James and Suki were alone on the bridge. The others had gotten bored with watching the dark waters and distant lights and had gone off to find other amusements. Suki had to stay, though, and she had held on to James's arm. He wouldn’t have broken that fragile connection for anything.

  “Do you hate me, now that you know I’m not human?” Suki said softly.

  “No! I don’t—” James stopped. He had too much to say; the words choked themselves off trying to get out. “I already knew. At least about you not having a soul; it was the first thing Harue said about you. I don’t know what that meant then, and I still don’t.”

  James clenched his fists. “The only new thing is that there’s some guy… him, I hate.”

  Suki put her hand on one of James’s fists. It relaxed instantly, almost involuntarily.

  “Do you think,” she said, “That I could get a soul?”

  “I have no idea,” James said. “Not of how to do it, or how it would affect you or… anything, really. Do you want one? You don’t seem to need it.”

  “I don’t know either… It’s just that it seems like a soul is something that my Master thought was unnecessary for me. That makes me think I should have one.”

  James took a step to the side and embraced Suki. From behind, so he wouldn’t block her view of the ship’s control console. He put his arms chastely around her waist, not her breasts, but he could still feel the soft swell of them against his upper arms and the electric vibrancy of her as she relaxed into his hold. He rested his cheek against the top of her head.

  “There are people that we can ask,” he said. “Spirits that have been around longer than Harue, priestesses with real magic. A genuine god if it comes to that. Someone will know.”

  Suki hummed in agreement, not saying anything, seemingly content to be held by him. They stayed that way for a few moments longer. Then James felt another question bubble up within him. He tried to hold it down, keep it from ruining the moment, but it wouldn’t be supressed.

  “Suki, back in the Garden, were you—did he—was—”

  James stopped. Partly because he couldn’t find a way to phrase it and partly because he felt the sudden increase of tension in Suki’s body as she realised what he was asking. She didn’t want him to ask, so he stopped.

  The tension didn’t go away, though. The question, unasked, still hung in the air in front of them. Finally, Suki spoke.

  “He ordered me to enjoy it,” was all she said.

  A wave of nausea flashed through James as the anger he felt turned instantly bitter and sour with nowhere to go. He tightened his hold on Suki, just a bit. Just enough to let her know that he wasn’t letting go of her.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “Why? You did nothing wrong,” Suki answered.

  I asked the question, James thought. Even if he hadn’t voiced it, that had been his mistake.

  Aloud, he just said. “I’m sorry it happened to you.”

  “Weren’t you listening?” Suki asked. Her voice held an edge of bitterness. “I enjoyed my time in the Garden.”

  “If that were so,” James said slowly, “I don’t think you would have escaped.”

  Suki didn’t answer immediately, but James felt her body slowly relax in his arms. Once the tension that his question had provoked was all gone, she finally spoke.

  “I suppose I will be punished for that, as well.”

  James frowned. “Do you think—all this time, have you been expecting that you’ll be recaptured?”

  “That is the rational expectation,” Suki said sadly. “The Academy never promised me safety, just sanctuary for a time. Master is patient, and he never gives up what is his.”

  “You don’t belong to him,” James stated firmly. “And I’ll never let him take you.”

  Suki reached up and put her hands over his arms, pulling them closer around her. “I hope that’s true,” she said. “But even if it proves to be false… it will have been worth it.”

  James was simmering with rage when the ship approached the dock. He was angry enough to kill someone, but there weren’t any targets for him to vent on. When he saw the small group of thugs occupying the pier they were headed for, his first thought was confusion. Unlike the badly fitting suits that the other Yakuza thugs had been wearing, these guys were all wearing Hawaiian shirts.

  His next thought was that it didn’t matter what they were wearing, as long as he had someone to punch.

  James was feeling the urge, but he didn’t know how to actually kill someone. He had a sword, but he hadn’t yet made it come out when he wanted it to, just when he needed it to.

  That was fine. James was sure that if he jumped into the middle of those thugs and started throwing punches, they’d eventually fight back. Once they started doing damage, his armour would appear, and then he would demolish them.

