Chapter Thirteen—A Convergence of Sword-and-Sorcery

The three rōnin samurai quickened their pace. “We must hurry,” Ujiro said, “or they may get away.” For a moment he wished he had another weapon other than his staff, which was mostly non-lethal.

“Hai!” Hiro growled, holding his katana broadsword with the hilt close to his upper chest, the blade a deadly instrument as though it were a banner pole.

“I just hope nothing has happened to Adrienne-kun,” Haru intoned from behind. He was a very capable warrior, though had far less experience than either Hiro or Ujiro who led their small party along the lit passage.

When footsteps echoed down the corridor from farther up ahead, fast and clearly hurried, the three men came up short, their fingers tightening around the hilts of their weapons.

But when Adrienne appeared around the bend, the three men gasped, eyes wide and smiles appeared on all of their faces. Adrienne flinched, as she hadn’t been expecting to see her companions arrive so suddenly—at all three of them together besides.

“You made it!” she said. Then she crossed her arms. “About time.”

“Adrienne!” Fuwafuwa screeched in delight as he appeared and jumped from Ujiro’s shoulder onto the ground, then hopped into her arms.

“Did you miss me?”

“Oh—I was so worried about you, Adrienne! Don’t do that again!”

“I can’t help it if I get knocked over the head and then carried off like a sack of potatoes, Fuwafuwa.”

“I don’t care!” he demanded. “Never again.”

She chortled, lifted the little yōkai up and he perched atop her shoulder. Then like a cat, he nuzzled his face into her neck.

“Seriously,” she said. “You old guys took forever.”

Hiro laughed. “Only you would complain at this time, little golden girl.”

“What did you call me?”

“I call you ‘little, golden girl.”

She narrowed her eyes, but then suddenly shrugged. “Okay, Roro.” She stepped forward. “By the way, there’s a nasty sorceress lady behind me and she’s got goons. Actually, it is Lady Lanchiu. She’s been… ”

“Lying to us?” Haru said.

Adrienne nodded, though she said nothing more. In truth, she did not want to implicate herself too much in this apparent colossal lack of judgment—seeing as how she had led not only herself and Fuwafuwa into the trap, but all of them.

“Did you say ‘sorceress’?” Ujiro asked, his eyes slightly widening. “But this is the Twin Cities.”

“I know,” Adrienne said and her eyes opened a little more as she spotted Haru lifting her rapier out of the back of his sash. Her heart soared. “You found it!”

She took the weapon and pulled it out of its scabbard. She flourished it several times. It was clear by the quick flicks of her wrist and the trajectory of her blade that she did indeed know how to use the weapon well.

She smiled, as if she had been united with an old friend. She regarded Ujiro and Hiro and pointed a thumb behind her back. “They’re right behind me.”

They glanced up, and as if she had said the words because she also heard their footsteps, their approach became evident. A light from ahead clearly made its way down the corridor. Adrienne was aware of the magic stone, but none of her pet samurai had yet seen it, and so each of them felt degrees more apprehension than their young employer.

“Now we must fight a sorcerer?” Hiro asked.

“Mmm,” Ujiro hummed musingly, his tone deep and gravely. “A convergence of sword-and-sorcery within the bowels of the Twin Cities. Interesting. But it is no matter! We can do this.”

“Hai!” Haru said, his tone determined. “We must stop these gangsters from ever doing again what they tried to do to Adrienne.”

I subtle note of apprehension assailed Adrienne as she now doubted that the Mei Ling they were searching for was even real, and if she was, the girl was probably long dead by now—or lost.

The footsteps upon the dry dirt echoed forth and a man all in black rounded the corner. His features were slim and his face a mask of boredom or confidence. It was Feng, and behind him Lady Lanchiu came up with several other figures clothed also in black. The men behind her were clearly assassins or fighters of some kind.

“Watch out for Feng,” Haru said. “He can hit like a troll.”

“Ha!” Hiro scoffed. “You are just young… and weak, Haru-kun.”

“I am serious, Hiro-san.”

