleeping.

All in all, the exchange had taken about three seconds. Aoki was still staring. Silvah didn’t say anything. Instead, she dropped the last piece of the broken pot she still had in her hand and reached for her thigh.

The edge of the knife gleamed in the single ray of moonshine let through by the wooden panels on the shutters. It was shorter than the heirloom of her father, and so not quite what she was used to, but it would do.

The glint dragged Aoki out of his confusion. He bent his knees, lowering his centre of mass.

‘Who the fuck are you?!’

He glanced at his men.

‘There’s going to be hell to pay if one of them is dead.’

Silvah circled back towards the door, so the exit was at her back. He was not escaping her.

‘Where is my sister?’

Confusion lit on the Ryūjin-kai group leader’s face before he grit his teeth.

‘We don’t deal in kidnappings, hussy. If you drop your weapon and apologise now, I’ll let you go with a light beating.’ He licked his lips, giving her a once-over. ‘And maybe some more intimate compensation for the pain you caused my guys.’

‘Nighthart,’ she said.

There was the faintest pull on his cheek muscles when she uttered the name, which was enough. He knew.

Silvah flexed her fingers and spun her blade, reversing the grip.

‘That’s right. It’s the name of the family you Ryūjin-kai fuckers sent a lackey to rob. I’m going to ask you one last time. Where. Is. My. Sister.’

Aoki grinned.

‘Get on your knees and we’ll talk,’ he said.

Silvah took three half-steps in quick succession, placing her on the edge of his knife arm if he were to swing. Only he would have to overextend, and Aoki didn’t take the bait that would leave him open for a punish. Instead he stepped to the side, opening an angle, and slashed through where Silvah’s throat would have been if she hadn’t ducked lower. She aimed for his thigh but had to break stride and spin when he tried to smash in her teeth with his back heel. Silvah was bent so low her body was almost parallel to the floor. She jumped forward, tackling the one leg he still had on the ground. The tip of her knife plunged into his calf.

Aoki screamed.

‘You bitch!’

He started to swing wildly, and she let go of her hold quickly before he could retaliate. Getting greedy or impatient wouldn’t serve her. He was still a man, heavier than her by a long shot. One good kick and she was out.

She took her knife stance again. Her eyes pierced his.

‘Where is my sister?’

‘Like hell I’m telling you!’

Aoki dragged himself to his feet. He wouldn’t be able to use his one leg anymore but that would only make him more dangerous and reckless—he was cornered. His breathing was heavy. His shoulder sagged and heaved.

He grinned.

‘Remember what I said just now about the Ryūjin-kai not dealing in abductions?’ He waited for her face to show she was listening. ‘That was a lie. The boss, he loves girls, you see. Especially young ones. His friends as well.’

The air in the room was stale, damp, and wet. The upper half of Aoki’s face was covered by night. But the lower half—yellow teeth from smoking too much tobacco and drinking too much coffee—looked as if from a horror film in the sparse light.

‘I bet right about now your sister is somewhere on a ship—’ his laughter interrupted his sentence. Silvah let him.

When he was done and silence returned, she asked a single question. Her tone final.

Aoki spit on the floor and barrelled forward, his one leg dragging behind him. Silvah’s knuckles went white around the grip of her knife. She dodged underneath a too wide swing. Aoki yelled, forcing his legs to move with nothing but willpower and adrenaline. And if Silvah hadn’t offered him the necessary respect and counted his wounded leg out, she wouldn’t have been able to escape his kneecap to her face. As it was, she stepped back, and the bone only grazed the tip of her nose.

There was a moment. A slowed down passage in time, where Aoki saw his knee miss, and where both fighters understood how this exchange would end. His eyebrows relaxed. Accepting.

Her knife point curved around his leg. A squelch sounded as metal skewered through the meat right underneath his armpit. She placed her leg behind his own. Sent him sprawling onto the ground. Then stomped her heel down on his stomach. He spit out blood. Next Silvah stomped down on the ankle of his good foot, which gave with a crack that would stick in the walls of the building for years, haunting the ears of any dumb enough to spend the night here.

Silvah wiped her mouth. Some of the blood gushing from his calf had sprayed on her when she dodged that knee earlier.

Aoki glared at her.

‘Fuck—’

She stomped his ankle on the leg that had already gone bad.

He screamed.

‘Where—’ she broke his wrist. ‘Is—’ The other hand followed the first. ‘My—’ then his kneecap. ‘Sister?!’ and finally a kick in the head. Teeth rolled over the floor. No matter how much she punched or kicked him after that, Aoki didn’t say a word. In the end, Silvah stood there, in the shadows of the dark, panting and heaving, surrounded by three bloodied men. White clouds rose from her breath, curling around her head. No. There weren’t just three bloodied men—she turned on the poor, disgusting wimp who had remained on the floor in the fetal position the entire time.

He must’ve sensed her gaze.

‘Please, don’t hurt me,’ he began to cry.

She stepped forwards.

‘I don’t know anything. Please…’ he whimpered. Snot had mixed with blood where Aoki had struck Nesumi in the face.

Silvah emerged from the half-veiling shadows and crouched to grab him up by the collar like his gangster overlord had done.

‘Listen to me and listen to me carefully. I will only say this once.’

Nesumi sobbed and nodded in the pause she gave him.

‘What did you do with my father’s heirloom?’

Lying to the Ryūjin-kai wasn’t something people did if they had a choice. And if they did, the alternative must’ve been a deal with the literal devil. So perhaps it was the bloodlust in Silvah’s eyes or watching her wreck three men in front of him in quick succession that made Nesumi fear her more than the alternative.

‘A pawnshop. Yumekyo Central station,’ Nesumi whimpered. ‘An old man with white eyes and silver hair. That’s all I know. Please…spare me.’

He closed his eyes, which did not stop the tears, and started to mutter a name. It was a woman’s. Silvah could guess at the backstory, and somewhere inside she felt a pang, but she was finished here. She dropped Nesumi to the floor and left the building, exiting onto the two steps. Asha was waiting for her there, seated on the railing. Her gaze was narrow and disapproving.

‘Don’t look at me like that,’ Silvah bit.

Silence.

‘I do this for you.’

More silence.

Then Silvah stalked away into the night.