Chapter 31
Collision of Their Souls
There was not but the occasional gunshot or scream that rang out through the city as the Six Black Heaven's Guns walked through the Hotel District. What was normally a bustling part of town lined with salacious couples and silver-tongued streetwalkers was entirely abandoned, though the lights of some of the hotel rooms would sometimes flicker on and off, as if scared citizens that were not able to evacuate were watching from their hiding places. The young adults spoke not a word as they walked in a tight formation, with Akira and Makoto at the front, and Yusuke and Ryuji taking up the rear, both sides guarding the less experienced combatants that were Ann, Futaba, and Haru.
They rounded a corner onto Taihei Boulevard, nearing the entrances of Nakamichi and Tenkaichi Street. LeBlanc was now only a few blocks down to their left, and they soon approached it in front of Tenkaichi Street. However, at the end of the street, coming out from under the iconic Tori gate was, what they at least assumed to be, a man. Tall, lanky, and clad in a black suit, but the most distinguishing feature of his was a demonic Hannya mask he wore over his face, the wild and evil eyes staring them down as he calmly approached.
"What the hell are we looking at?" Ryuji asked quietly, as if too loud a tone would antagonize the man.
"You think he's with the Omi?" Makoto asked. "Some kind of assassin?"
Futaba added, "He's kind of theatrical for the Omi. They're usually more business-professional than that."
Yusuke placed his hand on his pommel. "He will be dispatched swiftly then. Nothing will stand in our way this night." An engine roared behind them, a van approached and stopped, and out came a throng of thugs in business suits. "Oh, for fuck's sake," said Yusuke.
"They're trying to pincer us," said Makoto, raising her fists. "We need to dispatch them quickly so we can get into the hotel."
"Just a few more butts to kick," Ann said, "and we're home free."
As they readied themselves for an attack, Akira noticed the man in the mask stop in his tracks. He pulled out a knife from behind him – a beautiful, ornate sheath of black and gold. The masked man slowly pulled out the blade from its sheath and lowered his stance. The knife's blade was so pristine that it seemed to glow in the neon light. Then, in a sinister yet almost mischievous voice, he said from behind the mask, "Finally found you…"
"What?" Akira said, adopting the Dragon Stance.
The masked man then cackled. "…KIIIRYU-CHAAAN!" he cried out in a shockingly high-pitched voice and broke into a low-stature sprint towards the group. Akira reflexively ran toward him, his heat instantly rising and flames appearing on his shoulders. He cried out as they approached each other, not hearing Ann call out to him from behind. And then, at the moment of impact, Akira swung a mighty blow at the attacker, but hit only air. He felt a weight on his shoulder come and go in a snap and saw only the slightest glance of the masked man vaulting over him, his hand on Akira's shoulder to propel him.
The masked assailant rushed past him toward the rest of Akira's group, causing him to give chase in a panic. As the Seven Black Heavens Guns readied themselves for an attack from both sides, the masked man darted past them in a flash and collided into the Omi thugs. Like a dance of death, the man whirled around them, slashing his blade wildly yet directly. The group of thugs fell one by one in a wild whirlwind of slashes and kicks without the chance to land even a single retaliatory blow before they were all strewn about on the ground, their condition being a mystery.
The masked man stood up straight and rolled his neck, cracking it loudly. "Phew," he said, "just like the old days, just with bigger guns."
"Identify yourself!" Makoto commanded him. "Are you with the Sakura Clan?"
The man turned around, his mask's demonic eyes causing even Makoto to pause. Then his gaze was turned to Akira, whose flames were receding, fading into the air. "Keep those flames down 'till you need 'em, kid," he said. "The night ain't over yet."
"And who the hell are you?" Akira shot back, standing beside his friends.
The masked man cocked his head to the side. "A friend, obviously. Let's just say your mother sends her regards."
Akira's eyes widened with shock. "My mother?"
"Make it through tonight so you can ask her yourself. Now, c'mon, all of you! We've got a hell of a lot more ass to kick!"
"Can we at least get a name?" asked Haru. "Your fighting skills are certainly commendable, but it's been quite a long night for us, including various betrayals."
To her surprise, Futaba put a hand on her shoulder reassuringly. "He can be trusted," she said quickly, yet her gaze remained on the man. "Call him 'Hannya'."
"What do you mean, Futaba-chan?"
"Exactly what she said," said Hannya for her. "Now let's go. Don't worry, I'll keep you kids safe with my life."
Before they took their leave, Ann grabbed Akira's shoulder. "Do you have any idea who he is? Maybe he's lying about knowing your mom."
"If he is," Akira said in a darker tone, "then he'll regret it. Then again, he did save us, and he's crazy strong, so we might as well let him help us out, even if we have to keep an eye on him."
"As long as you're sure," Ann resigned.
"I am. But thanks." They nodded to each other, and then approached the hotel.
The fancy glass door had been broken off its hinges, the glass designs on the face of the door being smashed through and now lay in shards on the ground. The lobby was an absolute mess in a similar fashion: broken glass, destroyed furniture, even the concierge desk had been trashed with the drawers all being taken out and thrown onto the ground as if the assailants were looking for something. There were even various burn marks on the walls, and the place smelled faintly of smoke, and charred remains. For there were multiple bodies of Sakura Clan men strewn on the floor, and they were all marked with devastating burns.
"What the hell were they doing here?" asked Ryuji. "They scoured the place."
Hannya said, "Looking for the keys, probably. Though at least it looks like most of the workers and patrons got out alive, save for these poor bastards. At least they were family men and not civilians."
"How did they get burned like that?" asked Makoto. "I don't see any signs of bullet wounds."
"I have no idea."
Yusuke added, "Could it be that assassin from HQ? He seemed to have some kind of special powers, and I could swear he manifested that blast of fire we saw."
"He definitely seemed important," said Akira. "I wouldn't be surprised if he came along to find Takemi too."
"Into the elevator, kids," said Hannya. "We're losing time."
They all entered the elevator, and were offered another moment of uneasy, apprehensive rest. Akira tapped his thumb against the pommel of his sword restlessly, his jaw clenched as he glared at nothing in particular. His friends had similar, uneasy dispositions, some shuffling their feet and others stretching and scratching their arms nervously.
To their surprise, the sound system still worked, playing a slow jazz version of the pop ballad Baka Mitai. In uncomfortable silence, they listened to the swinging song as the elevator slowly climbed up to the eight level, where Takemi had her study in a private room. "You're brave fuckin' kids," said Hannya. "Taking on these Omi bastards like you are."
