Erina sat down outside the shop with a bubble tea in hand. The table umbrella overhead wasn't doing much as the sun went down. She'd removed her bandages, the cut on her leg already faded to a pinkish line.

  Sipping her drink, she took a moment to take in the city around her. Even as night set in, the streets downtown were filled with life. People bustled about. Small cliques of girls chatted and laughed amongst themselves on their way from one shop to the next. Salarymen went to and from the subway station on their way back from work. The traffic lights rattled and clicked as they cycled back and forth. An electronic billboard dominating the corner of the intersection advertised all the hottest, latest songs and products. She still preferred the quieter side of town, but maybe this wasn't so bad either.

  Erina took out her new replacement phone and checked her to-do list. She'd repaired her uniform and shopped around for a few more sets just in case. Report, check. Groceries, check. Spell practice, check. Still, it wouldn't hurt to go over her work again and touch it up, just in case. She took her laptop out of her bag and set it on the table.

  She hummed a quiet tune to herself as she worked. A nice pair of earbuds would probably be nice. Again, she reminded herself how much she really owed Akira to have the option of these mundane luxuries. She truly didn't know where she'd be without her.

  Erina's fingers paused on the keyboard. She was in debt to the yakuza, wasn't she? That seemed… bad.

  Her thoughts went back to the contract she signed. She found her starting point with a bit of research online. It was likely a geas—a soul-binding contract that could enforce itself on the signee if they tried to violate its terms. But if that was the case, Erina never felt it trigger. She hadn't exactly been up to much conspiring, granted. As long as she didn't go out of her way to work against Akira's interests, nothing would happen.

  Erina looked around at the people walking by. Technically, she was a full-fledged member of the yakuza. That was what she signed up for, albeit not entirely willingly. But sitting here downtown with a drink in hand and her laptop open, she didn't feel anything like it. If her days could go by more like this, perhaps things might not be so bad…?

  Erina winced. A deranged oni's grin and a slayer with a crimson katana just flashed through her mind. She never wanted to see them again. She might really cry if she did.

  Even if she could walk wherever she wanted, she was still trapped—carted around under someone else's will, to be released into danger and caught again at their behest. And should she really be handing over the secrets of the laboratory so easily when even she didn't know everything about it?

  Erina shut her eyes tight. She took a nice long sip and tried to calm her thoughts. She wasn't helpless. She had to study, practice, develop new spells, new tactics. If she was forced to risk her life again, she had to be ready…

  Even if all that work only improved her odds of survival from less than one percent to a slightly higher fraction of one percent…

  Erina knocked on her head until the bad thoughts rattled out. Moping didn't do anything for her. She still had a report to proofread.

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  Her thoughts drifted to dinner as time passed. It was getting pretty late. Once she was done reviewing, maybe she would eat out. Some of the restaurants she passed by today looked appetizing…

  Half her face barely visible around a corner, Akira watched from a distance. Seemed like Erina was doing fine today. Akira withdrew back into the alley, stalking away from the bustling crowds.

  She crushed herself into the Reverse using the back of a dumpster, emerging into a deserted city on the other side. Akira leapt up, kicking off between parallel walls to climb to the rooftops where she could run at full speed. The wind howled by her as she rushed to her destination.

  The heart of Shinjuku was destroyed seven years ago. The Binding Association ensured the truth of the events never got out, disguising it as a convoluted chain of earthquakes, storms, gas line explosions, and nuclear waste transportation failure that just so happened to go as wrong as possible. However, the perception of it as a thriving commercial and business center had yet to fade. And as desolate and empty as it was now, there were a few occupations that always held up.

  Akira leapt from the rooftops, rolling onto her feet in the middle of the road as she walked through the neon red gates. Coming alive when the sun set, countless glowing signs lined the road, their garish lights jostling to snatch her attention. Youkai and mages alike of the criminal underworld filled the streets.

  The red-light district. This was one of the few sights she could never forget.

  "Welcome, sir." Her men bowed their heads to her as she entered the back office of her club. "It's a pleasure to see you again."

  "Where's Aoi?" Akira passed by without slowing down, already guessing the answer.

  "With the hostesses."

  Akira left without another word. She wasn't here to unwind. Past the offices, through the staff corridors, upstairs away from the main floor, and into the waiting room for the executive suites. Here, the decor changed sharply from grimy office corridors to gorgeously gaudy traditional architecture, polished wood, sliding doors, and tatami mats.

  "Akanaga, sir." Shimizu turned as she entered the room and greeted her with a bow, tablet in hand. The women in the room followed suit. "What brings you here?"

  "How are the girls?"

  "Everyone is well. We're glad to see you again, sir."

  "Sachiko." Akira made eye contact with one of the hostesses. "Are you on tonight?"

  "My guest is arriving shortly," she said.

  "Anyone from the Kirigami Family?"

  "Yes, several, though not reserved with me."

  "Tablet." Akira received it into her waiting hand and went through the list herself. "Stock is still high," she muttered. Good. She didn't have to go replace them any time soon. "Ai!"

  "Yes, sir." The hostess in question rose to her feet.

  "You're on duty for Takayama tonight?"

  "I am. He is currently being entertained downstairs."

  They exchanged a look.

  "Squeeze him for whatever he knows," said Akira. "I'm counting on you."

  Ai nodded and left to go get ready.

  Akira's eyes moved to Shimizu next. He accepted the tablet, bowed his head, and departed without the need for any more words.

  That was that settled. Akira went to her personal changing room. The lock turned. She sighed and threw her favorite orange hoodie aside. Man, this was such a pain.

  She got changed. The light glared down on her exposed back as she removed her top. There, etched by hand with wooden tools, rested an ornate design. The ink showed stark against her skin. Curled along her back with crashing waves surrounding it was a depiction of a sea monster. Its long body teetered on the boundary between a sea serpent and a giant fish, its fins barbed and its spine jagged. Its head was that of a human woman, her hair wild and her features twisted in feral rage. Its upper half was warped and distorted, its front limbs resembling both fin and malformed arm. The ningyo twisted and turned in a figure eight down her back, nearly consuming its own finned tail and entangling with the raging waters as if they were one and the same.

  The tattoo vanished under her kimono. Akira blew out a long breath as she finished tying all the belts and set out to meet the guest.