Tokyo Demons Book 1: Chapter 6

“Off your ass, Oda.”

Jo grunted. Half of him faded into consciousness, but the other half grasped at sleep. He felt himself siding with the latter.

Something hard kicked him in the side. He choked and curled up defensively, blinking his eyes as he coughed.

“The…hell?” he wheezed. He dizzily sat up, clutching his throbbing ribs.

Miki pulled the cigarette from his lips. He gave a long, wet snort before spitting a dark glob onto the stained concrete floor.

“You’ve been stinking up the game couch with your morning crotch for days. Move.” He took a drag as he picked a game controller from the pile of them on the floor. “I need to get my FPS on.”

Jo grimaced. He crawled off the couch just as Miki threw himself onto it. Jo rubbed his eyes as a loud military game started up on the TV.

Jo’s mouth was dry. He lit up his own cigarette, rolling his tongue along it first. His side twinged and he winced.

“You didn’t have to kick me.”

Miki snorted around his cigarette. “Suck my dick,” he said flatly. “And get the hell out of here. You’re done.”

Jo furrowed his brow. “You said I could lay low here for a while.”

“And you did. Three days is the upper limit for pains in my ass.”

Jo absently rubbed at his bed head. “Why?” he asked, trying to mask the tendril of panic sneaking through him. “I’ll get off the couch. I can sleep on the floor if I’m in the way.”

“No.” Miki tapped at his game controller, drawing gory screams from the TV. “No one gets to live in headquarters for longer than three days. If I get lenient, this place will be stuffed with stoned shitheads and their homeless drug dealers. It’s one of Kenta’s conditions.”

Jo’s mind raced. Kenta, the twenty-something owner of the bar upstairs. Miki had talked about him earlier–Kenta was a trust fund baby going through his quarter-life crisis. Miki suspected hosting Byakko headquarters was fulfilling some punky, anti-establishment fantasy Kenta had been harboring for a long time.

The few times Jo had spoken to him, Kenta had seemed nice enough. Nice and naïve.

“If I can convince him to let me stay,” Jo posed slowly, “does that mean I can stay?”

A computerized soldier died messily on the TV screen. Miki raised an eyebrow at Jo.

“Why the hell won’t you go home?” he muttered around his cigarette. “It’s not Seiryuu, is it?”

Jo averted his eyes. He puffed on his cigarette, hoping Miki wouldn’t insist on an answer.

“I already told you–my muscle combed the streets. If there are any more Seiryuu shits out there, they’re too busy pissing their pants to jump you again.” Miki focused back on his TV screen. “Unless you got in some trouble you’re not telling me about.”

Jo dropped his cigarette to the floor and ground it out with his shoe. “Nothing that bad,” he lied. “Just…complicated. I need to wait until it blows over.”

“And when the hell is that?”

“Soon.” I hope, Jo added silently. “So can I talk to Kenta?”

Miki cursed several times under his breath. “Between this and that lot party fuckery I had to follow Ban to the other day, you’re becoming a brick lodged in my swollen asshole, Jo Oda.”

Jo waited.

Miki grunted. “Sometimes Kenta needs help upstairs. If you earn your keep at the bar, he may let you stay.”

Jo sighed in relief. “Good,” he murmured.

“But not a word of this to the rest of Byakko. And you sleep in one of the storage rooms with the door closed.” Miki flicked his cigarette away. “And clean this floor–it’s disgusting. And the bathrooms. We need cleaning supplies, so go out and pick some up. And while you’re at it, buy me one of those donuts with cream in the middle.”

“Anything else?” Jo asked dryly.

“Yeah. Get me something with caffeine in it.”

Jo brushed out his wrinkled shirt and headed out, hoping to get out of Miki’s sight before the guy thought of more demands. Unfortunately, that meant Jo was leaving the hideout much more disheveled than he liked. As he climbed up the stairs to the bar, he tried to comb his hair with his fingers.

Kenta hadn’t arrived yet. Jo checked his watch. Eight-thirty…it could be hours before Kenta started prep for the lunch crowd. Jo had time to spare.

8:30.

Second period, Jo thought with a hint of regret.

He sighed. He left the bar and let the door lock behind him. After running his fingers through his hair one last time, he headed for the nearest convenience store.

Jo had never thought he’d miss school. But after Kiyoshi’s kidnapping a few days earlier, Jo was too scared to go back to Fukuhashi. His name was on the school roster as Kiyoshi’s roommate. Kiyoshi was still captive, which meant there was still a chance their plan with the Gaijin Timebomb could get found out. Jo knew there was a chance, even a decent chance, that those Core thugs might come for him someday. And not because they wanted to offer him a “job.”

Jo shivered. Sachi had told him Core’s plan for Kiyoshi. Things finally made sense, in a weird way–Kiyoshi was a kid with few ties and a history as a champion marksman. Using a sniper was extremely noticeable. If Core wanted a sniper and recruited someone older with a military background, there might be more of a paper trail. But no one would suspect a teen who quit high school behind a trail of…

Of what? Hits? There was the small chance Core wanted a sniper as protection or to threaten enemies, but there was a much greater chance they wanted Kiyoshi to kill specific targets. If Core was aligned with the Yazuka, that probably meant rival gangsters.