"They've gotta be taken down," said Akira. "Simple as."
Hannya chuckled behind his mask. "I can appreciate the simple outlook. A man of action, I guess."
"Though I gotta say, I think you got one of us confused with someone else. No one here is named 'Kiryu'."
"Did I say that? Sorry, my mistake. Must have gotten a bit too excited."
"Excited over what?" Akira pressed him more fervently, causing Hannya to chuckle again.
"Just an honest mistake, young man. That's all."
"And how do you know my mo—" The elevator dinged and the door slid open, revealing the trashed hotel hall with multiple doors having been broken into and left on the ground in splintered, destroyed heaps in their doorways. More burn marks lined the walls and noxious dust filled the air, causing Ann and Futaba to cough as they exited the elevator. The hall was entirely quiet for a moment, unsettlingly so, until there was a loud crash coming from another room a few doors down. The younger adults jumped at the crash and broke into a sprint at the female voice crying out in pain immediately following it.
Rounding the corner, they peered into the hotel room, seeing Tae laying on the ground, bruised and bloody on her face and arms. She raised a hand up to her assailant, a large yakuza with his bulbous fists clenched in preparation to strike her. Hannya leapt into action first, his speed being nearly imperceivable. Three flashes of his knife and a high-pitched howl from his throat, and the yakuza was stumbling back in a daze. Hannya sheathed his knife and grabbed the man's head, the proceeded to bash it repeatedly into the wall. Hannya cried out as he brought down a mighty chop on the yakuza's temple, knocking him to the ground unconscious.
"Takemi-san!" Futaba cried out, rushing to Tae's side. They quickly and tightly embraced each other, both women showing great yet tired smiles of relief.
"Are you okay?" Takemi asked Futaba frantically, her relief mingling with worry.
Futaba nodded quickly. "Yeah, I'm fine. But I'm worried about you! What was that guy doing? He was hurting you!"
"They wanted…" Takemi breathed deeply, heavily, "my notes. My notes on the RZ-412. They got most of them… I'm sorry," she apologized, holding her head in her hand, though whether it was out of injury or shame could not be said for sure.
"It's okay," Akira assured her, the rest of the group sitting beside her. "That's not what matters right now. Are you injured?"
Takemi shook her head. "Only a few bruises and cuts, nothing serious. I cooperated with them just enough that they wouldn't kill me, but apparently that plan had changed, as you saw. I don't know for sure if he was going to kill me or just knock me out to take me prisoner, but I'm glad I didn't have to find out." She sighed, rubbing her temple. "You just missed them. They're trying to get out through the sewers, I think. There's an emergency exit under the building, but I have no idea how they knew it was there."
"Can we still catch up to them?" Makoto pressed her.
"You can try. Just leave me here, I can get out myself. You guys just get down there and kick their asses."
"That was the plan," said Hannya, flipping his sheathed knife in his hand. "Alright, kids, we're heading out. Time to shine!"
As the younger adults exited the hotel room, Takemi grabbed Hannya's arm to stop him. She looked up to his mask inquisitively. "I had no idea you were still alive," she said. "Chose a hell of a time to come back."
Hannya nodded, the animalistic smile on his mask almost seeming to widen with excitement. "Demons never die, sweetheart," he replied. "Neither do dragons." He turned to Futaba. "You comin' or are you stayin'?"
"What do you think?" she stood up to her feet, following him.
Takemi shakily rose as well, moving out to get to the main elevator. They rode it back down to the lobby, and Takemi bade them good luck before finding a hiding spot to wait for Iwai and other reinforcements.
Yusuke breathed out slowly. "So it begins," he muttered as the doors closed.
Further they descended into the basement, the stench of smoke and death permeating the hair even more. They then knew why as they exited the elevator into the basement halls, more burned, slashed, and dismembered bodies laying on the floor in heaps, much of the blood congealing as if burned into cauterization.
"Reprehensible," Haru whispered.
"Last chance to turn back," said Ryuji. "If you don't wanna see this, there's no shame."
"Thank you, but I'll be fine," replied Haru strongly. "These animals need disposing of," she glowered.
Into the darkness, they marched, their footsteps echoing off the walls. "At least we have more backup than last time," said Ann.
Akira replied, "I couldn't agree more. You guys are amazing, all of you. I'm glad we're doing this together."
"I'm proud of all of you as well," Makoto added. "You are the bravest people I've ever met, and I'm honored to fight at your side."
"As am I," said Yusuke. "There's no one I'd rather be stepping into the fire with."
They soon came into a large open foyer leading toward the main underground sewers. The metal walls ascended thirty feet high, covered in muck, rust, and other uncleanliness. The stench of death and burns mingled with the sewer's own odor, becoming nigh intolerable. But the discomfort of the situation was swayed by the two figures standing in the middle of the large foyer: one tall and platinum blond woman, and a man in a black garb with a skull-like mask who held a large gray briefcase.
"She was at Kaneshiro's place," said Makoto. "And that's the assassin from HQ."
"So, these are the jokers that have been stomping around this city?" asked Hannya with a cocky swagger. "Don't seem too special to me."
The woman, Verona, pointed an accusatory finger his way. "Shut your mouth, worm!" she declared in slightly broken Japanese. "You will go no further, none of you! Our paycheck is dependent on the delivery of that briefcase, and I won't let some insolent children get in the way of that."
Makoto stepped to the front of the group, glaring at Verona. "You can cut your supervillain bullshit, lady. Just look. All of us versus two of you. Even with whatever powers you might have, do you think you're truly capable of taking us all on?"
Verona cackled to herself, with the masked assassin tilting his head unsettlingly. "Oh, darling," she said, "you have no idea what we are capable of." She snapped her fingers beside her head. "Get a move on," she told the assassin. "I can deal with this pathetic lot."
The assassin nodded. "Save the hero-boy for me," he said, the vacant, empty eyes of his mask meeting Akira's own. "I have yet more things to discuss with him."
"Oh, hear that, boy?" Verona called to Akira. "You at least get to survive the thrashing I'm going to give you all. Can't say the same for your friends though."
Akira drew his sword heartfully and pointed it her way. "Lay a hand on any of them, and I swear to god—"
"You swear to do what?" Verona taunted him. "Butcher me like you did Kamoshida? Oh yes, we know of that too, little hero. I must say, if even half of what I have heard is true, then I hesitate to let a depraved beast like you live for even one more moment," she laughed once again.
"You little--!"
"Akira!" Makoto grabbed his arm. "Don't let her get in your head! Stop, think. We need to see this through."
