Richie and Chikita both had the same dark expressions painted over their faces. The black pool they looked into didn't reflect their features, or anything else whatsoever, but they both knew that their faces were warped by a sense of deep unsettlement.

"It wasn't nearly this bad, was it?" Richie asked himself, appalled. "This can't even be called a leak. This was an assimilation. All that from a few holes in the ground? Jesus, what if this gets into the public water supply, or the bay itself?"

Chikita's lip curled. "Must be the elixir the beasts were looking for, judging by the leprechaun and lake monster you told me about. This stench - it's the Faceless Man, alright. That Holly chick was right - this is a game preserve, and that shit's the bait."

"Cuppy thinks it's coming from somewhere in or under the sewers. That's what Freyja's animal instincts say too. I believe them." Richie said.

"Your little girlfriend could sniff me out from outside the Backyards, so I'm inclined to trust her nose has merit. The sewers, eh? How fitting." Chikita said.

She lit her pipe and drew deeply.

"She's not my girlfriend." Richie said, blushing and averting his eyes.

Chikita looked at Richie and blew a minty cloud in his face.

"Hey, what the hell?!" he coughed, waving his arms.

"So," Chikita said, tugging on her collar with a curled finger and pulling the neckline open just enough to offer a deeper peek into her well-endowed chest. "You're single then?" she licked her lips, showing fang-like canines through a flirtatious smile.

Richie blushed brighter and backed up, trying to raise his arms to ward off the blue-haired woman, but his arms felt tired as though she had injected them with cold again, and his chest felt tight. He stumbled over backward, sprawling on his back.

"I can't believe that worked twice." Chikita cackled.

Richie's eyes were spinning in two different directions. "Get that shit out of my face!"

Chikita held her pipe up like a wand and looked at its glow in the forest light. "Your body numbed up on you, right? You remember the same thing last time we met?"

Richie nodded, dizzy.

"Since you and I share the same heritage, I'm going to guess you've heard of a kudagitsune?" Chikita asked.

"Pipe fox spirits?" Richie asked, sitting up again, still coughing. He remembered the cloud that had formed into a small fox to steal his recently-stolen wallets.

"Bingo. This is Chinokiri." Chikita said. "Written-"

"Yeah yeah," Richie said. 血の霧 - he drew in the dirt. "Blood Mist. Meaning that spirit has a vampire-like effect on whatever it touches."

"She, yes." Chikita said, petting her pipe. "I made my pact with this fox some time back, and her entire being is predicated upon sniffing out the tasty, tasty auras of others. Yet, your, er, roommate," Chikita made sure to replace the trigger word, "- has been able to detect the aura of the shades before Chi could. Taking all the information we've scraped up together, I can surmise that the Faceless Man,"

"Lives in the sewers." Richie realized, standing up and dusting himself off. "What exactly is he, anyway?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Chikita asked. "A monster. Pure and simple. Not like the wild animals we've both conflicted with. I mean a monster."

Shades. That felt familiar, but Richie didn't know from where.

Chinokiri formed out of Chikita's smoke, sniffing the air, and floated over to Richie curiously, sniffing his collar.

"Get away from me, you quadrupedal carcinogen." Richie flicked the gray fox avatar away.

She gave an offended grunt, and fell to the grass, sniffing her way toward the edge of the reservoir. Her cloudy fur bristled and she shrank back, then jump-floated in a parabola back up and into the bowl of her vessel. The pipe went out.

Chikita blinked, and began shaking Chinokiri. "Hey! Get back here!" she grumbled.

Chikita looked back at the lake of black liquid. "That can't be good."

"I think that answers why you couldn't find any clues." Richie said, cracking out his neck, made stiff by the kudagitsune's energy-leaching. "You've been chasing things with auras and life force to consume."

"Well, duh." Chikita nodded.

"Shades. Death shadows, in Hebrew. In Greek Mythology, they were the generic dead, resigned to an afterlife in the shadow of the Underworld. Dante saw them in the Divine Comedy too, or at least it's what he called the damned souls." Richie said, scratching his nose. "Cuppy's books covered world religions and mythologies from every era, among other things. You said the word shade. You could have said ghost, or spirit, but you didn't." Richie said.

What was he saying? He wasn't sticking to any kind of a script. But O'Gravy had called that black liquid the elixir of life. Richie wasn't sure how that could be possible - it reeked of something that should stay buried and forgotten. But maybe to the invading beasts, it reminded them of something vital - something invigorating.

"Yeah, and?" Chikita asked, flicking her lighter irritably to no avail.