“So am I!” he exclaimed, though his tone was one of mirth. Adrienne wondered how, at a time like this, the man could have perfect composure. Apparently she had chosen well when she spotted these bums wandering around Jiao Luo Village.

“Good evening,” Feng said, his eyes completely dead.

“Yes,” Lady Lanchiu said. “Good evening.” Her tone was altogether different. She was no longer depressed since her need to carry on her act was over. Now she smiled ever so slightly, though in her musical tones, she also carried a note of scorn and frustration.

“So,” Hiro said with a nod. “Your act is over, is it?”

Lady Lanchiu’s painted lips twisted into a wry smile. “Now that the ruse is over and you’re on to us, I don’t see why I should.” Then she pouted a little. “Or do you prefer me like this, Master Samurai.”

Saying nothing, the muscled swordsman growled dangerously within his throat.

“Do you really wish to fight us?” Ujiro said.

Adrienne glanced over at old man Uji with incredulity. Was he actually negotiating with these scummy killers?

“We only want the girl,” Lady Lanchiu said affably. “You three can go on your way. Just hand her over.” She said the words as if she were asking them to merely give her a shorter place in line at the Imperial Offices.

“I don’t think so,” Ujiro said. “The girl stays with us.”

“That is right,” Hiro said with a nod. He smiled, feeling a genuine sense of good nature. He wanted to kill these people. Not necessarily for the evil they had done, but for the evil of trying to take Adrienne away from them—for lying to them and trying to kill them earlier in the house.

“The girl! …is worth a lot of money,” Feng said, backing his mistress’ intention to bargain. “You can all! …be rich men.”

“And I know,” Hiro said with a nod as he pointed a finger at the glowing object in Lady Lanchiu’s hand, “that that stone is also worth a lot of money.” His light demeanor deepened to a broad smile of pure greed. “After we kill you and take it—we will all be rich men.”

“That’s more like it,” Adrienne muttered, though she kept her tone quiet enough so no one understood what she was saying.

“Tch!” Lady Lanchiu noised exasperatedly. “Then it will as you wish. Feng? Kill them. Bring me the girl when you are finished.”

“Yes… Mistress.”

As Feng stepped forward, a glinting blade appear from behind his back. It was a similar blade to the one the man in black had dropped at the foot of the stairs inside the house. While Feng spread his feet and raised the blade in a fighting stance, the four other men flanking Lady Lanchiu flooded forward, their speed fast, their bodies bent forward and their arms like streamers.

Sandals slapping the hard dirt, they they jumped, flipped and knives came out of their sleeves. Hiro twirled his massive blade, the metal-on-metal contact shrieking as the weapons deflected to the sides where they landed on the dusty floor harmlessly.

One of the fighters came forward, rushed past Hiro before he could react to the sudden crossing of the invisible battle line between both groups.

“No you don’t!” Adrienne shouted, and lashed out with her rapier, her body turned to face her opponent and giving him as little area to attack as possible. Her wrist moved and the tapered edge of her rapier flicked about dangerously.

But the fighter was fast. Before Adrienne was able to take him with her blade, his own dagger, curved as if cursed from some dark sorcerous spell, came out. He defected the blows, lunged in for a quick attack, but Adrienne’s footwork was excellent and she pulled back just as Ujiro leaned in with his staff, pushing it forward.

The fighter deflected that pole with his arm, not hitting it away so much as guiding the weapon away from him so the end could not be used to pummel him in the face.

Haru moved to the other side of the group on the left, though the space was tight and did not allow all of the warriors to fight abreast of one another.

“They are good!” Ujiro exclaimed.

Hiro cried out in a barbarous snarl, deflecting the blades of two more, though only just, as the other fighters, clearly seeing the length of reach Hiro was capable of, they kept their distance. Even though, they lunged, testing his reactions while Feng strode forward.

Hiro moved to strike the man, to cut him in half. With a cry he lunged, hurling his blade in a powerful chopping arch that cut a swath through the air, but his attempt was stopped when the two fighters interceded, raising their daggers to defect the blade, again, not blocking so much as guiding the dangerous edge of the blade away from their master.

Their martial art… it was a good one.

