Side One Hundred And Ninety-Three – Impacts

    Mariam Samuelian, Shirohebizumi Shrine, Tokyo

    I... need to report this. But... Mariam was surrounded by shocked onlookers, the teeming mass of people being kept back by a heavy police presence, as flames spiralled up on the hill where Shirohebizumi shrine was located. From here gunshots and explosions could be heard, and figures moving with truly inhuman speed and grace were battling.

    ...what can I say? Mariam glanced down at her phone. Unlike those around her, she wasn’t filming the scene, but instead was torn. She had received a call earlier from Director White, and it seemed that Christina had notified him that she was exposed to Akio. She had been expecting a recall order, but instead he had bidden her continue with her mission to observe the training school and any others around the shrine, as well as... I can hardly believe it, I was sure Director White would dispose of her, and I do not believe the Director is so gullible to be fooled by her charade of being in a romance with Akio. He looks like he is holding a snake when he is with her.

    That aside, it seemed that Christina would be returning to Japan, and he needed trusted eyes on her, lest she cause further problems. The whole situation is a damnable mess.

    “Everyone stay calm and remain behind the barricades!” An Officer was shouting through a megaphone. The steps up to the shrine were cordoned off, dozens of tense police holding back the crowds, even as they flinched and cowered at the roaring of heavy weapons and explosions. Sooty ash was falling like snow, and Mariam winced as her eyes could see the swirling colours of spiritual powers shining. A great rain of fireballs poured down from the flames, barraging the hillside, and she was glad she wasn’t involved.

    “The army is on route to pacify the situation!” the Officer shouted, trying to maintain order, as the growing crowd was starting to press against the barricades. Mariam heard many mutters about magical powers and so forth, apparently rumours about the shrine had spread widely. Abgeh! Idiots, the lot of them! If she had a choice, Mariam would still be sightseeing, or enjoying a nice late lunch. No, instead she was here, following orders. Well, he who pays the bills chooses the meal, yes?

    Another bright explosion, a fountaining cascade of rock and stone rippling into the air, and even from here with ordinary eyes it was visible, the crowd gasping and clapping like it was a fireworks display they were apparently so fond of in this country. Narrowing her eyes, she could make out a fierce battle going on between a powerful, bald-headed man, who to her mysterious eyes seemed inhuman, and a blonde, Western man. Others were fighting too, and gunfire and grenades were being exchanged liberally.

    “It is like a warzone.” Mariam muttered, slipping back through the crowd, going against the flow. Dialling the Director, even knowing it would be late at night there, she figured he would either still be awake, or wouldn’t mind the interruption. Moments later she was proved right, as the phone connected.

    “Scryer. What is it? An...” his words were drowned out by distant booms. “...emergency? I’ve got reports of worldwide trouble. You’re not the only one... is that gunfire?”

    “Yes, the shrine is under attack, it is chaos!” Mariam declared urgently. “It is like a scene from that war film... with... that actor... Tom Hanks, yes, Tom Hanks.”

    “I don’t care about saving any Private.” the Director shot back. “How did they get that many guns into Japan? Even for us it would prove troublesome... anyway, good job calling me, Scryer. I’ll be sure to let Akio know, though he probably is already aware. He has his means. But showing willing costs us nothing.”

    It seems he is on better terms than I imagined. Perhaps Christina, no... surely not. “So, Director, what should I do? I could offer my aid to the survivors...”

    “Not a bad idea.” the Director mused. “Since you’re a known quantity now. And getting close might glean some insights. More to the point...” The phone suddenly cut off, and Mariam stared dumbly at the cracked screen as it fell to pieces, blood spraying on the smashed device.

    My... my hand? What...

    “You’re not on the list.” English words, rare here, sounded beside her, a man speaking. He was fairly non-descript, the sort of ordinary, dark-skinned Western man one could see anywhere, brown hair, hazel eyes, standard build. He was wearing a white shirt and white jeans, an unusual combination, such usually being seen as more feminine.

    Oh, I see. Panic has set in me. I am not much of a fighter. Staring dumbly between the man and her missing three fingers, she ground her teeth, trying to resist the pain. Stupid Christina, this is all her fault. If she was here, I would show her the back of my hand, across the face. Hands... Feeling sick, she grunted out a single word. “Why?”

    “Why not?” The crowd hadn’t noticed, too intent they were on the spectacle on the hill, and she had moved away to make her call. “I should be up there, attacking the so-called shrine, but... I thought... have you heard the saying, when the cat pounces, the mice scatter, even the ones it does not chase? And it seems by the Lord’s wisdom, I was right.”

