Morning at Aika's started like most others. Although it was the crack of dawn, Sehrish was long gone, either by having left early for another grueling day of internship at Marina Hospital, or by not having come home at all, possibly basking in the afterglow of a date with some young stud. Teek was up as well, sitting on the sofa wearing little pink camouflage sleeper shorts and a scruffy camisole top. To keep herself warm she also wore a pair of enormous white slippers, one of which was under her butt as she sat on a foot. She read from a giant cookbook laying in her lap and, with her violin case open and sitting by her side, the instrument of her passion rested carefully within it.

On some mornings, Teek and Aika would playfully debate which of them had gotten up first, as Aika often stayed in her room or soaked in her tub all day. But this day would be different. Aika appeared before Teek fully dressed, or at least so it seemed. It was hard to tell, for she also wore an overcoat she'd snitched from Sehrish.

It was at least ten sizes too big. "Good morning," Aika said in her unemotional little voice.

Teek perked up, surprised. She pulled her nose from her cookbook and gave her roommate a smile.

"Watcha doing?" Teek asked.

Aika's shoulders rose and fell from a heartfelt sigh. "Oh. Just going out."

"Isn't that Sehrish's?" Teek asked of the coat, for it swallowed Aika whole.

"It is. I need to borrow it."

"Got a costume on, don't you?"

Aika's eyes shone bright. "I do."

Teek returned to her cookbook. "Who are you wearing it for?" she asked.

"God, I hope. But maybe only Hank."

Teek continued smiling long after Aika was gone, happy knowing in her heart that her roommate was as nutty as she.

Hank woke up alone, even though he and Rio had gone to bed together. It wasn't much of a surprise as she was an early riser, where he liked sleeping in. But this morning was different, for it wasn't the smell of fresh-brewed coffee that had awakened him.

It was the sound of Rio crying. When he emerged from her bedroom wearing gray boxer briefs and a long-sleeved cotton pullover shirt, he found her and Leanne on the sofa, cuddling in their pajamas while watching the news on TV. Although Leanne was mournful and her eyes were wet, Rio was full-out bawling.

There was something about the way Rio cried that often tore Hank's heart. Today, she ripped it from his chest. He hurried to her side, crouching to be at eye level.

He cupped a sleeve of his shirt in his hand to dab away her tears. "Honey Cup," he begged. "What's wrong?"

Rio was incapable of speaking, and only cried all the harder. Hank squeezed into the space beween her free side and the arm of sofa, and soon she was receiving hugs from every angle, her tiny body wrapped up tight in the arms of two large lovers.

"What's wrong?" he asked again, his eyes only for her.

Leanne spoke instead. "It's Aika. She's on the news."

Hank turned his attention to the television. The screen was split in three sections. One was the talking head of a morning anchorman, and another was the grainy, jerking images of a security camera recording. The third section, taking up the right half of the screen, showed a skyline view of the city experiencing a full blown riot. The sound of emergency vehicles mixed with images of people running in all directions. Plumes of smoke marked spots where buildings burned unattended for miles in every direction.

Hank watched for just one second before turning back to Rio. Her shiny black eyes were rimmed redder than her glasses. She stared deeply into him and spoke without using words.

It's begun. The end of all good days.

Hank couldn't care less at the moment. Where's Aika?

Rio buried her face in the softness of his shirt, clutching him while crying. "Where's Aika?" he asked out loud to Leanne. "Tell me what's going on."

Leanne sniffed on snot and composed herself, her eyes never leaving the television. "She's… she's in there somewhere."

"In the riot?"

"No. The subway station."

Hank examined the grainy security camera recording. He recognized it as the subway station he'd have to use if he were going to visit Aika. The scene seemed normal enough, especially when compared to the live feed of the riot. The camera showed shadowy subway travelers going about their day.

Hank squinted while staring. "Aika's there? I don't see her."

"She's not there yet, but wait."

In another fifteen seconds, a tiny woman appeared wearing a huge overcoat. Once centered in the frame, she stopped and adjusted her posture as if gathering courage. She then turned and walked towards the camera. Despite having seen the video several times already, Leanne gasped in horror. Rio clutched Hank harder, knowing what was being shown by the sound her girlfriend made.

