In five minutes, Emily Blossom would be late for the biggest ceremony of her life.

She had been preparing for it since birth when her father had selected her due to her talent for handling a Mask. She had wanted it since she'd glanced at that beautiful twilight-colored half-mask with the dazzling pink-red plum blossom in the middle. To miss this would be to miss the peak of what her life had been building towards.

Yet, even as she knew this and understood that her mother was probably looking for her now, she had to do this. She had promised to do this, and while it was unfortunate they would fall on the same day, in the end, a promise was a promise.

"There you are, Emily! I've been looking all-oh..." her maid, Ms. Belladonna, said as she barged in, then rapidly trailed off as she realized what was happening.

They were in the Garden of Remembrance, a small Asian garden reminiscent of their Japanese-Carribbean roots. Lilypad rivers and Sakura trees started in the east, before giving away to giant ombre hibiscus, fantasy Dahlia, and Hyacinth flowers in the west. Below the earth, there were the bodies of deceased members of the clan, which were marked by tiles on the ground. Save for two proper tombstones Emily had begged for.

One of the tombstones read: Daniel 'Foxglove' Blossom, the other reading Darius 'Pride' Judah. Emily had burned candles for them: sakura for Darius - who had joked that she should have been named Sakura for her tendency to blush hard enough to turn her dark cheeks pink - and cinnamon for Foxglove.

"It's alright," Emily answered Ms. Belladonna's silent question. "I was just finishing up."

She wasn’t. Ms. Belladonna knew that but knew her obligation and Emily’s resolve. It wasn’t fair to force her to choose and Ms. Belladonna opened her mouth to say as such.

"Milady, I-"

"I said it's alright, Kali," Emily turned to the disgruntled old woman and showed a half-smile to assuage her fears. "Now please, direct me to the ceremony. After all the work I'd put in, I wouldn't want to be late to the Bloom."

Ms. Belladonna hesitated, before sighing and walking towards Emily, holding her hand out. Emily took it, but not before looking back at her tombstones.

In the back of her mind, she said a prayer that they watched over her.

…

They arrived at the main hall on time, by some miracle. The clan heads - codenamed Boutique, Snapdragon, and Poppy- were waiting for her, and through their masks she saw the annoyance for her perceived tardiness and contempt for her position.

Emily ignored them for the time being. Should the mask ceremony be successful, they would have no hope but to swallow their scheming. Besides, the jealousy she saw could be her anxiety acting up from the consequences of failure.

Emily swallowed down her light breakfast to stop her stomach’s slight flip from becoming full-blown vomit. If she didn’t want to end up Ego Dead she needed to be firm.

Further down the hall, Emily’s mom, Serena, awaited her. The current wearer of the clan mask spread out her hands and embraced her daughter.

“Are you sure about this?” Serena whispered into her daughter’s ear as they hugged. “The mask is too old to be worn safely, even considering your ego. A new one is being made, anyways, so-”

“I wore it fine enough in training, Mom,” Emily interrupted. “As long as I keep a cool head, it should resonate fine enough. Even so, I think I can power my way through it.”

“I know, I just…Darius wouldn’t want you Egoless.”

“Darius wouldn’t want me to take the easy way out. If I’m to carry his legacy, I may as well take on his confidence.”

“His arrogance.”

“Mom.” Emily’s grip tightened into not quite a warning, but a notice that Serena was stepping closely to dangerous lines.

Serena broke the hug and stepped back, before undoing the pink half-mask around her head, revealing a wizened, yet youthful face with cocoa-brown skin and the slightest sign of wrinkles. She replaced it with her own: a half mask with two people on either side. “Best get to your place, now. It’s almost time for the ceremony to start.”

Emily nodded and walked to the side while Serena placed the mask in the hands of the resident Handler, whose job was to purify the clan mask of egos as much as possible, waiting with bated breath for her destiny to be presented finally.

…

The Handler gasped and put his hands to his knees to avoid collapsing. “I only got 9 of the 27.”

“That’s alright,” Serena nodded and cleared her throat.

“The Sakura blossom is a contradiction in its essence. Its bloom is brilliant, yet its blossom is a sign of approaching death. But when the sakura blooms, we do not worry about its future. We do not mourn its imminent demise. Rather, we relish its apex, its potential, and when it wilts, we wait for the next. That is the power this mask wields, and what we strive to represent.

“I have bloomed for a long, long time. Longer, perhaps, than anyone, even counting in these 200 years of peace our forefathers had not enjoyed. Though I have not wilted yet, I feel in my soul that it is time for another to bloom, and Emily, my daughter, has more than stepped up to the task. Tonight, she goes through her final tribulation. Let her succeed, and let her bloom and be brilliant!”

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The elders applauded, and Emily fought to keep the blush from showing on her skin. Gulping, she strode with postured confidence to the Handler and her waiting mother, towards her destiny.

And then the glass roof shattered, and Emily looked up to see something, no, someone, fall through. Her eyes widened as she processed the situation and recognized him: the dark skin, the combat boots, four cornrow braids, and a sleeper mask with the multiple I’s and B’s aligned over a khaki background.

But he couldn’t be here.

He wasn’t supposed to be here. It had been a year since his last appearance.

Why…

WHY WAS ICHBIN HERE?

The poor Handler didn’t stand a chance: he served as the landing pad for the master mercenary. His skull cracked on impact with Ichbin’s boots and his body crashed into the ground. The mask flew from his hands and onto the floor.

