Torima's Vessel

Warning: Rather vulgar language used in this chapter, but rather necessary also.

 

Poofs resounded through the still air of an otherwise quiet night in Aishu’s Merchant District. Retrieving an obscure bottle from my midnight coat’s inner pocket, I passed it to the nearest clone before beginning the typical explanation of the night’s work.

“The Daimyo’s niece has been missing for three days now with no ransom demands made. We’ll scout the city for possible sightings or abnormal activity. Last reported location is believed to be the Red Light District near Kunda Avenue, just two blocks down from Barlo.”

“Any suspects in particular?” spoke the third clone down as she painted the third nail on her left hand with the blue-black polish. I gained her gaze, marveling at how many useful tips and tricks I’d picked up in my years involved within the ANBU Corp, and how they had constantly evolved. This nail-painting, for example, I’d found to be an excellent - and fairly simple - trick of keeping track of all my clones who returned successfully during reconnaissance bouts.

“Anyone from the Daimyo’s guard or household, for sure,” I answered, as I watched the polish circulate, then paused as another thought hit me, “As a matter of fact, I’d like to make note of all the yakuza within the perimeter. Miru noted that they’ve been quiet lately. A few of the informants may still be among them and know something about her disappearance. If you happen to run across one, don’t openly confront them. But, if they have valuable information that they are willing to share, sneak them one of the extra earpieces. The codes and gestures should not have changed, so be sure to take note of them.”

“And you?” the seventh queried, blowing gently against her right index finger.

Many colleagues had thought this a symptom of my ‘episodes’: beginning to talk to one’s self. I used to answer them that ‘sometimes they think things out, before even I can,’ and would watch with a smirk as their brains staggered under the statement. It didn’t matter to me what they thought. After a while, I’d come to realize it was one of my best methods for sorting out my thoughts: letting the clones speak, as if they were their own persons.

“I’m coming, too,” I answered Seven, shoving my hands into my favorite fingerless gloves, “I’ll start with the streets surrounding Kunda through Barlo, and the Neko. I want two of us watching those streets at all times tonight.”

“I’m sensing a ‘but’ here,” injected the ninth, painting her right ring finger before passing it to the last.

“Don’t go to street-level around Kunda and Barlo. Observe as best you can from the rooftops. One of the old squad already has it covered. Ignore him, as always.”

“Him, huh?” the fifth smirked through an all-too-familiar set of teeth. Rolling my eyes as the only answer, my hand stretched to the miniature transceiver secreted within my hair’s drape.

“Alright, sound check. …Sound off.” The series of beeps returned ended the conversation. “Two and Five, replace your batteries before leaving. Communication is through channel 7. If you glean any important information, pass it on to as many of the others as you can. Move out!”

“Before we go, All-Paint,” Four called, stalling my hurried steps before we left Miru’s rooftop, “If a suspect is found, should we ‘secret him off?’” This gave me pause. Given the way Rae-en had ground my ‘uncertainty’ back into my face, I was fairly certain the girl was at least within one territory of here. It was still likely that, even after three days, the girl may be in Aishu somewhere… but not likely in plain sight.

“Only if they have Chiaki-dono in their possession, but I doubt that will be the case. Strictly surveillance for now.”

“Understood!” was the echoed cry as the wind blew us our separate ways, ready to begin the night’s work.

O--------------------O

Five and I had been scoping out opposite sides of the Red Light District for over three hours, and most of the supposed suspects we’d trailed until that point had produced nothing but disappointment. Plus, it was getting close to the time to rotate positions. With a sigh, I’d turned on my heel to detour around the Neko before heading east to the next site… when a flash of white racing down the alley caught my eye.

A boy of perhaps 12 or 13 years was running like the Nine-Tails itself was on his heels. Yet, there was absolutely no one within 20 meters of the boy. Not until he knocked into a middle-aged man walking beyond the alleyway, spilling them both onto the ground. Hurriedly picking himself up and with a string of curses from the man, the boy growled a string back over his shoulder and just kept running with this strangely terrified look on his face.

