The evening hours saw greater Annitou military presence around the most populated areas, especially around the shipyards. The rising tide of criminal activity certainly precipitated much of that increase, but there also just wasn’t much worth protecting out in the slums. Annitou might boast the biggest number of feet on the ground in this forlorn part of the world but even they couldn’t be everywhere. With the number of threats on Jinchi multiplying by the day, who knew how long it would take before the whole settlement became unmanageable?

As the sky shifted from a clear blue to a brilliant orange, the light inside Junko’s prison shack became more and more ominous. She stood at the precipice of the cellar hole where her young charge, Gekko, still unhappily sat. At his feet lay a small cloth sack, unopened. At her feet lay a similar bag, except Junko already held the contents on her hand. She spoke to the boy through mouthfuls of greasy jerky. “I get you, kid. I really do. It’s a terrible situation to be in.” She snorted, then popped another piece of the dried meat into her mouth. “You gotta eat, though. Whether you cooperate or not we’ll be dragging your sorry butt through the jungle soon, and it’s a lot harder to find food out there than it is here. If you’re planning to escape you’ll need your strength anyway. Starving doesn’t help anyone but us.”

Gekko didn’t respond and instead just despondent kicked the satchel of food Junko tossed him around with his toes. Spending all day in that hole put a considerable amount of filth on his uniform, and his curly hair now looked matted and clumpy after having gone so long without a good rinse. It was a pitiable sight for any kid to be in. Not quite an empty shell devoid of compassion yet like certain other people she worked with, Junko took a deep breath then plopped herself down by the hole. For once she sat without maintaining a firm combative stance. Not like that kid was going to be able to attack her from down there anyway. “Like I told you already, I ain’t gonna hurt you.” She swallowed, then did her best to make eye contact with the unresponsive boy. “I don’t have a lot of rules, but not hurting kids happens to be one of them. As long as you stick with me and behave nothing bad will happen to you.”

“This,” Gekko mumbled, “already feels pretty bad.”

“Well, nothing else bad.” Junko’s focus wavered, and instead she decided to stare at the far wall instead. “My employer agreed to my terms already. He only wants to use your...voice? Your ears? I don’t understand it myself. You think he could just use a dictionary or something. That has to exist, right? It’s an old language! ”

“You-” Gekko hesitated for a second. “You can’t write Bossa down. Or record it. It doesn’t work like that.”

Truthfully Junko didn’t care all that much about dying languages, but since this was the first thing she’d been able to pull out of the boy since Motonubu showed up and soured the mood, she decided to continue fishing. “Oh, well, excuse me for being so uneducated. Not a terribly religious person myself.”

“It’s not- it has nothing to do with that either.” Gekko’s continued waffling hesitance didn’t seem all that spontaneous to Junko. He wasn’t speaking out of boredom, like before. Was he lying to her? “The old priests who codified the language just claimed it came from the gods. There’s no evidence it actually did.”

“Codified, huh?” Junko finally finished off her own dinner and wiped her mouth with the back of her sleeve. “You make it sound like it came from somewhere, then. If not from gods, then who?”

Gekko let out a passive exhale, like a frustrated teacher. “Go read about it in a library if you want a Bossa lesson. I’m not in the mood to explain it.”

Shrugging Junko dusted herself off and stood up. “Fair enough. We’re leaving in the morning. I don’t care if you don’t eat. It’ll make you easier to carry anyway.” Giving one last glance down at the forlorn Gekko, Junko shook her head in disappointment. “Good night. Hope you have pleasant dreams.” Gekko let out a dismissive snort at the platitude, irking Junko just enough that she slammed the hatch door with a bit more strength than necessary. What a snotty kid!

Her slight anger was mediated somewhat when she opened the hatch a couple hours later. Gekko lay splayed out on the dirt floor of the cellar, blissfully ensnared in a deep slumber. The bag of food Junko dropped lay open and most of its contents clearly consumed. There was a risk the kid was pretending so she waited and observed him for a bit. Junko meant it when she said she didn’t hurt kids...

Sedating them with drugged food, though, wasn’t really hurting anyone. If anything it was keeping him safe!

Satisfied with Gekko’s unconsciousness being legit, Junko becan to pack out. This last leg was supposed to be a simple trek out to the final rendezvous before her payment. Gekko continued to sleep soundly even as she bound his limbs in thick swaddling. The frightening strength of the drug Motonubu supplied reminded Junko to never accept any food from an Agent ever again. Having finished her prep work Junko heaved up her heavy load onto her wide shoulders, then exited the tin shack just as the sun was beginning to disappear over the horizon. Kidnapper, pack mule, babysitter...Kiku-Ichimonji Junko did what had to be done for a paycheck. At least until she got her hands on that hourglass, anyway.

