As Chris lounged in the passenger seat of the van attempting to let his brain shut down to rest while he listened to Ryder negotiate with Old Man Schmidt over the phone.

With one hand on the wheel, Ryder guided his precious Vanessa through the intense velocity he was subjecting the vehicle to, trying to beat the ETA of 8 hours. He always took ETAs as a personal declaration of war and lived to prove them all wrong.

Vanessa roared and rumbled during the race. Then, Chris turned back and saw Tayte, spread out on the back seat of the van, in deep sleep—at least, he hoped that she was just sleeping. There was the dreadful thought of not allowing people suffering from concussions to fall asleep. Chris tried not to dwell on that.

Ryder beat the estimated time of arrival by several hours with improvised shortcuts and exerting Vanessa well past its limits.

Arriving at the airfield, Ryder thrust the van towards the open ramp of Schmidt’s plane and flew into the cargo hold, crash landing in the process.

Even after stopping, the intensity of Vanessa’s roaring engine didn’t soften, prompting Ryder to caress the dashboard and then shower it with affection by kissing it all over.

Chris broke habit and instead of reprimanding or giving Ryder a well-deserved side-eye for his antics, he checked Tayte once again and she was still lost in her slumber. He unfastened his seatbelt and moved up to her as Ryder exited the vehicle to meet with Schmidt.

He began to feel his legs wobble as a result of the hectic car ride as he stopped to look down on the gray-haired Snow White. The way she slept was eerie. Not a single sound or any movements. Despite, knowing that’s how she slept, he kneeled down and turned his ear to her mouth to check.

Her shallow breaths tickled his ear.

With the jolt of relief, Chris moved quickly and slid an arm under her legs and another under her hip. He hoisted her up in his arms and waited, looking at her dolefully. Half-expecting and wanting for her to wake up, launching a blinding punch into his eye.

But the small girl remained trapped in the clutches of her sleep.

Kicking the back door open with a mighty foot. He took Tayte over to one of the seats on the wall and fastened the restraints on her. He dashed to help Ryder and Old Man Schmidt (who was in the exact same getup as last week) load the luggage into the compartment on the side of the plane and then fasten Vanessa onto the platform.

As Schmidt made his way to the cockpit Ryder took shelter inside of Vanessa and Chris took a seat right next to Tayte.

His eyes fixed on her as the ramp shut and the plane began to move. The upward force of take-off and the symptoms of airplane ear weren’t strong enough to disrupt his focus. The plane climbed higher, starting the timer of the 14-hour flight to Tokyo, and Chris moved his eyes down to Tayte’s unbandaged hand.

A grin curved on his lips just now realizing how small her hands were. Even with the scratches, her dainty fingers appealed to Chris. Cautiously, like examining a piece of glass art, he reached for her hand and touched the back of it. He perked up after feeling the cold, but soothing effect of her skin and stared at her sleeping face again. Nothing.

Although, Chris didn’t fully understand what he wanted to happen. He let his impulses take over and grabbed her hand and squeezed it tight.

Eventually, he found the means to sleep, but not the means to let go of her hand.

###

The next trip was an hour-long drive from Tokyo to Yokosuka.

Chris viewed the sights of the naval city from his window. Moving through the streets of the coastal community it made sure he was aware of its maritime identity from sailor ducks to ship steering wheels decorated around.

His cell made a chirp. Chris dug it out of his pocket and read the message he received from his new ally. It was a list of instructions, including a time and place to meet. After he finished he put the cell away and continued observing the streets of Yokosuka as they neared their destination.

Hospitals would lead to questions Chris didn’t have answers to, so they had to gamble with the hotel staff and claim that Tayte was simply sleepy from the ungodly long journey from Africa to the Far East.

Mercury Hotel was their base of choice in Yokosuka. It was a white high-rise building, a robust rectangular pillar of modern-day architecture impossible to miss even from a good distance away.

After stopping in a parking garage, Chris and Ryder took part in an artistic, abridged version of Weekend at Bernie’s and clothed Tayte in a puffy coat. They put gloves over her hands, made sure her beanie was covering most of her face, and wrapped a scarf over the bottom half of her face.

Then, they endured an awkward ordeal of putting Chris’ thermal pants over her torn tights. With as many bags he could carry on his back while holding Tayte in his arms he made his to the luxurious hotel’s entrance alongside Ryder who hauled the rest of the luggage.