Jo’s fingers twitched; he ground his teeth. He couldn’t smoke on a public street at that hour…but he desperately wanted something to distract him. When his mind lingered on Kiyoshi being forced to kill people, his chest clenched so tight he could barely breathe.

He turned a corner and saw the convenience store. He hurried the last few steps, feeling a small measure of relief once he was inside the air-conditioned interior. The automatic doors closed with a quiet choom behind him.

There were too many unknowns with Kiyoshi. Whether or not the plan with the pills would work, whether or not Nick and his “church friends” could get Kiyoshi out of Core if the pills worked. Whether or not Ayase could use her insects to…Jo shook his head to clear it. No, he thought. I’m not gonna even touch that one.

Jo had no idea how things were going to play out for Kiyoshi and the others. He couldn’t even wrap his head around the supernatural stuff. But to make matters worse, that meant Jo couldn’t plan for his own future. He didn’t know when–or if–it was safe for him to return to Fukuhashi. He didn’t know how long he could stall at Byakko headquarters. If Miki kicked him out, Jo needed to find another place to crash, and anywhere was less safe than a hidden gang hideout. And if things got particularly bad, Jo didn’t know how to protect himself. All the hiding in the world didn’t change the fact that if some juiced-up Core operative grabbed him, Jo was fucked. Jo barely stood in a chance in fair fights.

Jo let out a breath and headed for the drink aisle. He found himself longing for his second period class, and the simple, safe structure of a half-assed curriculum. School wasn’t so bad. And with the way things were going, he didn’t know if he’d ever be able to attend any school again.

Kiyoshi probably won’t.

Jo’s chest tightened again. He gritted his teeth as he grabbed a canned coffee.

Jo picked up Miki’s requests and a few necessities for himself. Once he stepped through the automatic doors again, he realized how hungry he was. There was a bakery next door, which sounded more appealing than convenience store food. He headed over, made an order at the counter, then fell into a wire chair at one of the few small dining tables. He let out a breath and rubbed a hand over his face.

He needed to stay calm. His steady nerves had gotten him through most of the hairy situations in his life. Nothing even came close to the trouble he was in now, but his philosophy hadn’t changed. He needed to look at things logically. He needed to adapt as necessary and assess risks as they came up. He could get through this. He could get through this.

“Life throwing you a curveball, Jo Oda?”

Jo froze. His heart froze in his chest as he looked up from the table.

Touya Kamishita stood on the other side. With a thin, unreadable smile, the upperclassman sat down in the chair opposite Jo.

For a few seconds, Jo could only try to calm his racing heart. He swallowed and looked away, cursing how jumpy he’d gotten.

“I’m sorry.” Touya tilted his head slightly. “Did I scare you?”

Jo licked his teeth. “A little,” he murmured.

Not a Core operative out to kill you. Keep it together, Jo.

Touya hummed. “You should be a little scared,” he said, folding his gloved hands on the table. He smiled like a lizard. “I just caught you skipping.”

Jo cleared his throat. “Family emergency,” he lied. “And not to be cheeky…but you’re not in school right now, either.”

“I’m a busy man, Jo-kun. But I can assure you, all my absences are excused–I’m on an errand for a teacher.” He raised an eyebrow. “From what the administrators tell me, you’ve missed school for several days. And so have a few of your classmates. Somehow I doubt you’re all having family emergencies at the same time.”

Jo shrugged. “I can only speak for myself,” he mumbled.

Touya said nothing. The waitress came with Jo’s food a moment later. She asked Touya if he wanted to order, but he politely declined.

Once she was gone, Jo looked down at the stuffed roll on his plate. He knew he had to eat something…but he’d lost his appetite.

“I know you’re in trouble, Jo-kun.”

Jo swallowed. “I’m not,” he argued, although the words sounded weak in his ears.

“I’ve worked with at-risk teens long enough to know the signs.” Touya leaned back in his chair. “Every time I bump into you, you look more frayed than the time before. And no matter how many times I offer you my help, you refuse to tell me anything.”

A slight defensive streak kicked in for Jo. He looked up from the table and met Touya’s eyes.

“Senpai,” he said as evenly as possible. “You make a lot of assumptions about me. And not to be rude, but I really don’t know you. I’m not sure why you keep pushing me to talk to you.”

Touya flipped a gloved finger in the air. “I’m a student advisor,” he countered. “It’s my job to pursue troubled classmates.”

“And they all take you up on your offer?”

Something very, very cold pulled at the smile on Touya’s face. “Enough do,” he said quietly. “But I don’t only advise students. And the people I advise tell me what I need to know to stay on top of this city’s problems.”

A chill ran down Jo’s spine. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he blurted.

“I know there’s been some…unusually dangerous developments on the street lately. Developments that could pull in unsuspecting teenagers.”