“All-Paint to Miru,” I whispered quietly into the microphone at my collar.

“I’m here. Got something?” crackled through my earpiece.

“Possibly,” I answered, my eyes tracking the boy’s movements weaving through the crowds… back toward Barlo, “He’s wearing a yakuza’s mark, but I can’t identify it.”

“Describe it.”

“Red slash from left shoulder blade to right hip, across the back. No weapons either.”

“Then, he’s a low Runner for the Yokkugumi. They took over the Merchant District, about three months ago.”

So home territory for the Yokku is the Merchant District, south of here. He’s running north. “Is the Machigumi still a strong presence in the Red Light District?”

“It’s still their house, since a week ago.”

“Any marriages or uprisings with the Machi?”

“No, none.”

This kid’s running through enemy territory unarmed? Strange.

Double-clicking the transceiver’s button for all to listen up, I briefed everyone within range. “I’m going to tail this one,” I whispered, jumping swiftly to the next rooftop, “Continue with Flight as scheduled.” A series of beeps back into my earpiece confirmed the message had been received by, at least, five of the clones who would pass the message on to those who hadn’t heard.

I tailed the boy for many blocks across the rooftops, weaving with his path as quietly as I could, masking my steps with crow calls when I couldn’t. This kid was either extremely stupid, extremely new, or extremely ballsy running through Machigumi territory in rival colors and unarmed. But one thing I could say for the boy: what he lacked in agility, he made up for in speed. If he lives long enough, he’d make a great Canary, I thought to myself with a smirk, landing short of the next peak and activating my invisibility, the boy rounding the next corner into another alley.

Gaining the rooftop directly across from the alleyway, my feet almost slipped at the surprising picture I was presented with. What the hell is HE doing here? I thought, quickly crouching to prepare myself for the inevitable jump I’d have to make across and up to the three-story building’s roof. Launching myself off the eave’s edge, I landed hard, tuck-and-rolling and startling a cat off the edge and down into the alley with a shriek. Allowing the cat’s fuss to mask my movements, I silenced my transceiver and crawled towards the nearer side of the roof.

Barely peeking over the edge, I watched silently the exchange between Dichi and the young Yokku yakuza member three floors below. Whatever was going on, the young Runner was pretty anxious in his hand gestures. Watching Dichi’s body language, either ‘Spaz’ regularly acted this way or was explaining something of which Dichi was already aware; his body just rested calmly against the wall as he listened. Another few minutes of observation led Spaz back around the corner, sprinting back toward his home territory, and left Dichi to himself.

Releasing the muffled crow’s call again from my throat, I adjusted the tone of it halfway through, getting Dichi to tense up a bit at the alteration. Repeating the odd call, after a beat, Dichi glanced up at me and started humming “Green Leaves,” an old signal that he knew a Konohagakure shinobi when he heard one.

Settling more comfortably into my invisibility jutsu, I jumped from the rooftop to land within feet of the informant, code name Dichi, on the other side of a waste bin in the shadows. “Whadcha catch him on?” I laughed under my breath, trying to loosen some of the tension I’d had at recognizing one of Shimura Danzo’s veteran informants from a distance. Dichi just leaned against the wall, his hand reaching as if to brush the dust from his front pocket. Twice.

I turned my head into my far hand, trying to stifle the ironic laugh knocking at the back of my throat. No wonder Spaz was a fast runner! Dichi’d caught him, after the second time the boy had pick-pocketed him! Must have gotten Dichi’s josaku knife, if he was stupid enough to try again. “Couldn’t nab him the first time, huh?” I chuckled, watching as Dichi raised a fist to rub at the closer corner of his mouth. The veiled threat was obvious, even if he couldn’t back it up.

“Fine, fine. Know anything about the Daimyo’s niece?” I spoke low in my throat. Dichi’s brows furrowed as he dropped his head to his chest, his arms crossing in front of him. Racking my brain for the complex gestures the Konohagakure spy informants were taught, Dichi remained patient with me as he held his position.

