More ficcie
Jul. 15th, 2004 11:27 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
croikTada~ More Thunder Falling, such as it is.
GG isn't mine etc etc.
Thunder Falling
Chapter 2
Three drinks later—an uncommon number for the former Guild leader—Venom believed he was finally beginning to understand the circumstances around his pair of companions. “So you’re the same person,” he stated, pointing to each in turn. “And one of you is here normally—”
“That’s me,” the second Axl piped up.
“—and the other you is from the future.”
The original Axl nodded, flushed with his own intoxication. “And that’s me.”
“Isn’t that….” Venom rubbed idly at his eyes behind a thin curtain of hair. “Isn’t that…not supposed to happen? The same person being in the same place at once….”
Both Axls shrugged, and at the same time asked, “Why not?”
Venom’s shoulders sagged. “I don’t now. I just thought….”
Original Axl smirked, though he paused to take another drink before explaining. “It’s happened before. Look—one week from now, my better half here is going to pop back through time, to here. He’ll remember that he met us here, and come back, just like I did. It’s a loop. Get it?”
“But….” Venom’s face screwed up into an expression of deep concentration, which would have amused his company had they been able to clearly see it. “You knew to come here because you remembered meeting your future self here a week ago, in your time. But how did he know to come here in the first place?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Axl shrugged again. “At the time, he was the future me. So he must have remembered meeting himself here a week earlier, too.”
“But then…how did….” Venom shook his head in confusion. “There must have been an original. The first Axl, who never met their future self.”
“Why?” asked the second Axl. “You’re thinking to linearly. Time doesn’t work like that—it’s possible to see the effect before the cause.” He turned to himself. “Right?”
“Damn right.”
“If you say so….” Venom finished off the rest of his drink as he thought that over. It…almost made sense. Not much, but enough that he could accept it for now. “Does this happen often?”
“Not too often,” replied future Axl. “And usually, it’s not over too long a time—a few days, a few weeks, maybe.” He grinned. “It’s not so bad. I’ve been able to see a lot of places—meet a lot of interesting people.”
Venom frowned, his gaze dropping. “You think I’m interesting?”
“Aren’t you?” He reached out, but the moment Venom felt fingertips brushing his hair he knew what he was up to, and flinched back. Axl chuckled. “Shy for an assassin, aren’t we?”
“I’m wanted,” Venom reminded him, leaning back in his chair to avoid any other unwanted gestures. “And this is Paris. Every Global Police officer on the continent is in this city.”
Axl whistled appreciatively. “No kidding.”
“So why are you here?” asked the other. “If it’s so dangerous.”
“I’m….” Venom glanced away. “I’m looking for a man,” he confessed.
“Must be pretty important, to risk Paris during a holiday.”
“It’s is.”
“Well.” The future Axl lifted his glass in a toast. “Here’s hoping you find the bloke!”
“Here here!” chimed his twin.
Venom hesitated; he wasn’t at all used to this openness, this easy atmosphere and the almost…friendliness being expressed toward him. He didn’t want to trust it—and he didn’t. But he lifted his glass all the same, deciding it best to play along for now. “May we find our way home after this,” he added.
Both Axls faltered, one halfway through a gulp of his drink, and for a moment Venom felt almost guilty watching the flutter of discomfort over their faces. He hadn’t realized that he’d said anything questionable. He could tell, though, that their reactions were genuine, and was oddly pleased that even if it turned out these men were to betray him, he had seen their true faces for an instant.
“Something wrong?” the assassin asked coolly.
The present Axl recovered himself first. “Nothing,” he quickly assured, his smile forced. “Another drink?”
*****
Chipp Zanuff released an explosive sigh of contentment as he slipped up to his neck in almost too hot spring water. “Now this is more of what I had in mind,” he told his companion pointedly, being careful not to get his hair wet. He took in a deep breath of soothing steam. “A hot bath, a little starlight...I can actually feel my feet!”
Anji smiled as he reached behind him for a small saucer of saké. “I told you December in the Colony was a little different than the outside. The real parties are just starting—are you sure you don’t want to go down to the shopping district?”
“Naw. If you make me speak any more Japanese, I’m gonna puke.” Chipp sighed again, though more quietly than before. He settled in so the back of his skull was nestled between a pair of rocks. “Besides, how could I pass up empty hot springs?”
“Yeah, no kidding.”
They fell silent a moment, gazing up at a distant canopy of false stars. Just beyond the line of darkened trees the sounds of celebration were blossoming. Until presently the festivities of the day had been comprised of ceremonies and solemn dedications—remembrance for lives lost, entire lines of families severed in the devastation a century past. For an outsider like Chipp it was difficult to comprehend the depth of sorrowful emotion passed through the whispered prayers and offerings, but he could feel it, and it was exhausting. Accompanying Anji throughout the ordeal had only made his ill ease worse, as his companion was adamant about performing each rite to perfection, and prone to explaining every move and symbol to the greatest extent.
“Not all of your holidays are like this,” Chipp said suddenly. “Are they?”
“Only the ones commemorating massacres.”
Both men started, gazes swinging to the figure standing at the edge of the spring which neither had heard approach. “B-Baiken!” Anji squawked ungracefully, sinking lower into the water. “What are you doing here?”
“This is the guys’ side!” Chipp protested as he drew his knees in.