Jo’s heart started to pound. That familiar tension, that uncertainty Jo got around Touya started bubbling up in Jo’s stomach. As usual, it felt like Touya was pulling a rug out from under Jo. And Touya’s words felt even more loaded than usual.

Jo swallowed hard. Did Touya know Kiyoshi went missing? If he knew about the “streets,” did he know…about Nick? Everyone knew Jo and Kiyoshi had been at Blue Light the night of the drug bust, and the Gainjin Timebomb’s presence there wasn’t exactly secret. The fact that there was bounty on his head was common enough knowledge–even Miki had known about it. But the source of that bounty was a fiercely kept secret…

The smile was gone from Touya’s face, the look in his eyes suddenly serious. Jo wondered, for a dizzying moment, if Touya was as well-informed as he implied.

“Wh-what exactly do you know?” Jo asked as carefully as he could.

Touya leaned in. “Jo-kun,” he said quietly. “I know that there may be no truly safe place for you right now.”

Jo’s stomach dropped. He felt a cold sweat starting up on his temples. “What…exactly…do you know?” he repeated.

“That I can protect you from these people.” The smile returned to Touya’s face, but there was something much darker behind it this time. “Your little friends at the church aren’t the only ones trying to take them down.”

Jo’s mouth went dry. Before he could respond, Touya went on.

“This isn’t an offer for your friends, Jo-kun. This is an offer for you, and I expect you to keep it private.” He unfolded his hands. “In a week or two, I’ll send you a gift. To show you how serious I am. If it convinces you to join me, give me a call.” His smile took a slant. “I take it you still have my number.”

Jo stared at Touya dumbly. He managed a nod.

“Good. This is my final offer, Jo-kun. If I don’t hear from you, I’ll assume you passed.” Touya pushed back his chair and slowly rose to his feet. “Although I trust you’ll be smart enough to make that call. I know you’re being faced with a lot of choices right now.” Touya raised an eyebrow. “Be sure to make the right one.”

Jo’s blood went cold. He dropped his eyes to the table.

“But…” Jo trailed off. He swallowed and tried again. “Wh-why me?” he breathed. “Why only me?”

Touya chuckled.

“You and I have a lot more in common than you think. And good…people should stick together.” Touya drummed his gloved fingers, once, on the table. “Take me up on my offer and I’ll show you a side of yourself you never knew.”

And with that, he left. Jo stared at his plate while Touya’s footsteps faded. The door opened with a chak, there a whoosh of air, and then the door shut, its bell tinkling softly.

For several minutes, Jo sat in silence. He tried to process Touya’s words, combing over them for more information…but he had simultaneously heard too much and too little.

Touya had mentioned the church. He already knew much more than Jo had even speculated.

“Sir?”

Jo looked up. The waitress glanced meaningfully at Jo’s untouched bread before raising her eyebrows at him.

“Is everything all right here?”

No.

Jo swallowed again, hard. No, he thought miserably. Nothing’s all right.

Jo rubbed his temples. “May I just have the check?” he asked, trying (and failing) to sound casual.

The waitress nodded. As he listened to her leave, he decided to stop by the convenience store one more time.

He needed antacids. Lots of them.

****************

Kiyoshi was on his ninth day of captivity. Ayase, on a short break from her constant surveillance, slumped in her chair.

“They’re bringing him back to the basement of the parking garage.” She sighed. “I think it’s target practice again. That gun guy is with him.”

Sachi nodded as he scribbled into a notepad. “Should I get Nick?” he asked.

“No. I’ll let you know if anything changes.” She let her eyes fall on the tape recorder, her companion 24 hours a day. She bit her lip.

She wanted to turn it off. She knew that wasn’t fair–it was an invaluable tool, filling in gaps when a human hand couldn’t write fast enough, staying by her side in case things happened when she was alone. But a part of her, a very fundamental part, was horrified that she was being recorded almost every moment of every day. The sounds of her breathing, the words that spilled out of her when she put herself in her bug’s eyes…her reactions in this incredibly difficult time were being immortalized. When she thought too hard about that, her stomach twisted into knots.

But she knew it was a necessary evil. It was just…wearing on her. A few weeks ago she’d led her life in comfortable solitude. Now she was the center of attention and the only lifeline to a classmate who could be killed at any moment.

Nine days. Ayase rubbed her eyes.

This is really starting to get to me.

“Ayase?” Sachi asked gently. It was the hundred millionth time she’d heard him say her name in that voice. “Are you okay?”

Of course she wasn’t. And he knew that.

At least he’d stopped touching her while asking. And all things considered, Sachi’s support since they’d unofficially moved into the church was far more helpful than otherwise. But hearing him slip into his default “empty comforting” mode was a bad sign. It meant he was running out of real comfort to offer her.

Which meant he was probably running out of juice, too.

Ayase stood. She stretched her arms out and felt the popping of stiff muscles along her neck and shoulders.

“You can take a break,” she offered as she rolled her shoulders. “It takes them ten minutes to get through all the security checkpoints.”

Sachi shrugged. “I’m fine. Unless you’re hungry.”

“Not really.”