Akira nodded slowly. "You're right. Let's end this, but be careful."
Verona stroked her chin. "Unless you'd like to see my comrade for yourself, Butcher?"
"What?"
"You heard me, boy. Just walk right up this hallway and you'll see him. I can confidently say he is eager to make your acquaintance."
"What does he want? What do you people really want?"
"You want to know that, then walk right on by." She raised her hands in sign of surrender. "No harm shall come to you, I swear. Just please don't cut out my throat or entrails like you did Kamoshida!" she smiled deviously.
Akira breathed sharply, trying to calm himself. "Fine. It's not like this bunch of badasses couldn't take you easily. I'd just get in the way." He turned around to face his friends. "Do whatever you need to survive," he commanded them. "Remember, we promised that we all would come out of this tonight, so don't you dare hold back, any of you." They nodded to him, Ryuji and Ann smirking confidently.
Akira sheathed his sword, cracked his knuckles, and moved forward, walking right beside Verona, who did not move an inch. Only her eyes moved, watching his every step with surgical scrutiny. Akira stopped next to her and whispered, "If I see a single cut or bruise on any of them, and you're not on your way to prison, or worse, then I will become the butcher you think I am."
"Bad manners to get a woman excited then just leave, boy," she taunted back.
"Fuck you." And he moved forward, disappearing down the large hall. Ann's heartbeat rose, seeing him walk away with his hand on his sword.
"Well," Verona remarked, "guess we're all alone now."
Makoto stepped forward. "Quite a shoddy operation for someone of your prestige," she said. "I know you're Verona, the White Witch. I've heard all about your service history across Russia, Turkey, Greece, even your escapades in Indonesia and Africa. Your reputation proceeds you."
"Don't tell me you're a fan, little girl?"
"No. Not at all." Makoto cracked her knuckles with a tightening in her lips. "I hate your kind more than almost anything. You're mercenaries, people who see human life as completely, entirely dispensable. Just like the bastards that killed my dad, that are out on the streets terrorizing innocents right now. But at least some of them have a cause they've put their faith in – some kind of ideal. What do you put your faith in? Money. Every human you see is just a potential paycheck to fund your next murder. Just like you tried to kill my friend."
Verona's smirk faded in an instant, now appearing almost offended. "And what about you? Are you down here in this cesspit of a city, fighting a war on behalf of someone else, for something more than a paycheck? Does that make you better than me?"
"Yes! We're fighting to protect others, even those we don't know. We're fighting to keep people like you away from people like our families!"
Verona stroked her chin thoughtfully. "And where will it get you, child? Where has it gotten you? Into the lion's den, ripe only to be fed on by the stronger warrior. You and I may be of different professions, girl, but don't dare think that I have not seen my share of savagery and pain. I have fought many wars, child, both with purpose and without. Though I'm not one for sentimentality, I can say with confidence that this war now does have some merit to it. You fight in the service of relics of a long dead era. Such a pitiful way to die, is it not? Tell me, do you truly think that the fact that your father was murdered gives you the right to judge the entire world on their morality?"
"No, it doesn't," Makoto shook her head. "But no amount of pain can justify reducing human life down to a dollar sign. That's why you're coming with us."
Verona's smirk returned once again, this time even more disgustingly confident. "Were I back in Brazil, I might have even put money on your wager. Now, who wants to take the first shot?"
Yusuke quickly drew his sword in a flash of metallic light. "With the night I've had, I'd be happy to just end this now so we can all go home. Have at you, witch!"
Verona smirked, raising an eyebrow. "I like this one," she muttered. Verona reached behind her back, pulling out a black rod about two feet in length, etchings and engravings of ironically beautiful design carved into it. There was a click, and two shining silver blades appeared on either end of the staff, and the witch smirked again. "Show me."
Yusuke cried out with rage and charged her, keeping his blade low at his side. His speed was exceptional, and his movements were yet as precise as his paint strokes. "Hell with you!" he shouted as he prepared his quickdraw technique, but in an imperceptible flash, the blade was parried, sending Yusuke off balance. He stumbled, nearly falling to the ground, and nearly being sliced up the back by Verona. He lunged away from it, but only barely, the blade landing a glancing blow on his leg. There was no pain save for the immediate sting of his flesh being cut. He was surprised and worried to find his opponent's blade so sharp that he could barely feel the blow.
"A nice trick," said Verona. "But a true warrior will not fall so easily to a technique such as yours."
"Then chew on this, bitch!" Hannya called from behind. He slashed at her with his knife, but she managed to parry the strike – only barely. His dance-like style was frighteningly fast and frenetic, making it extremely difficult to track and predict. Verona now was put off balance as Hannya cackled once again in a high pitch, seemingly enjoying the assault. "You call yourself a true warrior while you pick on a group of kids!?" Verona tried to strike him, but he leaned into her blade with a sidestep, shunting the staff with his own knife and momentum, causing their blades to lock. "You're so pathetic," he growled, obviously smiling devilishly under his mask.
"Damned beast!" Verona shouted, stepping away deftly to lunge back in with her blade. Hannya dodged it, getting low to the ground then leaping forward toward her, knife outstretched. But the blade did not pierce her, as Verona managed to block it with the solid hilt of her staff. She heard a growl behind her and pivoted her posture sideways, blocking both Hannya and Yusuke's strikes with both ends of her staff. The battle paused for a moment, then she spun around, her opponents being shot to the ground on either side of her due to her shocking strength.
"She's too strong!" Futaba shouted.
Hannya slowly got to his feet, rubbing a supposedly injured shoulder. "You're not bad, lady. Not bad at all."
"Shut up." She prepared to bring down the death blow, but it was parried by Yusuke, coming in from an indirect angle, and his own sword was knocked out of his hand and onto the ground. "Your persistence is admirable," said Verona, "but annoying."
"Then I guess you're tired of playing with us?" Yusuke smirked.
"That's one way of putting it. Now be silenced."
Yusuke seemed to fall to the ground even though Verona's sword had not come down upon him yet. In a sloppy, desperate motion, he kicked his own katana out from under him shouting "MAKOTO!", and it flew up into the air, landing directly in Makoto's hand.
"What the hell!?" Verona shouted.
Slowly Makoto held the sword above her head and unsheathed, bringing the blade down in front of her. She cast the sheath aside, and with stalwart elegance, bent her legs and lowered her posture into a strong fighting stance, the distraction allowing Hannya and Yusuke to roll aside. "Let's get this over with," she sneered, bringing her sword hilt back next to her cheek.