Lady Lanchiu laughed and Adrienne narrowed her eyes as the woman backed away further into the shadows, her stone no longer glowing to reveal her position.

Hiro cried out, mostly in a grunt of effort when the fourth fighter lunged in to make the kill, but he jumped, lashed out with his foot and took the man in the side of the face. When he made contact, the fighter grunted and rolled across the floor. Hiro swung his blade around, forcing one of the other fighters to respond.

Adrienne backed away as Haru moved forward, his blade whirling in fast slashing archs as he screamed with every slash. The fighter most to the fore was forced to back away.

Adrienne darted in, bent her right leg and used her bodyweight to increase the speed of her movement. When she caught herself, she flicked her wrist and cut the fighter across the shoulder. He lunged back and grasped the wound, but did not react anymore from the pain that was not appearing on his face.

Ujiro skirted up to the side of the cavern as Hiro cried out with every sword strike. In this confined space, he grunted and attacked, and kicked, forced to use his fists when his blade was hampered by the lack of space.

To assist Hiro, Ujiro lunged with his staff, the point of his weapon thumping hard into the fighter’s back. The man let out a stifled groan, lurched and rolled across the dirt to join forces with the man Hiro had kicked away.

As they regrouped, the two in their immediate reach backed away, their blades flashing. Hiro dropped his sword and used his fists to get away and Feng interceded and lunged, his palm connecting directly with Hiro’s stomach.

The sound he made as he bowled over worried them all, but he managed to jump back and curl in on himself with his arm. “Akh!”

“Hiro!” Adrienne shouted. “Are you all right?” she moved forward and put out her arm, her sword held wardingly in front of herself. “Touch him again and I’ll kill you, Feng!”

Lanchiu’s servant smiled.

“I am… I am all—hnngh!—right.”

“Yeah, sure,” she said, not believing a word. Of course he said that. He was supposed to be the “tough guy.” She motioned him away with her free hand. “Now get back there with the others.”

He did as she said while Ujiro made his way forward.

“Be careful,” Hiro said. “He moves fast.”

“I told you he can hit like a troll, old man,” Haru said. “You should listen to me next time.”

“Oh,” Hiro said, the tone of his voice evident that he was smiling. “No, I was just… seeing if you were telling the truth.”

“My gods, you fools!” Adrienne complained. “Hiro just got the fight punched out of him and you’re making jokes.”

“Mmm,” Ujiro growled, his staff held out as Feng and his fighters fully regrouped. “It speaks to their confidence in this fight, young duelist.”

“Hmph!”

“Your man,” Feng said. “He is! …finished now. Are you next! …old man?”

“Perhaps I am!” Ujiro growled. Then he beckoned Feng forth. “Come at me, if you think you have the skills to defeat me.”

Feng smiled, but it was one of arrogance and contempt. He moved and Ujiro pushed his staff forward, the speed of his attack making the wood whistle through the air. Feng jerked his head to the side, and mid-attack, Ujiro saw how his eyes tracked the weapon, how he moved every part of his body in reaction to the samurai’s attack.

But the samurai was also an observant fighter and possessed great speed to do the same as Feng lifted his arm to push the staff away, his knife coming forward in an underhanded thrust that would surely kill Ujiro.

Reacting, he pushed out with his palm and connected against Feng’s wrist, the knife blow was deflected, and instead of flinging away, or maintaining the unwieldy nature of the long pole arm in a close-quarter fight, Ujiro released the staff and brought his elbow to bear as he twisted his body back. The connection with the side of Feng’s head sounded thick and at the same time, hollow. The man’s head whipped to the side and he crashed into the ground on his back.

Ujiro froze, his body coiled up at the end of his attack, ready to spring back in another series of dangerous maneuvers.

“Wow,” Adrienne said. “Not bad, old man.”

“With age, comes experience,” he said, already feeling the soreness in his joints from moving like that, from being forced to strike out against objects—in this case, Feng’s skinny head—that forced Ujiro to strain his limbs.

He really needed to start using throwing knives or shuriken.

Hiro chortled. “See,” he said. “I am leaving room for Ujiro to show off.”