"Death shadows. Maybe it's just a purple prose ye olde term for a ghost. Or, maybe, like with the phantom pain, ancient people just didn't know what they were seeing, and death shadow is the most accurate description. An underworld, contrasted against the light of the living, would cast a shadow. Maybe a separate shadow for every lost soul passing between layers. In other words, the beings that made this shit -" Richie gestured to the pool of darkness, "aren't beings at all. Just empty shadows."

"Of the dead." Chikita held her chin in contemplation. She was dangling her pipe from her mouth anyway, probably an oral fixation she slipped into when a creepy thought was crossing her mind.

"Or the unborn." Richie suggested, and didn't know why.

"So what you're saying is-" Chikita asked, suddenly looking unsure of herself, on the verge of breaking out into a cold sweat.

"Maybe your pipe pet can't find these so-called shades because they have no souls to take." Richie said.

He thought back to the Phantom Pain, an empty spectral vessel that could only mimic the last moments of its true self before that self had been stolen. It was like a traumatic experience staining the world in the shape of the departed. That ghost was no ghost at all - it too had no soul, and it was driven only by a vestigial instinct of when it had one to bind to Richie and take his soul for itself. To fill the void.

All at once, Richie was positive that whatever these shades were - he must have encountered them, why couldn't he remember it? - they were the reason that phantom pain existed. Someone had been consumed, and their lingering memory, detached from mind, tried to take back its core. Richie had been the closest thing to that.

Maybe, he thought, the invading creatures are attracted to the black stuff BECAUSE it's a shadow of life. Of energy, and prosperity. That's what O'Gravy meant by evolution. They're being tricked into going after the shadow of a fountain of life instead of the real thing.

Chikita dipped her katana, still enclosed in its sheath, in at the black water's edge. The liquid rose to meet it, as if licking at the black scabbard that, next to this pool of void, was a light gray at its darkest.

This feeling Yukihana shivered, and Chikita's mind translated that shiver going down her back through their telepathic link. It's just like in the Cave of the Dead.

Chikita withdrew Yukihana, and a tendril of the stuff remained wrapped around the sheath, grasping and probing. She channeled glowing blue cold energy through the medium of Yukihana, and the tendrils froze from the tip down. She yanked away, shattering it, and looked as the little black flecks of tar fell back into the reservoir and were reabsorbed.

I have its scent now. Yukihana proclaimed.

Chikita looked at Richie, smiled, and replaced Yukihana on her waist before beginning to rotate her shoulder cuff and crack out her knuckles.

"You say your friend can figure out how to drain this? Good, I'll wish him luck. Let's put this shithole on ice until then." she grinned.

Chikita raised her left hand, cracked out the fingers as if getting ready to play the piano, then crouched and slammed her palm into the surface of the pool of gunk. Frost vapor rose off of her like steam from a kettle, and a creaking, cracking sound began to spread from the point of impact. Through the frost, Richie could see the ice begin to creep out and spread, frosting over the surface of the reservoir like a blooming crystalline snowflake structure, until the frozen glaze hit the edges of the shore and hooked into them. Twice again over this happened, ice layers spreading over the one below it. The second layer had been stygian blue compared to the frozen black beneath it, and the third and final layer of ice was merely a dark blue. The edges solidified as ice spread over them, reaching beyond the banks to fortify the structure, and the glacial icing over the reservoir itself became thick and rock solid.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

When Chikita was done and lifted her hand, a bit out of breath and sore from the exertion of creating so much ice, the black lake was completely buried under a mini dark arctic.

"That won't hold forever. You and your little friends figure out how to excise it soon." Chikita said, hiding her nervous excitement.

Yukihana had picked up the scent of the Faceless Man, now that he had a reference point. They could track him now. They felt his malevolent presence beneath their feet.

Back inside the apartment, Freyja could feel the Faceless Man too. Her wolf form was bleeding over into her human form, hackles raised, black hairs bristling, and fangs bared. She was growling, low, in the back of her throat, eyes squeezed under the pressure of cold fear. Cuppy was beside her, eyes narrowed, stroking her across the back in a futile attempt to soothe her. He could practically feel static electricity building in Freyja’s bristled subliminal coat. She was trembling, on the verge of an outright panic attack the likes of which the sewer junctions below her feet couldn’t dream of accomplishing.

“What’s going on out there?” Cuppy asked. “It’s ok, girl, it’s safe.”

Freyja grit her teeth, shifting into fangs. “No. It isn’t. It never was. Jesus, it was never safe. It’s right under us. It’s been right under us this whole time!”

In the forest, Yukihana began to slide out of his sheath, the first two or three inches of steel revealing themselves and glowing an arctic blue like a spectral searchlight. Chikita knew that now was her chance, that she must follow the guidance of the ensouled blade at her hip.