  Plan firmly in mind, James stalked towards the gangplank, where Harue was standing.

  “Who are you guys?” she called out. She threw out a mooring rope, and two of them ran into each other in their haste to catch it and hook it over a bollard.

  “We’re Shōrinkan-gumi!” One of them shouted. “We’re good friends with the Raimēkai family, whose ship this is.”

  “You think you can steal a ship from our friends?” another one added. James dubbed him Blue-yellow, while the first one was Red-green.

  Harue threw another rope. “You think we’re stealing the ship?” she asked innocently. “Is this what stealing looks like?”

  “Yeah, it does!” Blue-yellow shouted. “'Cause there aren’t no Raimēkai on board!”

  “Yeah!” Another one shouted. “And we heard! That there was trouble on the island!”

  “Wow, there’s no getting anything past you,” Harue said absently as she studied the mechanism for lowering the gangplank.

  “What’s all the shouting about?” Shion said, emerging from the lower deck. “Ugh. These losers.”

  “You know them?” Harue asked as she turned a wheel.

  “They’re a subordinate clan to the Raimēkai,” Shion said brusquely. “Sometimes they let them come to the parties.”

  “Whoo… I didn’t think much of the Raimēkai, but they have even smaller fish nibbling at their toes?” Harue giggled.

  “It’s Shion-sama!” Blue-yellow yelled.

  “Does she count as Raimēkai?”

  “No way, she’s a girl!”

  “It doesn’t matter,” James growled. “Just get the gangplank down, and I’ll take care of them.”

  “That’s what I’m doing!” Harue said as the gangplank thudded onto the pier.

  James got a single step down it before Harue grabbed his arm.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  “Whoa, cowboy!” she said. “What’s that look on your face for?”

  “Nothing!” James said. He tried to shrug her arm off but failed to move even a finger. “I just need to let off some steam. Let go of me!”

  The thugs below were emboldened by his hesitation. James was looking at Harue, so he couldn’t tell who was yelling what. Not that he cared.

  “Yeah, your girlfriend better hold you back!”

  “We’ll trash you!”

  “What about Shion-sama, man?”

  “There’s seven—eight of us. We can take her!”

  James tuned them out to focus on Harue. “What’s your problem?” he asked.

  “You’ve got a look on your face,” Harue said simply. “A look that says you’re not in control. And someone said that we shouldn’t kill anyone.”

  Someone? I said that. James thought. Wait, why did—

  “You were listening?” he blurted in surprise.

  “Did we give you the impression that we weren’t?” Harue said with a shocked look.

  “Yes!”

  “Did you think that all the unconscious bodies were just accidents and we hid all the corpses where you wouldn’t see them?”

  “More than a little bit, yeah!”

  “Good! We wouldn’t want you thinking you could tell spirits what to do now, do we?”

  “We—I mean, you don’t?”

  “Nope! Now—” One of her ears flicked. “Hang on,” she said and disappeared.

  “Itai-itai-itai-itai-itai-itai-itai-itai-itai-itai!”

  One of the Shōrinkan-gumi was screaming in pain. When James looked down, all of the Hawaiian-clad thugs were on the ground, clutching at their groins, except for one who was yelling with his hand behind his back.

  Harue was holding it there.

  “What did you mean, complete the set?” she asked calmly.

  The Yakuza slumped to his knees as Harue relaxed whatever she was doing to him.

  “It—it’s like, when they release figurines in a Special Edition Set, they—uh—dress them all in the same uniform, and because it’s a Special Set, the skirts are always shorter, so you can see their—Itai-itai-itai!”

  “I’m not sure I know what you’re babbling about,” Harue said. “But I know what a set is. What did you mean when you said you’d be able to complete it?”

  “Ah! That is, I mean, you—some of you—were wearing the same uniform as the Ojou-chan, so if we captured you as well, we’d have the whole—”

  “You captured a student! Who?”

  “Ogasawara-chan! She’s really rich! We couldn’t find Matsuri Toei-chan, but Ogasawara-chan is even better! The Raimēkai will surely—”

  “Harue!” James called out, finally making it down the gangplank. “Don’t—”

  “This barely counts as torture, James,” Harue said with a scowl. “And did you hear? They captured Junko!”