Haru glanced at his friend who still held an arm around his stomach. He stepped forward, past Ujiro who picked up his staff.

Feng was assisted up by his four men and together all of them began to back out of the enclosed space. It was clear that their group was outmatched in such an enclosed space.

Ujiro wanted to tell the others not to follow them, but Adrienne shouted. “Yes! We have them on the run!” She pursued, her back disappearing in the darkness between torches in the cavern as Fuwafuwa screamed wordlessly.

“Wait!” Ujiro called, raising his hand, but it was too late. Haru had also lunged after her, not so much because of over eagerness, but to protect the girl. He did well. Ujiro glanced behind at Hiro. “Can you keep up?”

“Go,” he said, waving a hand. “I will catch up with you.”

He nodded. “Hai!”

Adrienne could hardly see the backs of Feng and is goons as they ran to the darker recesses of the cavern, which opened up into a larger chamber where she had gotten her bindings off before.

As they surged ahead of her, they disappeared completely and she stopped as Haru came up short behind her. Footsteps echoed throughout the cavern. Ujiro came in next. “Be careful!” he warned.

He turned, putting his back to Haru who faced their front like Adrienne did.

“Oh no!” Fuwafuwa screeched. “I’m cold!”

“Not helping!”

“Mmmm!” he groaned wordlessly.

“Calm down!”

“Eeeeeeeyyaahhh!”

“What the—?”

Suddenly a golden light appeared around the little yōkai—no, it appeared from him!—and made Adrienne jump with fright.

“Wow,” Adrienne said in astonishment. “That’s a neat trick. How come I didn’t know—“

“Vigilance!” Ujiro snapped as he realized what was happening. One of the fighters was standing half a dozen paces in front of him, his body clothed in shadow. He glanced about, saw Feng and the others, watching—like spiders in the darkness.

“We are surrounded,” Haru said, raising his blade. His heart thundered inside his chest. These fighters were no mere thugs, these men were like ninja!

“They hide in the shadows,” Ujiro said.

“When we have shadows,” Feng intoned. “Kill them!”

The four men surrounding them closed in, just as Feng struck out at Adrienne. His intention, as Lady Lanchiu had commanded, was not to wound her, but to take her alive and unharmed. Even still, she had a sword and she could use the weapon well, as evidenced by her earlier use of the blade.

The golden-haired duelist and street-rat defender herself, her long tapering blade flicking and screeching amidst their skirl of blades.

Ujiro defended himself as the fighter came forward, his pole thrusts quick and deadly. The fighter sidestepped, came in and struck, but Ujiro swiped his blade away as it glinted in the golden light provided by Fuwafuwa.

Feeling a sense of fear at what could have befallen them had it not been for Fuwafuwa, Haru was filled with rage. He screamed, his blade up and his teeth bared. Fear in a samurai was not the way of bushido—but Haru was no longer a samurai. Just a swordsman, a rōnin.

Squatting with his legs spread wide and his knees outthrust for perfect balance, he scurried forward, his choice of clothes from earlier in the day serving him well as he slashed down and up in a complex rhythm, a martial art that was impenetrable. But the shadowy fighter before him displayed his ignorance anyway, and pushed in. He struck, his arm moving like a blur, his footwork also perfect.

Repelled, the fighter lunged back, then struck out again. And again, Haru repelled him in a flurry of deadly clashes that nearly cut his opponent’s arm off. The fighter retreated and Haru rushed forward, screaming with every sword strike.

He could not defend himself from behind at this time, but he trusted Adrienne and Ujiro to defend his flank should he need it.

A narrowing of eyes.

Feng’s arms moved in a blur—almost too fast for Adrienne to handle, but she knew her training, had paid attention to every instruction, ever slacked or fell asleep during her sword masters lectures—at least not usually—and so she fought out of instinct and executed defensive sword plays.

Do to her reach, Feng let up—almost as if he were bored, and backed away just as Haru’s back was exposed. The goon with Feng saw the opening.

She had to protect her samurai!

She lunged to the side, her wrist flicking as she jerked back and forth to prevent the killer from getting a strike in at him.

