“That’ll be $13.11.”
Masuyo tucked her phone away then fished in her wallet for a moment before pulling out three five-dollar bills and a one and handing them up to the cab driver. “Here you go. Keep the change.”
“Take care, lady,” the man half said half grunted as he accepted the money.
She climbed out of the vehicle, and no sooner had she shut the door, the taxi was pulling back into traffic. This was naturally the precise moment she actually took note of her surroundings and realized she had been dropped off further north along the Boardwalk than the address she had given the driver.
“Higher cost and less convenient?” Masuyo muttered as she started jogging south to get to where she actually needed to be. “I must be in Brockton Bay…”
She reached her destination a few minutes later, her breathing coming out in hot, visible puffs in the cold air but otherwise not labored. Even before her life had changed last October, she had always done her best to maintain a healthy body with regular exercise like jogging. She was even better prepared for it after the exercise routine Melanie had pressed her into after the incident in Philadelphia. Slowing to a walk, she checked the time on her phone and nodded in satisfaction when she saw she was still a couple of minutes early. Slipping the device back into her pocket, she pulled the door to the café open and stepped inside.
Sabah was already inside and seated at a table off to her left, facing her way and cradling her own cup while another drink sat on the other side of the table, so Masuyo headed over instead of jumping in line, slipping off her jacket along the way.
“Hey there, this seat taken?” she joked as she approached and took a seat, drawing a small, strained smile out of Sabah. “You look tense… The judge didn’t suddenly change his mind, did he?”
“No, nothing like that,” Sabah said, frowning and looking off to the side with a distant expression as Masuyo slipped into the seat across from her.
“Okay. Is it something you want to talk about?”
“Yes… and no.”
Masuyo couldn’t help the small quirk in her lips. “Giving me a lot to go off of, I see.”
It may have been a trick of the light, but Masuyo was pretty sure Sabah’s cheeks darkened as she took a sip of her drink. “Yes, well, it’s not an easy topic to broach in conversation,” she added, once she had taken a moment to compose herself.
“Perhaps we’ll work our way up to it after some easier topics?” Masuyo offered as she claimed the beverage in front of her, happily noting the cup was still quite warm and steam was leaking out of the hole in the lid. “How much do I owe you, by the way?”
“Nothing.”
“If you’re sure,” she remarked before taking a sip of the drink. Her lips curled up in a smile at the taste. “Oh, this is perfect, thanks!”
Sabah smiled, but her expression was notably still strained, which sparked a bit of worry in Masuyo.
“How has your day been going?” she said, trying to jump-start the conversation.
“Ah, um… The new semester is just kicking off at BBU. Work feels a little slow at the moment, but when I try to think about it objectively, I’m pretty sure it just feels that way because the holiday rush has passed. It was really more of an average day.”
“You had mentioned things were busy, but I think this is the first time you’ve used the words ‘holiday rush.’ Not really the sort of phrase I’ve ever associated with boutique fashion design.”
Sabah gave her a flat look. “You say that like you were involved in ‘boutique fashion design’ before you knew me.”
“Fair,” Masuyo admitted with a self-deprecating chuckle. She took another sip of her drink. Sabah had ordered it perfectly. “I’m glad things are back to a normal pace for you though.”
“Thank you,” she replied before drinking from her own cup—more of a gulp than the sip Masuyo had taken. She stared at the table for a moment with a grimace, though whether that was because of her drink or the words she eventually spoke was unclear. “How is the… club?”
Masuyo opened her mouth to suggest waiting until they got somewhere they wouldn’t be overheard, but she abruptly paused. No, no. It’s okay. We just need to be discreet is all, she reasoned.
“Things are… okay,” she carefully replied. She was well aware of how wary Sabah had been regarding any topic related to the residents of Palanquin, especially June, since the doll cape had been roped into June’s ill-advised escape tactic back a couple of months prior. “Busy as usual, but we’re all hanging in there.”
The frown on Sabah’s face was deepening, and Masuyo wasn’t sure what to make of it. “What happened in St. Louis,” she whispered, leaning forward just a tad, her gaze serious and fixed on Masuyo. “You were involved, weren’t you.”