The woman in the coat stopped walking towards the camera when its grainy resolution was able to show her face. It indeed was Aika. Her long indigo hair, normally tangled and hanging, was gathered atop her head, held in place by sticks similar to the ones Anna had worn two days ago. Uncharacteristically, Aika also wore some makeup, making Hank hope for a moment that it wasn't her. But when the woman smiled full and warm, craning her pretty face to look up the camera, it was apparent who she was.

"Oh," Hank said, surprised. "What's she going to do?"

Huge tears flowed from Leanne's eyes, dripping on her chest. "I can't say," she managed to blurt, becoming almost as incapacitated as Rio. "Watch."

The anchorman spoke instead. "Here's the woman who seems to be the central cause of the chaos. Authorities are still determining her name." He paused as Aika's lips moved for a moment. "The video is poor, but we think she's speaking to the camera. It's like she knows it's there."

Hank spoke as if addressing Aika. "What are you doing, Butterfly?"

Leanne spoke through a torrent of tears. "That's what you guys called her, right? Little Butterfly?"

"Aika-cho. The Butterfly. She dances with them sometimes, in the meadow where she lives."

"Oh my God, Hank," Leanne said, as Rio began bawling harder. "Why did they do that to her?"

"Do what?"

"Watch," Leanne said again, growing silent except for sniffling.

Aika opened Sehrish's big coat, flashing her body to the camera. Despite the quality of the image, it was obvious what she wore. Against her pale white skin and the dull khaki of the coat, the blues and reds and purples of her demon warrior costume stood out bright and clear.

Aika closed the coat and turned to walk away as the anchorman droned on. "This is where she takes a few steps from the camera. She'll soon remove the coat, and we'll be able to see more fully what she's wearing."

After a good ten meters, Aika turned to again face the camera. She raised her arms and sloughed off the coat, letting it drop to the concete floor. After kicking it aside, she spread her arms out wide and lifted her head toward the ceiling.

"You can see now what she's wearing," the anchorman said. "She has something strapped to her left arm, but we're not sure what it is—perhaps a weapon of some kind."

"Her sword," Hank whispered about the hinged blade she kept sheathed against her arm.

Leanne disagreed. "They said no weapon was found. And look. The sleeve is empty. No one knows what she's doing."

With Rio's face still buried in his shirt, Hank found himself clutching her as tightly as she clutched him. The tension grew to be too much to bear. For many silent seconds Aika stood unmoving, her hands outstretched and her eyes cast to the heavens. Leanne squished against Rio to get her fingers on Hank and as the trio hugged, Leanne and Hank watched Aika.

Rio cried and cried.

"It's still unknown to us why this woman was attacked," the anchorman said.

"Attacked?" Hank repeated, terrified.

"Oh my God," Leanne said, her voice rising over Rio's wails.

An angry mob converged and Aika was engulfed. It was as if every person on the subway, instead of going to school or work, instead of visiting family or friends, instead of getting a coffee or going out for breakfast, decided Aika must die. They beat her. They pummeled her. They hit her with whatever they had, or whatever they could find. When she was no longer able to stand, they kicked her and stomped on her face, over and over and over.

Before the fatal blow, the image suddenly froze. "We've been told the woman didn't survive this very brutal attack. Authorities have no idea who she was or why she was beaten so badly. We do know that shortly after, the people who attacked her came up from the subway and engaged in further acts of violence. It's…" The anchorman paused, either from emotions having gotten the better of him, or from being interrupted. "She seems to be the flashpoint for the rioting that ensued."

"The whole city's gone mad," Leanne said. "It's like they're possessed."

Hank hugged Rio harder, delving into her mind. Talk to me. Please.

Without removing her face from his shirt, Rio spoke out loud, between sobs and snorts. "It's everywhere. As I said. Australia. China. The Philippines. Finally Japan. Now here. People have succumbed. Bad guys win."

The anchorman spoke next. "We have an enhanced video of the woman speaking. We're getting it set up for you… If you'll give us a moment…"

Leanne stared intently, anxious for the clue. As much as she looked forward to it, Hank and Rio dreaded it. Aika's face appeared, full upon the screen. Two words escaped her cream colored lips. The television showed her speaking the words in a continuous loop, making her mouth move silently, over and over again.

"It seems certain now," the anchorman said. "She's saying something to the camera. We're not sure what it is."

Hank and Rio knew. All too well, they knew.

"Hi Hank," Aika said, the video loop making her say it again and again. "Hi Hank. Hi Hank. Hi Hank."