“Show me your resolve, Mr Sugiyama. Make it worth my while.”

  Granny dealt the cards in much the same way, only this time with a little more force on her finger. Each card knocked against the wood just that little bit harder as it slipped from the deck, dealt in regular, rhythmic sequence, one after another. With every increment on the countdown, another rapt spectator held their breath. Sugiyama towered over the table, a colossus seeking vengeance. Spouts of puff left both nostrils like a wounded ox. His small eyes narrowed. The wear of the previous eleven rounds was carved into every single line on the man’s middle-aged face. His thick neck burgeoned against his collar, skin boiling up under the heat like a lobster shell. His prominent forehead shone with desperate perspiration, black hair slicked and gleaming in the light of the chandeliers. Granny picked up her own cards, and for the first time in this entire match, her eyes narrowed. She shifted on her seat, inching ever so slightly forward, and straightened her back.

  “Only five points ahead, right?” Rin murmured. Several fervent nods.

  This genuinely could go either way. The scenario had been so precisely engineered, that even one wrong move could send the whole house of cards to the floor. Rin didn’t doubt his grandmother’s skill, not after being blessed with such mastery, but even she was human. This meta-manoeuvre had been her most significant gamble of all.

  This could well have been his own anxieties in projection, but for the slightest instant, Rin could see the smallest drop of fear in his grandmother’s eye.

  Would it all pay off?

  Immediately, she began matching. The cards hit the table like thundershock, and resultant force echoed through the ground. Her first card captured a pine dreg, and subsequent draws secured the plum, the cherry and the wisteria.

  Rin narrowed his eyes. First fourth months of the year, in sequence, all dregs.

  “What’s with that? Doesn’t she have any Brights?” Kinuka whispered, clutching at her sleeves.

  Sugiyama returned service without a fraction of hesitation, securing the Chrysanthemum Blue Tanzaku. On his draw, the second was met with a Peony. His fingers hovered above the draw pile for a split second. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and from some miracle unveiled the final card to complete his set. The fire behind his eyes surged, given new breath and new life. He pushed forward his hand with triumph.

  “Blue Tanzaku—five points!” Sugiyama grinned, and met Granny’s cool stare in the middle of the table.

  “And what will you do now?”

  “Are you kidding me? I came here to gamble! Koi!” The man’s booming yell sent a bolt of electric current through the mind of every single spectator. The gong was rung, and the hair on everyone’s necks stood to attention.

  With only one card left on the field, Granny couldn’t make a match, and so deposited May’s Eight-Plank Bridge.

  “Hey, hey,” Juusei poked Rin, “Why’s she doing that? Doesn’t she have any dregs to discard? Did she use them all in her first capture? What’s going on?”

  Rin didn’t look at her, but bit his lip.

  The next few turns went in complete, oppressive silence. Both took turns discarding onto the field, until six cards remained. Sugiyama took note of which to leave behind, carefully plucking the flowers from his hand like the seasoned gardener. Granny barely looked at her cards at all, and threw away a whole manner of valuable cards, the last of which to go was the valuable September Sake Cup.

  “What’s wrong, grandma? Can’t take the pressure! You fucked up!” Sugiyama roared with laughter, slamming down another Chrysanthemum and taking both for his own. A distant roll of thunder from a land beyond creaked through the four walls. The weather from across the sea began to influence the match, as next from the draw pile was the November Lightning dreg, which stole away the discarded November Swallow. The following card had no match, and went back onto the field.

  Granny carefully surveyed the array of valuable cards. The August Full Moon and March Curtain Brights were both out and ready, along with a couple red tanzaku, and two other dregs. Her fingers danced over her cards, brow furrowed in thought. Rin narrowed his eyes, and surreptitiously opened his third to take a closer look. The supernatural organ twitched as he began to share a little of his grandmother’s vision. He didn’t dare fully intrude, but from the blurry outlines, and the card she then chose, Rin’s jaw dropped.

  No, Granny. Don’t do that.

  His inner voice couldn’t find his mouth. His lips opened, but the only sound to escape was a mournful creak from the back of his throat.

  Granny, please. That’s cruel.

  Out of all the cards she could have chosen, she picked the one card on the field with no matching month, and discarded the Crane. Granny closed her eyes, and laid her hand flat on the table.

  Rin winced.

  “Yes!” Sugiyama roared, and wasted no hesitation in matching his cherry blossom dreg with the curtain, combining that with his already captured Sake cup. “Cherry Blossom Viewing—five points! Koi!”

  “That’s ten points total…” Kinuka murmured. “Since the total’s over seven, that’s doubled to twenty! This is bad. He’s overtaken her now. He’s fifteen points in the lead!”

  Rin gave her a pained look. “But that’s not enough to win, is it?”

