Rinkaku Harigane’s face had gone slightly slack. “Kinuka. Pinch me.”
She jabbed two fingers in his side.
“I said pinch me!” He yelped. “Lightly! Preferably on the arm like a normal person might!”
She grinned. “At least you’re not dreaming.”
“You look so pretty!” Cried Juusei at her characteristic volume. A few nearby patrons shot her nasty looks. Granny beamed appreciatively and shushed her with both hands.
“Took the words from my mouth.” Kinuka shook her head, still a little awed. “Who made that haori, Granny? I wish I could meet them.”
“Oh, if only I could tell you, dear.”
A grouchy boy snapped his fingers. “An explanation for pretty much anything at this point would be greatly appreciated,” Rin deadpanned. “Please. Don’t tell me all at once. Anything but that. In your own time. When it best suits you.”
“Don’t be silly.” Granny laughed. “Can it really be that shocking, Rinkaku? Did you think so little of your dear old grandmother? Why, I’m offended.”
“That’s not—”
“Oh, you’re so much fun to wind up. Follow me, all of you.” She led them down the first staircase towards the bottom of the valley.
Rin peered over the banister. He’d been a fool to ever expect this to be just an old folks’ gathering with some light games involved. Everyone was dressed for a night at the casino. Suits in pristine black, cream and silver; silk shawls and sequinned cocktail dresses. Thank goodness for Kinuka’s supreme dress sense, or else they’d all be sticking out even more. He was looking at some of the most intense expressions he’d ever seen outside of an exam hall.
The majority of the tables were hexagonal, interspersed with some smaller rectangular ones for direct challenges. The five descended into the sea of assorted noise. Furtive talk, heated discussion, and outright shouting became just part of the backdrop. Dozens of gamblers studied their cards for brief flashes before tucking them back under their chins. Rin winced at the dense concentration of latent psychic energy. This was some serious competition! He hadn’t ever thought it possible for Hanafuda games to hold such high stakes.
Spectators weren’t allowed anywhere near the games in progress, relegated to side enclaves with high tables for standing and drinking. Blue-tinged cigarette smoke hung around the yellowed ceiling lights. Rin’s nose twinged at the hint, and he was acutely reminded of a certain long-haired hat-wearing man, which threatened to spoil his mood.
Several players had taken note of their entrance. The noises were faint among the din, but Rin heard the whispers and felt the stairs in their—in Granny’s—direction. Players nudged their neighbours and pointed. An hunched old man in a tweed coat looked in their direction. He ran wizened hands through salt and pepper hair and grinned, adjusting the mirrored sunglasses on his slightly hooked nose. On reaching the bottom of the first staircase, Granny was approached by one of the waiters: black-tied and carrying a tray of empty glasses. “Should I bring a bottle of champagne to the table?”
Granny tittered. “They’ll be happy with soda. Yamazaki for me.”
“One for me too!” Rin piped up hopefully.
Kinuka chopped him on the back of the neck. “You’re underage!”
“Don’t tell them that!” Rin hung his head, sulking, and pocketed both hands. “Killjoy. What’s the harm? Everyone else here is drinking!” The air hung so heavy with the scent of it, fiery liquors and sugary liqueurs, the poor boy could almost taste it.
“I didn’t realise you had such a taste for alcohol, dearest grandson of mine,” the old woman commented with an icy smile.
Rin locked up. Technically, he didn’t, but he’d always been curious to try. Any objection now froze solid in his throat, much like the perfectly shaped ball of ice in a nice glass of Yamazaki whisky. He’d seen pictures; some bars could make the ice crystal clear. Whenever he tried to replicate it in his freezer at home, it always clouded over. Maybe he could cheat with Framework! Then again, a sphere was a difficult thing to create out of straight lines. He’d have to find another angle, perhaps someone with a “making perfectly clear ice” specialty.
Then again, what were the chances?
Granny led them up the second flight of stairs to the topmost tier, where attendants had finished arranging chairs around possibly the most grand table in the room. On the base floor, the wood was varnished and decked with standard green. The next tier up, a deep black wood, and at the top, a bright birch bracketed with silver. Granny took her seat on a throne facing the back-most wall, and the teenagers fanned out around her on the table, two on either side. Their waiter, a thin man with a short black fringe, receding chin and a small pointed nose, soon brought their drinks.