Baiken was clad in a simple bathrobe, illuminated by the gentle lamplight coming from the temple behind her. Her hair was already tied up, and except for the eerie lack of limb to fill her right sleeve she appeared surprisingly feminine. Until she spoke. “I’m coming in. Have a problem with that?”
“This is the guys’ side!” Anji echoed his friend’s earlier complaint.
“We’re going to fart and talk about tits,” Chipp tried to warn her off.
Baiken rolled her eye in annoyance, but some of her usual biting sarcasm seemed to be lacking—even if she hadn’t given her whole-hearted participation to every ceremony and service, she had been with them all day as well, and her exhaustion was showing. “There are a few people on the women’s side,” she explained with a sharp shrug. “Friends of Wakami’s mother.”
Chipp snickered. “Aww, wha’s’a matter? Shy?”
Anji cringed a little, looking as if to offer his friend some warning, but it was too late. Baiken glared at him evenly, and without a word turned her back on the pair. A slight, jagged movement of her arm was all it took to let the robe slip into a pool around her ankles.
Chipp’s eyes widened, lips parting in surprise at the sight of her. But it wasn’t Baiken’s long limbs and toned physique that had captured his attention; rather, the map of twisted scars that stretched down her back. The line of her left shoulder blade melted into her skin at an odd point as if some of the bone beneath had been cracked or removed, and there were several patches of skin that appeared to bear the memories of lacerations and burns. None of those rivaled the spectacle that was her missing arm: the limb terminated just below her shoulder in a circle of dark metal, seemingly grafted directly to what remained of the bone and providing a mass of clasps which would normally be used to attach her many weapons.
Chipp gulped, and as Baiken stepped backwards into the tub he turned to Anji. “None of those are…from me, right?” he asked in a fairly panicked whisper. “When I was….”
“No,” Baiken answered for him, making Chipp jump a little. She turned to face them, and both men cringed away until they were certain she was well hidden beneath the night water. “Don’t be ridiculous—you’re not good enough to get me in the back, Chipp Zanuff.”
Chipp made a face, though his shoulders drooped with relief. “Not my fault I don’t remember it,” he muttered, crossing his arms.
“Whatever. Anji—pour me some saké.”
Anji did so with a shaky smile, while he was at it refilling his and Chipp’s cups as well. “I thought you’d be down in town,” he tried to make idle conversation as they sipped from the alcohol.
“Like last year?” Baiken asked, gulping down her share of the drink on one breath. “Getting myself stone drunk?
“She can do that anytime,” Chipp said with a smirk.
She glared at him, but as long as there was no threat of physical violence in her face he wouldn’t back down. “There’s nothing wrong,” she muttered, “with wanting to spend a peaceful ‘holiday’.”
Anji nodded; despite their original anxiety at her appearance, he seemed pleased by the company. “Well, I’m glad. We’ve been here for weeks and it seems like we never see you.”
Baiken frowned slightly as she shook her cup for him to refill. “I’ve been busy.”
“You should train with us sometime,” Chipp said. He had spent the last two months since they’d reached the colony trying to get her to do just that; he couldn’t remember their fight in Italy, but judging by the scar still fading from his shoulder it had been an impressive match, and he was interested in seeing Baiken’s skill for himself. “Unless you’re, like, scared or something.”
“Yeah, right. You’re not even worth the time.”
“Now, now,” Anji intervened. “I’m sure Baiken would love to spend more time with her friends, if she wasn’t so busy with…whatever it is she’s being doing.”
Baiken took her time with her refilled cup. She hesitated a moment, and when she spoke her voice was firm, though a pitch lower. “I’ve been visiting the Council.”
“Council?” Anji echoed.
Chipp glanced between the two of them with a frown. Even being in the Colony for as long as he had been, he still had only a barest idea of how things were run. “The Council,” he repeated. “You mean, like with Wakami’s dad?”
“The Council is in charge of looking after the Colony,” Anji explained for his benefit. “Looking after things, in place of a real parliament.”
“Ahhh.”
Anji turned his attention back to Baiken. “So why are you talking to the Council anyway? I thought you hated Chairman Murase.”
“I do,” Baiken confirmed, glancing vaguely away. “But as long as his son still likes me, he’ll at least see me, right?” She took a sip. “I’ve been trying to convince them to open the Colony.”
Anji choked on his saké. “You’ve what?”
“Open the Colony. Don’t you think it’s about time?” She paused for a sip of saké. “We’ve been hiding in here like rats for a century now.”
Chipp glanced between the two as he tried to understand what was passing between them. “Open the Colony? You mean, actually let people in?”
“Something like that, yeah.”
“But….” Anji frowned at her with concern. “Why? It’s not like you cared about what goes on here before.”
Though Chipp was momentarily surprised by the sudden tension between the pair—even when Baiken was at her worse Anji usually managed to stay light-hearted—he wasn’t about to question. He devoted himself to his drink and hoped he might go unnoticed.
“Let’s just say I’ve been thinking,” Baiken muttered, doing her best to look unaffected by Anji’s unwavering attention. “This place needs to be stirred up. It needs to protect itself.”
“Protect itself? From what?”
“God, don’t be so fucking naïve.”
Chipp sank a little lower into the water with a wince. “Here we go….”
“I know you were unconscious for most of it,” Baiken started into it, forgoing her mask of indifference for a scowl, “but that doesn’t excuse you for being completely ignorant.” She sat up a little higher, and Chipp tried to make himself look away, given the seriousness of their conversation. “We’ve been sitting back in our little hole for decades, and what good has it done? Made us fucking livestock, that’s what.”