Verona noticed her two victims leave her side but seemed not to care. She threw her head back in laughter. "If you will truly kill for your ideals," she said, holding her own bladed staff out in front of her, "then surely you are ready to die for them."
"Better me than anyone else here," Makoto replied, tightening her grip on the sword. "Bring it on."
"Get back!" Haru called to the others, leading them away as Makoto and Verona charged each other. Their blades met, causing a burst of orange sparks as they eyes locked with even hotter fury.
VERONA – THE WHITE WITCH
GAMBIT, MERCENARIES THE OMI ALLIANCE
Verona attacked with fast yet mighty spins, trying to keep Makoto off balance, but the younger woman's defense was far greater than the mercenary anticipated. Her moves were precise, calculated, yet forceful and angry. Quick jabs into large sweeps, as if switching mid-motion from wielding a katana to a mace. They matched each other strike for strike, slash for slash, step for step, as if Makoto was learning her tactics in the first seconds of their duel.
Then Verona noticed her trick: Makoto was trying to strike around the blades instead of against them. Clever indeed, and she responded by somersaulting backwards, kicking the katana's blade away from her. However, Makoto immediately regained her footing and lunged forward, her sword extended like a stinger. "You won't get away!" she cried out.
Verona blocked the stab with the flat of her blade and used her off hand to punch Makoto in the jaw, causing her world to go dark for a split second as she was dazed. "Foolish child!" Verona shouted, reorienting herself to stab low, through Makoto's leg. And she did. She thrusted her staff forward, but hit only the metal ground. "WHAT!?"
Her eyes drifted up for a second, realizing her was looking at only air. And there was Makoto, leaping into the air, her sword raised above her head, and with a mighty cry, she brought it downward, her whole bodyweight behind the blow, and it sliced right through the middle of Verona's staff, narrowly missing her fingers. The staff was rend in two, pieces of the metal handle falling to the ground, and Verona had only a moment to internalize this shift in the battle before she was forced to leap backward to dodge another stab. She side-flipped away, then stood tall, now wielding twin short swords, and extremely pissed off. "This ends NOW!"
Makoto knew not what had happened to her, nor how she had managed such an incredible jump in such a short amount of time. All she knew was that her body felt… light, responsive, limber, in a way she had never felt before. The world was clear, as was her mind. There was only the duel, and a slight resonating warmth throughout her body. "LET'S DANCE, BITCH!"
They charged again, but Verona's moves had already completely adapted to her new weapons. Short, lightning fast stabs, prodding Makoto's defense like surgery, but the mercenary could only scratch her arms in three spots. Somehow, even while wielding a katana, Makoto seemed to almost move even faster than the twin short swords could slice, but Makoto barely noticed it.
Her whole life, she felt like a stranger among her peers, her coworkers, no matter how she tried to mold herself into whatever role was required of her. There was never a place she could be without her own wars, her own struggles, neither home nor abroad. But now she felt like a stranger who had found an even stranger war. But perhaps this was finally was she had been looking for. Even if I remain a stranger in this land, I know it is my duty… my purpose… to fight here, at their side, defending my… my friends!
Makoto parried the right blade with her own, but the left one was coming in hot, aimed directly at her head. She only realized what she was doing after she had already be reacted, but the next instant, the blade was between her teeth, caught in her mouth, entirely unable to move. Verona only had time to look at the situation in utter bafflement before the blade was ripped out of her hand and thrown out of Makoto's mouth. Then with one final cry, Makoto slashed Verona's right arm at the shoulder, only enough to stun her and break the skin, causing blood to begin running down to her fingers. Then another slash, this time at her leg, and she knelt before her. Verona looked up, the pain dazing her and causing her vision to blur, but no one was before her. Then a voice spoke from behind, "There's no point fighting now. Your fate is already sealed."
"…W-what!?" she looked behind her, and Makoto was holding the tip of her blade over her leg.
"You're under arrest." The blade pierced her calf, causing her to cry out before the katana's pommel struck her in the head, and the world went black and silent…
Makoto breathed heavily; her body now felt as if it had tripled in both weight and exhaustion. She knelt to the ground, leaning on the sword for support, trying to calm her body down and restore at least the strength to walk.
"Oh my god!" Futaba cried out. "You're amazing, Makoto!"
Ryuji shouted with glee, "That was incredible! Where did you learn to fight like that!?"
Makoto did not look up to respond to her friends, though she did notice Ann and Haru kneeling beside her, helping to her feet. Solemnly, she replied, "My sister, mostly." Some strength finally returning to her body, she looked up to Yusuke, who was gazing down at her with worried eyes. She nodded to him. "Thank you… for helping me."
"You did most of the work," he replied. "I barely did anything. I should be thanking you."
"Then let's just be thankful we're all still alive."
"You got that right," said Ann. "Can you move? We need to—"
"Get to Akira, yes. Don't worry," Makoto patted her hand reassuringly. "We'll save him. I promise. Just help me for the first few steps… please. Hannya?"
"Yeah?"
"Will there be anyone down here to pick up that trash," she nodded over to Verona.
"Of course. I can get in touch with the good guys. She'll make a lovely peace offering to the police, I think."
"Thank you. Then let's go. Akira needs us."
Ann nodded, and they moved on. And Makoto felt as if, for the first time she could remember, that she may not be quite the stranger in a strange world she thought she was.
…
It was a surprisingly long walk before Akira emerged out into the city once again. Minutes passed of nothing but dark hallways and the occasional rat scurrying about underneath him before he emerged into the warm night air beside a building on the edge of town. Next to him was a fire escape ascending to the top of the three story building, but no sign of the strange assassin. However, he heard men close by, and he took no chances whether it may be friend or foe and ran up to the top of the building quick as he could without making much noise.
And there, in the blue glow of the moonlight, stood the assassin himself, looking directly his way, as if he had been waiting for him. His mask shone ominously in the moonlight, and his body was uncannily still. Akira felt a chill run down his spine, but suppressed it as to now show any weakness to this strange foe.
"Well, well, you sure know how to throw a party!" Akira taunted him, pacing back and forth with a smirk. "No food, no drinks, and the only babe was a right bitch."
The assassin spoke in a refined, almost elegant tone, "My sincerest apology, hero. I was so eager to finally make your acquaintance that I couldn't focus on preparations for the bash."
"Heh," Akira chuckled, placing his hand on his sword. "Well, you certainly are one for theatrics. I mean, what I saw back at HQ looked damn close to real magic. And I thought I was flamboyant. Where's the briefcase?"
"Taken care of. But that was only half of my objective tonight."