“I get it now.” Kinuka curled both legs up underneath her on the chair. “A week ago, why you handed me your credit card without a care in the world.”
Granny raised an eyebrow.
“I feel like such an idiot for having to spell out the obvious, but this clearly isn’t an ordinary card house. This place, and the way they welcomed you in: money’s not exactly an issue for you, is it?”
“Old habits die hard, my dear.” Granny sipped at her whisky. “I’m a gambler, plain and simple. Then again, this wasn’t a truth I had envisioned coming to light.”
“You don’t exactly look ashamed,” Rin commented.
“Not in the slightest.” She smiled. “Only, I hadn’t expected you all to be so keen to accompany me.”
“Well, the jig’s up now. How long have you been doing this? Do you own this place?”
“Not at all, Rinkaku dear. This coat is a mark of prestige, and it’s been a while. You’ll have to forgive me if I can’t give you an exact date. I couldn’t exactly spend my retirement doing nothing, could I? Idle hands do the devil’s work.” The corners of her eyes crinkled into something a little more pensive. She looked at her hands, and pursed cherried lips. “In my case, I suppose it’s true regardless.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? Stop being so cryptic!”
Granny ignored him, as their conveniently timed waiter returned with a small, open case of brightly coloured chips. He placed two decks of hanafuda cards in front of Granny. Juusei couldn’t help but snatch a couple of chips to play around with, placing both in her eye sockets. Next to her, Ruri struggled to keep a straight face.
“Now, do you all know how to play?”
The four exchanged an embarrassed look.
“Goodness, what do children spend their lives doing nowadays?”
“Ooh, pick me! I can answer this one!” Juusei bounced in her seat and smiled widely. “How about… being tortured in a prison by an evil piece of shit company with the intent of being turned into a living weapon!”
“Don’t ruin the mood now, dear.” Granny was already shuffling one pack of the glossy cards with the miraculous fluency of a stage magician.
Kinuka and Rin cringed at each other. The boy seized the other pack of cards and began rifling through in an attempt to create as much mental distance as humanly possible. The sound of Granny dutifully explaining the basis of the game to the rest faded into the backdrop.
Hanafuda cards were far smaller than their western counterparts, closer in size to a domino. The card was thick enough to resist any bending. The deck was divided into twelve suits, months of the year, each symbolised by an auspicious flower, and held four cards apiece. The hand-painted illustrations on these cards in particular made them feel like their weight in gold. He thumbed through the designs with an unconscious reverence. Certain cards had always been his favourite: the crane paid its respects to the January sun, and December’s wisteria-bound Chinese phoenix was topical at the moment, too.
Beginning and end to the year: with how this one was set to end, Rin couldn’t help but wonder how the next would begin.
Kinuka’s tapping on his shoulder cut that thought short, however. She leaned in a little too close for Rin’s comfort and whispered, “Hey, do you know what happened to Tegata? He didn’t come in with us.”
“No.” That was an easy answer, but her reproachful stare pressed him for elaboration. Rin sighed. “Listen. I tried, alright? Back at the door, I tried to get him to come in but he wouldn’t. I’ve been getting these looks from him lately, freezes my blood solid.” He shivered.
Kinuka bit her lip and hummed, pensive. “I’m worried about him, Rin. I have been from the start, really. Have you noticed? Tegata, he acts with no thought of himself. No regard at all, as though he doesn’t matter. I mean, moments after you met him, he dove out of the window to try and save those two little girls and got himself really hurt in the process. He’ll gladly throw himself into danger as though he’s looking for the opportunity. I don’t like it. Am I overreacting?”
“I don’t think so.” Rin placed the cards back on the table and folded his arms, staring a hole into the velvet. “You’re just kind.”
Kinuka fought the blush that surged onto both cheeks. “I just don’t know what to do, Rin. He’s always with us, but he’s never really… there, is he? I can’t look into his head. I haven’t dared, actually. I fear he’ll hate me for even trying. Whenever I touch him, I feel like I want to cry.”
“Please don’t cry.” He deadpanned. “That’ll make things even more awkward.”
She knocked his arm. “I wasn’t about to! You’re the worst.”