Sachi pushed up the glasses that slid down his nose. “Then I’m fine. I’ll use the time to clean up my notes.”

Ayase frowned. She considered taking a quick walk…but seeing Sachi flip through his notebook with his brow furrowed made her feel guilty. He wasn’t working as hard as she was, since he could switch out with the others…but he’d volunteered to take almost every single shift. And the past few nights she’d even let him sleep on a futon by her bed. He was trying to work as hard as she was.

Ayase tentatively sat back down. He looked so serious as he went through his notes. Maybe it was just the glasses.

“Don’t let me keep you here,” Sachi offered without looking up. “Take a walk if you want.”

Ayase squirmed in her chair. “I’ll wait until they start target practice,” she offered. “Then I can take a real break.”

He didn’t respond as he flipped through the pages. He eventually settled on a one; he marked it with quick strokes.

Ayase closed her eyes. Kiyoshi was in the basement of the Core building, being subjected to his usual pat-down. The man who performed the search made a comment and slapped Kiyoshi on the back, jarring him forward a step. Kiyoshi blurted something Ayase couldn’t quite make out.

“It’s really taken to you. One of the perks of using Pitch in your teen years, I guess.” The man smirked at Kiyoshi. “I would’ve killed to have your arms in high school. I was pitcher for my baseball team.”

Kiyoshi murmured a non-committal answer. From one of her positions under Kiyoshi’s collar, she could feel him shudder.

“How’s the personal training been? Do you like our gym?”

Kiyoshi shrugged.

“Pitch doesn’t work on its own, y’know. You need to train with it in your system–like steroids. But with the right conditioning…” The man shook his head. “You’re an athlete, Honda. You can’t tell me you’re not enjoying how cut you’re getting.”

It was Ayase’s turn to shudder.

“…I guess,” Kiyoshi said as the man hovered over him. He cleared his throat. “S-sir.”

“Ayase?”

Ayase opened her eyes. Sachi poked at something in his notebook.

“You said the gun guy is bringing Kiyoshi to sniper practice, right?” He tapped the notebook with his pen. “Do we have a name for that guy yet?”

Ayase shook her head. “He makes Kiyoshi call him ‘senpai,’” she explained. “And no one else uses his name. I’ve heard some of the guards talking about him, but they just call him the gun otaku.”

Sachi frowned. “That’s not very helpful,” he murmured. “But maybe it’s on purpose. Maybe they don’t tell the guards his name.”

It was an early theory of Nick’s, and it seemed more likely by the day. Less than twelve hours after Kiyoshi’s first injection, he’d started training with his new “senpai.” The man, in his mid- to late twenties, fit the profile of an otaku–he was clearly obsessed with guns, and rambled so excitedly about sniper rifles that Kiyoshi didn’t understand a thing until the man “dumbed down” his training multiple times. He’d been training Kiyoshi on a particular model of rifle, and his glee during the sessions Kiyoshi learned to assemble and operate the gun paled in comparison to his glee during their fake field training in the parking garage. The otaku giggled whenever Kiyoshi hit a target. It was extremely disturbing.

Ayase closed her eyes again. The otaku was there as always, impatiently dancing from one foot to the next as security cleared Kiyoshi. Once they were done, he grabbed Kiyoshi by the arm and cackled as he dragged Kiyoshi to practice.

She opened her eyes. “Nothing new,” she reported. “Nick’s trying to figure out his identity with what we have, but I don’t think he’s having much luck. I can’t give him a lot of details.”

Sachi flipped to another page. “The otaku has a twitch,” he recited. “He said it was from using too much meth. He was supposed to be Core’s sniper, but he lost the chance when he couldn’t get clean.”

“Yeah.”

There was a knock on the door. Ayase turned as Nick stuck his head into the room.

“Do you have ten minutes?” Nick asked abruptly.

Sachi raised his eyebrows at Ayase. She switched back to the Core building for a few seconds.

“…Yeah,” she said at last. “They just started target practice.”

Satisfied, Nick opened the door. He had a cell phone against his ear, and after he marched over to Ayase’s table, he snatched up her tape recorder. Emi shuffled in behind him, a plate of sandwiches in her hands.

Nick grunted into the cell. “I want you on speakerphone,” he muttered. “But I’ll turn off the recorder. Deal?”

Ayase furrowed her eyebrows. As Emi cleared room on the table for the food, Ayase leaned toward her.

“Who’s Nick talking to?” Ayase asked.

Emi looked up quickly; the plate tilted in her hand, and one of the sandwiches plopped onto the floor. She cried out and leveled the plate as she caught another sandwich on its way down.

Sachi picked up the sandwich on the wood. Emi sighed in frustration and slid the plate on the table.

“What was that?” she asked tiredly.

Ayase could practically feel the anxiety rolling off the woman. Sachi had mentioned that to Ayase at some point–Emi was radiating worry and panic every time Sachi bumped into her. But neither Sachi nor Ayase had shared more than a few sentences with the woman. And with everything else they had to worry about, the new additions to the church were the furthest things from their minds.

