Kusa slid through the crowd, moving as quickly as she dared, trying to balance speed with stealth. She was beginning to hate crowds. She’d always considered herself to be safely anonymous, easily lost in a group if she wanted to be, but those men tracked her with ease. How?

How the hell did he know exactly where I was? she wondered. He went right to the lockers!

Something sparked in her mind, an idea that turned to panic. She pulled back the sleeve of her hoodie, revealing a compact manaccelerator. It was sleek and high-tech, but looked well-used – a high-end model with its fair share of wear and tear.

“Shit,” she mumbled, pushing her sleeve back into place. They must be tracking my mana somehow. Mana was unique to each and every person on the planet, as surefire an identifier as DNA, but was detecting one person’s mana in a shopping area filled with thousands of people even possible? It was a ridiculous question; she wore a device capable of literally turning her thoughts into reality. Anything was possible.

Kusa stepped behind a thick support column, her slim form disappearing behind it entirely. The sounds of a dozen conversations, an announcement from the loudspeakers overhead, hundreds of feet moving about the station, the distant clank and screech of trains – it all combined to form an additional layer of protection around her. She hoped it, and the column, could give her a moment’s respite.

She glanced around, making sure nobody was paying her any attention, and rolled the sleeve of her sweatshirt back up to her elbow. Lost in thought, she unconsciously bit her lower lip as she unstrapped the manaccelerator from her forearm. She looked meaningfully from the device in her hands to the trash can that stood next to the pillar. The thing was her lifeline, her only connection to the mana that surged through her body. If what she suspected was correct, though, it was also what kept betraying her to the enemy. Without it, her mana was trapped in her body; she wouldn’t be able to use it, but hopefully nobody would be able to use it against her, either.

She moved to throw the thing away. At this very moment, it was better to be safe than sorry. She was in trouble and other manaccelerators existed in the world; she could get another if she really had to. But her hand stopped, hovering above the mouth of the trash receptacle. She shook her head, made a frustrated sound in her throat, and stuffed the device into the big front pocket of her sweatshirt.

Kusa realized she’d been stationary too long. A quick look around showed no sign of her pursuers as she stepped from her hiding place. She hurried away from the spot, throwing a last look over her shoulder. It was such a temptingly easy solution, a way to slip her pursuers once and for all, but if she was caught without her manaccelerator, she might not be as lucky as she had so far. Leaving herself defenseless was just too big a risk.

The crowd was beginning to grow thinner, meaning her chances to move freely were growing fewer. A glance at the big, electronic board that showed the train schedules wasn’t encouraging. There wasn’t anything listed headed in the direction she wanted to go. Maybe it was for the best, though; if the men after her could follow as easily as it seemed, did she really want to head straight home? She wondered again how whatever bit of technology they were using against her worked, most particularly its range. There had to be a safe distance she could escape to. All she needed was a chance and a little bit of time.

“There!”

The rough, husky voice pulled her from her thoughts, and her head whipped in its direction. The slick-haired thug who;d ben after her for over an hour now came towards her at a run, Baldy trailing only a few steps behind. The crowd of people parted around them. Nobody knew what was going on, but the vaguely-official vibe these men gave off served them well. People simply didn’t want to get involved when it looked like trouble.

Kusa cursed herself as she ran. She hadn’t even realized she was drifting in thought again and now it was going to cost her.

“Damn it,” she muttered yet again, pointing her feet towards the edge of the platform, where a line of people were forming up to board a train. No time to be choosey anymore, she thought, as she shoved a college-age boy with slightly shaggy hair out of her way. “’Scuse me!” she yelled. “Sorry!” she cried as she pushed her way in front of a young mother with a baby in a carrier. She was careful not to touch the woman, but that didn’t make her feel any better about her actions.

The line was evaporating in front of her, people either boarding or willingly moving out of her way. She threw a look over her shoulder and saw that her pursuers were closing in, but being hampered by the same crowd that Kusa was using to her advantage now. She allowed herself an instant to think she was going to get away when a hand fell on her shoulder. “Hey! You!”

Reflex took over and she struck, the heel of her palm flying out to connect with the stubbled jaw of a man in the blue uniform of a station attendant. The attendant’s head jerked backwards on his neck, his hat flying off to land at the feet of a startled elderly couple, before he staggered and fell himself.

Horror flickered through Kusa’s mind. This was exactly what she wanted to avoid. Other people getting hurt was the last thing she intended, but there was nothing to do about it. It was her neck on the line.

“I’m sorry!” she shouted, fleeing towards the rapidly-closing doors of the train. “I’m really sorry, but it’s an emergency!”

With a leap, Kusa crossed the last few feet and slipped through the doors of the train just as they closed with a whoosh, leaving behind the injured station attendant, the confused crowd and hopefully, the men who were after her.

Chest heaving, she hunched forward, hands on her knees. She let out a huge breath as relief flooded through her. “Phew!”