Chris and Ryder put on their most diplomatic looks, prepared to lie through their teeth like a pair of undercover cops at a rave as they checked in.

Somehow, they were in the clear and were allowed to enter their room. Discarding the need for Chris’s Plan B, C, D, E, F, and G.

Settling in their spacious hotel room, Chris placed Tayte on one of the beds, removing the extra clothing with the help of Ryder, and applied more Nether Mums on her. Then, Chris fished one of his extra smartphones from his bag, set up the tracker app, and left it at her bedside.

After she was tucked in, Chris and Ryder made a trip to a local black market shop and the sharpshooter got himself a new scoped handgun—sleek and black in design with premium quality optics. It was sturdier than his last firearm, waterproof, shockproof, and fogproof, but that didn’t mean anything when it came to the reality wrapping abilities of his wretched curse.

They raced back to the hotel and waited till nighttime, killing hours with the best melodramatic J-dramas their hotel TV had to offer. Without any subtitles to provide context; they filled in the gaps with their own canon. Thereafter, Chris prepared his gear in a hurry and exited the room with Ryder, and found their way back to Vanessa to reach their next destination.

Later, Chris ordered Ryder to stop nearby a pharmacy and walked the rest of the path to the contact that waited for him.

He pocketed one hand in his jacket as he ambled through a narrow street in the cool air filled with a fantastic aroma of seafood and meaty cuisine and garish lights from shops and restaurants burning his eyes. Chris entered a small eatery, kittie-corner of a post office, and the place somehow looked even smaller from the inside. There was one bar counter and a set of tables that Chris could count on one hand. Most of the establishment and its contents were made of veneered wood.

He spotted the green-eyed grave-robber wearing a brimmed cap sitting at a table by the window.

Takato gave him a wave.

With a loud, exaggerated exhale, Chris forced himself to approach the table and take a seat.

There was a backpack under Takato’s chair. “Chris,” he started. “How was the trip?”

“How’re going to beat Domingos?” Chris asked vehemently. “What’s the plan?”

Takato raised his hands, wild-eyed, and sank back into his wooden chair as if Chris asked him to go skinny dipping together. “Whoa! Don’t you wanna order something first? Have you ever had anago?”

“I didn’t come here to hang, Takato.”

“Do you ever hang?”

“Takato, what is the damn plan!”

Takato gave out a sigh and pointed behind Chris. “You see that guy over there?”

Chris turned back with the subtly of a spoon in a garbage disposal and spotted a young Japanese man by the counter savoring a tempura rice bowl. He wore a gaudy purple suit and had an ostentatious, blonde pompadour.

“Real subtle, man.”

Chris reverted and eyed the table, chagrined. “I’m a little on edge, okay?”

“When are you not on edge?” said Takato, tucking down his cap. “Anyway, he kinda looks like me, don’t cha think? Then again, most of us look the same, right?”

Chris felt like he had just entered dangerous territory with the question. “Well… uhm…”

“It’s okay, we think the same about your kind, too.”

“What?”

Takato chuckled. “I’m joking.” He glanced at the young man again. “I’ve had my eyes on this dude for a while and yeah, he looks a lot like me. He works at a hostess club that Domingos is a big fan of. And according to my contacts here in Japan. I happen to know he is going to be there tonight. You know how bad he is with his impulses. Being back in Japan there is no way he would resist visiting it for one last night.”

“You’re going to try to attack him while he is shit-faced?”

“Well, him drinking is an important part of the plan.” Takato removed his cap, revealing a blonde pompadour.

Chris’s eyes narrowed and then he stole a glance at the young waiter by the counter. The resemblance was impeccable. “You’re going to go in disguised as him?” he squinted at Takato. “Are you wearing makeup?”

Takato smiled devilishly. “I had help.” he produced a small square case from his jacket pocket and opened them, revealing contact lenses. “And then I’ll poison his drink with a couple of samples I burrowed from the Moussa twins,” said Takato, as he put on the contacts.

“Don’t tell me you expect me to go in disguise as well. I kinda…” he scanned the area, catching a couple of curious locals inspecting him. “Stand out. What’re you going to do? Cover me in flour?”

“Oh, but that would be funny to try to pull off,” Takato said smiling, as he put on the last contact.

Chris responded with a wry smile. “Yeah, funny.”

Takato blinked rapidly, adjusting to the eyewear. “But really, I just need your getaway driver if things don’t go as planned.”

“And?”