Let me think. …Furrowed brows… He’s worried about something… chin-to-chest… He needs to tell me… arms crossed over chest… He can’t say right now.

“Could you get to the Merchant District sometime tonight?” I asked again, low in my throat. Dichi firmly closed his eyes, a fairly obvious answer: No.

“Are you willing to give the signal, when it’s time for us to listen?” I asked quickly, as the foot traffic on the next block over, Barlo Avenue itself, picked up. I didn’t have much time. I still had to find my third teammate and let him in on the situation. Luckily, Dichi lifted his head, opening his eyes, and his eyebrow nearest to me rose in an arch: a sign of ascent. Pulling the colorless, miniature transceiver from my thigh holster, I left it upon the waste bin just inside Dichi’s shadow.

“Gambatte yo, Dichi. Suman,” I gave the traditional farewell the Konohagakure spies used amongst themselves, regaining the rooftops as I sped back toward my originating site.

Following the pulse-pounding music for another ten blocks, I landed in a back alley behind the Yume No Neko, my old seductive stomping grounds. Taking a deep breath and allowing my chakra to flare for a very brief instant, upon opening my eyes, I saw that my shoulders were broader, my chest was deeper and flat, and my feet had widened - to the point of pain - inside my standard-issue footwear. Without looking, I knew my hair had gone jet-black, my skin the color and texture of well-worn camel leather, and my eyes were the color of storm clouds – a clear imitation of my former opponent, Tao Saitama of Iwagakure, nearly two decades deceased. Tying the worn Kumogakure hitae-ate against my forehead and creating the old-school bo-in knot typical of their Elite, I knew the disguise was nearly perfect. …But near perfection was clearly not good enough, after what had happened to Kiyuri.

Concentrating on my last encounter with the Rock Village Elite guard, I tried re-creating the cold, hard smoothness of his chakra signature. Even though I’d been trained on infiltration stratagems, this technique was definitely one of my weakest. Concentrating harder, I felt the quick, flashing heat of my chakra begin to slow and smooth out with the help of my energy prowess. But it still wasn’t close enough. Cold. It needs to be colder, I told myself, relaxing enough to let my body except the shift in balance.

After ten minutes, I felt confident that the signature was near exact without my energy becoming ensnared and uncontrollable. Steeling myself for the role I was about to play, I tapped out the word ‘neko’ into my earpiece, receiving a few drawn out signals afterwards.

Reaching the front entrance, the set of swinging doors - with the typical drooling assholes trying to get a peek inside expected at least two decades ago - was foregone for a line with bouncers. And the old wooden sign I remembered from my days of spinning their poles was gone. In its place was a bright-pink neon cat with a yellow canary in its mouth, its flickering neon blue eye winking at the customers. Its trailing tail spelled out the burlesque’s name. Spinning a quick genjutsu around the bouncers, those waiting in line scowled as I was unceremoniously ushered past them all. Stepping through the threshold, I was absorbed into the constant music and shifting lights that used to follow my every move as ‘Hippolyta’ across that large stage.

“Get your ass outta here! I told your buddies already, we’re full tonight!”

Looking around for the chump who dared give me such a greeting, my eyes betrayed me as they fell upon a youth - no more than 20 - with lilac hair pulled back high on his head. His piercing light-blue eyes seemed to freeze me in place as his arms roughly grabbed me and proceeded to shove me back toward the entrance.

Smirking to myself, I couldn’t help but think that this guy was unusually strong for a civilian. But I didn’t have time to play games with him, it was imperative that Poza and I talk. Pretending to trip and fall forward, I grabbed my assailant’s ankle, flipping myself over until I was the one fully upright, while his head nearly hit the floor. Putting all the bad-ass behind Tao’s voice I could muster, I let the whole back of the house know why I was there.