    He was idly waving a finger at her, and to her eyes, it was covered in a glowing green aura. It surged again, and blood bloomed, her own casual jumper ripped. Stifling a groan, she turned away, only for the man to chuckle. “Going somewhere? I fear I am not one who the Angels of the Ninth Heaven came to bless, but... I have learned.” Bolts of green pierced her thigh, ripping through her skirt, and as she screamed, some in the crowd turned.@@@@

    Seeing the wounded, bleeding woman, several rushed over, but Mariam desperately waved them away, knowing to get them caught up in this would be disastrous. I have a conscience. It is why I was happy to offer the poor, abducted souls my aid. But... I also have no wish to die here...

    “Run! Run away... he is a... terrorist!” Mariam yelled as loudly as she could, though as she spoke very little Japanese she had little hope they would understand.

    “No, I am a martyr!” the man grinned. He pulled out an assault rifle from behind his back, grinning maliciously. Seeing that, the crowd scattered, screaming. “And I shall sit beside the Lord when the Ninth Heaven descends...”

    “Police! Do not move!” Sadly, only one of the men who were keeping order had a gun, and with a laugh the man in white opened fire. The policeman fell, as did several beside him, and though they wore ballistics vests, they were still badly injured, Blood spilled, joining ash on the steps towards the shrine, and the man laughed manically.

    “Step aside, if you wish to live! I am only here for this little rat!”

    “How rude...” Mariam was grateful for the grace of Anahit as it strengthened her body enough that she could keep going, despite her injuries. I... If I do not die here, I can fix my injuries. But... where can I go? “I am no... rodent.”

    A policeman stumbled, blood scattering as flickers of green energy slashed at his face, blinding him. The man in white chuckled, his gunfire striking sparks off the barricades and parked cars. “No, you who accepted the damnation of false Gods... I was far too cruel... to the rats!”

    “You will... die here.” Several of the men in the crowd seemed ready to try and help the police, but when one fell howling, shot in the thigh, that was enough heroics for the mob, not that Mariam blamed them. “You cannot hope to... escape. The army is coming.”

    “No, I am merely one of many.” The man agreed, surprising her, his expression almost cheerful. “This task... the losses are necessary. Though, nobody wishes to die.” Mariam had no real familiarity with guns, but she was aware that magazines only held a limited number of bullets. Slowly, ever so carefully, she slid backwards, even as she distracted him with talk, though as he did explain, he was lashing her with cutting blasts of green. They scored through her clothing, slicing scars into her flesh, and she bit down hard, keeping in her cries, which seemed to excite the man more.

    “Yes, to return in glory is a dream. But... even in death, so long as we accomplish our goals... the Linked Angel shall claim our noble souls and return our borrowed strength to the worthy! Sacrifices to ensure our triumphant victory are not sacrifices at all!”

    “But... why me?” She was stalling, the uncomfortable feeling of blood in her sneakers squelching with every step making her nauseous. Or no... is that the pain?

    “There is no reason.” He chuckled, raising his gun, and by her count, there could only be a handful of rounds left. “Simply that I could tell you were a sinner, and leaving you alive defeats the point. Crush this nest of vipers, salt the earth, cut root and branch, so that the tree of rebellion here is pruned before it becomes a greater danger.”

    “That is simply... oh, Kna konvir! You mindless fanatic!” she retorted, hating that her life was likely to be cut short just for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Of course, the same could be said for many poor souls that the Director renditioned. It was not my doing, I did what I could for them, but perhaps... this is my fate? Anahit... am I done? No... all I need is one chance... he has a gun, but I have my Anahit-given strength...

    “Mindless? Your words are wind, signifying nothing. And I have dragged this out far too long.” He squeezed the trigger, and Mariam threw herself backwards, spinning. Several bullets grazed her, and another pierced her shoulder, striking bone, but then the gun clicked, empty. Wind flensed her, and fragments of her brown hair scattered, trimming it short and ragged, one ear flying off, her cheeks laid bare to the bone. Despite the agony, Mariam sprinted, though the effort was agonising, even while using Anahit’s power to start healing herself and restoring her torn flesh and muscles.

    “Oh, you are trying to... escape?” the man in white seemed shocked, as he realised her intentions.

    If I run into the suburbs, he will hunt me down. No, into the battlefield is my only hope now. If... if they win... She rammed through the temporary barricades, wincing at the painful impact. Only a few police remained, many of them giving emergency first aid to their comrades who had been shot, crying out desperately for help. The man cursed, chasing her as he started to reload, and Mariam looked up towards the blazing battlefield that was the shrine. It is so near, yet... so far...