Ayase pointed to Nick. Emi followed Ayase’s finger as Nick barked into the phone.

“Oh.” Emi brushed a strand of hair out of her face. “Um, the detective. Nakajima.”

Sachi looked over from the garbage can. “Detective Nakajima?” he asked quickly. “Is she gonna help us with Kiyoshi?!”

“She’s been helping the church for a while. Nick-san mentioned that, didn’t he?” Emi crossed her arms and rubbed them absently. “She said she has…news for us. And Nick-san insists we keep you kids in the loop from now on.”

Ayase felt her dislike for Nick lessen very slightly. If he’s going to exploit my power, she thought, that’s the least he can offer me.

Nick finally finished his negotiation and snapped the recorder off. He pushed a button on his phone and rested it on the table.

“Can you hear me?” he said in the phone’s general direction.

There was a pause. Then, from the phone, in very polite Japanese:

“Loud and clear, soldier-san.”

That was Nakajima, all right. Ayase flashed back to the day she’d met Nakajima in the police station. It felt like a lifetime ago.

“Good.” Nick looked around the room. “Everyone who’s here, let her know that you’re listening. Emi first.”

Emi licked her lips. “Here?” she said awkwardly, like they were in roll call.

Sachi straightened. “Sachi Ishida,” he said. “It’s been a long time, detective.”

“Ishida-kun,” Nakajima replied coolly. “I trust you’ve been very helpful.”

“I hope so.”

Ayase sighed. “Ayase Watanabe,” she said. “Hello.”

There another pause on the phone. “Good work,” Nakajima said, her voice unreadable. “Very good work, Watanabe-kun.”

Ayase felt a small flame of confidence flicker in her heart. Sachi smiled at her; the flame grew a bit brighter.

Daniel suddenly flew into the room, his robes ruffling out behind him. “Sorry!” he chirped. “We were talking to the medical supply company. Have you started?”

Nick scowled. “Get your ass over here,” he ordered. “And where’s Zayd?”

As if to answer the question, Zayd stepped in behind Daniel. Without a word he shut the door behind him.

It was everyone. Everyone Ayase knew of, anyway. With the number of phone calls she heard being made every day, there were potentially hundreds of people in on the plan with Kiyoshi. But the five people who crowded with her around the table were the ones she had met, at least.

“Good.” Nick snatched Sachi’s notebook and flipped to an open page. “Lay it on us, Nakajima.”

Nakajima let out a breath. “I’ve narrowed down the list of buildings that could be potentially housing Honda-kun,” she explained. “Watanabe-kun’s directions were a little vague, but I lined them up with office buildings that matched the security profile. I’ll need more time to make a definitive match.”

Nick uncapped a pen with his teeth. “We don’t have a lot of time,” he murmured as he scribbled something down. “Kiyoshi’s already had three doses of Pitch and we only gave him four blockers. And I’m not convinced his last antagonist will work, if it’s been slowly breaking down in his mouth for over a week.”

“By that logic,” Nakajima said, “do you think any blocker after the first really worked?”

Ayase swallowed. Nick spit out the pen cap.

“My point is, we need him out. Move faster on the building ID.” Nick glared meaningfully at the phone. “Do you have anything real for us?”

Ayase heard a slight scoff from the other end of the phone. “Watch your tone,” Nakajima said icily. “Or I may be forced to remind you of your position.”

Daniel sighed. “I’m sorry,” he offered. “We’re all very tired, detective.”

“I understand that. So I took the liberty of checking some of the records of Fukuhashi.” There was the slight rustling of papers. “It seems someone signed Honda-kun out of school a few days ago.”

“They went back to Fukuhashi?” Sachi blurted.

A chill ran down Ayase’s spine.

“It’s unsurprising that Core would try to cover Honda-kun’s disappearance–that sort of thoroughness is typical of them. And it would be easy to fool a school administrator with a fake family ID. But what interests me is who they listed as signing him out. You said his guardian is an uncle who lives in Kyoto, correct?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“Because that’s not the name I see here.” Nakajima let out a breath. “Does Honda-kun have an adult sister?”

Ayase froze. She met Sachi’s widened eyes.

The long-lost sister. The one Jo had suggested, at the very beginning, could be connected to Kiyoshi’s seemingly random kidnapping. Ayase’s mind raced as she put the pieces together.

“Could she…” Sachi covered his mouth. “Could his sister be a member of Core?! Is that why they targeted him?!”

Nick scowled. “What sister?”

“He hasn’t seen her in years! She wasn’t around when his parents died–that’s why his uncle got custody. They didn’t even know where she lived!”

Daniel gripped his chin. “If she didn’t have a known address,” he argued, “maybe they just created an identity for her so the school couldn’t check up on it. If they sent someone pretending to be his uncle, after all, Fukuhashi would have his contact information on record.”

“Maybe.” Zayd slowly shook his head. “But if his sister is truly in Core, it would give them legal ways to keep him in custody. Maybe that is why they targeted him. We have to consider it.”

“Wait.”

The room went quiet. All eyes flew to Emi, who still clutched her elbows.