“I know.” He sighed. “Listen, about Tegata. I can’t know anything he hasn’t told me, but there’s obviously something wrong—with all of them,” he added hastily, casting furtive glances across the table to Juusei and Ruri, thankfully absorbed in Granny’s tutorial. “The extent of what JPRO did has undeniably fucked all three up beyond belief. But it’s not really our place. It feels really wrong to say this, but just hang tight and be cool. Tegata has a mission. He’s one of the most dogged, determined people I’ve ever met and that’s really saying something—I have to looking at myself in the mirror every morning.”
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The pause net him a giggle. Rin rolled his eyes, then continued, “You weren’t awake for this—being a tangle of human spaghetti at that point—but back at the mall, Tegata had bled out so much yet still stood and still fought. I had to literally lock him up to stop him chasing that Techukara girl into the next dimension. I have a suspicion that, somehow, he literally won’t let himself die before then. He might not see any point in his own safety, but that’s what we’re here for. I’ll protect him, you’ll patch him up. We’ll look out for him if he won’t himself. Got it?”
Kinuka’s face was torn between wonder and confusion. “That’s possibly the most empathetic thing I’ve ever heard spill from those dry lips. What have you done with Rinkaku Harigane?”
“Oh, shut up. I won’t bother next time.”
“Oh, please? I actually like it!” Kinuka clutched at his arm and hooked her chin on his shoulder, pleading. Rin recoiled, eye twitching.
“Having fun amongst yourselves?” Granny observed with a wry grin. Rin felt his skin stop crawling when Kinuka let go. “If you two feel it necessary to talk over me, maybe you know how to play better than I do!” Her eyes flashed dangerously. “How about a game between us, Rinkaku?”
The boy looked horrified.
“Oh, come now. I’m your grandmother. Don’t be a spoilsport. Isn’t this why you came in the first place?”
A new voice, haughty and slightly drunk, shot across the table, like a dagger thrown into the wood. “Don’t look away, your majesty. Your next opponent, and the one to take your crown, will be me!”
The beefy businessman barely fit into his suit. He had a ruddy, puckered face and an oiled black combover, with shoes so shiny they squeaked. His three piece suit gleamed with disdain for anyone who couldn’t afford the silver buttons on the waistcoat. One meaty hand clutched a glass of something clear and wickedly strong. The man was flanked by two associates, both in similar suits.
Granny’s expression could have been chiselled out of stone. “Mr Sugiyama, President of Sugiyama Works and Copyright Holdings.” Granny inclined her head politely, though her eyes remained thin. “How nice to see you again.”
“You can spare me the condescending pleasantries, my lady in red,” Sugiyama slurred jeeringly and took a sip of his drink. “Word went around that you’d be here tonight, so I hope you appreciate all the extra business I brought to the place!” He raised his arms. Several suited men cheered from the decks below.
“A company party?” She raised her eyebrows and flashed her fan, fighting to keep the grin at bay. “An interesting choice. In your position, I don’t think I’d want an audience.”
A vein tightened in Sugiyama’s temple. “Oh, you think you’re gonna make a fool out of me again. Is that it?”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Granny smiled placidly. “No-one would quite make a better fool out of you than you would yourself, Mr Sugiyama. Please, how are your wife and children? Are they aware a respectable individual such as yourself frequents such an establishment so often? And what of your business partners? I hear the industry’s facing a bit of a corruption scandal lately.”
Sugiyama fought to keep his face under control, his broad jaw clenching. “Like you’re one to talk. Who’re these runts, your grandchildren? They don’t look nothing alike. Who’ve your children been screwing? One’s got blue hair, for heaven’s sake.” He unearthed a belly laugh and pointed at Ruri, who scowled. “Nice to know the Queen can bend the rules whenever she wants. Hell, might implement a few exceptions myself once I’m King.”
Juusei hadn’t heard the conversation, but had been staring bullet holes into Sugiyama this entire time. She shouted across the table, “Granny, I can’t hear a word he’s saying but this guy looks gross. Can I shoot him?”
“What the hell?” The man exchanged a worried glance with his younger employ, and clenched his fist. “You wanna repeat that, brat?”
Granny kept her smile, and calmly put a hand over both of Juusei’s. “That’s not how we do things here, my dear.”
“Aww….”
Granny opened her eyes a little wider. “Can I consider this an official challenge, Mr Sugiyama?”