“Where’s that fucker?! If I have to blow this place apart to get what he owes me, I will find him! That last bitch… Where is HE?!” I finished, righting the startled, pale youth and shaking him by his collar with one hand. “Just… started today… wouldn’t know,” he managed to chew out as his head rolled to one side. “Worthless,” I muttered under Tao’s breath, throwing the would-be bouncer against those advancing behind him with an audible crack, glaring hard as they scowled at me. My partner, masquerading as the bartender, unknowingly spun me around, ready to take a swing at me. I caught his hand quickly, squeezing it until the knuckles cracked beneath the pressure on them, his eyes showing surprise at my strength. Gaining his gaze, I allowed him a flash of ‘Kira’s eyes, his glance relaxing in understanding as we continued the typical charade.

“Tao, my friend,” Poza simpered, his face taking on the sheen of a fine sweat as the other bouncers retreated back to their posts, “what brings you here?”

“You owe me another one, you fuck-up, or I’ll take my refund outta your hide,” I growled, pretending to increase the pressure on Poza’s fist as he fell to his knees. “If you’re still interested, I might have some more. Let’s talk,” Poza grimaced, looking up at my transformed form with a suck-up’s eyes. Throwing his bruised fist from my grip, I didn’t need to pretend that that look disgusted me. It had worked too many times on me for it to do otherwise.

I closely followed him to a side door, the wall next to it inlaid with a one-way mirror, allowing the patrons to get a view of the side room’s interior for a small price. Not that it mattered. The closed-circuit camera in the corner would be the true test of our communication skills. At least something about this disgusting place hadn’t changed in twenty years.

Slamming the door quickly behind me, I stalked forward menacingly, backing Poza into the only piece of furniture in the room: a lone, high-backed chair. “That last bitch you gave me lost her head, when I fucked her, and couldn’t finish the job. You told me the young ones were trained properly, that they were a higher-class. But apparently she was a twat in high-class bitch’s clothes who couldn’t neck a hole-in-the ground!” I snarled, pulling a familiar blade from another pocket inside my coat by the grip. The shaking my body took on as I glanced at the curved blade of Kiyuri’s favorite kunai could have fooled anyone, as I caged Poza within Tao’s long arms, “You owe me another bitch, or the boys and I will turn you into our personal, tailored come-boy.”

Poza clammed up like any hidden yakuza member would under pressure. He may not have been the Infiltration Expert on the team, but he was far from a novice.

“On second thought, you’re better as a eunuch,” I snapped with an enraged sneer, positioning the blunt side of the blade in the crease between his inner thigh and the appendage all men glorify.

“Wait, Tao!” my partner squealed, a few real beads of sweat forming on his brow.

I just stood there, hoping Poza had garnered some information by now. The message I’d just relayed was pretty simple, by ANBU standards. But, if he had nothing, this mission was going to take a lot longer than any of us had planned.

“You can’t expect me to pull one out of a hole-in-the-ground, Tao. Our supplier doesn’t work like that. Too many cunts and asses don’t make the cut. It can take more than two weeks to train a good bitch, you know that.”

Pulling the blade away from his thigh, I threw my arms across my disguised chest and glared down at Poza, tapping the flat side of the blade against my enhanced bicep. Working my mind quickly, I translated the message: As suspected, the kidnappings DID have something to do with the new Underground; and what was better, he’d managed to get himself in. Unfortunately, a lot of their victims – men and women, both - were dead, as they only kept them around for a few weeks at most.

“I want a specially-trained bitch this time, doctored specifically for me.”

“I’ll see what the supplier can do.”

I flung myself around to face the mirror, the kunai leaving my clenched fist in my fury and embedding itself about four centimeters into the wall. But my rage wouldn’t do me any good now. Poza had no idea what the local doctors’ purpose was in the Underground. Closing my eyes and taking a deep breath, my next words left Tao’s lips with conviction as I turned to face my partner, my voice hard as steel but my tone resigned, “Your picks haven’t been worth shit. I want to inspect them and pick for myself.”