She swallowed hard. Ayase could see the bare shake to her hands.

“Emi,” Nick snapped. “Do you know something about this?”

Emi shook her head. “If a woman signed him out of school,” she murmured, “it wasn’t his sister.” She closed her eyes. “Because I’m his sister.”

Ayase’s mouth fell open.

The silence that followed was deafening.

There was the faint rustling of papers over the phone. “Emi Honda,” Nakajima said evenly, her voice echoing in the quiet. “That’s the name on the school form.”

Nick snapped out of his surprise to jerk his head to Emi. “Emi Honda?!” he yelled. “Is your last name Honda?!”

Daniel murmured a prayer. “It’s a common name,” he said weakly. “I didn’t make the connection.”

Nick stomped over to the slight woman and grabbed her shoulders. “Emi!” he screamed in her face. “Why the fuck didn’t you say anything?!”

Emi hiccupped. Nick shook her, hard; everyone in the room ran at him at once.

“Nick!” Daniel cried as he pulled Emi free. Zayd and Sachi each grabbed one of Nick’s arms, but he easily shook them off. The American snarled.

“We’ve been chasing that kid for nine days!” he shouted. “When the hell were you planning on telling us?!”

Emi shook her head in a panic. “I…I didn’t think it was relevant!” she wailed. “I didn’t want to compromise the mission!”

Ayase, by the priest’s side, unclenched her tense muscles. She’d been half-ready to become the swarm. Seeing Nick explode still brought out her defense mechanisms.

Now closer to Emi, Ayase studied the woman. Ayase had recognized Emi from Ayase’s time in the jar–so Emi had seemed familiar the first day they’d properly met. But now that Ayase examined the shape of Emi’s eyes and the slope of her jaw, there was something else familiar about her. Something less tangible.

She looks like Kiyoshi.

Ayase’s stomach sank. She suddenly felt very stupid. Nine days of surveillance and she’d barely spoken to Emi. And the few times they’d shared words, Emi had asked for depressing little details on Kiyoshi, like whether Core was giving him enough to eat. Emi had shuffled around that church in a panicked daze.

Ayase looked to the floor. She felt infinitely more depressed.

Nick growled. “Does Core know you’re with us?” he hissed. “Did they take him to get to us? Did they use your name instead of the uncle to send us the message that…” Nick slammed a fist on the table. “Shit!”

Emi buried her face in her hands. “I don’t know!” she sobbed. “I-I only found out my parents died when I came back to Japan three months ago! I wanted to get back in touch with Kiyoshi, but I was so ashamed…I didn’t know how to face him when I failed him so horribly…”

Daniel rubbed Emi’s shaking back. “You were waiting for the right time,” he offered.

Nick laughed without humor and dropped into a chair. “You sure as hell missed the right time,” he snapped. “If he hadn’t been some unsupervised kid living in a dorm, I doubt they would’ve had the balls to snap him up like that.” He sneered. “Nice work, Emi.”

Emi started to cry. As Daniel pulled the woman against his shoulder, Zayd narrowed his eyes at Nick.

“You are not helping,” he said thinly.

Nick responded with a rude gesture.

Nakajima sighed over the phone. “You can sort out your issues on your own time,” she said dryly. “This is my day off.”

“Do you have anything else for us?”

“Yes. I made some phone calls to Hokkaido after Emi-san couldn’t breach the mountains. A pair of rangers made it to your communications outpost after the storm cleared out.”

Daniel looked up abruptly. “And?!” he asked.

“Your little hacker and her bodyguard are gone. Their clothes were still in their drawers and there were signs of a struggle.”

Daniel went pale. Nick slammed the table again.

“Dammit!”

“Please stop doing that,” Nakajima murmured.

Nick crossed his arms. “Was it the feds?” he asked. “Shouri said it was only a matter of time before someone realized she was using the satellite.”

“Possibly. I don’t have easy access to federal arrest records.”

Zayd shook his head. “We waited too long,” he said somberly. “We should have pulled them out after the Milan operation was finished. The satellite wasn’t strictly needed for anything else.”

Ayase was getting lost. She exchanged glances with Sachi; he looked just as confused. Ayase was starting to wonder how far the connections of this little church reached.

Nick seemed to notice the two of them. “No more details on that,” he said as he uncrossed his arms. “The kids are still here. But you can get access to federal arrest records if you try, right?”

“Yes. Give me a few days.”

“Prioritize finding the building with Kiyoshi. But once you’ve got that, look for Shouri and Adam.”

“All right. My cell phone is dying, so I need to hang up.” Nakajima’s voice took on a slightly sarcastic edge. “Is there anything else you need from me, soldier-san?”

“Stop calling me that.”

Nakajima let out a small hum. “I’m not good with foreign names,” she offered.

Ayase slowly lowered herself back into her chair. While Nick and Daniel went over a few more details with Nakajima, Ayase closed her eyes. She wanted to check on Kiyoshi.

…It was hard to concentrate. Ayase squeezed her eyes shut tighter and focused on shifting her perception.