    A distance of a few hundred metres uphill, ordinarily she would find that nothing but a brisk stroll, but now, it seemed endless. She tried her best to run, though one leg wasn’t bearing her weight well. Green bursts of energy continued to beat at her, and she stumbled, any second expecting to hear the click that was her death sentence, that of a fresh magazine being inserted. Then something tugged at her shorn hair and mutilated ear, and moments later a loud boom echoed.

    “I... go... to...” A gurgling, damp voice echoed out, and she risked glancing back, only to see that the man in white was now the man in red, as his clothes were soaked with his own blood, a crater in his chest. He was on the ground, and the life went out of his eyes, his final words unheard.

    Breathing a damp, iron-tainted sigh of relief, blood trickling from her lips, Mariam considered turning back, only to see a man carrying a heavy gun of a design she had never seen before. He was white-haired and wore strange, goggle-like glasses, and had many pouches and pockets sewn on his durable clothing. It seemed like he was injured too, but was paying it no mind. Seeing that, Mariam pressed on. I am committed now. And...

    The battle was ferocious, but at least she knew from her own covert investigations what sort of people lived at the shrine. They would shelter her, if they won, and if not... I would not survive if others such as the poor, deluded dead Eh Shoo Dtsak, are lurking. Sometimes, danger is the safest place.

    “I thank you... for your aid.” Mariam gasped, as he grabbed her, before tossing her unceremoniously to a young Asian girl.

    He said something in an Eastern language, not Japanese, and the girl nodded, tapping her chest proudly, before managing some terrible English. “I... take after. You safe!”

    “I hardly feel safe, but...” Heat was stinging her many wounds, and the smoke was making her gag, but looking around, she could see that the battlefield had devolved into two major battles, most of the attackers as dead as the one she left down below. The bald, muscular brute was exchanging fierce blows with the blonde man, flames surging into him, which then somehow were doused with water.

    As well, a pretty, petite woman with the grace and agility of a panther was darting through the chaos and the fires, knife and gun in hand, engaging in a brutal cat-and-mouse with an Asian man armed with a dreadful assortment of heavy firepower. Even as she watched, the woman pounced on a couple of fleeing men, knife tearing through one throat, gunshot to the head dispatching the second ruthlessly.

    Squeezing shut her eyes, Mariam coughed, then she swallowed, as something was put in her mouth, leaking cold, clean water. Swallowing, she opened her eyes again, to see the girl placing a plastic bottle to her lips. Gratefully, she nodded, her eyes on the battles that would decide whether she would join her would-be murderer in death...

    A brief squirming sensation was felt in her stomach, and despite her willingness to truly fight her whole life, she felt the sudden weight of it, the fact that she had taken a life. No, not a life. I have taken lives before. She had killed in the Boundary, and many of those had intelligence, emotions, even if they were monstrous. But this was a fellow human.

    The taste of iron on her lips seemed to burn her, and her breath came fast, far more rapidly than her exertion should have merited, especially now. I was prepared for this day. But... Her hands trembled a little on the hilt of her treasured sword, but with an effort of will she pushed it down, focussing on what was important. It is not just me who has faced this. Akio has made this choice. Shiro too. Shaeula... she is not human, as we understand it, but... she is as human as any of us in terms of her emotions, hopes and dreams. No, I cannot falter now. Not realising tears were trickling down her face, she bit her lip as she caught up with Natsumi and Katsuki-san, who had entered the classroom, from which sounds of screaming and tears could be heard from multiple voices.

    The door...  The security door had been breached, the thick metal and composite fibre alloys which were resistant to heavy weapons useless, a large hole having been bored through the locking mechanism, likely by one of the dull explosions they had heard earlier. Shaped charges, I imagine.

    Motoko was a Tsumura, and while her brother was on the military track, she had always expressed an interest in the army, and so was aware of a lot of weapons and strategies. Grandfather always indulged her, even if her mother was despairing of her unladylike interests. If they are using military-grade equipment then the safety shelter is nothing but a coffin. No, we must... go on the offensive.

    Blinking away tears, steeling herself, Motoko saw that inside the classroom there was chaos. Natsumi had joined the attack, her own Twin sword dancing, driving back an enemy. A second foe was engaging two other opponents, one of which was Kozue, who was fighting with an assortment of daggers and long needles. She had been wounded, but was still calm. Good... Honoka-sama is unhurt... The granddaughter of Fujiwara-sama was watching, horrified, as battle raged. Beside her, the teacher in charge of her class lay unmoving and soaked with blood, and there were several other small bodies too.