He moved, attacking Adrienne on her left. She defended herself, but the man moved again, his attack merely a feint. Her heart leapt into her throat when he lunged for Haru’s undefended flank.

But the samurai did something she was not expecting. He turned around completely and struck out in an arching attack on his right side, taking his flanking attacker in the ribs with his blade. The sword glinted as he dragged it from hilt to taper across his opponent. The man had not even been able to cry out as a gash opened up revealing a spray of blood.

Fuwafuwa screamed.

As the original fighter who had battled Haru now attacked his exposed back, Adrienne used her moment to lunge past Haru and straight out with the tip of her sword. She took the attacker in the throat, her blade meeting very little resistance as she pierced through his neck.

Heart hammering, it jumped into her throat and her eyes shot open so wide she thought they might pop out of her head. The fighter grabbed her blade and froze, but bringing the weapon back to her was no challenge at all, as the razor-sharp blade made a slicing sound while the goon’s fingers fell to the ground.

Only a gurgle came out of him as he fell dead.

Like a piece of paper money in a fluttering wind, Adrienne shook.

Haru screamed and his blade shrieked against metal. Adrienne turned and found him in a flurry of action with Feng. She lunged, rolled and came up with her sword, flicking her wrist and keeping as much distance between herself and Feng as she wheedled the point of her sword in and out like a stinger from a giant jungle hornet.

Feng pulled back and snarled as his eyes flicked over the two dead fighters in his midst. The other two backed away from Ujiro and into the shadows on the outskirts of the chamber while Feng himself also slipped away.

Everyone glanced about, and Ujiro was breathing heavily. Haru gripped the hilt of his katana tighter, but it did little good through the slippery blood on his hands. It had been hot at first, but now it was cold and getting sticky.

Adrienne swallowed. “Do you… Do you see them, Fuwafuwa?”

“No! I see nothing!”

From the light in the cavern ahead, Hiro stepped forth.

Ujiro smirked, feeling genuinely relieved to see his friend return. “It is about time you came back to this fight.”

“Did I miss anything?” Hiro asked.

“Haru and I killed two of them!” Adrienne said excitedly, though excitement was hardly what she felt with that knot of bile in her stomach. She almost wanted to lean over and retch into the dirt. “You should have seen us!”

Nodding approval, Hiro said. “Good,” as if he were congratulating his children. Then a slightly confused look fell over his face.

“What is wrong?” Haru asked.

“I feel…”

A bright light appeared behind them and a woman’s mirthless chuckle echoed into the chamber. Adrienne’s hair stood up on end, as if she were floating under water. “What the—?”

Something crackled.

“Magic!” Ujiro snapped. “Run!” He jumped. “Runnnn!”

It sizzled and popped, and then there was a loud crack—the dangerous life of the magic travelling through open air.

Hiro saw it coming. For a split moment he thought he was dead, but he pushed forward anyway, his magical blade, Aiya, was awake—and he held her out in front of him.

He caught the discharged and the bolt of energy, blue and white and deadly, coalesced and was held by the spring water magicks of Shimigaru. Hiro Yousha, samurai-and-rōnin—outcast!—spun his sword and arched it back into the evil direction it came from!

The light projected from the energy was bright and illuminating. Feng and his men were all nearby, hiding perfectly in what little bits of shadow had been afforded to them, but no longer. Not while that ball of crackling energy travelled through the cavern back at the sorceress who had hurled it. She cried out in terror and lunged another projectile of energy to defend herself. When they struck together, a terrible crash and an explosion loud enough to fill the room with dust from the floor ensued.

Shunted to the ground, Hiro slammed his eyes shut, shielded his face with his blade and fell across the floor with a rolling grunt.

The light receded.

The magic was deadly and powerful, its last vestiges crackling and sizzling as his hair stood on end. He coughed.

They all coughed from the dust.

Except for Ujiro. He had not breathed in the durst as he held the crook of his arm over his face, his mouth and his nose covered. He moved, his eyes closed. They would not have done him any good with the dust and the darkness anyway.