Anji sighed, sinking back against the rocks behind him. “Come on, Baiken. No need to be overly dramatic.”
“I’m not over-fucking-dramatic,” she hissed at him. Baiken had never been a gracious drunk. “Don’t you remember anything I told you? The Ninth, the Bureau, him—”
“Baiken.” Anji refilled his cup, and when he offered the same to Chipp, he was all too quick to accept the extra alcohol. “Didn’t we kind of go through this already?”
“If we did, you must have forgot,” she grumbled. She downed the rest of her current drink and waved the empty cup at him.
Anji diplomatically eased it aside. “I know you’re worried about the Bureau,” he said. “And this Colony might not be much for people like us, but it’s all everyone here has. The best we can do is to keep it safe.”
“Safe?” Baiken scoffed. “You think it’s safe here?” She turned abruptly to Chipp, who ducked lower so that his chin touched the water. He didn’t realize that he’d submerged his drinking glass in the process. “Do you remember what I told you?”
Chipp gulped; he’d hoped not to get drawn into this. “Yeah, I think so. You mean…about what that woman said, right? About the Gears…the Bureau….”
“Exactly.” She turned back to Anji with a sneer. “All this time we thought we’d escaped—that we’re safe here. But we’re just where they want us, at their disposal. Can you really live with that?” She poked him hard in the shoulder. “Well?”
Anji rolled his eyes, setting his cup down and urging the saké away from them all. “You’re drunk.”
“So?”
“So, you must have forgotten what happened,” he tried to reason with her. “Remember what it was like on the outside before we came here? The whole world is looking out for the Bureau. You should have a little more faith in Officer Kiske.” He leaned his arms against the edge of the pool. “The Bureau’s not coming anywhere near here.”
“I’m not just talking about the goddamned Bureau!” Baiken snapped. “I’m talking about the Gears—remember that? That crazy shithead who pumped your skull full of crap?”
Anji’s eyes thinned, and beside him, Chipp winced a little in sympathy. This was not the first time he’d witnessed this argument between them during the course of their journey here, and he could predict its outcome with a fair amount of certainty. That wouldn’t make it any less unpleasant to watch: when Anji was upset it showed clearly in his face to the point of comedy, the way his cheeks flushed and his lips pursed. It was like watching a child face down a bully .
“What he told me,” Anji said as evenly as he could manage, “was not crap.”
Baiken glowered at him; even bleary-eyed with intoxication she was formidable. “He’s a murderer and a madman—he’s just waiting to finish us off.” She splashed at the water. “All gathered up like fucking pigs to be slaughtered.”
“I told you, that’s not what he wants!” Anji protested, his voice rising. “You didn’t talk to him—you didn’t hear what—”
“I didn’t see him because you were trying to fucking kill me!”
Baiken turned abruptly, clamoring ungracefully out of the hot springs. She slipped a little on the dampened stone but when Anji moved to help her she shoved him angrily way. “Don’t touch me,” she hissed as she snatched up her discarded robe. But between being drunk, angry, and one-armed, she didn’t have an easy time drawing it back over her limbs.
“Baiken….” Anji started after her, though he was careful to secure his towel around his waist as soon as he emerged from the water. “Hey…just calm down, all right? It’s been a long day for everyone.”
He reached for her again, but she jerked sharply away from him, still trying to get her stump of an arm through her robe’s sleeve. They fought back and forth a moment, until Baiken grew fed up with his insistence and shoved him hard in the chest. “Don’t you goddamn touch me!” she snarled, finally managing to draw the robe fully on. “Stupid shit. Maybe you’ll believe me when he marches his Gears up your damn ass.”
Though this was usually the part where Anji backed down and Baiken sulked off for even more booze, Chipp was surprised to see Anji hold his ground. “You’re only saying that because you don’t understand,” he said lowly. “What he was trying to do.”
“How….” Baiken shuddered angrily, her pale eyes narrowed lethally in the dark. “How can you even say that today?” she growled. “An hour ago we prayed for the dead—have you forgotten them already?”
Anji gathered himself up; being twenty centimeters taller than her the effect was somewhat impressive, the way he looked down on her with a look of stern, almost parental patience. Chipp couldn’t remember having seen him like that before, and from the way Baiken’s glare faltered he guessed she hadn’t, either. “No,” he said quietly, but with conviction. “I haven’t.”
Baiken stared at him, and for the first time in Chipp’s memory she seemed to be at a loss for words. Holding her robe closed against her chest she took a step back. The moment was tense, and then Baiken turned abruptly to leave without a word. Her bare feet made only a slight sound against the rocks.
Chipp licked his lips nervously as he climbed out of the pool and reached for his own towel. “Anji…?” He approached his friend slowly. “Um…you okay?”
Anji sighed, his shoulder sagging as he turned to face the other. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he assured, lifting his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose. “Sorry you got dragged into it.”
“Hey, no problem.” Chipp fidgeted—he was no good at dealing with other people’s problems, especially between these two. “Um, listen,” he attempted. “I’m sure she’s just worked up because of today, you know? And she’s totally wasted, so…so I’m sure she was just blowing off some steam. It wasn’t personal.”
Anji glanced at him, and his features curled into a faint grin. “Thanks, Chipp.” His gaze lowered. “She just doesn’t understand. I know with the Gears gone she needs someone to blame, but…it wasn’t that man’s fault. He didn’t intend for what happened….”