    “Mizuki!” Katsuki-san cried out, on seeing her younger sister. She was in a terrible state, one eye missing, a slash having laid her face open to the bone, and she was also bereft of fingers on her left hand, and she had been stabbed a multitude of times, the front of her uniform torn open, blood soaking it down to her long skirt. Despite that, she was struggling desperately against another opponent in black, this one seemingly female, short yet fast.

    “Run... away, big sister!” Mizuki-san coughed, red on her lips. “They... mess with your head... there’s... more...”

    Motoko spun, and her blade clashed with a pair of knives, already covered in blood, and that made Motoko pause, her feelings of guilt at her lethal battle vanishing. This day will go down in history as a grave one. For their blades to already be crimson...

    “You’re fast...” one said in decent Japanese. “...but everything is a test. Your defeat will lead us closer to the glory of Iblis!”

    “Is killing young girls glory?” Natsumi spat, as she shouldered aside the opponent she was fighting. There was a brilliant flash, only Motoko understanding, and the assassin dropped bonelessly, a vile stench of burned meat filling the air. “You want to fight, fight us, who know what we’re doing!”

    “The Son and Daughter command it. We obey.” The speaker chuckled, though to Motoko’s ears it sounded forced. “And nobody cries when the lion preys on the antelope. There are always predators, and always... prey!”

    A surge of aether flooded out, though it had similarities to Qi. Kozue staggered, but gritting her teeth so hard her gums bled, she threw a needle. Her attacker batted it away, only for Mizuki to slam into him from behind, despite her strength ebbing away. An elbow shattered her nose, stunning her, but instinctively her arms clutched the assassin. He flipped the knife, once more stabbing her, but Natsumi again called upon light element, and he toppled, even as Katsuki-san was screaming. She rushed over, grabbing her mortally wounded sister, tears spilling from her eyes.

    “Mizuki! Mizuki! Mizuki!” she wept, only for the younger girl to manage a bitter smile, blood frothing on her lips.

    “I don’t... want to die. How... stupid this is. But... I was the first to see them. I guess... the old tales... weren’t all talk. The Takakura... family is special.”

    “You... fuckers!” Motoko never swore, it was hardly befitting of a daughter of Tsumura house, but she knew soldiers did a lot, and now she understood why. Her rage was white hot, and yet her mind was cool, her training of long years forcing her to remain calm. Pushing herself beyond her limits, she surged forwards. Light element can finish this quickly, but... we do not have endless reserves. There are surely more attackers... best to end this with steel if I can...

    A thrown kunai from Kozue was batted aside by one assailant, but it distracted him long enough. Motoko surged forwards, the more spacious classroom giving her an edge. Her blade shimmered as she swung it at superhuman speed, a glittering web of slashes forming a perfect cage, cutting off her opponents moves like a brutal game of shogi.

    The assassin that spoke tried to flank her, but Natsumi charged, kicking a desk at them, making then back up. That was all the opening Motoko needed, and following the ruthless teachings of Master Ulfuric, who had helped them hone the Arts into a true tool for killing, Motoko’s blade struck three times in quick succession, throat, heart and groin.

    “The Son and Daughter will be displeased. Three dead in...”

    “Four!” Natsumi declared, a thrown kunai from Kozue suddenly wreathed with Natsumi’s wind, changing directions and slamming into the head of the attacker. There was a sickening crunch, and the foe dropped, blood and other liquids scattering.

    Again, the classroom erupted into screams, everyone panicking, but Motoko and Natsumi remained calm and took charge. “Natsumi. Get everyone up and moving... the shelter will not be safe, but staying here is madness.”

    Natsumi nodded, clapping her hands. “All right. I know it’s bad, but... everyone, get up. Those of you who have had Chirurgery, grab the injured and... the others.” She swallowed, and Motoko knew she wanted to avoid saying the word. “Kozue, can you still fight?”

    The small girl nodded, clutching at her scarf, white knuckles betraying her unease as she glanced at Honoka-sama, who nodded slowly. “Yes... yes.” Her words firmed up. “I am a bodyguard, I can do my duty. These injuries are nothing.”

    “Good.” Motoko praised, kneeling down beside the dying Mizuki-san and weeping Katsuki-san, heedless of getting blood on her skirt. As she did so, Mizuki opened her remaining eye, a bitter grin on her slashed face, her words both quiet and slurred, her broken nose making them indistinct.