Masuyo winced, unable to control the reaction. The shop was only moderately busy, but it was still too crowded for anything but roundabout discussion. “I’m always involved. I travel along, help patch them up after a job.”
“You know what I mean.”
She did. “I’m not sure I…”
“You weren’t helping afterwards. You went on the job,” Sabah said, her tone accusatory and her words coming out in a hiss.
She opened her mouth to deny it but paused. There’s no point denying it, she reasoned. Even if Sabah had been wrong—and she wasn’t—a denial likely wouldn’t have been believed, not if the fire in her eyes was any indication. “Yeah. I was.”
Sabah took another long gulp of her drink, as if she needed the caffeinated drink to fortify her. “Why?”
“There were four vats. Only three of the group were suited to go in, so…”
“So you decided to commit a crime—a felony. Several, I imagine.”
Masuyo’s jaw tightened, and she had to force herself to keep her gaze on Sabah. “Yeah. I did.”
Silence fell between them, and Masuyo carefully drank more of her coffee. It was undoubtedly her mind playing tricks on her, but she could have sworn the beverage was more bitter than it had been earlier. The rest of the shop continued on with its day, blissfully unaware of the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside of her.
When she was younger, the world had likewise marched on. Ignorant of her hardships, constantly shuffled to and fro, never able to feel at home. Ignorant of her turmoil, as she tried and failed to make a connection with any of the fosters, the adults chosen to take care of her—who had agreed to take care of her—until eventually she began to hate them on principle. Ignorant of her pain as the Empire kids attacked her for being who she was and the ABB kids attacked her for not being one of them.
Her hand slipped up to her neck and rubbed at the scar there. Sabah’s eyes traced the movement, and she winced in sympathy. “How are the nightmares?”
Masuyo shrugged, her hand falling into her lap and her gaze falling down to the lid of her cooling drink. “Pretty much the same.”
“Does June know?”
“No. She doesn’t need to.”
“Masuyo—”
“Gregor knows.”
Sabah’s eyebrow rose. “That’s… good, right?”
“Sorta.” Masuyo fiddled with the cardboard ring around her cup, and it slipped free, falling to the table with a tiny plop. “He’s a good guy—a very good listener. I just worry I’m adding to his own hardships.”
Sabah apparently did have anything to say to that, and another silence overtook them. Masuyo gripped her cardboard cup directly, brought it to her lips, and drank deeply, savoring the heat as it slipped down her throat. The warmth crept into her limbs, easing the cold that still lingering in her from outside, but it did nothing for the cold feeling settling in her gut as her suspicion continued to grow.
“So… you’re breaking up with me, right?” she said, her words half question, half statement as she gave voice to what she feared. “That’s the topic you couldn’t work yourself up to?”
Sabah’s eyes slid closed as her expression shifted to one of weary resignation, and Masuyo’s heart plummeted. “I was strongly considering it, yes.”
“I, uh— I know I’m not around enough, and I—” Masuyo began to ramble before abruptly stopping as she ran Sabah’s words through her head again. “Wait, ‘was’? You mean…?”
Sabah slumped against the back of the booth, deflating a bit. “That I’m not going to. It means I’m not going to.”
“Oh good god, you almost gave me a heart attack,” Masuyo jokingly complained with forced levity. “I thought—”
“On one condition,” Sabah interrupted, killing the words Masuyo had been about to say.
Masuyo wet her suddenly dry mouth and warily asked, “What’s the condition?”
“The truth.”
Masuyo almost denied her on the spot, but she paused. Well… I suppose she’s stood by me through a lot, she reasoned. “May I… ask you to be more specific?”
“Hiding that much from me?”
“I’ve been very upfront about anything you asked, and told you when I couldn’t answer,” Masuyo softly countered.
Sabah drained the last of her drink and brought it down on the table with an empty plop. “That doesn’t mean you haven’t been hiding things.”
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
A twinge of annoyance made Masuyo’s fingers clench around her cup. “You made it clear you didn’t want to know those things, Sabah. From the start, you’ve done everything to distance yourself from this side of my life.”
“That side of her life,” Sabah retorted with some minor heat, looking down to the side with an obviously irritated expression.