Poza’s eyes went wide, as he unseated himself at my proclamation, the set of his chin telling me he thought my idea ludicrous, “They won’t allow that. You’re too risky to be let in.”

“Fuck YOU and your ‘supplier’s’ rules!” I growled with a sneer, relieving the kunai of its unintended sheathe as I stepped up to my partner again. I fisted my hand in his shirt and brought his ear level with my mouth. “I paid enough green for that last twat to make that Field Daimyo look like a scrounger. What makes those bitches so fucking special that I can’t train one myself?” I queried with a gruff tone. Looking around, as if afraid someone would hear, he sighed as if giving up a great secret, “Each one’s a little unique. The weak ones are easy to break in; some of them even enjoy it. But it takes a while to break a strong-headed one. Like I said, in the end, very few make the cut.”

“I’m not too picky, as long as the bitch is worth the price,” I stated, leveling a determined glance down the end of my nose. “So where should I pick my bitch up? And when should I be expecting it?”

“Our last shipment was three days ago,” he stated, getting my pretend ire up as I laid the blade of the kunai against his windpipe, getting him to finish in a hurry, “But we’re getting a fresh shipment in another week. Come back in a few days, and we’ll see if we can get you a look.”

Throwing Poza back into the seat, I followed it up with a mock punch to his right cheek, his right hand slapping his thigh hard enough for it to sound believable. The genjutsu-based reddening appeared not seconds after as he bit his lip to let a line of blood trickle down his chin. “Don’t let me down this time, you piece of shit,” I threw over my shoulder, as I stormed out of the room. 

Passing through the double doors and out into the cooling night air, my mind buzzed with the conversation that Poza and I had just had as I let my feet propel me forward on auto-pilot. Turning over every sentence carefully for every nuance we had ever come up with as a team, my heart sank lower and lower in my chest.

As often as I turned it over, the word ‘unique’ had only ever been used twice by the squad. And those were during missions or circumstances that were truly, mind-blowingly strange and absurd. Shaking my head as my feet launched me to the rooftops and pointed me in some random direction, I realized that there were more prevalent things to worry about.

If I was going to get myself into the Underground, I’d have to ‘make the cut’ to get chosen. Poza may not have liked the idea, but unless he and the others came up with another idea quickly, I didn’t see many other viable options. If we didn’t get a break, someone – namely, me – was going to have to go after the information, lest more people – primarily, our target – die as well.

But what did all these kidnapped individuals have in common? What was this ‘uniqueness’ that they all had? And who were these ‘strong-headed ones’ that needed extra time to break? It was pretty clear that these ‘weak ones’ were civilians, at the very least. But how in the world could they ‘enjoy’ being kidnapped and ‘broken in’? Shaking my head, my mind reminded me that anyone, not just those in this town, would go willingly if something was definitely in it for them. I’d have to ask Poza to elaborate on these ‘weak ones’ later.

My mind turned back to the conversation with Lord Kyassuru. Did this strange, non-Daimyo visitor have something to do with these kidnappings? What the Daimyo remembered of the conversation hadn’t been lies. At least to him they hadn’t been lies. My eyes closed in resignation as the next thought made my gut turn in eddies. If this strange shinobi had used the Dowasure Technique, the intruder had either extracted the technique information from a deceased S-class Elite from Konohagakure… or the intruder was an S-class Elite from Konohagakure himself.

My thoughts then turned to Rae-en and his insufferable blathering. He had been all respect and courteousness, until after Abi-chan had assisted us. Was it him who Abi had been terribly afraid of? Or was there another shinobi in hiding at the Daimyo’s estate of which we should be weary? And what was Rae-en’s unidentified element specialty that used an unusual blend of hot and cold energies; one that I’d never come across before?

The only thing I was sure of was that Rae-en had been in on Chiaki-dono’s kidnapping in some capacity. And by the strange tattoo on Abi-chan’s neck, the servant girl had at some point been inside the new Underground’s sanctum. Could she be one of those ‘weak ones’? But then how had she been selected to be bought out?