Chipp frowned. “Do you…really believe that?”
“Yes. I really do.” He chuckled. “Does that make me naïve?”
Chipp scratched the back of his head and shrugged. “Shit, I dunno,” he mumbled. “I mean, it’s not like I know the guy. How should I know if he was lying or not?”
Anji’s smile deepened as he clapped Chipp on the shoulder. “Well, thanks for that, I guess. Come on.” He turned back for the jug of saké and their cups. “I think we’re gonna need refills.”
*****
Baiken was aware that she wasn’t in the best state of mind for what she was planning to do. She hadn’t bothered to change out of her robe and her hair had come out of its ties—the sight of her drew many curious stares from the men and women still wandering about the night festivals. She gave them no notice; whenever she found herself back in the Colony, she always managed to draw attention with her slovenly appearance and scarred features. Seeing her now, drunk and unkempt, could not have lowered their opinions of her much.
She was beginning to wish she hadn’t returned here at all. The Colony had always left her feeling anxious, the way it rested outside of time and reason, the way it never changed despite however many years passed between visits. It was smothering and irritating. And now, more frustrating than ever, now that she could see through its petty visage even more clearly.
After a few crude inquiries Baiken found herself outside a small restaurant not far from the temple she had just been at. Ignoring the protests of the waiters she stomped inside and quickly found the object of her hastened search: a middle aged man with a thick mustache and beard was seated with his son and a few others along the restaurant’s wall. He was dressed in a casual green yukata, which completely spoiled the air of dignity and sophistication he had displayed earlier in the day during ceremony after ceremony. His son, a tall young man with long, dark auburn hair, was pouring him a drink. They were laughing together, and the sight of their enjoyment only darkened her mood further.
Baiken marched up to them and dropped to her knees, pounding her fist against the short table. The men gasped in surprised as their drinks were spilled, and a thin crack ran up the length of the wood. “Murase Sousuke,” she all but growled. “I need a word with you.”
Murase accepted a napkin from his son to clear the saké that had spilled onto his sleeve. “And here I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow,” he sighed.
“I need a word now,” she insisted, ignoring the stares of Murase’s companions, as well as those of the restaurant’s many other customers. “Or I’ll go to Paris myself.” When she glanced up she caught Murase’s son Yuuya watching her with mixed annoyance and amusement, and she scowled at him. “What the hell do you want?”
“You’re the one interrupting,” he replied, crossing his arms. “You tell me.”
“Baiken,” Murase interrupted before she could respond. “If this is about what we discussed before, it can wait until tomorrow.”
“It can’t wait!” she insisted. “How can you say that when all our lives are in danger!”
A murmur began to spread through the surrounding patrons as the two stared each other down. Finally Murase averted his gaze. “I understand your concern,” he said evenly. “But this is neither the time nor place for these discussions.”
“Fuck you!” Baiken snarled, pushing to her feet. She didn’t realize that Yuuya had stood as well until she stumbled, and he caught her shoulder to keep her steady—her limbless shoulder. Without thinking her arm swung, and the flat of her palm caught the man sharply across his face. The sound of striking flesh silenced the room for a moment before it began to buzz again, louder than before, at her boldness.
The Chairman’s son rubbed his already reddening cheek with a smile that was almost a wince. “You only slap when you’re drunk,” he told her.
Baiken seethed, a moment away from striking him again when Murase’s voice cut above the restaurant’s din. “Baiken. You can state your case in Council like everyone else.” Reluctantly she glanced down to meet his steely gaze. “Unless you have some new information for us that would make the matter urgent, this is not the time for this.”
“But he’s still alive!” Baiken continued to protest. She could feel herself shaking by now. It was unlike her, and there was bile burning in the back of her throat. “That man is alive, and he’ll—”
“You have no proof of that!” Murase snapped back, unwavering. When she faltered and fell silent, he nodded slightly in approval. “Now go. Come back to me when you’re sober.”
Baiken shuddered, her fist clenched in anger as she glared at the man’s now turned head. “I…have proof,” she hissed. But it was no more than a whisper, and with the sounds of the restaurant resuming Murase didn’t hear. “He’s alive. He…he met him….”
Murase gave her presence no more notice, and with a growl she lashed out, catching the table with her foot and overturning it into the laps of Murase’s guests. They protested loudly, and one of them reached for her, but by then she had spun on her heel and started for the door.
“Fools,” she muttered under her breath as she stalked out into the streets once more. “Let them all burn.” Still shaking slightly she broke out into a run, letting herself get lost in the crowds.
*****
Yuuya watched her leave without daring to comment or stop her; his eyes were narrowed on her back until he could no longer see her still posture and flailing hair. Finally, he knelt down to help his company right the table and gather the fallen cups.
“My apologies, gentlemen,” Murase said as he signaled for the waiters to approach; they were all hesitant, as if fearing Baiken might suddenly reappear with even greater wrath. “But then, things are always lively when she comes back.”
The men grumbled replies, snorting at her impertinence and expressing their disgust with her appearance and drunken behavior. Yuuya didn’t remark—didn’t speak until the dinner conversation had resumed, and he was allowed a moment to whisper in his father’s ear. “I think you were right, Father. About Mito.”
Murase didn’t look to his son, but he nodded, vaguely. “She said something?”
“Yes.”