From her bug perched on a pillar, she could see that target practice wasn’t yet over. Kiyoshi was lying on his stomach, his arms wrapped around the long gun that rested on a low tripod. His face was pushed up close to the scope.

BANG

Ayase couldn’t see the target on the far end of the garage. But she recognized the squeal of the otaku by Kiyoshi’s side.

“Atta boy, Honda!” The otaku laughed. “Your accuracy is unreal. How many years did you do archery? I can totally believe you fucked that shit up.”

Kiyoshi didn’t respond. He pulled back from the gun to reload.

Ayase’s antennae picked up some quiet ringing. The otaku flipped open a cell phone and pushed it against his ear.

“Yeah.”

The otaku listened for a moment. Then a wide, crazy smile twisted his face. He nudged Kiyoshi with his boot; Kiyoshi stopped what he was doing and looked up.

“Yes, sir! Right away, sir!” The otaku twitched, then excitedly gestured to the few guards with him. “I’ll send someone to get the live rounds immediately. I can have him packed up and ready to go at sixteen hundred hours.”

Sixteen hundred hours, Ayase repeated in her head. That was military time…four in the afternoon.

Ayase locked her attention on the otaku. He turned off his phone and jumped into the air, pumping his fist as he crowed.

“Time to pop your cherry, Honda!” The otaku excitedly righted Kiyoshi’s huge gun and started disassembling it. “You just got your first real target!”

Kiyoshi’s eyes widened.

Ayase’s snapped open.

The room was still fully occupied; Daniel and Nick were arguing while Emi sat sullenly in a corner. Sachi was explaining something in his notebook to Zayd, his fingers running along a page.

“E-everyone,” Ayase blurted.

Only Sachi seemed to notice her. He looked up, alert.

“Ayase?”

“Core’s moving,” Ayase said, louder. “They’re taking Kiyoshi on his first mission at 4 pm.”

That caught everyone’s attention. All eyes turned to her abruptly.

“What?”

Ayase looked up at the clock on the wall. Three forty-five.

She swallowed.

“We have fifteen minutes,” she said as evenly as she could. “Before those people make Kiyoshi a murderer.”

****************

Jo took a breath and heaved. He shoved yet another cardboard box onto the tall pile on his dolly. The empty liquor bottles clinked inside.

Jo panted and wiped his face with a forearm. Sweat dampened his rolled-up sleeves.

“Are there any more, Kenta-san?”

Kenta looked over his shoulder as he slid a glass to a bar customer. “Did you get the ones in basement?”

“I got those first.” Jo grimaced at the memory–the hideout was packed with Byakko members slumming around after school, and they found it hilarious that Jo was working for Kenta instead of going to class. Something about how “skipping” didn’t count if you were doing it to work.

“Then that’s everything,” Kenta said brightly. “You can wheel them out to the alley. Are you putting them in the recycling dumpster or just lining them up beside it?”

“No, I’m putting them in.”

“Good!” Kenta wiped his hands on his apron. “The city keeps complaining about that. And no matter how many times I tell those boys downstairs, they always just dump the boxes on the ground.” He shook his head. “They’re so lazy.”

Jo kicked up the dolly. “I try to be a good citizen.”

Kenta laughed. “Then I think you picked the wrong group of friends,” he hummed.

Jo chose not to respond as he wheeled the dolly around Kenta and through the side door of the bar. He turned and slowly eased the dolly down the few steps. Sighing, he threw the door shut before pushing his boxes down the alley.

I can smell myself, Jo thought with extreme distaste. And it’s the unholy scent of sweat and booze.

Considering he was practically homeless, Jo was keeping decently clean–the public bath and a nearby Laundromat were there when he felt especially scummy. But helping out Kenta was taking up more and more hours of Jo’s day. And the work was manual labor–mopping floors, collecting trash, cleaning alcohol-scented puke from the bathroom in the mornings. Sometimes Jo didn’t have time to do more than wash up in the bathroom. And that griminess bugged him on a fundamental level.

Jo stopped his dolly by the recycling dumpster. He grabbed a box of bottles, jumped up on the high curb, and emptied them to clink and clatter in the giant bin. He sighed.

Nine days. He’d been hiding out for nine days, and the church still hadn’t retrieved Kiyoshi. Jo made his daily phone call to Sachi to check in, but with each passing day, Sachi’s optimism grew faker. They didn’t have good news yet. They didn’t have news yet, period.

Jo could feel himself falling into a false sense of security. Things had been so quiet for so long that a part of him believed the danger had passed. That was bullshit, of course, since the rescue mission wasn’t complete–and the attempt to break out Kiyoshi would surely be the most dangerous time of all. But there was something about the ritual of his day: waking up, listening to Miki complain at him, helping Kenta with the bar, trying to sleep as Byakko members screamed at each other in the game room. It felt so…mundane. Peaceful.

And that was dangerous.

Jo emptied his final box of bottles. As he folded up the cardboard and tied it to his pile of flattened boxes, he wondered, absently, if Kiyoshi was feeling the same complacency in his daily Core training.