  Kinuka met his eyes for a few seconds more, and the full weight of his grief washed over her face and drained every inch of colour. “Oh… Oh no…”

  Sugiyama was having the absolute time of his life. He seized another card from the top of the draw and positively whooped with glee. The Suzuki grass found itself home with the Full Moon. Sugiyama seized the offending cards and practically thrust them in Granny’s face. “Moon Viewing—five points! That brings me up to twenty five points in the lead! All I need is just five more points, and your throne is mine!” His jowls flapped with rage as he slammed his hand on the table, jostling cards and sending waves of shock through the crowd. “I’ve won so much against you already. You talked such a big game, but couldn’t hold your nerve after all. Look at you, all your best cards started slipping from your hand the moment the round began!”

  Granny hadn’t moved a muscle in at least a minute. She hadn’t even flinched, let alone reacted. Slowly, she opened one eye and asked, “Will you call?”

  “Call…” Sugiyama practically started frothing at the mouth. “Call! Call!” An eerie little giggle gurgled in the back of his throat, a shrill hyena-like cackle that soon consumed everything in his voice. "Call! Call! Call! Yes, I’ll call! All I have to do is gamble! I believed in my hand, I believed in my destiny, and the cards gave me the opportunity to succeed! You’re damn right I’m going to call! The only way I’ll ever depose you is by offering everything to the gods of fate!” His voice reached supernal extremes. “Oh Lord! Grant me your favour to overcome this trial!”

  From the back of the room, the Old Man with the Mirrored Sunglasses smiled.

  A bolt of lightning struck from within the room, a thunderous crash, and Sugiyama’s chair was obliterated as he stood, engulfed with a burning aura of gold. Rin and the others started, priming their Specialties on red-alert. Granny’s eyes widened, but she shot out a hand to keep them still.

  “Then call,” she implored, her voice beginning to shake.

  “Koi!” Roared Sugiyama, and flipped over one more card, a pine dreg to capture the Crane. The Curtain and Moon in his library gleamed as he completed the hand. “Three Brights—six points! Now I’m in the lead! I’ll depose you for sure! A normal man would cut here and oust you from your throne, but I am a gambler! All failed gamblers quit before they hit it big. I see it now. I was so blind for so long, but no longer! There is still one more Bright card left on the field. The Rain Man is within my grasp. All I need is one measly willow dreg, and the Rainy Four Brights will also be mine! I will beat you completely, and absolutely, and banish you from this place! Koi!”

  Sugiyama, his hand sweating and shaking, seized his final card.

  A plain wisteria tanzaku.

  There weren’t even any wisteria cards left on the field.

  He couldn’t make a single match.

  The man’s glorious aura cut out, and his eyes clouded over. Sugiyama’s jaw dropped to a grotesque extent, and all colour drained from his face, out through his legs, and into a puddle over the floor. The singular card slipped from his fingers and clattered to the table, just another eave as part of the field, abdicating his turn.

  Granny gently placed a bush clover dreg on top of another in the field, then shuffled forward her single—and only—hand. “Ten dregs—one point. Round over.”

  No matter your score, if the opponent scores a hand first following your call, they can end the round and leave you with nothing. Thus concluded not just December, but the entire game, with Granny in the lead by only six points. Nothing had ever happened. Granny began gathering up the cards, stacking them neatly in front of her. Her voice remained as calm and clinical as a receptionist informing of a missed appointment. “Why don’t you try again in the New Year.”

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  The words failed to register on the man’s face, but his trunk-like legs rung more hollow than any rotten tree. Sugiyama crumpled like a bag of twigs. The air was alive with the worried cries of his associates. Suited men rushed up the stairs to rescue and comfort their superior, while the rest stood frozen mid-cheer, shock and betrayal etched into their expressions. For some, he was their boss; for others, their patriarch. No matter his perception, the only thing that remained at that moment was the factual reality, shattering and sobering for them all. Soji Sugiyama—President of Sugiyama Works and Copyright Holdings; Patriarch of the Sugiyama Family, a Murakami Clan Subsidiary—lay folded up on the floor like a cheap beach chair, his bullish face contorted and warped into an obtuse slab of grey.

  * * *

  “She did it…” One of the girls behind the bar could barely contain her enthusiasm as the crowd inside the Fickle Flower Field erupted into cheers and raucous applause. “She really did it! I was so worried!”

  “Idiot,” her coworker lightly rapped the back of her head with a menu. “Weren’t you paying the slightest bit of attention? That was all a test, couldn't you see? You really think our Queen would lose to a mook like him?”

  “Guess not.” She chuckled, picking up another glass and polishing it prior to its return to the stacked shelf. “I overheard another of the guests earlier say the only reason he's still allowed in is a favour to his old boss. He was fair to Ms. Harigane in years past, respected her as an equal.”