Murase sighed. “Well, then,” he said quietly. “Take care of it.”
GG isn't mine etc etc.
Thunder Falling
Chapter 2
Three drinks later—an uncommon number for the former Guild leader—Venom believed he was finally beginning to understand the circumstances around his pair of companions. “So you’re the same person,” he stated, pointing to each in turn. “And one of you is here normally—”
“That’s me,” the second Axl piped up.
“—and the other you is from the future.”
The original Axl nodded, flushed with his own intoxication. “And that’s me.”
“Isn’t that….” Venom rubbed idly at his eyes behind a thin curtain of hair. “Isn’t that…not supposed to happen? The same person being in the same place at once….”
Both Axls shrugged, and at the same time asked, “Why not?”
Venom’s shoulders sagged. “I don’t now. I just thought….”
Original Axl smirked, though he paused to take another drink before explaining. “It’s happened before. Look—one week from now, my better half here is going to pop back through time, to here. He’ll remember that he met us here, and come back, just like I did. It’s a loop. Get it?”
“But….” Venom’s face screwed up into an expression of deep concentration, which would have amused his company had they been able to clearly see it. “You knew to come here because you remembered meeting your future self here a week ago, in your time. But how did he know to come here in the first place?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Axl shrugged again. “At the time, he was the future me. So he must have remembered meeting himself here a week earlier, too.”
“But then…how did….” Venom shook his head in confusion. “There must have been an original. The first Axl, who never met their future self.”
“Why?” asked the second Axl. “You’re thinking to linearly. Time doesn’t work like that—it’s possible to see the effect before the cause.” He turned to himself. “Right?”
“Damn right.”
“If you say so….” Venom finished off the rest of his drink as he thought that over. It…almost made sense. Not much, but enough that he could accept it for now. “Does this happen often?”
“Not too often,” replied future Axl. “And usually, it’s not over too long a time—a few days, a few weeks, maybe.” He grinned. “It’s not so bad. I’ve been able to see a lot of places—meet a lot of interesting people.”
Venom frowned, his gaze dropping. “You think I’m interesting?”
“Aren’t you?” He reached out, but the moment Venom felt fingertips brushing his hair he knew what he was up to, and flinched back. Axl chuckled. “Shy for an assassin, aren’t we?”
“I’m wanted,” Venom reminded him, leaning back in his chair to avoid any other unwanted gestures. “And this is Paris. Every Global Police officer on the continent is in this city.”
Axl whistled appreciatively. “No kidding.”
“So why are you here?” asked the other. “If it’s so dangerous.”
“I’m….” Venom glanced away. “I’m looking for a man,” he confessed.
“Must be pretty important, to risk Paris during a holiday.”
“It’s is.”
“Well.” The future Axl lifted his glass in a toast. “Here’s hoping you find the bloke!”
“Here here!” chimed his twin.
Venom hesitated; he wasn’t at all used to this openness, this easy atmosphere and the almost…friendliness being expressed toward him. He didn’t want to trust it—and he didn’t. But he lifted his glass all the same, deciding it best to play along for now. “May we find our way home after this,” he added.
Both Axls faltered, one halfway through a gulp of his drink, and for a moment Venom felt almost guilty watching the flutter of discomfort over their faces. He hadn’t realized that he’d said anything questionable. He could tell, though, that their reactions were genuine, and was oddly pleased that even if it turned out these men were to betray him, he had seen their true faces for an instant.
“Something wrong?” the assassin asked coolly.
The present Axl recovered himself first. “Nothing,” he quickly assured, his smile forced. “Another drink?”
*****
Chipp Zanuff released an explosive sigh of contentment as he slipped up to his neck in almost too hot spring water. “Now this is more of what I had in mind,” he told his companion pointedly, being careful not to get his hair wet. He took in a deep breath of soothing steam. “A hot bath, a little starlight...I can actually feel my feet!”
Anji smiled as he reached behind him for a small saucer of saké. “I told you December in the Colony was a little different than the outside. The real parties are just starting—are you sure you don’t want to go down to the shopping district?”
“Naw. If you make me speak any more Japanese, I’m gonna puke.” Chipp sighed again, though more quietly than before. He settled in so the back of his skull was nestled between a pair of rocks. “Besides, how could I pass up empty hot springs?”
“Yeah, no kidding.”
They fell silent a moment, gazing up at a distant canopy of false stars. Just beyond the line of darkened trees the sounds of celebration were blossoming. Until presently the festivities of the day had been comprised of ceremonies and solemn dedications—remembrance for lives lost, entire lines of families severed in the devastation a century past. For an outsider like Chipp it was difficult to comprehend the depth of sorrowful emotion passed through the whispered prayers and offerings, but he could feel it, and it was exhausting. Accompanying Anji throughout the ordeal had only made his ill ease worse, as his companion was adamant about performing each rite to perfection, and prone to explaining every move and symbol to the greatest extent.
“Not all of your holidays are like this,” Chipp said suddenly. “Are they?”
“Only the ones commemorating massacres.”
Both men started, gazes swinging to the figure standing at the edge of the spring which neither had heard approach. “B-Baiken!” Anji squawked ungracefully, sinking lower into the water. “What are you doing here?”
“This is the guys’ side!” Chipp protested as he drew his knees in.
Baiken was clad in a simple bathrobe, illuminated by the gentle lamplight coming from the temple behind her. Her hair was already tied up, and except for the eerie lack of limb to fill her right sleeve she appeared surprisingly feminine. Until she spoke. “I’m coming in. Have a problem with that?”