Akira drew his sword from its sheath, yet the assassin remained unmoved. "You people aren't welcome in this city anymore – I hope you know that. If you didn't, consider this your eviction notice," he pointed his sword at the assassin, his smirk hardening into a glare. The assassin tilted his head inquisitively, then lowered it, as if glaring at Akira with his mask. With his left hand, he pulled out a small black rod resembling a knife scabbard. "So," Akira continued, "this is what they call a 'final showdown', huh?"
The assassin's posture lowered slightly. "You got that right," he said, clicking something on the small rod, and a blade extended out of it.
"What? We not even gonna exchange names? Your partner told me you wanted to talk."
"I know everything I need to know about you, hero. That's why I'm going to finish this bullshit right now."
"If you really do know everything about me," Akira retorted, "then let's see you get past the few tricks I got up my sleeve." Blue flames appeared on Akira's shoulders, shining off his sword. "It's showtime. Let's rock, baby."
They stepped toward each other once, then once more. The assassin seemed to be perfectly copying Akira's every slightest motion. Then Akira shifted his foot on the ground, and charged with all the strength in his body. He could feel the Heat granting him greater speed than he should have, and he was prepared to end this farce in a single swing, but it was met with an equal blow that shocking stopped all momentum in his strike, as if he was swung his sword directly into a wall. He stepped back and pivoted into a roundhouse kick, but was stopped mid-motion once again, both combatants' legs locked in midair.
MYSTERIOUS ASSASSIN
OMI ALLIANCE
The assassin pushed him away with his leg, and Akira had no time to react before the other foot struck him across the temple, knocking him to the ground. He used the momentum to roll away, then rose into a sprinter's start and lunged forward. Their blades locked, but that was just what he wanted. He used the last moment of force to push the assassin away then leapt forward into the air, spinning around with his sword outstretched to bring it down on top of the assassin. It was blocked, but only barely. The Heat rose within Akira more, and more, and more still. He felt as if was nearly burning up from the inside, and it filled him with unmatched vigor.
The assassin stepped back, pushing Akira off him. Akira landed deftly on the ground, and then there was a flash of black and blue before him like a wavy distortion of the moon's glow. Instinctively, he guarded with his sword, and something terribly strong crashed into him, sending him flying backward off his feet once again. "Scum," he heard the assassin utter as the distortion flew past him. The force was so great that Akira landed on his back and his arms tingled and spasmed with pain. He looked up and saw the assassin standing over him a few yards back, rolling his neck and fixing his shirt collar. "Where's your motivation?" he asked in a sinister tone.
Akira stood to his feet slowly and readied his sword at his side. The Heat was at its apex now, and it demanded release. The flames grew larger and brighter around him, and he gritted his teeth before charging the assassin once again, his instincts driving him forward with intense fury. Three slashes were struck; three slashes that pushed the assassin back, and then…
Akira flipped the sword over into an underhanded style, holding it behind his back. His vision was clear and bright as if it were midday, and the muscles in his appendages tensed with rising ferocity, ready to be released like a great bomb. "CARNAGE…" Akira cried out. The tension in his legs released like a loaded spring, propelling him forward like a bullet directly into the assassin. And, as their blades clashed with an eruption of sparks and an unnatural force, "…SCISSOR!" The impact stunned the assassin for a brief second, and Akira spun around into a follow-up slash across the body. "I'LL OBLITERATE YOU!"
There was another explosion of sparks, but encompassing the assassin's body as if a ward had been broken. He was knocked back this time, grunting in discomfort. He steadied himself before toppling to the ground, breathing heavily as he looked in surprise at the young hero before him, who was panting far heavier than even him. All the strength Akira had felt welling within his body was released all at once in that attack, and he was now feeling the effects. He felt drained, strained, exhausted, and the fury he had exhibited now was replaced with fear as the assassin stood up once again.
The assassin shook his head, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He sighed, then said, "Disappointing." The assassin seemed to know that Akira was weakened, but did not capitalize on the situation, but instead asked him a question. "Do you understand the nature of your power? The power of your family name?"
Akira shook his head to clear his thoughts enough to actually speak coherently. "No, I don't. But whatever it is, this power exists only to save others. I don't care what it is or how my family got it. As long as I have it, I will use it to defend everyone I see from those like you, who wield power only for your own gain."
And there was another flash, but slower this time. Akira surmised he must have had just a bit of Heat left, as he was able to see the assassin's unnaturally fast movement. He was on the ropes now, he knew that very well. It was do or die, and there was technique his mother – his dear mother, who had sent him here in the first place and never even came to save him – prided herself on being able to perform in just this situation. He thought of it, pictured it clearly in his mind, and he hoped. He hoped, and partly prayed, that it would be enough, that he could perform it at all.
If mother gave me this Heat, I hope that move came with it…
The assassin was about on top of him, and Akira focused his strength completely into his legs. His flames rose once more, and he locked eyes with the assassin's vacant, eerie sockets in his mask. "VOLCANIC…" he cried out, raising his sword to intercept the attack. He heard his mother call it out in his head, and he could swear he felt his own flesh begin to burn as he summoned all the strength he had left in him. He rose his sword into an uppercut, and, "VIPE--!"
His sword was blocked, and pushed downward. The assassin was… upside down. A boot flew toward him, and its tip struck him directly in the head. The world tumbled around him in a flash, and then the back of his skull collided with the ground, and the night was especially dark for a moment.
Akira first felt something pull his hair, then the pounding in his head, then tasted the blood in his mouth. He was risen off the ground, and even with his vision blurred, he could make out the terrifying skull staring back at him. No blue flames populated his periphery, and his hands were empty. His vision slowly began to clear, and the skull was inches from his face as the assassin held him up off the ground.
Then the assassin grabbed his mask by the mouth and pulled it upward over his head. Akira thought he must be dreaming, or at least not yet lucid, when after a moment of incomprehension, he realized that the assassin staring down at him with vain disgust, casting his mask to the ground…
Was Goro Akechi.
Akira's eyes widened in shock, and when his mouth gaped at the sight, blood trickled out from behind his lips and down his chin. Akechi's lips tensed as he looked upon the young hero, and Akira could feel a paralyzing malice emanating from him.
"Foolishness, Akira," said Akechi. Then the ground rose up to meet him once again, his head ringing and pounding from the impact as the side of his head was slammed into the ground. "Foolishness." Akechi raised him back up to a kneeling position. "Might controls everything," he said. "And without strength, you cannot protect anything. Let alone yourself." The wind was knocked out of Akira by a mighty punch, causing his body to compress and more blood to pool in his mouth. He was then thrown to the ground, looking up to Akechi.