Masuyo leaned back in the booth and forced herself to not cross her arms. That was confrontational body language, and even though this was quite obviously developing into one, there was no point in poking the bear more than necessary. “I believe you were wanting me to give you the truth about something…?”
Sabah’s gaze found its way back up to her, their eyes locking. “You’re changing the subject.”
“On my end, it feels more like getting us back on topic.”
“I…” She fiddled with her empty cup, breaking eye contact with Masuyo. “See, it’s really not. Off topic, I mean. Not really.”
Masuyo considered that for a moment. “You want the truth… about June? I’m still not sure I follow.”
Sabah laughed, but it was empty—devoid of humor. “You do. You just don’t want to answer.”
Another twinge of annoyance. The cup crinkled inwards under Masuyo’s fingers, and even though the shape was overall barely changed, it was enough to make the lid pop off. It fell onto the table, rolling around for a second before flopping unceremoniously onto the wooden tabletop. Sabah glanced at it before looking at Masuyo again with a raised eyebrow.
She didn’t want to answer, and she didn’t need to as far as she was concerned. She was so annoyed by this inquisition that she started to get up to leave, but she abruptly paused. No, you know what? Fuck it. She wants the truth, let’s see if she can handle it. “The truth. About June.” She let the words hover between them for a moment, the silence pregnant as she gathered her thoughts. “It’s… complicated.”
Sabah’s mouth moved as if to speak, and Masuyo hurriedly added, “No, hang on—I’ll get there. You’ll get your answer. You deserve one. She deserves one too, but she made it clear she didn’t want to hear it, so not that I think you’ll be speaking with her willingly, just… keep that in mind? Please?”
Sabah eyed her with more than a hint of confusion, but after a few moments of consideration, she eventually nodded. “Okay. I won’t say anything to her.”
“You were there for it,” Masuyo distractedly mused, looking down into the revealed contents of her cup. The warmth was rapidly escaping it. “You probably didn’t pay it much mind at the time. Do you remember the day she followed me back to my apartment and came in through the window?”
“Um, yeah. Yes, I remember. It was a… pretty emotional day for you two.”
“Yeah, well, it would have been worse if she hadn’t told me she didn’t want to know who her father is.”
That clearly piqued Sabah’s interest. “Oh?”
Masuyo leaned in closer, and without needing to be asked, Sabah mirrored her. “Her father… he was the Butcher.”
Sabah breathed in sharply and flatly said, “What.”
“The seventh. He’s long dead.”
“How do you know this?!” Sabah hissed, looking distressed.
“CPS arranged for June to live with me, and the PRT followed right after. They… well, they paid me to keep up the facade about her identity. Her name, her mom’s name—they’re fake. PRT’s version of witness protection.”
“Stop,” was Sabah’s immediate reply. “Do not tell me anything more about this. I don’t want to know.”
Masuyo couldn’t quite help the bit of smugness that leaked into her voice. “Well, you wanted the truth.”
“Masuyo, don’t you dare!” she frantically whispered. “That last thing I need is for them to get involved with me! I only just got done avoiding it!”
“Right, sorry,” Masuyo replied, having the good decency to wince. “I’m… I’m glad the judge dismissed their case.”
“Yes, well, June has my thanks for the legal help there,” Sabah begrudgingly acknowledged with a huff. “Not that it forgives her for what she did.”
“I’m pretty confident she doesn’t expect you to. She just wanted to do the right thing.” She gently laid her hand over Sabah’s. “And I know I’ve said it before, but thank you for helping that night. I… I could’ve…”
Masuyo shivered and felt the urge to rub at her neck. She had never felt terror like she had that night. Growing up in Brockton Bay, she had always been pressured to join the ABB, and her refusal had not endeared her to the gang. That and the Empire targeting her because of her skin meant she’d landed in more than a few sticky situations, but nothing—nothing—compared to being abducted off the street and having a bomb planted in her neck.