“This is the guys’ side!” Anji echoed his friend’s earlier complaint.
“We’re going to fart and talk about tits,” Chipp tried to warn her off.
Baiken rolled her eye in annoyance, but some of her usual biting sarcasm seemed to be lacking—even if she hadn’t given her whole-hearted participation to every ceremony and service, she had been with them all day as well, and her exhaustion was showing. “There are a few people on the women’s side,” she explained with a sharp shrug. “Friends of Wakami’s mother.”
Chipp snickered. “Aww, wha’s’a matter? Shy?”
Anji cringed a little, looking as if to offer his friend some warning, but it was too late. Baiken glared at him evenly, and without a word turned her back on the pair. A slight, jagged movement of her arm was all it took to let the robe slip into a pool around her ankles.
Chipp’s eyes widened, lips parting in surprise at the sight of her. But it wasn’t Baiken’s long limbs and toned physique that had captured his attention; rather, the map of twisted scars that stretched down her back. The line of her left shoulder blade melted into her skin at an odd point as if some of the bone beneath had been cracked or removed, and there were several patches of skin that appeared to bear the memories of lacerations and burns. None of those rivaled the spectacle that was her missing arm: the limb terminated just below her shoulder in a circle of dark metal, seemingly grafted directly to what remained of the bone and providing a mass of clasps which would normally be used to attach her many weapons.
Chipp gulped, and as Baiken stepped backwards into the tub he turned to Anji. “None of those are…from me, right?” he asked in a fairly panicked whisper. “When I was….”
“No,” Baiken answered for him, making Chipp jump a little. She turned to face them, and both men cringed away until they were certain she was well hidden beneath the night water. “Don’t be ridiculous—you’re not good enough to get me in the back, Chipp Zanuff.”
Chipp made a face, though his shoulders drooped with relief. “Not my fault I don’t remember it,” he muttered, crossing his arms.
“Whatever. Anji—pour me some saké.”
Anji did so with a shaky smile, while he was at it refilling his and Chipp’s cups as well. “I thought you’d be down in town,” he tried to make idle conversation as they sipped from the alcohol.
“Like last year?” Baiken asked, gulping down her share of the drink on one breath. “Getting myself stone drunk?
“She can do that anytime,” Chipp said with a smirk.
She glared at him, but as long as there was no threat of physical violence in her face he wouldn’t back down. “There’s nothing wrong,” she muttered, “with wanting to spend a peaceful ‘holiday’.”
Anji nodded; despite their original anxiety at her appearance, he seemed pleased by the company. “Well, I’m glad. We’ve been here for weeks and it seems like we never see you.”
Baiken frowned slightly as she shook her cup for him to refill. “I’ve been busy.”
“You should train with us sometime,” Chipp said. He had spent the last two months since they’d reached the colony trying to get her to do just that; he couldn’t remember their fight in Italy, but judging by the scar still fading from his shoulder it had been an impressive match, and he was interested in seeing Baiken’s skill for himself. “Unless you’re, like, scared or something.”
“Yeah, right. You’re not even worth the time.”
“Now, now,” Anji intervened. “I’m sure Baiken would love to spend more time with her friends, if she wasn’t so busy with…whatever it is she’s being doing.”
Baiken took her time with her refilled cup. She hesitated a moment, and when she spoke her voice was firm, though a pitch lower. “I’ve been visiting the Council.”
“Council?” Anji echoed.
Chipp glanced between the two of them with a frown. Even being in the Colony for as long as he had been, he still had only a barest idea of how things were run. “The Council,” he repeated. “You mean, like with Wakami’s dad?”
“The Council is in charge of looking after the Colony,” Anji explained for his benefit. “Looking after things, in place of a real parliament.”
“Ahhh.”
Anji turned his attention back to Baiken. “So why are you talking to the Council anyway? I thought you hated Chairman Murase.”
“I do,” Baiken confirmed, glancing vaguely away. “But as long as his son still likes me, he’ll at least see me, right?” She took a sip. “I’ve been trying to convince them to open the Colony.”
Anji choked on his saké. “You’ve what?”
“Open the Colony. Don’t you think it’s about time?” She paused for a sip of saké. “We’ve been hiding in here like rats for a century now.”
Chipp glanced between the two as he tried to understand what was passing between them. “Open the Colony? You mean, actually let people in?”
“Something like that, yeah.”
“But….” Anji frowned at her with concern. “Why? It’s not like you cared about what goes on here before.”
Though Chipp was momentarily surprised by the sudden tension between the pair—even when Baiken was at her worse Anji usually managed to stay light-hearted—he wasn’t about to question. He devoted himself to his drink and hoped he might go unnoticed.
“Let’s just say I’ve been thinking,” Baiken muttered, doing her best to look unaffected by Anji’s unwavering attention. “This place needs to be stirred up. It needs to protect itself.”
“Protect itself? From what?”
“God, don’t be so fucking naïve.”
Chipp sank a little lower into the water with a wince. “Here we go….”
“I know you were unconscious for most of it,” Baiken started into it, forgoing her mask of indifference for a scowl, “but that doesn’t excuse you for being completely ignorant.” She sat up a little higher, and Chipp tried to make himself look away, given the seriousness of their conversation. “We’ve been sitting back in our little hole for decades, and what good has it done? Made us fucking livestock, that’s what.”