He lashed out with his staff and the weapon hit resistance—not the resistance of a hard cavern wall ot a rock on the floor, but the resistance of another body. There was a painful grunt. He pulled the weapon back and slammed it home several more times and the fighter who he had caught hiding in a shadow at the moment the cavern was alighted, was destroyed by his attack.

Bodies scurries on the dirt, voices cried out and the sounds of retreating footfalls echoed back into the cavern.

Wanting to laugh, Ujiro did not. Instead he lunged back and finally drew in a breath and coughed. “We need—mngh!”

“We need to get out of here!” Adrienne screeched. “Come on!”

Haru tensed as a warm hand grabbed his forearm. It was Adrienne, pulling him in the direction of the tunnel. “Come on, Ruru!”

“Akh-Akh!” Fuwafuwa spluttered, then the little yōkai sneezed.

“May the Gods of All Good Tidings bless you, Fuwafuwa,” Adrienne said quickly as she yanked the samurai toward the tunnel.

He followed, his heart hammering still, as they had all just missed death, but not only that, the chamber still had several fighters and Feng present.

Even in his own haste, Haru found something about Adrienne’s insistence adorable. But they were not free of danger yet. He moved, kicking his feet and listening for any sounds he did not like.

“Akh!” Fuwafuwa croaked again as he gagged on the dust. “This is… this is terrible!” he squeaked and shrieked.

Through the darkness and the terrible dust, none of them could see well, save for Adrienne, who, at least could make out some bit of their surroundings because of the immediate light of Fuwafuwa.

It was like looking through a reddish brown haze or fog. She considered grabbing him with her hand, but she was guiding Ruru, and her rapier was in her other hand.

“Come on! Come on!” She guided them back into the tunnel.

Still coughing, they glanced about with red-rimmed eyes. Hiro dusted himself off. “That was… unexpected.”

“Hai!” Ujiro said, just as he sneezed.

“My nose is filled,” Haru said.

“Gross,” Adrienne added. She turned, leading the way. “We can get out back through the cellar in the house.”

“That is a good idea.”

No noise or sounds came up through the tunnel from the chamber beyond. Whether Feng and Lady Lanchiu were dead or not, Adrienne and the others had no idea, though Ujiro suspected they were alive and well.

Sorcerers often fought bravely for a time, but when danger truly presented itself in a fight, most of the time they cowered away, preferring to fight at range and from places of safety.

Adrienne was worth a lot of money. None of them knew how much, but after a time, the value of her would cease to pay for the damages caused as Lanchiu lost men and magical items to their fight. The golden-haired girl took hold of the first wooden rung of the ladder, but Haru stopped her by covering her hand with is. “No,” he said. “Let me go first.”

That was sweet. She nodded, gestured for him to climb. Once the younger samurai called down, Adrienne followed, then Ujiro and Hiro came after. When they shut the cellar hatch, a great weight lifted from all four of them—and Fuwafuwa, too.

“How is it that a sorceress was able to use magic here?” Hiro asked. “I thought you said this could not happen because of the stones?” He was speaking to Ujiro, though he spoke as if addressing no one in particular.

“I do not know,” he said. “Perhaps the reason is—“

But Adrienne interrupted. “Did you not see the stone she had?”

“I saw it,” Haru said with a nod as he wiped the back of his nose with his hand. “It glowed, bright and blue.”

“Yes,” Adrienne said, nodding. “That was one of those super rare warpstones.”

“Warpstones?” Ujiro asked.

“Yeah,” Adrienne said. “It warps an unseen barrier around you and shields you from the effects of the city’s drawstones. Actually, I think it redirects the syphoning effects from the drawstones.”

Shya-i-fu-ro-ni-n-ga? he thought, turning the word around silently in his mouth. She really was a noble to use words like that.

“Really?” Hiro asked. “Then what is the point of the drawstones?”

“Like I said, that stone was super rare. It’s not like just anybody has something like that.”

“Well,” Ujiro said, leading the way out of the cellar. “I wish we knew this ahead of time. Now we will all have to be more careful from now on.”

“Yeah,” Adrienne agreed.

Hiro groaned. “I am ready for my drinks. Adrienne—take us to the nearest inn. Arigatou.” Then he brushed himself off. The cloud of dust that fell from him was intense.

