Kitomi stood across the street from Ongaku's house. The setting sun painted the sky in deep purples, fiery yellows, and crimsons. The breeze carried a hint of salt from the ocean, and she breathed it in, her initial smile fading as she watched the house, still and empty. So, it was the Seigaku's who she'd seen chasing Kushina outside of the bar. Technically Kitomi was supposed to help her master, but she had a higher calling, and she wasn't about to pass up the chance to find the key.
She scanned the road. Good. Empty. Time to move. She slipped into the house, not bothering to take her shoes off. The living room birthed from the entrance, stinking of alcohol, an overturned empty bottle of sake on the floor. Kitomi crinkled her nose and clicked her tongue.
"Barbarians." She cracked her knuckles, "Time to find the key."
Ikari stared down Kushina. She had the dark skin and hair of a Pacific Islander, and Ikari didn't know whether Kushina was her first name or her last. Most people in Serito simply called her "Master." Ikari wasn't from Serito.
"Kushina," he growled, "tell your men to stand down."
Kushina cocked her head at him, like a dog hearing a sound it couldn't understand. "And why would I do that, my dear Ikari?" They had a fling once—if a drunken one‑night stand could be called a fling. That was before Ikari knew who she was, what she was.
Ikari snapped the revolver from his back and levelled it at her head. A shock wave rippled through Kushina's soldiers; their guns rose a little higher, their fingers playing with the triggers.
"Because if they don't, I'll kill you."
"And kill yourself and your sister in the process?"
Ikari didn't answer.
The air held its breath. Ongaku's eyes darted from gun to gun—there was no cover, nowhere to hide, and Ikari doubted she had her gun on her. If it turned into a gunfight they would lose. But if he lowered his gun he would have no leverage.
"Why were you watching the house?"
For a second Kushina's eyes betrayed her, avoiding Ikari's gaze, but they snapped back, her face softening. "Stand down," she sighed, waving her hands. Her army lowered their guns—all except Aoi. He was young, inexperienced, and eager to prove himself.
Ikari turned his gaze from Kushina to Aoi, and the boy stepped back.
Aoi, put the gun down," said Kushina. "That's an order."
"No," Aoi shook his head. "He'll kill you, Master."
"Aoi—"
Aoi raised his rifle and fired, the bullet missing Ikari by a hair. Ikari spun, pulling the trigger of his revolver; the bullet struck Aoi in the forehead, peeling his skull back. The boy's body hit the road, brain leaking onto the hot tar.
Fora breath moment there was silence, only the echo of the gunshot off the town hall filling the air. A woman screamed. A man vomited.
"We need to go!" Ongaku grabbed Ikari's hand, pulling him away, running, as Kushina's dazed men turned their attention back to the siblings.
Kushina gritted her teeth and pointed at the fleeing pair.
"Kill them."
Mysemi woke to a pounding headache and a growling stomach. She was in Ongaku's bed, the light summer duvet matted with sweat around her. She threw off the damp covers, sat up, and tried to rub the sleep from her eyes. Her gaze swept across the room, her face a study in confusion. The sun was setting outside, casting long, forked shadows across the room. She groaned and held her head—she must've stumbled to the bed after drinking too much; no matter, it was hardly her first time.
Her stomach churned, reminding her of her hunger, and she stood up, steadying herself against the wall for a moment before stumbling to the kitchen. But she stopped dead in the hallway when she saw a woman in the living room, bent over and rifling through the cupboards frantically.
Mysemi stepped back, slowly creeping toward the room. Her heel hit something hard; she looked over her shoulder. A pedestal, with a vase.
"Shit."
It tipped and swayed, and the vase on top slid off. Mysemi lunged, grabbing the vase mid-air.
"That was close."
The pedestal swayed and hit the floor with a loud bang.
Kitomi turned toward the noise with lightning speed. She and Mysemi stared at each other for a moment, unblinking.
You," Kitomi growled, rushing forward to seize the young girl. Mysemi's eyes darted from Kitomi to the large, flower-painted vase in her hands. With a cry, she raised it above her head and brought it down on Kitomi. The vase shattered against Kitomi's brow, cutting her above the left eye and knocking her to the ground.
Mysemi wasted no time in turning on her heel and rushing to the bedroom. She threw the door closed. Kitomi kicked it open, hit Mysemi in the face, and knocked her to the ground. With the speed and grace of a predator, Kitomi whipped a small pistol from behind her back and leveled it at Mysemi's head. Mysemi froze, the only movement being the steady rise and fall of her chest.
"You just had to ruin it, didn't you?" Kitomi said in a tone that required no answer. She winced as she touched the cut above her eye and stared down at Mysemi with contempt. Mysemi gulped, an oval bruise already forming on her face. "I don't suppose you know where the tablet is?"
"Tablet?" Mysemi asked, confused. "What?"
Kitomi sighed. "Big, golden thing covered in lines? No? Well, I didn't think so. Now what am I supposed to do with you?" Her eyes lit up, and a smile touched her lips. "Yes, of course. Borrachero—why didn't I think of it before? Two birds with one stone…"
Kitomi jammed the pistol against Mysemi's head. "Get up. Move it. Not a sound or I'll put a bullet in your head—understand?" Mysemi nodded.
"Good. Soon you won't remember any of this." Kitomi paused, a smile creeping onto her lips. "And you're going to help me deal with a little nuisance."
Sakura and Izuna arrived back at Sakura's house. They had not spoken a word since the show and were both tired.
As they entered, Izuna, kicked his shoes off, tossed his laptop onto a sofa and followed Sakura into the kitchen. The event had gone well, better than expected in fact. Amika had even offered Izuna the chance to play at an upcoming event in Berlin, apparently one of the other performers had dropped out. It was a small part of the show, but still bigger than anything Izuna had done before, and so he jumped at the opportunity. Three days, that was how long he had to prepare, smiling he thought of how nice it would be to be in a place where Kushina would have no power over him.