Anji sighed, sinking back against the rocks behind him. “Come on, Baiken. No need to be overly dramatic.”
“I’m not over-fucking-dramatic,” she hissed at him. Baiken had never been a gracious drunk. “Don’t you remember anything I told you? The Ninth, the Bureau, him—”
“Baiken.” Anji refilled his cup, and when he offered the same to Chipp, he was all too quick to accept the extra alcohol. “Didn’t we kind of go through this already?”
“If we did, you must have forgot,” she grumbled. She downed the rest of her current drink and waved the empty cup at him.
Anji diplomatically eased it aside. “I know you’re worried about the Bureau,” he said. “And this Colony might not be much for people like us, but it’s all everyone here has. The best we can do is to keep it safe.”
“Safe?” Baiken scoffed. “You think it’s safe here?” She turned abruptly to Chipp, who ducked lower so that his chin touched the water. He didn’t realize that he’d submerged his drinking glass in the process. “Do you remember what I told you?”
Chipp gulped; he’d hoped not to get drawn into this. “Yeah, I think so. You mean…about what that woman said, right? About the Gears…the Bureau….”
“Exactly.” She turned back to Anji with a sneer. “All this time we thought we’d escaped—that we’re safe here. But we’re just where they want us, at their disposal. Can you really live with that?” She poked him hard in the shoulder. “Well?”
Anji rolled his eyes, setting his cup down and urging the saké away from them all. “You’re drunk.”
“So?”
“So, you must have forgotten what happened,” he tried to reason with her. “Remember what it was like on the outside before we came here? The whole world is looking out for the Bureau. You should have a little more faith in Officer Kiske.” He leaned his arms against the edge of the pool. “The Bureau’s not coming anywhere near here.”
“I’m not just talking about the goddamned Bureau!” Baiken snapped. “I’m talking about the Gears—remember that? That crazy shithead who pumped your skull full of crap?”
Anji’s eyes thinned, and beside him, Chipp winced a little in sympathy. This was not the first time he’d witnessed this argument between them during the course of their journey here, and he could predict its outcome with a fair amount of certainty. That wouldn’t make it any less unpleasant to watch: when Anji was upset it showed clearly in his face to the point of comedy, the way his cheeks flushed and his lips pursed. It was like watching a child face down a bully .
“What he told me,” Anji said as evenly as he could manage, “was not crap.”
Baiken glowered at him; even bleary-eyed with intoxication she was formidable. “He’s a murderer and a madman—he’s just waiting to finish us off.” She splashed at the water. “All gathered up like fucking pigs to be slaughtered.”
“I told you, that’s not what he wants!” Anji protested, his voice rising. “You didn’t talk to him—you didn’t hear what—”
“I didn’t see him because you were trying to fucking kill me!”
Baiken turned abruptly, clamoring ungracefully out of the hot springs. She slipped a little on the dampened stone but when Anji moved to help her she shoved him angrily way. “Don’t touch me,” she hissed as she snatched up her discarded robe. But between being drunk, angry, and one-armed, she didn’t have an easy time drawing it back over her limbs.
“Baiken….” Anji started after her, though he was careful to secure his towel around his waist as soon as he emerged from the water. “Hey…just calm down, all right? It’s been a long day for everyone.”
He reached for her again, but she jerked sharply away from him, still trying to get her stump of an arm through her robe’s sleeve. They fought back and forth a moment, until Baiken grew fed up with his insistence and shoved him hard in the chest. “Don’t you goddamn touch me!” she snarled, finally managing to draw the robe fully on. “Stupid shit. Maybe you’ll believe me when he marches his Gears up your damn ass.”
Though this was usually the part where Anji backed down and Baiken sulked off for even more booze, Chipp was surprised to see Anji hold his ground. “You’re only saying that because you don’t understand,” he said lowly. “What he was trying to do.”
“How….” Baiken shuddered angrily, her pale eyes narrowed lethally in the dark. “How can you even say that today?” she growled. “An hour ago we prayed for the dead—have you forgotten them already?”
Anji gathered himself up; being twenty centimeters taller than her the effect was somewhat impressive, the way he looked down on her with a look of stern, almost parental patience. Chipp couldn’t remember having seen him like that before, and from the way Baiken’s glare faltered he guessed she hadn’t, either. “No,” he said quietly, but with conviction. “I haven’t.”
Baiken stared at him, and for the first time in Chipp’s memory she seemed to be at a loss for words. Holding her robe closed against her chest she took a step back. The moment was tense, and then Baiken turned abruptly to leave without a word. Her bare feet made only a slight sound against the rocks.
Chipp licked his lips nervously as he climbed out of the pool and reached for his own towel. “Anji…?” He approached his friend slowly. “Um…you okay?”
Anji sighed, his shoulder sagging as he turned to face the other. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he assured, lifting his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose. “Sorry you got dragged into it.”
“Hey, no problem.” Chipp fidgeted—he was no good at dealing with other people’s problems, especially between these two. “Um, listen,” he attempted. “I’m sure she’s just worked up because of today, you know? And she’s totally wasted, so…so I’m sure she was just blowing off some steam. It wasn’t personal.”
Anji glanced at him, and his features curled into a faint grin. “Thanks, Chipp.” His gaze lowered. “She just doesn’t understand. I know with the Gears gone she needs someone to blame, but…it wasn’t that man’s fault. He didn’t intend for what happened….”