“I wanted…to say good-bye.”

Jo angrily shook his head.

No, he told himself for the millionth time. It wasn’t good-bye.

Jo needed a smoke. His hands were disgusting, so he grabbed the outdoor hose for a quick spray over his palms. He dragged his hands on his pants to dry them before digging his cigarettes out of his pocket.

He’d just taken his first drag when he noticed something at the end of the alley. There was someone in a school uniform wandering back and forth on the sidewalk. His shoulders were hunched and his head darted this way and that, like he were looking for something. It was weirdly conspicuous.

Jo took another drag and squinted. A new Byakko recruit? he wondered. Someone who forgot which bar the HQ is hiding under? The uniform looked like Fukuhashi’s; Jo couldn’t make out the face.

After another minute, it was clear the student wasn’t looking for the bar. He was examining the cars parked along the street. He kept ducking near license plates, peering in windows…he looked like the world’s worst criminal planning his break-ins.

Jo tightened his jaw. That false sense of security retreated as suspicion took its place. Jo wandered closer to the street, trying to look as casual as possible.

Once he was close enough, Jo recognized the guy. It was the disturbed kid from his class. What was his name…Kado something? As usual, he looked like complete hell.

And he was muttering to himself. Kado kept glancing into his fist, loosening the white-knuckled grip with his palm upward, like he clutched something inside there. He was acting suspicious, but Jo had no clue what kind of suspicious.

Jo frowned. An idea flitted across his mind.

“Hey,” he called out as a test. “Uh…Kado?”

Kado’s head snapped up. He threw his hands behind his back, hiding whatever he was holding.

“O-Oda-san!” he blurted.

He knows my name.

Jo tried to count the number of words he’d shared with that guy. A dozen? A dozen and a fist, considering their run-in on that fateful night at Blue Light.

Jo took another drag. Maybe he’d left an impression on Kado. Or maybe Kado rightfully regretted taking a swing at Jo. It didn’t matter.

“Are you looking for something?” Jo asked carefully.

Kado averted his eyes. His shook his head, completely unconvincingly.

“This isn’t a neighborhood you should poke around in, considering…” Jo trailed off, not wanting to infer anything about the Byakko hideout. “You kinda stand out.”

Kado swallowed and didn’t reply. He looked pale under his uniform, especially in contrast with the dark school jacket. Jo saw the sheen of sweat on Kado’s forehead.

…He was disturbed. Maybe Sachi had been right–maybe Kado suffered from some sort of mental problem. But there was more to it than that. Jo had seen that look on drug addicts who knew they couldn’t pay off their dealers.

Something had scared Kado. Shitless.

But Jo still needed information. He dropped the cigarette and ground it into the alley floor. He took a few careful steps forward; almost in sync, Kado stepped back.

“I-I’m busy,” Kado blurted. “Whatever you need, I can’t help you.”

Jo prickled a little. “I didn’t say I needed anything,” he retorted. “Easy, man. I just wanted to ask you a question.”

Kado shook his head.

“Can I ask it first? Shit.” Jo scowled. “Did I fuck you over in another life? Why the hell are you so defensive?”

Kado squirmed uncomfortably, like a kid who needed to pee. “No. I just…” He swallowed and clenched his teeth, his jaw tightening weakly.

Jo waited. But Kado said nothing more, his hands remaining firmly behind his back.

Jo furrowed his brow. “I just wanted to know if anyone was asking around about me,” he muttered. “At school. I haven’t been there much lately.”

Kado’s dark eyes finally rose from the concrete. “Asking about you?” he repeated.

“Yeah. Anyone suspicious, or just anyone who seemed more interested than they should be.”

Kado opened his mouth. He looked like he was about to say something, but then he went impossibly paler. He closed his mouth and looked away.

Fuck.

Jo’s patience was wearing thin. And it looked like Kado did know something. Jo clenched his fists and took another step forward.

Screeching tires suddenly erupted from around the corner. Jo instinctively shrunk back as a dark blue car swerved onto their street. It screeched to a halt a few storefronts away from Kiseki; at almost the same moment, at least a dozen figures with baseball bats and ski masks swarmed around the same corner.

Adrenaline pumped through Jo’s body as his mind raced. He unconsciously grabbed Kado and dragged him to hide a few steps into the alley.

Kado freaked out at the touch. He tried to pull out of Jo’s grip, pleading with him to let go.

“Shut up!” Jo hissed as he watched the mob overrun the sidewalk. A young woman walking her dog screamed and ran into the street, but they ignored her. The masked thugs–including several more who stepped out of the dark car–were running toward one destination.

Jo’s blood ran cold.

The first man reached Kiseki. He kicked the door in.

“We’re here for Byakko!” he roared. “Bring ’em out or we torch the place!”

No. No no no no no.

Kado pried at Jo’s iron fingers. He squirmed wildly as he stared down the street.

“N-navy blue!” Kado breathed. “Toyota! 43-69!”

Jo felt the world closing in. The last shred of his peaceful life shattered when he heard Kenta scream.