They coughed a bit and Haru said nothing, but he wondered how they would drink or have a room without any money. He did not want to continue using the charity given to them by Adrienne—even if she was rich.

They came out of the manor. All was quiet and the gate was still unattended. Raindrops fell out of the sky. Hiro pulled his soiled and ruined jacket tighter. “Perhaps I should have gotten something with sleeves.” He laughed.

“No,” Adrienne said, shaking her head. “This one suits you perfectly, Roro.” She took it and adjusted his collar.

“San-ku,” he said, his accent thick, but she understood him perfectly. Then he continued. “Ah,”—he raised a finger—“what is this ‘Roro’ you keep calling me?”

She shrugged. “It’s your name, old man.”

“My name… is Hiro. Hi-ro.”

“Yeah,” Adrienne said with a nod. “That’s what I said, Roro. Now come on, guys. After we get some drinks, I want to show you where our new hideout is going to be.”

*

The Prancing Dragon was another great inn—good food, soft beds. It was warm, and in a good part of town. The common room was quiet but busy, just the way Adrienne liked it.

Rain poured down outside and the sewer covers let out vapor into the air from a distance. City goers scurried about with parasols to block the rain and to stay dry as Adrienne and her group of samurai watched, their meals mostly eaten and their stomachs satisfied.

Hiro took another large drink of his beer and made a face. “You are right.” He gestured with his mug. “Horse piss.”

Adrienne laughed. “It’s beer! It’s supposed to taste like that.”

“It’s still piss,” he insisted. “Now,” he added. “What was that talk about a new hideout?”

“What?”

Ujiro watched the exchange between the muscled man in their party and the young golden-haired girl. He was feeling, at least he suspected, much the same as the other man was. Relieved that they had gotten out of that cavern under the Lanchiu residence, happy to have made Adrienne’s friendship. Tired as the oversleeping yōkai in the misted swamps of the underworld, and very, very greedy. But he left Hiro up to the speaking, as he had fewer inhibitions. But… he thought, do not tell him that.

“You said something about a hideout,” Hiro repeated. “When we got free. Do you remember, Adriene-kun?”

“Oh, right!” Adrienne said as if she had forgotten. “It’s where we can regroup,” she said in way of explanation. “A mercenary company needs a place to stay and to conduct business, right?”

“Is that what we are?” Hiro asked. “A company of mercenaries?”

“Sure,” she said. “I’ve been planning for this for a long time now.” Then she pulled something out of her coat. “And besides.” It was the stone Landy Lanchiu had been using—the warpstone. The samurai all gasped with surprise. “I think this will fetch quite a hefty price.”

“Oh!” Haru exclaimed as he eyed the stone..

“Very impressive,” Hiro said with a nod.

Ujiro laughed. “And how did you get that, little girl?”

“Hey, old man, Uji. Don’t call me ‘little girl.’ I’m your employer after all.”

Grumbling, he said nothing more.

“When Hiro threw that ball of electricity back at Lady Lanchiu, everything went dark and smoky, right?”

“Yes?” Ujiro asked, his tone indicating that he was listening.

“I was just lying there when this rolled at my feet. I don’t know if you killed her, Roro, but that attack definitely knocked that gaudy bitch around.”

The muscled samurai laughed. “So,” he said, feeling a bit more greedy now, “if we are to be your mercenaries, bosu—what is our cut for the stone?” He pointed a finger.

She shrugged and smiled at her three samurai. “We’ll have to see what it’s worth, first!”

Ujiro smirked. “Then lead the way, bosu.”

“Yeah, I don’t’ know what that means.”

“Someone learn how to say the stupid words!” Ujiro growled.

Rain continued to pour outside while thunder rumbled across the sky. The occasional flash lit the the black clouds as new arrivals seeking better lives and wealth came into the cities from across the sea. Evil festered in the deep shadows and recesses of the Twin Cities, and the newly formed mercenary company—though it had no name—was formed, its members enjoying their hot meals and acquiring a taste for the horse piss called “beer” in the warm and dry environs of the Prancing Dragon Inn.