  “Oh, he'd never make the mistake of challenging her. The man must be rolling in his grave knowing what's just happened.”

  Their laughs were interrupted by a large hand clapping down on both their shoulders. “Both of you, back to work,” announced the manager. “The game's over, so we're back to normal service.” He gestured to a row of tickets on the back wall. “Good thing these challenge games barely happen,” remarked the manager, massaging the back of his neck. “We've had so many orders come in since. Completely disrupts our flow.”

  He looked to his right, where the spindly waiter was busy loading up drinks. “Hey, you, new guy, what's your name?”

  “Ta—”

  “Doesn't matter. You're on the Queen's table tonight, right? Big job. Go bring an extra bottle of good champagne out from the back, on the house.” The manager cracked a wide grin. “Big win deserves a big treat. Take note, that's how we do business here.”

  “My name's Tanizaki,” the man murmured to himself, lip curling. He took a moment to re-pin his badge to the front of the uniform, iron out some stray creases, then deftly carried his tray laden with glasses back behind the bar, through a corridor, and into a cellar room. The pin pierced straight through his neck before he had even felt it. The life left his eyes immediately, and the man pitched forward into oblivion, as gently as falling asleep. The wide metal drinks tray didn't even have time to tumble and spill its contents. Another gloved hand, fingers splayed, seized it from underneath and righted it immediately. Not a single drop of whisky or soda left the glass.

  “Sorry, sister. Only one of importance needs to die tonight.”

  The assassin let the body hit the floor, and balanced the tray elsewhere. Stripping the ex-employee of his attire took no time at all and, for good measure, he pinned the nametag on his lapel, and brushed some of his own hair back across his forehead to hide the slit and create that same pathetic fringe.

  “Champagne, was it?” He scoffed, high and cold. “How needless. The Japanese will soon suffocate under their own deluded opulence.”

  Even so, "Ryotaro Tanizaki" stacked the expensive bottle on his tray all the same and left the cellar behind, as the nameless corpse began his extended stay in the drinks cooler.

  * * *

  “You sure you don’t want in? Sounds like quite the party.” Hideyori Hakana tipped up the brim of his hat so it wouldn’t catch in the lighter flame, and dragged on another cigarette. He enjoyed standing on the edge of buildings approaching the dead of night. It made him feel all edgy and cool, every emo teenager’s dream. His long hair and coattails rode the chilling breeze, and from below the pitch anti-halo of his fedora outlined his scheming, eye-patched face against the gleaming full moon. Hakana was certain he looked ridiculous from almost any angle, but that was part of the fun. Besides, there wasn’t anyone either brave or foolish enough to call him out on it. The only ones who ventured onto city rooftops at night were weirdos. Fortunately for Hakana, that was his exact line of business.

  “My vengeance will come knowing the deed is done,” growled Rikiya Atsura, several feet to his right. The burly man hunkered down against an exhaust vent, leaning on one of his swords. “My days of gambling are over, Hakana.”

  “Really?” Hakana side-eyed him, but still couldn’t see the man. Only having one eye ruined his dramatic flair sometimes. “That’s not the impression I got after our last round of Blackjack.”

  A hollow metallic clang resounded across the rooftop—Atsura’s fist pounding the top of the vent. “You devil! You swore you wouldn't mention it!”

  “Think again. I swear on precious little. You should know that by now.” Hakana lazily took out his cigarette, if not only to cough into his sleeve. Dangling it—and himself—over the street below, he tapped away the ash and watched the specks of black be carried on the winds to pollute something elsewhere. Stowing it safely back between his teeth, Hakana took another heavy drag. The man stowed both gloved hands away in his pockets and simply stood there, casting a looming shadow over the oblivious (or just more sensible) passersby. His front and face was bathed in gaudy red neon, as he scornfully regarded the sign to the Fickle Flower Field. “Think the Chankoro’s gonna pull it off?”

  Atsura’s permanent scowl furrowed somehow even deeper. “I was fortunate that the attempts had ceased by the time I became acquainted with her, but in my youth I lapped up the stories like a dog.” He idly tapped the toe of his scabbard on the tiles. “They were vicious, ruthless, just like her. They could never lay a finger on her. She knew their own tricks better than they did.”

  “That was back then…” Hakana blew several smoke rings, and puffed his last jet through three of them. Score. He turned to face his subordinate proper. “What about now?”

  “Age begets wisdom, and yet…” Atsura closed both eyes, clenched his jaw, and shook his head.

  “I see.”