    “I’m... glad. At least... they died. Screw them. Don’t cry... big sister. I... hate... this. Life was... just getting fun. And now...” She coughed, red frothing up, and she was so deathly pale, making the crimson stand out. “...look after Katsuki and Kiaria. I would... have said...” She was wracked with painful spasms. “...that Kiaria is a cry-baby, but it seems... it runs... in the family.”

    “Oh Mizuki...” Katsuki-san wailed. Motoko and Natsumi exchanged a glance, troubled.

    “Yes, can’t you feel a chill in the air? It’s not natural.” Natsumi agreed. “It looks like it’s up to us, but...”

    “Akio could do it.” Motoko made up her mind. It was a risk, time was precious, there were clearly more attackers who had infiltrated Hanafubuki, including at least one who was making no effort to hide the aether he was giving off. Even without QI Perception, we have become far more sensitive to these things.

    “Yes, but... even without his Mystic Eye, he still had some enhancements from sharing some of Shaeula’s abilities at the time...” Natsumi warned, though she was also in agreement. “So if you fail...”

    “I would rather regret failing than live with the guilt of not trying. Though...” It is a risk. Using up my reserves now... but... she fought. I would not be myself if I did not respect and praise that.

    “What... are you... talking... about?” More coughing and faint words from Mizuki-san.

    “I have Ether Healing at Rank four. It should be enough. Though I do not have Akio’s perception. But... Qi is an internal system, and I know the human body well... besides...” Motoko managed a faint smile as everyone was being gathered by Natsumi. “...all I have to do is keep you alive. Scars, mistakes, further damage that is not fatal... Akio or Shaeula can restore you later. Just... I have no wish to see a brave woman die.”

    Mizuki-san manages a faint, pained smile then. “Yes... that’s... that’s right. There’s no way... he’d let a woman with... my chest... die... the pervert. I... always... catch him.. checking me out...”

    “Mizuki!” Katsuki-san gasped through her tears, shocked, and Motoko smiled warmly yet ruefully, already pouring in aether, trying to close the more grievous wounds, no matter how clumsily, replacing lost blood.

    “Yes, I can hardly deny Akio is rather attracted to large chests. He is hardly alone in that, I think. Often...” Motoko confided, and she could see that despite the fear, the panic, the terror, those who had survived the attack were listening curiously, as Motoko’s engagement was still a rather important topic of conversation amongst the noble daughters.

    I am making progress, but... I have to hurry. Enemies are closing in, there is no time for caution. Yes, trust that if I can help her survive, even if she is crippled and ruined, she can be made whole at a later time. “...I worry a little. I am one of the slenderer of Akio’s fiance?es. Even Natsumi here is rather more well-endowed. But I am confident I have other charms...”

    “Besides, Shaeula would be angry if you bring it just down to breast size.” Natsumi giggled. “Akio’s a man of wide tastes, but... it’s true, he does like large chests. And yours is rather incredible, Mizuki-san!”

    She grunted, before managing a faint smirk. “It’s nothing... but trouble. It gives me backache, and I’ve... no idea why... I’m so much bigger... than my older sister. And perverts... always gawk at... me. But... if he can save me... I’ll let him... cop a feel...”

    “Oh, I think you would have to leave it a few years.” Motoko chuckled, amused at her bravado. “You are far too young for Akio. But...” Motoko stroked her black hair softly as she poured out her aether in a tide. “...I know he would grieve if you died. So... fight, like you did before.”

    “If... you and Akio-san can save Mizuki... then... I...” Katsuki-san began, clearly offering herself, and Natsumi snorted.

    “Honestly, Akio has such a bad reputation. It’s not like he’s rapacious and insatiable. There’s always been a reason. Ours were amongst the worst of all. But... if thinking that way makes you feel better, go for it. As for us...” Natsumi’s hand was tight on Utsuroihebi twin, and Motoko knew she had to hurry.

    “There.” After what seemed like an age but was likely only a minute or two, Motoko stood, hands and uniform soaked with blood. “It is field medicine, and I fear moving you will be painful, but... you will survive.”

    As Mizuki-san squeezed shut her good eye and Katsuki-san started babbling in gratitude, Motoko shook her head. “There is no time for thanks. Only for action. Are there any others who can be saved?”

    Natsumi shook her head sadly. “Everyone else who is injured can hold on. They were... ruthless.”

    “In that case... Kozue. Lead everyone towards the emergency shelter. For we...” Motoko exchanged a quick glance with Natsumi. “...we still have work to do.” Taking a life is not a light matter, yet... we have a right to defend ourselves, to defend others who cannot take up sword, spear and bow. Tsumura Arts... they were used to protect this country, and now... they are again!