It wasn’t unusual to see folks with large packs moving through the settlement, but human transport was a bit of a new experience for Junko. Gekko’s smaller body still took up quite a bit of space even if at a glance it looked like Junko was only carrying a large, rolled up rug on her back. Hopefully it would be her last experience with human transport as well. No matter how justifiable or humane Junko tried to be about it there was no getting away from the unsavory taste this type of job left in her mouth. It could be worse. Motonubu or that brute Len Sosu might be the one hauling the kid around, in which case they might have just broken the kid’s legs to make it easier to transport him.Given the limited options Junko was obviously the best choice for this. That didn’t make her feel any better about it.

The creeping chill of Jinchi’s night was just beginning to settle in so some folks still prowled around in a hurry to finish their business. The roadside merchants who sold food during the day disappeared from the slums at night, since it was just too dangerous to operate otherwise. If not for the human element the slowly darkening atmosphere and cool (but not yet chilly) sea breeze actually put her at ease. What a shame Junko had to work. It was the perfect night weather for a drink.

Her path took her in a bit of a roundabout tour of the camp’s outskirts. Once again Junko relied0 on the Motonubu-provided information regarding Annitou patrol routes. The odds of being stopped on the way out were slim, but slim didn’t mean zero. Why take risks? The journey took the rest of the evening and she only entered the last ring of settlements right as the sun finally dipped below the horizon. The long shadows then became absolute shadows, throwing the few scattered tents and fences into a fuzzy blueish purple relief. Low-light encounters put the classically trained Junko on edge. Her clan’s martial training always assumed fighting would take place in decent lighting. Only cowards fought in the night! A lot of good that mentality had served them.

Lighting a lamp would draw unnecessary attention, however. Until they got to the wilderness she would just have to deal with it. Once the moon rose there would be plenty of light to navigate by. All Junko needed to do was not pick any fights with street bums and they’d be in the clear.

She stepped over a broken, low hanging chain fence that had long since seen better days. As she did so the weeds that occasionally poked out from the trampled down dirt roads began to grow thicker, and the surrounding tents began to be spaced farther and farther apart. This stretch of Camp Monog had originally been home to an Annitou expeditionary force. The structures littering the area looked far worse than anything else in the settlement, with peeling paint and tattered fabric showing their age. Anything of value had long ago been stripped and what was left in the camp could scarcely even be called shelter. Some squatters might be living here but even for the slums this was a pretty bad place to hang out. The old camp hung so close to the border of the jungle that even wild animals took up residence here, and as Junko traversed the long since eroded gravel paths she saw a couple of wild dogs darting between the thick foliage. Not a welcome sign, but if there were animals lurking about it probably meant there weren’t any people. Junko would take fighting off beasts over humans any day.

The separation between the settlement and the wilderness could easily be spotted by the size of the trees that encircled Camp Monog. Bless Annitou’s clear cutting of the entire forest prior to plopping their buildings down. Jinchi’s native foliage was massive and the thick palm-like trees that encompassed the whole island stood twice as tall as the largest structure Annitou had managed to build so far, clearly delineating where human influence ended and the island’s natural state began. Apparently the wood from these Jinchi trees was useless for building with though. A real shame for the prospective loggers who were looking to the island to make a quick buck, but nature could be fickle like that. It didn’t exist to serve humans, after all. While keeping the forested backdrop in mind Junko decided to just make a straight shot for it, rather than take a winding path that might be more desolate. Being in this place made her uneasy and she would have much preferred the company of the jungle to these dilapidated huts and collapsed buildings.

The ambient noise of the old camp only contributed to this worry. The soft Jinchi breeze combined with the thicker vegetation growth, muffling her footsteps (but also the footsteps of anyone else). Flapping pieces of canvas from the most shredded tents also disguised any other sounds that might hint at a sudden ambush. Even the occasional dog bark put her on edge. Junko’s concern caused her to pick up speed. The faster she got out, the less she would have to worry.

Almost as soon as she increased her pace an unwelcome but familiar whisper hit her ears. She didn’t listen to the exact words from the voice, instead choosing to unsheathe both blades the instant it became clear they weren’t alone. For lugging around a child on her back Junko still moved with deadly speed and precision. Looked like she was a natural when it came to kidnapping.

The longer of her blades pointed in the direction of the noise while the other she held horizontal in a defensive manner, which could just as easily be flicked to her sides in case this was a distraction or trap. A calm, almost playful huffing noise rumbled out from beneath the shadow of a nearly collapsed tent. As the man’s words spilled out Junko finally matched a voice to a face. Her own expression soured as she came to an unpleasant conclusion.

“I’ll tell you this once.” Junko’s voice remained level even as her eyes began scanning the nearby ground cover for a potential ambush. “I’m not very fond of stalkers. Bugger off, Maeda.”

“Is that any way to treat a customer?” The words took form in a stilted, forced way, though hints of amusement still danced within his speach. “Your information was not very good. I’ve been hunting Metsina agents all day, and am still empty handed...”

