were spilling from the soundbox, slightly muffled by the two inches of cracking plaster between them. He couldn’t shake the feeling of wrongness. Of being watched. Vulnerable. “It’s not safe to talk in here. We could be overheard.”
“It’s just my brother and his boyfriend.”
“And your neighbors? I’ve met blacklung beggars who weren’t as thin as these walls.”
The girl pouted, blew a stray lock from her eye. He sized her up with a slow stare—waif-thin, pointed chin, an old scar gouged down her brow and cheek, leather eyepatch hiding the worst of it. An unruly bob of straw-dry hair, black as cuttlefish ink. Hard, he decided. The kind of hard bought on broken concrete with an empty belly and bleeding fists. Smart? Smart enough for this whole thing to be a long game? Was she playing him?
She sat down in the middle of her grubby mattress. Glancing at the door. At him. Back to the door. The hint of a crooked smile curling her lips.
“Ohhhh,” she sighed, shivering.
Akihito frowned, hands falling still at his carving. He drew breath to speak when another low moan from the girl killed the words on his lips.
“Ohhhhhh,
The big man sat a little straighter, slightly disconcerted, jaw hanging loose. He watched the girl pull herself up on all fours, prowling across the sheets. Searching the room for somewhere else to look, he found the tomcat sitting at his feet, head tilted, staring at him with wide, pus-yellow eyes.
Blink. Blink.
Leaning up against the bedroom door, the girl groaned, throaty and breathless, as if in the throes of first- night passion. She slapped one hand against the doorframe, thumping her heels against the floorboards.
“Ohhh,” she purred. “Ohh,
“What the hells—”
She held up a finger, silenced his protest, continued her performance against the wafer-thin wood. Her brother’s muffled curse seeped under the door—a plea to the great and beneficent Lord Izanagi to strike him deaf as stone, or failing that, for a quick and merciful death. Akihito heard what sounded like laughter and applause from the other boy.
“Oh. My.
The soundbox squealed in the room beyond, cranked to full over Yoshi’s prayers, the tiny speakers now strained and crackling under the increase in volume. Loud enough to drown out the girl’s groans. Loud enough to drown out her screams, truth be told. Hana plopped herself back down on the mattress, tucked her feet beneath her with a satisfied smile.
“Safe enough now?”
Akihito couldn’t help but chuckle. “Nice.”
“You’ll have to forgive my brother.” Hana began running fingers through her badly cut bob of raven hair. “I don’t usually have friends … stay over.”
“Has he always been like that?”
“You mean a smart-mouthed little bastard?” Hana laughed. “Always.”
“No, I mean like
Hana blinked, taking a few moments to process.
“Ohhhh … You mean has he always liked boys?”
Akihito muttered a series of incomprehensible words.
“Why?” An eyebrow crept toward the girl’s hairline. “What do you care?”
“I don’t.” Akihito seemed mortified at the suggestion. “I’m just, well…”
“Not used to that sort of thing.”
“No.”
“Well, don’t fret.” Hana smiled lopsided, began tying her hair into braids. “You’re definitely not his type.
Akihito felt his cheeks flush. The girl’s laughter rang out on the walls, the empty beach-glass eyes staring onto smog-choked streets. The straining soundbox filled the void, drowning the murmur and hum outside. Hana watched him for a long time, saying nothing, working plaits across her scalp.
“So,” she finally said. “How did they find us?”
“Hells if I know,” he sighed, pulling off his hat and running one hand over his braids. “Trailed someone. Caught someone and made them sing. I’m still not one hundred percent sure you didn’t set us up, truth be told.”
The tomcat jumped into his lap without warning, and Akihito gasped as its claws sank into his flesh. Using his leg as a springboard, the cat vaulted up onto the windowsill and began licking at its nethers like they were made of sugar-rock. The big man winced, whispered a curse, massaged the old wound and new claw marks in his thigh.
The girl nodded to his bloodstained hakama. “How’s the leg by the way?”
“Hurts like a bastard,” Akihito murmured, still kneading the flesh.
“What happened to it?”
“You ask a lot of questions.”
“So?”
“So how would you feel if I asked what happened to your eye?” He gestured to the leather patch.
“I’d tell you my father was a mean drunk.” A small shrug.
“Izanagi’s balls…” Sudden guilt slapped him across the mouth. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. So how’d you hurt it?”
It had been over a month since the bloodbath during Masaru’s rescue from Kigen jail, but the sword-blow wasn’t healing well. Akihito knew he should have been resting, changing his dressings more often, but circumstances being what they were, he was just glad it hadn’t gone gangrenous. When Michi had gone back to the palace in search of Lady Aisha after the jailbreak went sour, she’d abandoned him with nothing but a tourniquet and vague directions to the sky-ship that was supposed to ferry everyone out of the city. Akihito hadn’t even limped halfway to Spire Row before the bushi’ locked Kigen down, sky-spires, rail yards and all. He’d returned to the Kage safe house he’d sheltered in before the prison break, hooking up with Gray Wolf and other members of the city cell. His thinking was simple enough—if he couldn’t get to Yukiko, he’d do his best to help her from where he was.
Masaru would have wanted it that way.
Kasumi too.
“Just … helping a friend,” he said.
She nodded. “Well, I’ll see if I can find some bandages at the palace tomorrow.”
He scowled, turned his eyes back to the wood in his hand, carved off another chunk. A Guild sky-ship cut through the smog overhead, its engines rattling the windows. He thought of the ambush in Kigen jail, Kasumi’s blood glistening on the floor. The betrayal that had killed her. Killed Masaru. Almost killed him too.
“How did you know those bushi’ were coming tonight, Hana? You said your lookout spotted them before ours did, but who was your lookout? How did he get word to you?”
The girl peered at him, one dark eye gleaming between disobedient locks of hair. Standing slowly, she padded across the room to tug the window open. A faintly toxic breeze drifted inside, the bustling city song beyond nearly drowned by the soundbox wail. The girl stood back, folded her arms, staring at the cat perched on the windowsill above. For his part, the big tom seemed too intent on his not-so-privates to notice.
“Go on!” the girl finally yelled. “Get!”
The cat unfolded himself from his knot, made something close to a huffing sound and dropped to the lower sill. After a languorous stretch, he spared Hana a dagger-sharp stare, and finally slipped into the daylight. The girl slunk back to her mattress, her tread soundless. Sinking down with crossed legs and a challenging stare, she continued braiding her hair.
“How long have you been with the Kage?” he frowned.
“Two weeks.”
“What made you join?”