Chipp frowned. “Do you…really believe that?”
“Yes. I really do.” He chuckled. “Does that make me naïve?”
Chipp scratched the back of his head and shrugged. “Shit, I dunno,” he mumbled. “I mean, it’s not like I know the guy. How should I know if he was lying or not?”
Anji’s smile deepened as he clapped Chipp on the shoulder. “Well, thanks for that, I guess. Come on.” He turned back for the jug of saké and their cups. “I think we’re gonna need refills.”
*****
Baiken was aware that she wasn’t in the best state of mind for what she was planning to do. She hadn’t bothered to change out of her robe and her hair had come out of its ties—the sight of her drew many curious stares from the men and women still wandering about the night festivals. She gave them no notice; whenever she found herself back in the Colony, she always managed to draw attention with her slovenly appearance and scarred features. Seeing her now, drunk and unkempt, could not have lowered their opinions of her much.
She was beginning to wish she hadn’t returned here at all. The Colony had always left her feeling anxious, the way it rested outside of time and reason, the way it never changed despite however many years passed between visits. It was smothering and irritating. And now, more frustrating than ever, now that she could see through its petty visage even more clearly.
After a few crude inquiries Baiken found herself outside a small restaurant not far from the temple she had just been at. Ignoring the protests of the waiters she stomped inside and quickly found the object of her hastened search: a middle aged man with a thick mustache and beard was seated with his son and a few others along the restaurant’s wall. He was dressed in a casual green yukata, which completely spoiled the air of dignity and sophistication he had displayed earlier in the day during ceremony after ceremony. His son, a tall young man with long, dark auburn hair, was pouring him a drink. They were laughing together, and the sight of their enjoyment only darkened her mood further.
Baiken marched up to them and dropped to her knees, pounding her fist against the short table. The men gasped in surprised as their drinks were spilled, and a thin crack ran up the length of the wood. “Murase Sousuke,” she all but growled. “I need a word with you.”
Murase accepted a napkin from his son to clear the saké that had spilled onto his sleeve. “And here I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow,” he sighed.
“I need a word now,” she insisted, ignoring the stares of Murase’s companions, as well as those of the restaurant’s many other customers. “Or I’ll go to Paris myself.” When she glanced up she caught Murase’s son Yuuya watching her with mixed annoyance and amusement, and she scowled at him. “What the hell do you want?”
“You’re the one interrupting,” he replied, crossing his arms. “You tell me.”
“Baiken,” Murase interrupted before she could respond. “If this is about what we discussed before, it can wait until tomorrow.”
“It can’t wait!” she insisted. “How can you say that when all our lives are in danger!”
A murmur began to spread through the surrounding patrons as the two stared each other down. Finally Murase averted his gaze. “I understand your concern,” he said evenly. “But this is neither the time nor place for these discussions.”
“Fuck you!” Baiken snarled, pushing to her feet. She didn’t realize that Yuuya had stood as well until she stumbled, and he caught her shoulder to keep her steady—her limbless shoulder. Without thinking her arm swung, and the flat of her palm caught the man sharply across his face. The sound of striking flesh silenced the room for a moment before it began to buzz again, louder than before, at her boldness.
The Chairman’s son rubbed his already reddening cheek with a smile that was almost a wince. “You only slap when you’re drunk,” he told her.
Baiken seethed, a moment away from striking him again when Murase’s voice cut above the restaurant’s din. “Baiken. You can state your case in Council like everyone else.” Reluctantly she glanced down to meet his steely gaze. “Unless you have some new information for us that would make the matter urgent, this is not the time for this.”
“But he’s still alive!” Baiken continued to protest. She could feel herself shaking by now. It was unlike her, and there was bile burning in the back of her throat. “That man is alive, and he’ll—”
“You have no proof of that!” Murase snapped back, unwavering. When she faltered and fell silent, he nodded slightly in approval. “Now go. Come back to me when you’re sober.”
Baiken shuddered, her fist clenched in anger as she glared at the man’s now turned head. “I…have proof,” she hissed. But it was no more than a whisper, and with the sounds of the restaurant resuming Murase didn’t hear. “He’s alive. He…he met him….”
Murase gave her presence no more notice, and with a growl she lashed out, catching the table with her foot and overturning it into the laps of Murase’s guests. They protested loudly, and one of them reached for her, but by then she had spun on her heel and started for the door.
“Fools,” she muttered under her breath as she stalked out into the streets once more. “Let them all burn.” Still shaking slightly she broke out into a run, letting herself get lost in the crowds.
*****
Yuuya watched her leave without daring to comment or stop her; his eyes were narrowed on her back until he could no longer see her still posture and flailing hair. Finally, he knelt down to help his company right the table and gather the fallen cups.
“My apologies, gentlemen,” Murase said as he signaled for the waiters to approach; they were all hesitant, as if fearing Baiken might suddenly reappear with even greater wrath. “But then, things are always lively when she comes back.”
The men grumbled replies, snorting at her impertinence and expressing their disgust with her appearance and drunken behavior. Yuuya didn’t remark—didn’t speak until the dinner conversation had resumed, and he was allowed a moment to whisper in his father’s ear. “I think you were right, Father. About Mito.”
Murase didn’t look to his son, but he nodded, vaguely. “She said something?”
“Yes.”
Murase sighed. “Well, then,” he said quietly. “Take care of it.”