The elders moved, but the shockwave from the landing forced everyone back, and Emily herself was thrown back to the beginning of the hall - 10 feet away. When the resultant smoke cleared, Ichbin stood tall, hands lackadaisical in his pockets.

Security swarmed the room, some from the hole he had made in the roof, some from the hall. Yet no action was taken against the man. They had to move carefully with him: to know why he was where and what he would do.

Ichbin cleared his throat. “I’m here for the mask,” he barked. “Nothing more, nothing less.”

“...You know we can’t do that,” Serena said calmly. Her mask began to glow, and several copies of herself began appearing, some creating more clones.

Ichbin sighed, then muttered to himself as his mask glowed. “Alright then.”

Emily blinked, and suddenly he had the mask. A second later, he was gone.

“Dome!” Serena yelled.

A grunt of surprise came from above as Ichbin’s teleportation backfired on him, and he tumbled back down before muttering to himself again and not falling.

“So you still have some connection to the mask, huh? I know that’s difficult to keep up, though. Are you up for it?”

“My condition is not your concern,” Serena glared.

“Hmm…fair enough,” Ichbin said. Then he teleported in front of Serena and kicked her in the face, and the room surged towards him. The elders - except Poppy, as his power would be counterintuitive at best for containing him - activated their masks and charged, Snapdragon partially turning into a dragon and Boutique’s flowers rushing the mercenary.

“I’m a speedster!” Ichbin laughed and then blitzed the first five people in his way. Dimly, Amelia noted she should move - as she had no power at the moment with no mask - but for some reason, it was all she could do to watch with bated breath as the mercenary disassembled the room.

Doubles were thrown off. Snapdragon was manhandled and then thrown into Boutique. The soldiers - all wearing the mask of the Sakura foot soldier, a skull with a blossom on the cranium - swarmed him, and it meant nothing.

Emily watched with wide eyes as one by one, the Sakura clan fell to one man. Eventually, the only ones left were Serena, Poppy, and Emily. Serena was visibly panting, now: the kick and subsequent destruction of her doubles, as well as the maintenance of the forcefield, had left her on her last legs, stamina-wise.

“Can’t you just let me go?” Ichbin asked. Contrary to what the brawl and state of the room would suggest, he looked no worse for wear than when he started. “You obviously can’t beat me, and you’re making a new one anyway, right? There are too many egos here,” He snarked while motioning to the mask in his hand.

The truth was that the mask had too much power to be replaced. Starting anew would mean the Sakura clan would miss their window to make this their era. Not only that, doing so without at least destroying this mask would mean there would be two masks running about with the ability to control the essential parts of the clan and ‘Contradiction’, and one significantly more powerful. If it reached the hands of an enemy...Emily didn’t want to think about it.

Serena knew this, the elders knew this, and Ichbin knew it. He was just reveling in the knowledge that nothing was stopping him save for her mom, which seemed more and more like a matter of waiting.

Yes, Emily thought, retaking the mask was impossible.

But what about destroying it?

There was a shard of glass from the shattered ceiling by her feet. Ichbin seemed not to notice her, not even glancing in her direction. If she could throw it with enough intensity and precision, she may set the clan back a few generations in terms of power, but it would still be better than dooming her clan to future ruination.

Slowly, she picked up the glass, as silent as a mouse. She would need to be precise. She gathered her strength, lifted her hand, and then…and then…then…

Emily’s mind fogged up in a pleasant haze, and she struggled to keep her wits about her. Poppy. He’d activated his power, most likely because everyone was already unconscious or worse. Serena had known this, Emily noted: she had a gas mask on.

Ichbin had felt it, too: the mercenary was swaying from side to side and clutching his head. He was trying to say something, but it was ineffective.

“Poppy’s toxin is potent and adaptive,” Serena grimaced, clutching her face and adjusting her jaw. “Even if you can make yourself immune, that ‘immune’ is more resistant than anything, and it’ll wreak havoc for a while. And it must be hard for you to string a phrase together when your head is that messed up: I went in while he was practicing and was incoherent for days.”

Ichbin started twitching, and almost collapsed, clutching his knees. He gasped, and from her viewpoint - and perhaps her drug-induced hallucinations - she saw his eyes begin to roll up.

Serena created a double, which then stalked towards Ichbin. “I don’t know who hired you, but this is your first failure. It doesn’t seem like anyone is dead, but I can’t in good conscience let you go when you’ve killed before. However, I’ll make it quick.”

Ichbin stepped towards the double on shaky legs. “Apologies if I don’t feel too grateful.”

“That’s alright,” Serena replied. “It’ll be over soon, anyway.”

Ichbin nodded.

Then he teleported in front of Serena and ripped her mask off.

Serena was surprised by the teleportation, and getting your mask taken would have been a shock for anyone who hadn’t been closing out a fight as the perceived victor. Instinctively she reached for it, and Ichbin used that moment of misplaced action to rip off her gas mask.

Serena had the misfortune of inhaling at that time from surprise and passed out instantly. Poppy followed instantly after Ichbin teleported in front of him and punched him in what looked like his solar plexus repeatedly.

The gas cleared as the dome lifted, allowing fresh air in, but Emily’s vision was already going in and out as Ichbin cleared himself. The mercenary teleported in front of her, and before he made off with her identity and she passed out, Emily thought she heard him apologizing.