“That’s my point, Masuyo!” Sabah urged. “That’s my whole point! When this all started, you were just getting them groceries! Doing their shopping! Now you’re—”
Sabah glanced around suspiciously, and more than a bit obviously, in Masuyo’s opinion. “—you’re committing crimes with them!” she quietly but fervently pressed on. “That’s the truth I want to know! Why are you doing this? Why are you putting yourself out there for this cousin, who you barely even knew before CPS foisted her on you? You said it’s because family should care—should love each other—but what you’re doing, it goes beyond that!”
Masuyo breathed out a heavy sigh. “You want the truth?”
“It’s not going to make the PRT lock me away or something, is it?” Sabah warily asked.
Masuyo frowned, running through the implications in her head. Would it cause issues? For a moment she thought it might, but then she paused. “No, this should be fine. I don’t see how it could be a problem.” Masuyo downed the last of her now cold coffee, doing her best to ignore the bitterness. “June isn’t my cousin. She’s my half-sister.”
Sabah frowned. “I… don’t get it.”
“My bio-mom—our bio-mom—she fucked us both over,” Masuyo bitterly replied as she stared down into her cup, idly turning it to and fro and watching the lingering droplets that hadn’t quite made it all the way out slosh back and forth together.
“No, I get that. Well, I suppose I didn’t know you shared a mother—though I guess that makes sense in hindsight, since you aren’t in hiding or whatever—but I just don’t understand how that has any bearing here. You’re closer related than cousins, but that doesn’t change my point.”
“No, I suppose you wouldn’t get it, would you?” Masuyo seethed, unable to hold back her anger any longer. “Your bio-dad wasn’t a deadbeat who got your mom pregnant and fucked off, never to be heard from again. Your bio-mom didn’t throw you away because she couldn’t be bothered.”
“Hey, my parents—!”
“Your parents didn’t go through a fucking awful divorce,” Masuyo interrupted, her voice a furious hiss. “Your mom didn’t bleed out because some Empire bastards decided to kill her ABB boyfriend while she was around! Your dad didn’t—!” She took a deep, shuddering breath. Then another. “He d-didn’t touch you! Violate you! Leave you to rot in a system filled with people who don’t give a shit about you, who are only in it to collect a paycheck from the government! You don’t know what that’s like, Sabah! You don’t fucking know, and don’t you dare say you do!”
Masuyo realized she was standing and yelling. When did that happen? People were staring, but she couldn’t find it in herself to give a shit. “And her father was a goddamn mass murder! He traveled around, killing people for shits and giggles! I can’t even imagine what she would think if she found out! Our mother fucked that monster then went crying to the PRT so she could collect a free paycheck and treated my sister like dirt while she sat around all day getting higher than a goddamn kite! She never gave her lunch money and never kept food in the apartment! Just let her go hungry! Barely clothed her! It’s not like she had any fucking money to spend!
“I may not be happy my sister was forced to turn to petty crime to get by, and I’m certainly not happy with what she’s doing now, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to turn my back on her for living the only life she’s ever known! You were there! You were there when she tried to push me away because she thought she was a burden! How the fuck could you possibly think I would abandon her?! No, I met her right where she was, and I’m doing my damnedest to try and show her a better way! And even if she continues down this path, I’ll still be right there with her because we’re family, and that’s what family is supposed to do!”
Masuyo took a deep breath, struggling to calm down as Sabah stared up at her with wide eyes. “Fuck, I… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell at you, but—”
“No, no, you definitely meant every word,” a voice behind her said. “Oh, and you can remember this one.”
Masuyo’s blood ran cold. I know that voice. She slammed her hands over her ears and kicked her chair backwards before trying to run, but something caught her legs, and she fell to the floor with a pained grunt. A moment later, her hands were tugged away from her ears—not by hands, but something thin wrapped tightly around her wrists.
“Don’t bother coverin’ your ears. It’s pointless,” Octavia Thatcher smugly remarked as she leered down at her. “I’ve been pulling your… strings this whole time, after all.”
Strings? Masuyo’s wide eyes shot over to Sabah, who gave a little wave, barely wiggling her fingers as she watched with a vaguely disinterested expression. Oh shit.
“Oh good, I was worried the wordplay’d be lost on you! Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, what to do with lil’ old you.”