I shook my head in irritation at the ridiculous number of unanswered questions as they loomed higher and higher in my mind, a ringing in my ears beginning to annoy me as my blood pressure spiked, and the air rushing past me seemed to pick up its intensity.

Seconds later, I was falling, the bricks rushing up to meet my body with a bone-jarring thud. You idiot, you missed the jump! I admonished myself, my shaking cream-colored arms helping me rise from the dirty alley floor. Shaking my head clear again, I assumed my invisible state and made a leap for the rooftops again. But as I landed, my foot landed wrong - in an almost reversed position - and I had to roll away from it to keep the tendon from tearing. Officially peeved with myself now, I reached for the transceiver in my ear, intending to call the nearest clone over for a plasma pill recharge. I would have sent the call out… if I hadn’t looked up at just that second.

What is this? I thought confusedly, as I watched the buildings within my sight begin to waver from side-to-side as if they were relieving heat from a summer’s noon-day sun. But that wasn’t possible for a recently-turned fall midnight, not this far north. A sudden chill running the length of my spine confirmed it. But not the stiff seizing that had me falling over across the peak of the roof, stealing my invisibility as the sensation relieved itself not seconds later. Only to have a shrill sound screech in my ear, an explosion of pain ricocheting through my skull. I bit my lip to stifle the indignant scream struggling to leave my throat. I could feel my energy draining in rivers from my body, even as I lay there trying to sort through all the images racing into my mind’s eye. The clones!

“I didn’t expect them to fight. Damn it!” I cursed, my whole body shivering as I launched myself up and raced back for the light hung on the corner of Miru’s deck.

Just two more blocks… just two more.

My body ached as the slashes that appeared in mere moments made themselves known, blood barely dripping from each one. I had to recall the clones or…

I leapt the last gap, launching myself for the brightness of the lantern that called my weary, bleeding body to a safe haven in this Kami-forsaken city. The unparalleled cold seized my body again, and I landed stiff as a board across the length of Miru’s deck. I couldn’t hold back the scream this time, as the cold began seeping its cruel fingers into my back and letting the fall night turn my blood to ice.

“Sano!” the startled voice of my old friend called out my name, as his hands rolled my stiff body over. I fought the cold rush entering my neck and jaw, the chilled fingers leaching themselves closer to my brain. “Need to release clones… fighting, not… body won’t move,” I stuttered at Miru, desperately trying to move my body at all.

“What do you need?” his hands grabbed both sides of my face, his eyes fierce in their sockets.

“Ram,” I mumbled, my breath leaving me in the next instant.

I felt Miru’s hands claw at mine and conform them to the correct configuration: the seal of the Ram. “Disperse,” I whispered as the black, starlit sky began to close in around me.

The rush of energy back into my body sent my senses into overdrive. Scenes superimposed themselves in front of my eyes, my sight struggling to concentrate on any one of the clones’ vision at a time. A silver kunai crossed my vision, then my torso. A shrill note echoed itself into my ear again, the pain swelling in my head four times over. A snake of unparalleled cold coiled itself around my ankle before sinking its fangs into the back of one knee and its pointed tail into the other, throwing me forward into my opponent’s weapon. The pain of a hard strike to the back of my neck, efficiently snapping my spine as my sight left me.

I closed my eyes, willing the images to slow themselves and allow me a better view. To at least let the movie move frame-by-frame so I could distinguish certain scenes from one another. Sighing, I leaned my head back against the rough wood of Miru’s deck, allowing something real to anchor my mind to this reality as the visions continued their spinning. They wouldn’t stop until they were finished, I realized, as I felt Miru tend to my new wounds. All I could do was carefully watch and let my energy senses tell me what they would.

The superimposed sensation of a hand on my shoulder and a club laying into the same shoulder by a hulking brute made my right side twitch in phantom agony. How can a guy this large be so fast? He has to be a shinobi, no doubt about it.