“Absolutely.” The man smirked, and the corner of his mouth spasmed. “I’ll make you eat every inch of that smug expression when I get you carted out of here and into the nursing home. You’re past your prime, grandma. I heard all the stories from the old man. You, still carrying all the ashes from Fukuoka, fought like hell when you first crashed on the family’s turf here in Kanto. Guess you couldn’t help yourself. Old habits die hard, don’t they?”
“Oh, please forgive my disrespect.” Granny smiled “I forgot you now lead a subsidiary of the Murakami Clan, don’t you, Patriarch Sugiyama? It’s been so long, I remember when you were but a fledgling lieutenant under the legendary Mr. Gori.”
The man’s smirk widened grotesquely as he sat down in the chair opposite. It creaked under his weight. “Sounds like the dementia ain’t set in yet. Good, seems I’ll have some fun tonight after all. No-one’s been able to unseat you for thirty years, have they? You got bored, didn’t you? No-one’s quite good enough for you, are they? You only come here once a month, if that—but you didn’t wanna give the crown up, did you?” He swilled his drink, and the ice clinked against the frosted glass. “Desperate to hold onto whatever vestige of power you can. Pretty pathetic, if you ask me.”
“Fortunately, I didn’t. Now, shall we begin?” Granny motioned for Rin and the others to leave their seats. The four had witnessed the conversation in silent shock and awe. None of them dared speak. This was a treasure trove unlike any other.
Lost amid the tension, Rin somehow found his voice. “Granny, just who the hell are you?”
The Red Sun Queen motioned for her attendant just standing by and made a gesture of certainty with one hand. The man nodded and bustled off. Moments later, a bell rung around the hall. Conversations were silenced. The unmistakable bell of challenge; no announcement was necessary. All games ceased, all glasses lowered mid-sip. Heads at every point turned in the direction of the top table.
Granny sat further upright and squared her shoulders. All eyes were on her, yet not a muscle twitched out of turn. The old woman flexed bony fingers, and retrieved both decks of cards. She cut, shuffled and passed them across the table. “In all your bluster, Mr Sugiyama, it seems you’ve forgotten the one rule of this establishment.”
The man’s eye twitched. “Enlighten me, your highness.”
“Much like before, your first mistake was arriving here expecting anything but defeat. The monkey grasps forever at the reflection of the moon, but only disturbs the pond's surface. In this way, the outcome of this match will seem wholly unfair. Until you defeat me: in this Fickle Flower Field, I am Queen of the House, and the House always wins.”
* * *
“You cannot outrun yourself, Tegata.” A wispy, hooded shadow lurked behind another, outlined in the glow of the moon. “There is nothing to be gained from distancing yourself from your friends.”
“I don’t need this from you right now, Marion. Please.” The more corporeal shadow flipped up the cowl of his new coat, and folded both arms. The wind swept the rooftops with an unnatural diligence. The folds of his coat billowed, extending his silhouette into an undulating cloak.
Once more, Tegata Kage marvelled at his friend’s craftsmanship, as the guilt tugged at his heart. The cold couldn’t reach him under the carefully woven layers—three of them, each one a shield to insulate him from the world. He didn’t deserve this, but greedily clung onto it anyway. He could feel the sin seep into the fabric, ruining the love poured so freely into every square inch.
Sorry, Kinuka, and thank you.
Tegata closed both eyes, pressed a finger to his temple, and opened his third—sharing the vision of his birds. Detecting a psychic signature one already knew was easier over distance, yet scanning and isolating those unfamiliar was near impossible. Normal people had psychic signatures, yet they was messy and unrefined—bundles of oscillating noise—and so crowds tended to merge into an indistinct vibration. Psyche users' signatures, by contrast, were definite and concentrated, a repeated plip upon the surface. The crows extended his range of detection, enabling him to highlight any outliers among the nighttime crowds. The murder wove concentric circles around. They blended into the night sky, eyes glimmering with every twist and turn in the wind like the wing-lights of an aeroplane. It was an eerie sight, every time a shadow born of the moon eclipsed a distant, burning star.
With seven successive rings of coverage, his detection range now eclipsed a hundred-metre radius. That was approaching his limit, at least with this amount of light. The strength and vitality of his Shadow Puppets scaled proportional to the intensity of the light source. Now he was off the streets, the soft glow of the moon was all the light he had, and so his crow silhouettes were feeble and blurred. His crows were noisy, but he had commanded them quiet. The streets had their own noise, but up above the wind held an eerie silence. He dared neither intrude nor disturb.