“You’ve come pretty far from making people LARP D&D,” Masuyo remarked, trying to keep her voice steady. “Not interested in playing games anymore? How did you escape Brood and her Clutch?”
Octavia grinned. “Just look at ya go! Your ass is in water so hot it’s boiling, and you’re still fishin’ around for information in case you can pass it along to someone at Palanquin!” She crouched down next to Masuyo and raised an eyebrow. “Tell me: I’m close, right?”
Masuyo gave her a defiant smirk. “I’m close, right?”
“Ooo, yes, I do think I’m in the right ballpark,” Octavia remarked, her grin growing wider as pushed herself back up to her feet and idly turned to start walking towards the counter.
Masuyo’s eyes flicked around the shop, taking note of how everyone was acting like nothing was wrong and how the security shutters were down. Fuck. Of course I didn’t notice until she let me…
Octavia finally reached the counter, and the barista behind the counter silently passed her a drink. The Master made to take a sip of it only to stop, turn, and sit on the counter so she was facing Masuyo again. “Now then, to business. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t interested in playing games. Actually, I’d been planning to get you involved too—turn you on your sister.”
“Don’t,” Masuyo breathed out, finally beginning to lose her cool. “Please don’t…”
“Ah, don’t you worry your pretty little head about that, big sis. I’ve changed my mind after your impassioned speech. It seems I’m not the only one in the room who can sway people with her words.” She chuckled as she glanced down at the cup in her hand with a smile, then she abruptly reared back and tossed it at her.
Masuyo tried to scramble out of the way, but the strings around her limbs held her in place, and she screamed in agony as the cup struck her in the chest, sending boiling liquid splashing all over her.
“You wanted to play for the losing side, didn’t ya?!” Octavia bellowed at her as she stalked across the room and kicked Masuyo in the ribs. “You wanted it, so don’t come crying to me when you get burned!”
Pain was still lancing through her as the searing hot liquid ran down her cheek and neck and soaked through her clothes, but she clenched her teeth together, forcing herself to only hiss at the agony she was feeling.
“See? I can be fair. You bitches like your rules, so let’s set some rules, hm? I’m going around assembling all the people those fuckers at Palanquin ever screwed over, and when I’m done, I’m gonna come after you with my new crew. Until then, forget this encounter ever happened. Instead, remember this as a fight with doll girl that ended with her throwing someone’s fresh coffee on you. You—” she jabbed her finger at the barista behind the counter “—call 911 for her when I’m gone. And as for you—” she kicked Masuyo in the ribs again, who coughed violently but otherwise didn’t cry “—call your bitch of a sister when you get there, and you tell her the truth: You fought with Sabah, and she threw coffee at you.”
Octavia turned and stalked towards the door, where a staff member stood waiting. Sabah stood from the table and moved to join her as the staff began opening the shutters, and Octavia sneered at Masuyo. “Never call Sabah again, and don’t go looking for her. You hate her after this.”
Masuyo twitched in anguish as she struggled to not cave under the overwhelming pain. Don’t give that bitch Sabah the satisfaction! Don’t you dare!
“H-Hello, 911?” the frantic barista said far too loudly into his cell as he tried to hold a bag of ice against the side of her face that had been hit. “We need an ambulance!”
“No,” she bit out, weakly shoving it away. “A towel. No ice, a clean towel!”
“A Touch of Sugar—we’re on the Boardwalk!” he told the operator before twisting the receiver away, saying, “What are you saying?! How the hell is a towel going to help?!”
“I’m a nurse! Get me a goddamn towel!”
Someone else nearby rushed over to the counter, and the barista dropped the ice pack before rising to his feet and beginning to pace. “Sorry, could you repeat that? … N-No, I don’t know the address! I ride the bus here to work!”
“It’s 3715 Boardwalk Ave!” someone nearby shouted as the person who ran to the counter before came back with what looked like a dishrag.
While the barista hurried to relay the information to the operator, Masuyo glanced at the towel. It didn’t look like it had been used, so she grabbed it and pressed it against her face and neck. She hissed in distress as it touched her, and as she slumped down to the floor, one thought ran on a continuous loop through her head.
I’ve got to tell June. She’ll be worried sick.