“Something’s come up. I’ve got to go.” Chikita said, gripping Yukihana’s hilt and stalking off into the trees.

Richie raced ahead to cut her off, standing between the cryomancer and the path she strode.

“Wait a minute!” Richie said, thrusting his arms out in a ‘stop’ gesture. “You’re going to go confront him now? The Faceless Man? This is my fight too. I want a piece of him!”

Chikita stared, blinked a few times, then chuckled. “I don’t think so. Now stand aside. You’re no match for the Faceless Man.”

“Neither are you.” Richie said, standing his ground. His runes were glowing azure, sniffing in the direction of the presence they felt, as they had just as strongly on the day Richie came out of the closet corridor to find the robed wraith standing in his appropriated living room. They sensed their rival was flexing his muscles, making some kind of move that they ached to counter. Whatever they were, their recognition of the spectral overlord was not contingent upon the target being living or dead, possessed of a soul or otherwise. On that front, they had an edge over Chinokiri. Or perhaps, it was simply a matter of experience, of having sensed the difference in the auras between the living and dead - or the incarnations of nothingness - before.

Either way, they were clearly agitated, coiling and writhing, rising off of Richie’s arms and hissing in his ear. If what they had said before was true, and they were indeed activated by his ripening as a man and as a warrior, then they, like Chikita’s katana, were the guidepost to a fated showdown with the man in cobalt who had made enemies of them both. Richie was new to classify the Faceless Man as someone on his shitlist, but his tattoos seemed to recognize the figure in a profound way that implied great depth, and a familiarity spanning a far longer timespan than Richie had ever been alive. Whatever grudge or rivalry they bore with the Dark Lord transcended the flesh of their current heir.

He is near. We long to tear him apart. But, we fear you may not be ready. Still, we cannot cull our bloodlust. Make your decision, before we lose control once more. they whispered into Richie’s mind.

"You aren't coming with me, kid." Chikita said, and stabbed her blade into the ground.

She stood, watching and waiting for ice to tunnel under the ground from Yukihana's buried tip and freeze Richie's feet to the floor, but nothing happened. She stabbed the ground a few more times until it became clear that she had used up her cold reserves freezing the corrupted reservoir. She looked up at Richie, his arms folded and giving an annoyed scowl, awkwardly.

"...could I borrow a cup of ice?" Chikita clasped her hands together and bowed her head in a submissive-sounding request.

"Ran out of juice, eh?!?" Richie hauled off and slammed his head into Chikita's face while she was crouching, knocking her flat. "That's for trapping me in your damn hot springs and ripping me off!" he growled.

He kicked her in the ribs while she was down, causing her to momentarily curl into a pained fetal position. "And that's for trying to literally freeze me out just now! You're not the gatekeeper on who gets to challenge spooky assholes in nightgowns, now back off!"

Chikita hissed, clutching her side. "Ok, I deserved that." she said, propping herself up on Yukihana as an impromptu crutch. "But you're only running toward your death. Go fuck off and grow up, let the nice lady take care of the boogeyman."

"Nice lady? Do you know one?" Richie smirked.

"Vicious pup. I remember when I was your age - about six years ago. Always had to prove myself." Chikita chuckled.

"Sounds like you haven't outgrown it." Richie said, offering the assassin a hand up.

She took it, and he shivered - not from the residual cold of her skin, but because he was holding a beautiful woman's hand.

"I see your point. What grudge do you bear?" she asked.

"He sicced the jester on me. That's enough for now. I'm sure I'll come up with more shit he got away with when I get there." Richie growled, teeth verging on fangs.

"Then shouldn't you focus on that boy? Fight someone closer to your level?"

She's not wrong. the dragons conceded.

"If I cut off the head, that ends whatever this clusterfuck is all the sooner." Richie said.

"One hopes." Chikita said worriedly.

"Besides, you ran out of ice, and you're down a smoke fox. That leaves you with just a sword." Richie said.

"Just a sword? I'm a swordsman. Yukihana is plenty." Chikita said, holding her katana out in front of her and looking at her eyes reflected in its glowing arctic sheen. One eye was the refined, gracious hostess of the Backyards hot springs who greeted the trio with a warm smile - and the other was hard, cold, focused, and locked on the future blood of the next enemy to let flow; an assassin's eye.

"Instead of fighting each other for the right, shouldn't we work together instead?" Richie asked.

His dragons seemed unsure, their glow wavering.

Chikita considered it, then flashed a toothy grin. "You're right. We should."

Richie smirked and punched his silver knuckles together.

Then Chikita jammed Yukihana's hilt in the back of his neck, dropping him to his knees and causing his vision to begin fading to black.