"A… Akechi?" he sputtered out. "How? I thought… you were on our side?"
"I lied. To you all. To more people and in more ways than you can even imagine, fool. All in the pursuit of my goals, my purpose. And on the path to that purpose is the total annihilation of the pathetic Sakura Clan." He clicked his sword's hilt, causing the blade to sheath itself and put it back on his belt. "My benefactors see Sakura's death as a required step toward our ultimate goal, and fortunately for you, they have taken some interest in the Butcher of Kings. Or as some say, the 'Last Dragon of Sakura'."
"You want me to come with you, huh?" Akira said, trying but failing to stand. "Is that what this is about?"
"If I had my way, you'd be run through with my blade and dead well before now. Your very existence is an insult, Akira. But I am beholden to my contract, so you must survive long enough for said contractors to see you for themselves. Now, you can either come with me willingly, or I am permitted to use any means necessary to bring you in. Surely a kid as foolish as you can see who holds the cards in this situation."
Akira looked to his side. Hanran was only a few feet away, just out of arm's reach. He looked back up to Akechi and spat blood toward him out of his mouth, the gob landing on his boot. "I'll never join up with traitors and murderers like you."
"Then why do you serve Sakura?" The ghost of a smirk appeared on Akechi's face. "If we really must do this the hard way, then so we shall—" Something caught Akechi's attention behind Akira. He stared at it intently, with almost as much shock as Akira had felt upon seeing his face. Akira rolled over to look behind him, and there was one singular man standing by the fire escape. He seemed not much older than Akira, his hair was blond and spiky, he wore reinforced leather clothing over his impressive physique, and on his back, was an absolutely fucking massive sword that more resembled a slab of iron than a proper blade. But what pried his attention away from the strange sword was his eyes. They were orange, and faintly glowed in the night.
The man and Akechi locked eyes with each other, glowering murderously. "Now you've stooped to bullying kids?" he asked Akechi. His voice was low, even, yet dark.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Akechi spat back.
"Looking for you. For a long time."
Akira saw an opportunity and took it. He reached for his sword and sloppily rose to his feet, trying to attack Akechi. But their eyes locked for a brief moment before Akechi reached out his hand, and there was a sudden mighty gust of air that felt like Akira's entire body had been kicked at the same time. For a moment, he flew, and landed on the edge of the building in a stunned heap, unable to comprehend what just happened. He felt a strong hand on his shoulder, but was too stunned to even open his eyes. He then heard the strange man shout, "Bastard!"
"What?" Akechi retorted. "Mad that I still remember our old tricks?"
"You don't deserve to use the Signs, not after what you've done! You don't even deserve to be alive! Look at everything you've caused!"
"I've done what I had to! You should be impressed! Indeed, look at what I've done! I've never even gone under the mutations like you!"
The man paused, and his glare intensified even further. "How dare you still wear that medallion?" he growled.
Akechi rubbed the lapel of his shirt, and Akira could barely make out a small silver medallion fall out from underneath it. "Sentimental value," Akechi replied. "A memento."
"Of the people you betrayed."
Akechi pulled out his short sword again and activated it. "Just tell me if we're going to fight or not. I don't know how you've hunted me down, but I do know why. Tell me, are you alone? How are the girls?" he smirked. "How is Ciri doing?"
The man put a hand on the pommel of his greatsword, his jaw clenching with anger. "You'd still speak her name after what you did?"
"I haven't forgotten them. I haven't forgotten any of them. I think of them every day, watch my back to see if John or Arthur are behind me, or you, or Ciri, or her decrepit old man. I'll never forget what happened, but I'll never look back either. This is what I was born to do, and you can't stop me."
The man unsheathed his sword and held it in front of him with two hands. "That witch poisoned your mind more than I thought. Though I'm not exactly surprised that you've become even more of an asshole than last time."
"What? Do you not look back on our nights together fondly as well? I'm sure the girls certainly do, at least."
The man breathed heavily once. Something about that remark angered him even more. "Let's just finish this. It's been a long time coming," he sneered.
Akechi smirked. "Fine. One shot, for old time's sake."
The man clenched the greatsword harder. Akira was in utter awe, though he couldn't move away even if he wanted to. The air seemed to crackle with tension as the two swordsmen locked eyes.
Then the tension exploded.
"VERGIIIL!"
"CLOOOUD!"
Akira did not even see them move before they were locking blades. Yet it sounded far more like an explosion than a mere clash. Somehow Akechi – or "Vergil"? – was able to block the strikes of such a massive sword, but he seemed entirely on the defensive. The man called "Cloud" struck monstrously, ferociously, slashing over and over with reckless rage. This rivalry was titanic and palpable as they dueled with passion and fury. Then Akechi leapt back, and the air was made hot, alit with a cone of fire erupting from his fingers, while Cloud made some sign with his hands, and a yellow aura was all around him, the sparks and flames bouncing off of it into the air. They pushed against each other's power, giving an inch and then taking a foot. They were evenly matched, or so it seemed, but Akechi was pushed backward as Cloud roared, and the stream of flames was broken.
Cloud slashed downward once, and seemed to slice only air. This was not true though, as the medallion's chain was cut, the bauble flying into the air as Akechi fell backward. Cloud lunged forward, bringing the final blow, but another blast of air sent him reeling back off balance, though not off his feet. He looked up, and Akechi hurled himself backward off the building, their glares meeting for a brief moment before he disappeared over the edge. "NO!" Cloud cried out, running to the edge of the roof. But he saw only sparks below, left in a trail as a black figure ran off into the adjacent allies at desperate speed.
Cloud stomped on the ground in frustration before sheathing his sword on his back. He looked down to his side, picking up the medallion Akechi had dropped. He thumbed it, rolling it over in his hand contemplatively. Akira finally regained the strength to stand, holding his arm over his still pained chest, looking on in befuddled amazement. "Who… who are you?" Cloud turned around, his glowing eyes now more visible, and Akira saw they were slit like a cat. He shivered at the sight in fear. "Are you… human?"
Cloud walked up to him, his eyes becoming more terrifying the closer he came. Akira stepped away from him, but Cloud came up within inches of him, looking him dead in the eyes. Akira saw every detail, the orange iris with red coronas, the slits expanding and shrinking, and he was utterly horrified. He then looked down, spied the medallion in Cloud's hand. It seemed to be shaped in the form of a roaring wolf. "Doesn't matter to you. None of this should," he said slowly. "Sleep, kid." He waved his hand in front of him, motioning with his index and middle finger, then his pinky, and Akira became very, very… very… tired…
…
The next thing Akira saw was the sky above him, and in his periphery, his friends. His whole body was alight in pain from his head to his feet, and he felt like he was fighting yet just to stay awake.