Was this a threat? Maybe it was just karma. Junko shouldn’t have been selling that information to such a shady guy in the first place. “You get what you pay for.” Already she was moving her feet to reposition for a sudden sprint. There was a clearing devoid of large pieces of cover only a short distance away. From there nobody could launch a surprise attack, even someone as sketchy as this Fenshingiri Maeda. If he had stalked her all the way out here then it almost certainly was not for noble purposes.

“What are you carrying?” Now the voice came out in a more authoritative manner. Interesting. The Maeda must believe he had the upper hand. Was that good news or bad news? “Leave it, and I’ll go away. I am just looking to recoup my costs. Surely a former Legionnaire understands my plight?”

“These are just supplies for a camping trip.” Junko knew better than to respond but did so anyway. Maybe she was taking a page out of Garion’s book and just trying to draw the Maeda out so she could deal with an enemy she could actually see. “And I heard you recovered that dagger already from Fenshingiri. You should be ashamed, trying to squeeze more out of me for that measly fee you paid.”

There was a bit of silence. “So you are working for someone else? How else would you know that?”

“Just like you, lad.” Junko’s knuckles turned white as she gripped the hilt of her swords tighter. “I have to eat too. I’m not a cannibal so it’s a bit harder for me, though.”

The Maeda’s voice shifted tone again, all traces of amusement evaporating. “I’m not a cannibal either. Really, indulging rumors like that...very unbecoming.” Garion might be onto something with their bait strategies- or at the very least, the types of folks being sent to Jinchi were uniquely susceptible to insult.

“I know what you are carrying.” Catching the Maeda off guard put him on the offense again. Was he stalling? Deliberately trying to avoid a conflict? “Did you know that the Fenshingiri government engages in all manner of trade to fund their war against us insurgents? Drugs, smuggling, bootlegging...and human trafficking.” The way the last word rolled off his tongue was the same way priests would speak of demons. “I know what it looks like when someone is transporting a person. I’ve lived through it myself.” Junko still couldn’t see where the Maeda was lurking but could feel the hatred building in his gaze anyway. “Judging from the size, I would say...a child, am I right? How far the Iron Tower of the Kiku-ichimonji has fallen. Sad.”

Just what Junko needed. A disease ridden enemy with an axe to grind. It was hard to believe the Maeda would try taking the high ground here. Jinchi sure did bring out the best and worst in people, apparently at the exact same time.

“It is the Annitou cadet kidnapped by General Daisuke yesterday.” Junko spoke each line with her own firm righteous belief. “Take that information to their headquarters. I’m sure they’ll pay you for it, more than you paid me at least.”

Another pause. Some rustling from behind prompted Junko to very non-discreetly turn away from the voice. Judging from the lowness to the ground and the sight of some leaves of an overgrown fern were twitching, it was something small. Likely a dog or a cat running around. Yet it stopped almost instantly as Junko moved, rather than darting away like a wild animal should. The night’s cool air and deepening shadows only grew more unwelcoming by the second.

“They would pay me more for the actual child itself, I think.” The Maeda resumed his amused tone. “You don’t seem like someone they would care to pay for. No bounty, no valuables...”

“Kind of a hypocrite then, eh? Putting value on human lives like that is just what a human trafficker would do.” A second stab at laying bait for the Maeda. The longer this conversation continued the more of a disadvantage Junko fell into. She needed to see something, a body part, a movement, anything to give her information on which way to run or attack. She hadn’t decided on which yet.

The Maeda’s voice didn’t fall for it this time, at least as far as she could tell from the tone. “Unlike you, I actually have a duty to fulfill. I wouldn’t expect a wandering vagrant with no allegiance to anyone to understand. Perhaps you should reflect on your life choices. It might be a long night for you otherwise.”

Then, silence. Not true silence of course, the slightest breeze still produced the soft whisper of moving foliage, and in the far distance the sound of the ocean could still just barely be made out. No, this was the quiet that followed the depletion of all other civil discourse. Those last vestiges of spoken word faded and left Junko alone with her cargo for a minute, two minutes, stretching onward. Her weapons still lay drawn and her head snapped at every rustle and bump that echoed out through the empty camp.

Just a bit of doubt crept into her mind. It was possible even if it was unlikely that the Maeda decided to retreat. Unlike some people the Maeda seemed well acquainted with Junko’s pedigree. Maybe that made sense. In the past Fenshingiri’s failing government’s continual need for trained military lead to many mutually benefiction contracts between the strife-torn country and the Kiki-ichimonji. But Junko herself had never set foot in that awful country. She bore as much relation to those acts of war as the kid on her back did.

Not that it would matter to a man with an axe to grind in the end. You could always count on a Fenshingiri, no matter which side of the country they hailed from, to hold a grudge well past any reason. Having waited long enough Junko made her decision. If this Maeda wanted to pick a fight, then so be it. She advanced forward a single step.

Somewhere in a location Junko couldn’t pinpoint, she heard a breathy, eager chuckle.