"You-!" Richie grunted.

"We should but I won't." Chikita said apologetically. "I've decided I don't feel like killing you yet, and I won't let you run off to die a pointless death in the meantime. Go live your life for a bit first. Lie with a woman - or a man - and get a taste of what your future could hold before you go rushing down a warrior's path." she cracked out her neck. "If after you've expanded your horizons a bit you think you've got steel, don't think you're in my ballpark until you can hit me back like that just now."

Richie's face was pressed into the ground, and it took all of his effort to lift his gaze up at the swordswoman.

"Don't be mad at me." Chikita said, looking away in a hurt fashion, the countenance of her hot springs self coloring her visage and aura for a few seconds. "Look, it's pretty cut and dry. People will miss you if you get yourself killed now."

Richie passed out.

In the dark of his subconscious, his twin dragons stood before him, full-sized azure guardians of the gates of heaven, nostrils flaring hot winds at him and whiskers trailing across the curvature of the boundless sky.

"The window is closing." they said to him. "The Foe will vanish into the nexus again soon. We must make our choice to pursue or not."

Richie felt the wafting dread atmosphere of crawling, living darkness swelling up from the Void below, and saw the empty profile of the Faceless Man's hood in that darkness. It was the space between stars, and the shadow on the other side of the human heart. It was everything mankind had repressed that had fermented and gone toxic, and it was the wellspring of every nightmare and demon that had crept up from below the solid line of human skepticism, bursting free into the wilds of the world like a lanced abscess. There was something immense and incalculable in the hood of that wraith, as though those cobalt robes somehow concealed an entire universe all their own. It was a cobbled together rubbish heap of inverted reality, patched together from all worldly concepts that never made it off the cosmic drawing board. Rejected things, pained, lost things suffered and putrefied in the merciless swell of that bottomless shadow. The anti-auras of the soulless reeked of jealousy and resentment whose weight was too much to bear. It was crushing - even for dragons.

Richie's twin Seiryu constructs began to crack like glass and chip away, from the tail tips upward, corroding their serpentine bodies. Their whiskers began to disintegrate from their tips upward too as the point of the rising shadow - the Void reaching up from the murky boundary of the blue sky - began to draw the divine beasts down into itself. Richie felt the immense gravity, evocative of a black hole, pulling down on the colossal dragons, and they in turn pulled down on him.

Richie looked down into the Void and saw something moving. Whatever it was, his screams only cut away as the clouds and the fabric of the blue sky behind them windshield wiper transitioned into the radiant golden orb of the Sun. Not just the central star that formed the basis of Earth's solar system, but an ultimate sun, an abstraction of the very idea of light that contrasted the empty dark. Richie reached toward that Sun's rays, and awoke.

When he came to, the light of the ultimate sun was still caught in the scales of his dragon tattoos, invigorating them and making them glow ever brighter.

We must go. Now! they said, their reason giving way to the unrestrained pull of their animal instinct, irresistible like the swallowing gravity of the Void had been.

Richie saw before him, suddenly - a crossroad. He could follow the scent trail to some sewer catacombs to stare down the emissary of that titanic Void without the first clue what his strategy was - or he could just pick up the firewood he had chopped and collected and go home. Chikita had frozen the reservoir, and that bought precious time for Cuppy to complete his sewing research, and possibly find a way to siphon the liquid essence of nightmares out of what had once been their water supply.

No, more than that, he could go home to people who were expecting him to be back. Would they have followed him to the sewer to face down the darkness? That Void was heavy, he didn't want anyone else getting dragged in on his account. A faint scream echo in the recesses of his psyche almost registered, consciously, the knowledge that Luchesi had already been taken.

His mother had told him he would know what his goal and purpose was when he found them. Maybe that was Cuppy and Freyja. He only knew because, now that they had been added into the equation, suddenly the idea of dying became a lot more terrifying.

Besides. Leon told him there was nothing wrong with thinking things through and living to fight another day.

"Who the fuck is Leon?" Richie asked himself, scratching his head.

Oh well.

He bundled his firewood and began walking home as the enticed, eager azure light of his dragons flickered and died.

A light, warm drizzle falling through the treetops kept him company on the way back. His ears were hyper-sensitive and attuned to the sound of each drip striking the leaves, like the drumbeat of some song the forest was playing only for him. He looked up and thought he saw a coiling tunnel of compressed ivy under the lip of a fallen log, and a rain forest garden sprawling with marble on the other end of it. His neck ached. He winced, clutching the back of his neck where the pommel of Chikita's blade had dug into his vertebrae, and screwed up his eyes, closing them.

When he opened them again, the tunnel - and the rain - were both gone.