He had ended up a street or two away from the Fickle Flower Field. He couldn’t see the building from here, but could feel the signatures of his friends all together, all enjoying themselves, unsullied by his presence. His legs had acted of their own accord, taking him far from that accursed place. He had disappeared to avoid Rin’s stare down the back of his neck, but couldn’t even stand the streetlights anymore. They all stared him down as he walked underneath, and judged him so. Their eyes burned and seared his skin. At the first opportunity, he took to the maze of alleys and skulked around in silence until climbing to a suitable vantage point.
“They worry about you.” Marion still hadn’t left his side. The red pinpricks gleamed from under the hangman’s hood. “It is as I told you, and as you refuse to believe: they care.”
“I really wish they wouldn’t.” Tegata swung his arms around in a slow dance, and the circling crows altered their trajectory, shifting their area of search further north. “They’ll only make the inevitable that much more difficult.”
“They see you as you cannot,” the spectre insisted. “You do not lack, but rather deny yourself perspective, Tegata. It was you who made them care.”
“Don’t remind me of my mistakes.” Tegata sighed. “I do that enough for us both.”
Only then, two signatures rippled on the horizon. His outermost crow relayed the signal back through the others, a blip on his radar. Tegata snapped to face in its direction. The business of the evening crowds thinned out across the streets, marking a grid of noise, but these two pings were removed and separate. The concentrated drops lay between the crowds. They were either in a building, or standing on top. Commanding from afar, Tegata ordered the bird to circle the detected location, and dissolved the others. He had to prepare for a confrontation, and wasting his psychic energy reserves would be putting one foot into his wanting grave.
He refocused on the ripples. One signature disappeared into the crowd, the definition lost amid the noise. The other drew closer. It took a straight path, its velocity undulating like a tide. The signature was dense, yet unfamiliar. His lengthy incarceration had allowed him to commit JPRO’s personnel to memory. This was entirely foreign. Brow furrowed, he opened both eyes. He would need all three open and alert.
Tegata cursed the darkness he wielded. His power bathed and frolicked in the kind of irony fate must think delicious. The moon would give him precious little light to cast a shadow. To attempt a summon would be both a waste of his energy, and a disrespect to its memory. Diving down into the streets was no more viable an option. It would strengthen his summons, yes, but brought with it far too many innocents to be caught in the crossfire.
The signature drew closer still.
If confronted, he would be entirely alone, but that was fine. No-one else needed to be hurt because of him.
The signature had stopped.
Tegata tracked carefully to the centre of the rooftop, and turned a slow revolution to pick out any slight hint of movement. One small mercy he wouldn’t take for granted, was that the building heights were roughly uniform. If anyone was coming, he would see them, and have that crucial split-second to act on his chosen counter.
His eyes widened on seeing the full moon. Serenity overrode all sense, evaporating every inch of tension. His brow lifted, and his face relaxed. The celestial mother shone down upon him—pure pearlescence—a portal to a world of light, free from his darkness; nothing in comparison.
It was just so beautiful. He could stare at it for as long as he drew breath.
Tegata’s hands fell to his sides, and he shuffled a step forward. The moon matched his approach, and grew a little larger in the sky. Tegata’s breathing grew shallow, and the edges of his vision grew dark. He did not blink. Soon, all he could see was the moon. The moon gently closed his eyes, and Tegata sunk into bliss. His knees fell out from underneath, and he collapsed into the unknown arms of the one silently approaching from behind.
Moon Viewing
赏月 Shǎngyuè
The silent assailant lowered him softly to the concrete, and laid one hand across his chest. Tucking a lock of hair behind one ear, Suo Yingyue brushed the sleeping boy’s cheek with gloved fingers. “Only one must die tonight,” she whispered, then rose to her feet. The woman was slender, and so graceful she didn’t even disturb the air when she moved. Almond-faced with thin dark eyes, dark hair was tied up into a braided ponytail so long the end swished between her shoulder blades. Her steps made no sound, not even the soft rumble of impact. She raised two fingers to her temple, and spoke across that psychic bond that connects those of blood above all else.
“My deed is done. Please proceed, Tian-Kuo.”