  “I know, but you can’t—”

  “Junko!” Harue yelled into the air. “Is there anything you won’t do to ruin Idol Club?”

  James and Harue’s captive stared at her until the clang of the vehicle ramp being deployed reminded them of where they were.

  “Um, I don’t think—” James started.

  “I won’t let her get away with this,” Harue stated. “You! Where are you keeping her?”

  “I won’t give my brothers up!” the man shouted. “Not even if you break my little finger! Shōrinkan-gumi stands up for each other!”

  “You’re not even worth breaking,” Harue sneered. She fished the thug’s phone out of his pocket.

  “Hey! That’s mine!” he objected.

  “You’re not getting it back, whoever you are,” Harue informed him. She pushed his back with her foot, pushing him down from his knees to lying face down. While he struggled futilely, she pulled out her own phone.

  “You’ll never get in! It’s locked with six digits!” he yelled, only slightly muffled by the concrete he was pressed down on.

  Harue rolled her eyes and fed the thug’s phone to hers. Under James’s horrified gaze, her phone became a mouth and ate the entire phone in one gulp.

  “What did you—how did that—” he stammered.

  “Shh!” Harue said. She stared down at the phone, which had become… phone-like again. “Did I ask… Okay, show me where Toji has been.”

  She must have gotten a list, as she started scrolling through it, reading out the occasional tidbit.

  “Food place, strip club, Lovely Angel Collectibles… That tells a tale, doesn’t it?”

  “How are you getting that?” Toji howled. “That’s private!”

  “Oh, shush,” Harue said. “Maid in Heaven? Ah, here… are you freaking kidding me?”

  She kicked the thug’s prone body. Not the kind of kick that Harue could give, one that could put a dent in armour plate and would have splattered the Yakuza’s remains across the dock. Just an ordinary, painful kick.

  “You put a Google pin on your map and labelled it ‘hostage warehouse’?”

  “I kept getting lost!” Toji wailed.

  “Whatever. I’ve got a location,” she told James. “It’s eight blocks away; we could walk there.”

  By this time, everyone else had debarked from the ship, including Matsuri, who had driven the truck onto the pier.

  “What has happened here?” Mitsue said, raising his eyebrows.

  “Junko’s been kidnapped, and Harue’s phone eats other phones,” James said.

  “Really?” Shion said. “Do mine!”

  She held out a phone in a gaudy, gold-plated case. Harue looked at it with distaste.

  “She just ate,” Harue said disdainfully. “She’ll get fat.”

  Mitsue blinked. “I feel that I should care more about the kidnapping,” he said. “But… ate?”

  “Don’t get obsessive because my phone has a feature yours doesn’t,” Harue said. “I have a special phone. It does special things.”

  “What else does it eat?” Mitsue asked, eyeing the pocket where Harue had stored the phone in question.

  Harue shrugged. “Spirits. Things with spirits,” she said unhelpfully.

  “So it is a spirit, then?” Mitsue asked.

  “A lesser spirit, yes,” Harue replied.

  “Why don’t I have a special phone?” Kana asked.

  Harue looked at her, cocking her head to one side. “Dragons aren’t known for cooperating with other spirits,” she said. “Are you okay with carrying another being next to your heart, one that goes everywhere with you, knows everything that you say to others and holds all your secrets?”

  “I am not,” Kana said firmly.

  “Well, there you go then,” Harue said.

  “Are you okay with that?” Mitsue asked.

  “Why wouldn’t I be?” Harue said lightly.

  “Something that knows all your secrets… I cannot imagine why you would seek out such a partnership unless you trust this spirit more than life.”

  Harue looked at him with unreadable eyes. “It was a gift,” she said. “One that I couldn’t think of refusing.”

  “In my village, we would call such a thing a spy,” Mitsue said, looking right back at her.

  “How rude of you to suggest that I have any secrets to hide from my dearest Eldest Sister,” Harue said evenly. “You will have to kowtow in apology to her, should you ever meet.”