"Akira!" Ann exclaimed. "Are you okay!? What the hell happened!?"
He could make out a blurry image of his friend, her blond hair illuminated by the moon. Akira tried to explain what had transpired, but most of it was just a blur of images and feelings. Then he remembered his face. Akechi's. And that was the last thing he remembered clearly.
"A-Akechi," he said. "It was Akechi, from the Kuze Family. It was Akechi the whole damn time…"
Ryuji grabbed his shoulder, pulling his attention to him. "What did you say? Akechi was the assassin!?"
Akira nodded. "It was him. He… kicked my ass, got the briefcase, I think. I don't remember much afterward. I think he… struck me in the head."
"Goddammit," Makoto muttered. "I shudder to think of what they might do with the RZ-412…"
"I'm just… glad you're all okay," Akira sputtered out, slowly sitting up, though this caused him far more sudden pain. His friends helped him stay upright as he looked around, realizing he was back on the streets. "How did I get down here? I was just on the roof…"
"You were?" asked Yusuke. "We found you down here, bruised and bloody, as if the assassin had left you for dead."
Akira was completely baffled at what he was hearing, having no idea as to how the fight actually concluded, save that he must have lost. "What happened to Hannya? Is he alright?"
Makoto explained, "When we found out you were alive, he left. Said he had final business with Sakura. I guess they might be old friends or something, but I don't know. He wouldn't listen to us. But he did seem quite relieved that you were alright."
Akira nodded. "W-where's my sword? Do I have my sword?"
Haru leaned over to her side, and in her hands was Hanran. "It's clean," she said. "Guess you didn't even injure him, huh?"
"I… I don't know. It's all a blur, really."
"We should get him to the doctor," Futaba added. "We probably all should see the doctor, really. Just… thank you, Akira. For everything."
Akira smiled weakly to her. "Anytime."
They all stood to their feet, Ryuji and Yusuke supporting Akira as his legs still felt unstable. They tried to walk forward to where they guessed was Tenkaichi Street, but rounding the corner in front of them was a group of men in black suits, seeming dazed, bedraggled. "Stragglers," said Ryuji. "This shit just doesn't end. Take him," he ordered Ann. "Yusuke and I can handle them."
Akira gritted his teeth. "Getting pretty fucking tired of this. Just leave us the hell alone!"
The yakuza pulled out their own knives. "If I gotta go to fuckin' jail," said one, "at least I'll take the dragon down with me! Who's with me, boys!?"
"I think they don't like you, Akira," said Ann.
"I picked up on that."
Another thug spoke up. "Hey, it's that Okumura bitch too! Fuck goin' to jail, I want a piece of that bounty!"
"B-bounty?" Haru recoiled.
"Hey, assholes!" Ryuji called out. "You're in our way, and we've had a fucking long night! Move or get moved, bitches!"
"Fuck that!" shouted another yakuza. "This mission's been enough of a shitshow for our liking! Might as well get something out of it!"
"What do they mean?" asked Ann. "Aren't they responsible for all this?"
"I'm getting sick of all this," Futaba added.
The yakuza stepped closer to them, eyeing them like prey before predators. "Just come along quietly, all of you, and we'll get you out of this shithole nice and safe, okay?" said one. "None of us gotta get hurt anymore!"
"Hell with that," said Makoto, raising her fists. "We're going home, and you're going straight downtown, like the rest of your pathetic army."
"Hard way it is then," said the yakuza at the front. "Nab these fuckin' kids!"
Ryuji, Makoto, and Yusuke were at the front, bracing for an attack. The numbers were even, but their ace in the hole, Akira's Heat, was exhausted, so they would have to fight entirely old school. Yet there was no apprehension in their stances. They were prepared to fight their way into the morning.
Yet a light flashed above them; a shadow moved across their group in the blink of an eye, and figure landed on the ground before them. It quickly spun around between them and the assaulting yakuza, kicking two of them to the side with a sweeping kick strong enough to send them straight off their feet and to the ground. Everyone paused at the sight, stopping in their tracks, finally getting a look at the new combatant.
A young woman with flowing crimson hair rose to her feet before them; her eyes were a slightly darker shade of red than her hair, yet seemed to be alight with a powerful glow. Facing Akira and his friends, she glared at them, though not with anger, but determination. The glow in her eyes was then matched by blue flames on her shoulders and head… just like Akira's, yet the fringes and tips of the flames were tinted a deep and vibrant violet.
"Kasumi!?" Ann exclaimed in disbelief. "You're… you're…!"
"Who is this?" Haru asked. "She has Akira's powers!"
"That's news to us too," Ryuji added. "Though I can't say I'm complaining. That's badass, kid!" he pumped his fist in support of Kasumi.
Akira then stood by her side. They exchanged inquisitive glances, seeing each other's fighting spirit in their eyes. Then smaller, weaker blue flames appeared on Akira, the best he could muster. "Explain later?" he asked her.
"Yes," Kasumi nodded. "Later."
A yakuza shouted at them, "Shut the fuck up and fight!" Kasumi, with moves that more resembled gymnastics than martial arts, blocked his strike with a spinning kick, then somersaulted backward with impeccable grace to kick him in the chin.
"Alley-oop, Akira!" she cried out confidently, and Akira took the hint, clobbering the yakuza in the face and sending him straight into the ground. "Not bad!" Kasumi admonished him. "You're pretty strong too!"
Another yakuza pulled out a small pistol from his pocket and aimed at Kasumi. "Little bitch!" Ryuji noticed before anyone else, picked up a metal pipe from the ground, and threw it at the yakuza. The pipe hit him directly in the shoulder, causing him to drop his gun with a pained scream.
Ann grunted in frustration as the rest of the fighters charged the remaining yakuza. "I get at least one tonight!" She ran forward with her friends and kicked the injured yakuza in the face, smashing his head into the adjacent wall with her heel. "Squeal like a pig!" She rubbed the back of his head against the brick wall before strongly sliding him against it and to the ground, his mouth filling quickly with blood. A chipped tooth fell out from behind his lips and onto the ground.
Makoto and Yusuke took care of their own opponents, finishing off the rest of the group with ease. She patted her hands as if cleaning dust from them after a hard workday. "They were just bottom-rung thugs, nothing more. Maybe we should call the police, tell them where they are so they can at least know more Omi thugs have been taken care of."