“Sano?”

“Miru?” I struggled to identify his voice over the sounds of multiple battles for survival invading my hearing.

“Yes, Sano,” Miru assured me. I’m sure my eyes displayed all kinds of conflicting emotion as the sensations from each clone poured over me. “How long will this continue?”

I blinked carefully, not wanting to miss the one critical scene that might inform me of the identity of my foes nor any clue to their loyalties. “Ten clones with almost four hours of memory a piece, and needing to distinguish whose view is whose… it’s going to be a while, my friend.”

Everything else but my one remaining clone fell away from my mind as I concentrated.

O---------------------O

I can’t believe I’m doing this. Aren’t I supposed to play the part of the bad-ass trafficker hauling his last meal ticket around on the end of a chain? How is this part of the plan? I mused as I readjusted Sano-sensei’s rag-doll body atop my right shoulder, the chain at her neck jangling a semi-pleasant sound. I mean, improvising a faint to discourage a passer-by is one thing, but…

My head turned as an imperceptible groan left Sano-sensei’s lips and her body attempted to curl into itself, a small shaking quality starting as the groaning continued. Was she in pain? How could a clone feel pain?

Deciding to check the clone over, my feet carried me into the nearest alleyway, barely large enough for a pair of children to walk through shoulder-to-shoulder. Hefting her off my shoulder, my left hand cradled her head as I leaned her up against the nearest wall in the shadows.

“Yume-baka,” I growled out Sensei’s codename under my breath tapping her cheek, but got no response. Surely, the clone couldn’t be unconscious! Was it even possible for a clone to go unconscious and not dissipate in order to return to its master? Carefully searching both ways down the alleyway, I made sure no one was around before I lifted the genjutsu covering my Sharingan eye.

My brow furrowed at the strangeness of Sensei’s chakra as the tomoe of my Sharingan eye spun lazily. Her light blue chakra seemed to fade and flare in turns along with this strange golden glow coming from somewhere down around her abdomen. What’s this mean?

Another groan and the clone snapped out of it, startling me back into the opposite wall.

“Shit,” the clone whispered, closing its eyes and rubbing its neck and lower back at the same time. “What happened?” Eyes opened to regard me with a dose of weariness. “Oh. Shin. Where are we? Weren’t we going to the estate?”

“Yes, but I assumed it would be more effective to get your form out in the public eye for a little longer. See if anybody might be interested.”

The clone huffed a laugh under her breath, her weary eyes looking the other way down the alley. “We already have a buyer, possibly two.”

The clone’s hands flashed briefly through a series of quick hand signs. With a poof of smoke, a tanned, dark-haired male stood before me, his storm-cloud eyes turning back to regard mine. “Meet one of our prospective buyers, Tao,” the clone gruffed out in a voice that sounded as if it had been rubbed with sandpaper, “His mission is to roam Aishu and select potential candidates to bring back to his master, and allow his master a good time with them before killing them.” The disguised clone’s brow lifted with a predatory grin. “But he’s not so good as to bring back to his master goods he hasn’t sampled himself.”

The plan was good. I had no doubt it would be. But if this was the extent of the clone’s transformation…

“Tao-san,” I quipped with a small blush, pointing down at a very female physique, “I think you need to concentrate more of the transformations next time.” I reached behind the clone and, gripping her transformed neck, brought a still evilly smirking face closer to mine, my hand ghosting down the front of the clone’s stomach. “And leave the theatrics to me.”

With the clone’s face so close, I didn’t see the hand that fisted and landed solidly against my right cheek, sending me flying down the alleyway for about ten meters. A huffed laugh was heard again as I picked myself up to regard the totally-female-looking clone again, “And that’s what you get for being a cocky-ass twit, Shin-niisama.” I caught the chain around her neck as she walked forward and dropped it into my hand, “Now, come on. We’re not near enough to the estate to lose this charade just yet. And we have something else to check on when we get there.”