  “Ah,” Mitsue said, bowing his head. “You are correct, Harue-san. I apologise most sincerely.”

  “Argh!” James exhaled with frustration. “Is everyone here held captive in some sort of weird psycho-drama?”

  Harue smiled and bowed formally to James. “Welcome to Japan, St John James-san. I’m sorry if there’s been any confusion, but it’s America that’s known as the land of the Free. Now, shall we go and rescue Junko?”

  They took the truck. The general feeling was that they should stay together as long as they could, and the heavy hitters in the team felt there was no real danger from the Shōrinkan-gumi. Mitsue secured the ones that Harue had incapacitated, stating that they would be found in the morning.

  Some of the gang piled into the cab, and the rest rode on the back.

  “Are we stealing this truck?” Suki, one of the lucky cab-riders, asked.

  “Um, maybe?” Matsuri said evasively. “I’m not walking my Frame through the streets… again. People complain.”

  “Are we putting it on the ferry?” Suki asked.

  “You’re not allowed to just walk a Frame onto the ferry,” Matsuri said glumly. “Don’t ask me how I know that.”

  James was about to remark that it was painfully obvious why she knew that when he heard Harue shout from outside the truck.

  “Hey! Get that guy! He’s wearing a shirt!”

  Mitsue said something more quietly that James couldn’t hear. Then, something black flew out and struck a man walking ahead of them. Black cords wrapped around the man’s legs, entangling him and bringing him to the ground. He was wearing a Hawaiian shirt, which must have been what Harue was shouting about.

  Harue thumped on the roof of the cab. “Stop the truck!” she shouted.

  “I see him!” Matsuri yelled back. “Does she think I’m blind?” she complained more quietly.

  They pulled up next to the downed Yakuza. Here in the dock district, the streets were almost deserted at night, which made James feel better about all the crimes they were committing.

  When they got out of the truck, they found the thug had been trussed up with a weighted rope thrown by Mitsue. James was sure there was a special name for it and made a point not to ask.

  The Yakuza seemed a little stunned by his fall. Rather than untie himself, he was just struggling in place, unable to understand why he couldn’t move his legs. Harue picked him up easily and set him on his feet.

  “Oh, thanks, man—I mean, girl. Thanks, girl. I gotta go, though.” He made as if to leave and would have fallen if Harue hadn’t kept him upright.

  “Hold up there, man,” Harue said in a friendly manner. “Is that where you’re keeping Ogasawara-san?”

  She pointed. They were close enough to the warehouse that they could see it further down the street.

  “Oh man, are you from the pizza place? It’s no good, man, it’s gotta be Neapolitan Pizza. You guys can’t do that, can you? We gotta get something else.”

  “Sure, we can do Neapolitan,” Harue said. “I’ve got some right here.” There was a flare of light, and her ears and tail appeared. The guy didn’t seem to notice.

  “Oh, man, you’re a lifesaver,” he said, still struggling to move. “We gotta get back and give it to her, or she’ll get really upset.”

  “We wouldn’t want that,” Harue agreed. “Here, you’ve got yourself all tangled up.”

  She reached for the rope around his legs and gave it a practised flick. Or did she hiss at it? Whichever it was, the rope came loose, allowing her to hand it to Mitsue, who gave it a suspicious look.

  “Let’s get going,” Harue said. “We want to get that pizza to her as soon as possible.”

  “Yeah, man, it’s this way,” the man said. He headed back to the warehouse, and Harue gestured for them to follow. The man didn’t react at all to them. Not even when Matsuri started the truck up and had it rumble along at a walking pace behind the group.

  The man walked up to the warehouse door without hesitation and keyed in a code. With a heavy clunk, the door swung open. James could hear Junko’s voice from inside.

  “Honestly, are you even trying to be presentable? A Hawaiian shirt, for goodness sake, scuffed shoes, and—merciful heavens, is that a ketchup stain? You’re supposed to be criminals, not cafeteria rejects! Which reminds me—real professionals don’t kidnap people in a van that smells like old ramen. Don’t you have any standards?”