"Good idea," Yusuke agreed. "There's a payphone around the corner, I believe. I'll call the police." And he was off.
Akira and Kasumi locked eyes once again. Akira looked to her with scrutiny and confusion gauging her current appearance and the way she had moved during the fight. Her flames then dissipated, but she appeared no calmer than before. "You're like me," he said.
"I was going to say the same to you. I didn't know there was anyone else like me."
"Neither did I. Do you know what these powers are?"
She shook her head. "I don't. I have no idea what it is. It just… happened one day. Like something awoke within me. I was stronger, faster, I could even see better. Do you know what this is?"
"Not really, no. But it sounds exactly like me. I'm just shocked to find someone else who has the ability."
Ann added, "But how did you find us? We thought you were taken home after we saved you from Kamoshida."
"Wait," Futaba interrupted, "you're the girl they saved?"
"I am," Kasumi nodded. "I owe my life to Akira, Ann, and Ryuji. And if you can believe it, I wasn't actually looking for you, but someone else. Someone else who may be important to me."
"'May?'" asked Haru.
"It's complicated. I barley understand it myself, but I thought they might be here in Kamurocho. I was compelled to come here by that feeling when these powers awoke within me. It's the only reason I had the courage to come back in the first place. I hoped to find answers, but instead, I found a warzone."
Ryuji said, "At least you're okay. Seems like your powers did a hell of a lot for you. Thanks for the assist, by the way."
"I'm just glad I could help. I was so worried about all of you when I saw what was happening here," Kasumi smiled to him, then turned to Akira. "My weak self back then would have cowered in fear at the thought of entering this war, but it looks like I might be one step closer to answers after all. You have the power too, Akira. I'd like to know anything you can tell me about it once this is all over."
"Honestly, I don't know much at all…" his voice trailed off, his eyes twitched with a twinge of sadness and, Kasumi guessed, anger. "But there might be someone outside of this shithole that would know something."
"Who?" Kasumi pressed.
Akira paused again, the words seeming painful for him to say. "My mom."
"Does she have it too?"
"I don't know," Akira shook his head. "But I do know there's a lot she's not telling me about this, and she's always been freakishly strong. When I get home, I'm going to get her to tell me everything. And I bet she'd love to meet you too."
"Yes!" Kasumi declared. "I need to learn anything I can about it. I feel I won't be at peace until I do."
"Then maybe when I go home, you can come with me."
"I'd be honored," Kasumi said respectfully.
Makoto looked her up and down incredulously. "You don't seem like you knew exactly who you were looking for, Miss. You just came here on a hunch?"
Kasumi seemed slightly more sheepish at that. "I did. But I don't think they're here anymore. Even then, I wasn't sure exactly who I was looking for, but I'd heard stories as I researched this power for the past few weeks. Mostly gibberish and nonsense, but I had to follow up on something. It led me here."
"Pretty cryptic for friendly company," Makoto narrowed her gaze at her.
"Unfortunately, some matters simply have to remain private until further notice, Miss. I'm really not able to talk about all of it right now, especially during a war."
Makoto pursed her lips, then waved her hand. "Fair enough," she conceded flatly.
Haru then asked, "Did anyone hear what they said about me? There's some bounty on my head?"
"If there is," said Akira, "then we need to get off the streets now. It could be your father, but things are too hot to risk anything."
Haru reluctantly nodded, equally displeased with any option. "Right. I'm just… it's too much, all of this."
Ann put a hand on her shoulder. "We'll be fine. It's almost over."
They heard sirens again, this time growing closer. Yusuke rounded the corner once again. "The police are here, everyone. It may be best for us to leave."
"You can say that again, man," said Ryuji. "I'm not ready to go to jail either."
"Let's go, everyone," Akira commanded.
They followed Yusuke out, with Makoto taking up the rear, watching over her friends and making sure no one tried to shoot them in the back. People's shadows appeared at the mouth of the alley, and Makoto had half a mind to give in, to surrender to the proper law of this land and just be over and done with the whole yakuza business. That was, until a figure at the front, a woman illuminated by a streetlight, was the first to appear in the alley. Makoto's heart skipped a beat, her chest grew sore, and her eyes widened as her breath shortened when she saw her sister leading three other men, her gun drawn and pointed at her.
Their eyes locked, both exhibiting total, painful shock at seeing each other. The men Sae led tried to talk to her, ask her what was going on, but neither sister could hear them over their hearts drumming in their ears with anxiety. They were both frozen in place, unable to even breathe.
"Ma…Makoto?" Sae gasped.
Hearing her sister say her name for the first time in years caused Makoto's eyes to sting with tears. "S-Sis?" she muttered.
Someone grabbed her arm from behind. It was Akira, ordering her to move until he saw the tears in her eyes. He looked up and saw Sae across the alley from them, and her expression turned from shocked sorrow to burning rage. "YOU!"
Akira was terrified but managed to bury it, keeping himself outwardly calm. "Let's go," he whispered to Makoto, trying not to freak her out more than she already was. "We have to go."
"Sis…" her voice broke as she tried to hold back sobs. She forced her feet to move, turning her back on her sister.
"Makoto, wait!" Sae called after her, causing the pain in her chest to intensify. All the arguments, the trauma, the guilt that she had buried her whole life sprung forth within her like a fiery geyser, and she could barely tell her left from her right as panic overtook her. Tears flowed freely down her cheeks as she heard Sae continue to call after her.
Makoto was led down a winding path through many alleys by her friends. She could hear Sae calling after her, chasing her, but she dared not look back, fearing if she did that she would drop dead from the guilt and anxiety, or she would run into her sister's arms, begging for forgiveness, or she would lose what little control she had an enact terrible vengeance on her for every time she ever scolded her, belittled her, yelled at her for not being absolutely fucking perfect in every way that mattered to her, not Makoto. The possibilities were endless and terrible, and so she ran. And ran. And ran more still with her friends, not even aware of how much time was passing.
Sae spun around in the street, desperately searching for her sister. Her dear little sister, who was the enemy. She had forsaken everything their family stood for, and joined the side that murdered her father. It was inconceivable to Sae, and even after seeing it, she could barely believe it to be true nonetheless. Never in her life had she felt more betrayed, even when Makoto ran away from home.
And now she had lost her. Again. To those fiends. The fiends that took her father and were laying waste to the city. Inexcusable, indescribable, REPREHENSIBLE. They had taken her sister from her. She was misguided through means Sae could not imagine, yet it happened anyway. And so, she wrathfully threw her gun to the ground and screamed.
"MAKOTOOOO!"