Takato stared back with his now dark brown eyes. “If all else fails. We take him head-on.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

Chris felt his blood pressure rise and his future aneurism nearing. He rubbed his creasing forehead. “So, when are we supposed to start?”

“Gochisosama!” the young man announced as he got up and dropped the pay onto the counter.

“Now!” Takato exclaimed and grabbed his backpack from under his chair and then shot out of his seat as the young man exited.

“Wait, what?” Chris got up and reluctantly followed him out of the restaurant.

The two walked side-by-side tailing the suited young man.

“Are we really going to start this now?” Chris whispered to Takato.

“I did tell you to bring as many supplies as needed and your driver. I mean, you did do those things, right?” he whispered back, putting his backpack on.

The young man made a turn around a corner and so, the pair did the same.

“Look, I know your little Grim Reaper is completely out of commission so it is going to be up to us to take that behemoth down,” Takato whispered.

“But if your poisoning doesn’t work for whatever reason we are just supposed to get away with Ryder, right?”

“Yeah, although if we are somehow caught we’ll have to fight.

“Ugh! You asshole! I’m not ready for a deathmatch right now.”

“But I thought you said you brought supplies—”

“I mean mentally!” Chris growled. “Why couldn’t you have texted me earlier in the day for us to discuss this? It would’ve given me more time to prepare myself—”

“I can’t be out in the sun. That’s why.”

Chris did a whole mental reboot as his body kept walking and then snickered. “Oh, come on, your skin isn’t that sensitive.”

“It’s what I sacrificed back in at the Checkpoint.”

Chris gave Takato a grim look.

“I literally can’t be out in the sun or I’ll die,” said Takato with an easygoing smile.

The last Checkpoint did a superb job at unmasking the true cruelty of the Trials. The gravestone that Takato had chosen turned him into a present-day vampire. The consequences of Chris’s sacrifice haven’t manifested, yet, but he suspected it would show during a critical moment.

“Call your man,” Takato said, switching his demeanor drastically. “Tell him to get close. He is tracking you right?”

Following the order, Chris called Ryder to get close and stayed on the line with him during the operation.

They stalked their target seamlessly save for a few close call moments where the young man stopped to turn back. Chris and Takato improvised by pretending to be lost in a boisterous conversation with each other and then resumed their shadow walk as soon as he turned back.

Takato tapped Chris on the arm and sped up to the young man as they were nearing a crosswalk. Chris watched the deceiver put his arm over the hostess club waiter and lean onto him, exalting in perfect Japanese.

The young man looked back at Takato as he walked, puzzled but continued walking on his way to the crosswalk. Chris noticed that he had the waiter in a tight, anaconda-like grip.

Vanessa appeared by the curb with Ryder’s future funk mix on full blast and the passenger seat door opened. Takato pushed the young man, with brutal force no doubt, but with an expert-like subtlety it seemed to look cooperative and the pedestrians were none the wiser as the music silenced the waiter’s screams for help.

Chris spotted a couple of bystanders glance, and even stare right at the van but they seemed more preoccupied with Ryder’s music than taking notice of the literal abduction that took place. He sprinted to the van’s backdoors and hopped in as Ryder took off.

Inside the van, the music stopped playing and Chris wobbled his way to the front seats and Takato was in the passenger’s chair with the young man in a headlock—a few seconds away from becoming completely unconscious. He was writhing and screaming without making a sound.

Chris stared quizzically and asked a question but no noise came out. He tried again, making sure his mouth did move as he spoke but no sound reached his ears. He looked over at Ryder and saw him dancing as he drove recklessly and then turning a dial on the hectic dashboard—the music remained muted. Directing his eyes to the stereos taped onto the ceiling Chris could see the speakers pushing forward and back.

A rough swerve had Chris fall onto his back and was the impact was soundless. He put his hands over his ears and had a muted breakdown.

And then, the thunderous upbeat music and the sounds of his screaming exploded into his ears at once, reverberating his entire body.

Takato turned back to Chris, letting the unconscious waiter drop from his grip. “What the hell are you screaming for?” he shouted, almost beating the volume of the funky rhythms.

“He is probably just having another one of his random nervous breakdowns,” Ryder said, nonchalantly. “He’ll be fine in a bit.”

Chris raised one knee and put his arm over it. The status effect of the gravestone he chose let him have the first taste. As his ears ringed from the sudden burst of sound he knew the setback was going to worsen over time.