  * * *

  It didn't take long for the defeated challenger to be ousted from the top floor, taken into the arms of his men and carried down the stage. Granny stood and watched, unmoved, yet she gave him the courtesy of her attention all the while. She blinked, and the slightest fragments of tears split a line of moisture along the creases in her eyeline. The applause had begun to fade, though a zealous few maintained their standing ovation. Most had let the excitement wash through them—just another part of the show—and with giddy smiles on their faces, returned to their own tables. The noise from the floors below was replaced by its usual variant. It wasn't just the Queen’s game. Everyone else was there to gamble too.

  The teenagers remained utterly spellbound, until Juusei couldn’t contain her excitement any longer. The girl burst forward and hugged Granny tight around the middle, yipping fervent congratulations. The old woman, taken by surprise, broke into a warm smile and laid a hand on her head.

  “Remember where we are, Juusei.” The fringes of Kinuka’s sleeve unravelled into thread and shot forth, wrapping two loops around each of the girl’s shoulders and pulling her away.

  “Still!” Juusei cried, fighting to free herself and shaking everyone in turn, “That was amazing, wasn’t it?! Granny, how did you learn how to play like that? That wasn’t just a card game, it was—” Her expression dropped to something comically grave, “psychological warfare…”

  “Now, that’s enough of that.” Granny shook her head. “You lot deserved at least some entertainment after all your hard work this week. Putting on a good show is the key to being a good host, didn’t you know?”

  “No, obviously not. None of us will ever own houses,” grumbled Rin. “The economy is in shambles…”

  Kinuka put a hand on one hip. “Aren’t you forgetting you can build yourself a house, Rin?”

  “Not sure if you’ve noticed, Kinuka, but my Specialty doesn’t exactly come with automatic Home Insurance.”

  “Not with that attitude!”

  Laughter echoed around the top table. Ruri patted Rin on the back to cheer him up, ended up hitting him just a little too hard, and the boy nearly choked on his tongue. Further hilarity ensued as he stumbled around the top deck, purple in the face, meanwhile Ruri stood by, mortified. When Rin came to, everyone had resumed their seats. Granny was shuffling the cards once again, proposing a friendly round of Hachi-Hachi—a variant of Koi-Koi for more than two people—and offering to teach along the way.

  Lounging out over the table, Juusei smacked her lips and aired out her tongue. “This hall’s so big, but I’m still so hot. Hey, where did all our drinks go?” She played with the empty glass on the table, tipping the glass on the wood and rolling it around with her finger. “Oh, that’s no fair. I’m thirsty…”

  “No fair indeed.” Granny nodded. “Rinkaku—what happened to my whisky?”

  The poor boy was just about to sit down. In all the chaos of the game, you could hardly blame him for not reporting back immediately. “Uh, they said that they couldn’t—”

  “Excuses, excuses!” Granny shooed him away. “Come now, what do I even pay you for?”

  “You don’t pay me anything!” Rin groaned. “Listen, I went to the waiter and they said they’d bring everyone more drinks after the challenge game was over!” He looked behind him, and saw a vaguely familiar sight ascending the stairs, carrying a wide silver tray. “Look, see?! Isn’t my timing amazing! There’s our guy now.”

  Sure enough, the name-tag he had spotted earlier, “Ryotaro Tanizaki” was adorned to the uniform of the slender young man with the short black fringe.He’d been serving them all evening, his face familiar enough to blur into the myriad of others, guests and all. Rin was about to sit down, but did a double-take and whipped back around. Was Tanizaki’s chin ever that sharp, his posture so loose? Then again, Granny’s trials had left his senses frayed. Their training gauntlet back home had exhausted and exhilarated him equally, so it wasn’t impossible for his imagination to conjure ghosts. Like that old man earlier.

  What old man, he asked himself.

  Exactly.

  Rin took his rightful seat next to Granny, and let his head slump between his shoulders. Juusei wasn’t wrong; the heat was oppressive, even with the hall’s soaring ceiling. He’d long since abandoned his curiosity for alcohol—that would only make it worse. Behind him, the steady clack of polished shoes on the wooden floor drew near. Rin let his head loll back to glance at their dutiful waiter. “Hey, thanks for coming with the drinks,” he drawled. “I gotta say, I’m so looking forward to that—”

  The words died on his tongue as time fractured. His eyes had been right all along. Tanizaki’s chin had never been that sharp. His eyes had never gleamed so brightly, so unnervingly wide. A demonic grin split the man’s mouth in two. Before any of them could react, the man’s hand shot upward, flipping the tray high into the air.

  Crystal glasses and a champagne bottle spiraled in dazzling arcs, catching the chandelier’s light and dazzling them in its kaleidoscope. In a single, effortless motion, Suo Tian-Kuo swept his fringe aside, reached inside his blazer and drew a silenced pistol. The barrel gleamed as it leveled inches from Granny’s temple.

  “With your brother’s best wishes, dearest Great-Aunt.”