Sakura popped open a bottle of red wine and started gulping it as if she had been in the desert for the past week, snapping out of his fantasies Izuna glared at her.
Sakura, slow down—you're overdoing it!" Izuna said. "Jeez, what's wrong with you?" Sakura stopped drinking and offered him the bottle, "No I don't want it."
"Fine more for me then," she shrugged as she finished it with a single gulp and tossed the bottle into her sink. Izuna winced at the noise it made.
"What's wrong with you?" asked Izuna, "Since when do you drink like that?"
"It's for my nerves," she replied dismissively and with a slight hint of a slur, "I'm sorry for treating you so badly. Please let me make it up to you."
"Look it's alright, you don't need to worry about that," said Izuna raising his hands, maybe he had been a little tough on her.
Sakura shook her head, "No you were right, working for Kushina, it's wrong." Izuna sighed, only a few days ago he had caught her selling drugs outside bar. It was nothing hard, only weed, but it was still illegal, and the fact she was selling it to teenager made it worse. Kushina's orders, Izuna knew that. But he thought Sakura was better than that, as if she had any choice in the matter.
He thought about trying to comfort her with a hug, but before he could make a move Sakura was upon him, she twisted his shirt in her hands and pulled him close kissing him, she had to stand on her tiptoes, and even then, she was a full head lower than he was. Izuna groaned and pushed her off him gently. "Ah, damn Kitomi was right." "Look, you're nice and all, but I don't…"
"Shh," Whispered Sakura as she put her finger over his lips "Just relax," Sakura fell to her knees and grabbed his belt; she unbuckled it and slipped her hands into the front of his faded black jeans. Izuna ripped her hands from his waist and held them out, holding her wrists none too gently Sakura stared up at him with watery eyes. He was trying to be gentle, but his frustration was getting the better of him.
"Don't you want me?" She asked, on the verge of tears.
"It's not that," Izuna sighed, this was the last thing he was in the mood to deal with, "look Sakura I'm in love with someone else," Replied Izuna, Sakura pulled her hands free of his grasp, stood, and backed away, her face turning a dark red.
"Am I that ugly?" she cried,
"Sakura, please it's not like that!" Sakura raised her hand and pointed at the door.
"Get out!" she yelled, "Just go!"
"Sakura don't be like that," pleaded Izuna.
"I said out!"
"Ah whatever, you always have to fuck things up!" Izuna threw his hands up in frustration, grabbed his laptop, slipped his shoes on, and slammed the door behind him.
Sakura trudged back to her kitchen, slamming her fist on the counter. And then the visions came. One moment, she was alone in her silent kitchen; the next, heat roared through her skull. Red-white light flared in her eyes, searing shapes into her mind.
She saw a city—buildings folding in on themselves like paper under a fingertip. A mushroom cloud bloomed red and furious, churning black smoke and ash into the sky. She could feel the shock wave smash against her chest, ribs fracturing, lungs collapsing. Children's screams were torn from their mouths—high, keening wails that rattled her bones. A rain of cinders fell, each ember burning skin on contact. Faces melted into wax, hair bursting into flame. Everything was broken. Everything was burning.
Sakura gasped and collapsed against the tile floor. Her hands clawed at her temples as new images battered her: a twisted metal carcass of a school bus, the air thick with radioactive dust that clung to her throat. A river ran red with blood and oil. She saw her own reflection in a shattered window—eyes black hollows, teeth stained with ash.
Sakura choked fighting to breathe, to stop the visions. Four golden tablets flashed in her mind, a mountain snow filled and ravaged by wind, a beam of hot white light descended from the sky.
She fell fully to her knees, tears mixing with sweat and wine on her cheeks. Her body trembled uncontrollably. Each flash of memory felt like a physical blow. Izuna's face, half burned, one remained eye stilled and dead.
Vomit rushed from her mouth, splashing against the cool tiles. She curled inward, sobs racking her fragile frame. Her forehead pressed to the floor
"What's wrong with me?"
"Mysemi!" Ongaku called as she rushed into her house, they had lost Kushina's men along the way, but it was only a matter of time until they were found, "Mysemi! We need to go!" Ongaku rushed down the hallway, Ikari kept watch from the living room.
"So much for telling Izuna the truth," he muttered, "It'll have to wait."
"Ikari."
Ikari looked up at Ongaku, her face was pale, pupils dilated, it was fear.
"Where's Mysemi?"
Ongaku shook her head, "My vase is broken, someone was here. They must've taken her."
"Kushina," Ikari gritted his teeth, his hands balling into fists, "If she harms a hair on Mysemi's head I'll fucking burn this town and her entire organization with it."
Ongaku placed a hand on his shoulder, "If she wanted Mysemi dead she would have left her body here."
"You're right," Ikari unclenched his fists with a slow exhale, "Let's go get our sister."
Mysemi pulled against her restraints, thick rope binding her to a steel chair. The dank, dim air of the basement assaulting her nostrils.
"There's no use resisting," Kitomi raised a needle. A cold, clear liquid glinted inside. "This will all be over in a moment." Kitomi shot a spurt of liquid from the needle.
Mysemi strained against the rope, frantically pulling and kicking.
"What is that?"
"This?" Kitomi grabbed her arm sticking the needle into it and hitting the plunger, "Dragon's breath, it was made in South America, used to turn rich Americans into temporary slaves, but they didn't see its true potential. So, we took it, perfected it."
Mysemi's breath slowed, her muscles relaxing despite her best efforts.
"You're crazy lady."
Kitomi laughed, "Maybe, but you're going to do exactly what I say."
Mysemi's eyes glazed over, "Yes, master."